Chapter 9: He Actually Made Up 300 Yuan for the Bride Price!

Zhao Qianqian really hadn’t expected this windfall.

She had only planned to coax him a bit, to hold tightly onto this golden thigh.

She hadn’t imagined…

That he would actually make up the full bride price for her.

Three hundred yuan! That was no small sum.

Overjoyed, she hugged Zeng Cheng and kissed him again and again.

This kind of life—where she could just be a pampered rice worm—was true happiness.

Though dizzy from her kisses and inwardly delighted, Zeng Cheng still pretended to be stern. “Zhao Qianqian, your saliva is filthy. You’re not allowed to kiss me in broad daylight again.”

“So you mean at night I can kiss you all I want?”

At the thought of such a scene, a hot current surged through Zeng Cheng, and he feigned a scolding: “Don’t start being lewd in the middle of the day. Are we going to town or not? Hurry up and get on.”

As he spoke, he deliberately pressed the bicycle bell to cover his own awkwardness.

On the way to town, Zeng Cheng kept complaining that he hadn’t eaten properly for a whole day because of her.

He swore that once they reached town, the first thing he’d do was eat at the state-run restaurant.

But when they finally arrived—

The very first place he took her was the hospital, to check if her head injury was serious.

“I already had it looked at in the village; no need to waste more money.”

But Zeng Cheng insisted. “It’s better to check at the town hospital. After all, the village doctor’s skill is limited.”

At the town hospital, after a thorough examination, it was confirmed that her injury wasn’t serious—just a bit inflamed.

Ordinarily, taking some medicine would have been enough.

But Zeng Cheng insisted she get an IV drip.

That way the wound would heal faster.

By the time she had finished three bottles of IV fluids, they had already missed lunch.

Zhao Qianqian felt guilty.

After all, since yesterday at noon, Zeng Cheng had hardly eaten, subsisting on wheat milk essence.

From the hospital, they rushed to register their marriage certificate, and then to collect the package Zeng Cheng’s father had mailed.

After getting the meat coupons, they had to hurry and buy the meat, sugar, and all the other odds and ends needed for the wedding feast before nightfall.

And beyond that—

Zeng Cheng even bought Zhao Qianqian a pretty floral dress, a pair of black leather shoes, and even cosmetics.

Once everything was purchased, they hurried back home.

All in all, they were busy all day, and Zeng Cheng hadn’t eaten a proper meal.

Usually, whenever he went to town, he would make a point of having a big meal at the state-run restaurant.

This was the one and only exception.

When they returned to Qianjia Village, Zhao Qianqian, feeling sorry for him, personally cooked him a pot of pork noodle soup.

She used almost a whole pound of meat.

Even Zeng Cheng, who had lived as a wealthy young master, felt it was a bit extravagant. “That’s way too much. Tomorrow’s banquet only has three jin of meat and two jin of ribs total. You’ve used a full jin just for noodles. How are we supposed to manage the feast tomorrow?”

“However it works out, it works out,” she said, resting her chin in her hands as she watched him eat. “No one is more important than my husband.”

“You… you just know how to sweet-talk,” Zeng Cheng muttered disdainfully, but his heart was warm and sweet.

After all, who doesn’t like being praised and cared for?

Especially by the woman they love.

Yes.

Deep down, Zeng Cheng did love Zhao Qianqian—it had even been love at first sight.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

This time, his father had sent a total of five jin of meat coupons.

Normally, that was plenty for a month’s worth of extra meals.

But now, with the wedding banquet—

Six tables required, with three or four meat dishes minimum—five jin wasn’t enough!

If all five jin were spent on meat, they could barely scrape by.

But by the time they had collected the coupons that afternoon, only three jin of meat remained for sale, plus two jin of ribs.

Of the three jin of meat he bought, one jin was fatty, meant for rendering into oil.

Now, another jin had been used for noodle soup.

That left just two jin of ribs and one jin of lean meat for the banquet.

Zeng Cheng took stock of their supplies.

Rice and white flour were plentiful—the stockpiles from when the house had just been built.

He usually ate at the Old Qian house, so those supplies hadn’t been touched much.

Vegetables from the small plot behind the house, planted by Zhao’s mother, were also sufficient.

There were plenty of eggs in storage.

The only shortfall was meat.

Zeng Cheng thought that if they could trade for two chickens and two ducks from the villagers, it would be perfect.

But such matters weren’t his strong suit. So before Zhao Qianqian left, he slipped her twenty yuan. “Go home and ask Aunt Zhao to trade for two hens and two ducks.”

“Okay!” Zhao Qianqian’s eyes lit up at the sight of the money.

Today she’d really hit the jackpot.

Not only had Zeng Cheng made up her bride price with 300 yuan, he’d also bought her a pile of things.

And now, worried that tomorrow’s banquet might not be lavish enough and that she’d lose face, he had given her another twenty yuan.

By her estimate, she could pocket another ten yuan.

Because although she had only just transmigrated into this story—

She still understood the local prices.

A hen cost about two yuan.

A duck cost about three.

At the Qian household—

When Zhao Qianqian returned, the whole family was at dinner.

She had already eaten at Zeng Cheng’s.

After all, he hadn’t been able to finish the pot of pork noodles on his own.

So she didn’t join the table.

But Old Qian didn’t send her away—he spoke with her between bites, going over details of the wedding banquet.

Given Zeng Cheng’s distinguished background, Old Qian dared not offend him.

So he wanted the banquet to be as grand as possible!

Perhaps because all the unpleasantness had been settled yesterday—

Today, everyone was in harmony.

Whether from the Qian side or the Zhao side, they were all busy discussing the wedding plans for tomorrow.

Who would be the head chef?

Zhao Qianqian suggested, “Mother, you should oversee tomorrow’s banquet. After all, your cooking skills are the best.”

“Alright,” Madam Zhao agreed readily.

If she handled the cooking herself, it would save money—and prevent outsiders from sneaking food.

For now, they set the banquet at six tables.

One for Madam Zhao’s relatives.

Three for the Qian family’s relatives—since the Qian clan was large, just the siblings alone filled a table, and with the villagers they were close to, three tables might not even be enough.

One for Zeng Cheng’s side—though his parents wouldn’t attend, he still had fellow educated youths.

And one more for those who hadn’t been invited but would show up with gifts anyway.

Every wedding had such people.

Acquaintances not particularly close to the Qians, not formally invited—but if they came with a gift, you couldn’t turn them away.

Of course, those gifts might only be a few cents—yet they’d bring the whole family to eat.