Chapter Forty-One: The Ideal Son-in-Law

In the early morning, the banners fluttered gently in the breeze before the Zhou Family Noodle Shop, while Sanjiang Market bustled with its usual liveliness. Jiang Pingchuan stood in the courtyard, practicing the Maoshan fitness technique as dawn broke. The air was fresh and his breathing calm and measured; he could faintly hear the hustle and bustle from the front hall, Brother Wu's hearty shouts, and Manager Zhou's friendly greetings.

From Zhou Ning’er’s room, Madam Zhou’s caring voice drifted out. Early that morning, she had brought Jiang Pingchuan a bowl of bird’s nest porridge, insisting it would nourish him. Now, she was in Ning’er’s room, fussing over her daughter with motherly concern. It seemed that overnight, Madam Zhou's attitude towards the previous evening's events had changed dramatically.

The night before, after Brother Wu had left, Jiang Pingchuan returned to his own room much later. Passing by Zhou Fu’s room, he could overhear Zhou Fu and Madam Zhou in quiet discussion—about him and Zhou Ning’er, about how "what’s done is done." Jiang Pingchuan could tell that Zhou Fu and his wife were considering entrusting Ning’er to him.

Yet, if Jiang Pingchuan was honest with himself, he knew he could not stay in Sanjiang County forever. This was the vast land of Changfeng, and Sanjiang was but a remote corner. Once he dealt with the man in the black robe, he intended to leave for the imperial city of Changfeng. In those more prosperous places, it would be easier to find a way to leave Changfeng altogether. When that time came, he thought, he would probably only take Maoxiu with him, for he needed to find Maoxiu in the capital.

Perhaps, when he left Changfeng, he would never return. If Zhou Ning’er was willing to follow him, to leave her parents behind and journey to another continent, Jiang Pingchuan would truly like to take her along and explore the world together.

He had a dream: once he reached the supreme realm, he would break through the barriers between continents, find Yuanwu Continent, restore the Maoshan Sect, and then climb the Heavenly Road to see the secrets of the starry sky he’d always yearned for.

“Pingchuan, did you have the porridge?” Madam Zhou asked softly, seeing him lost in thought in the courtyard. The night before, Zhou Fu had reasoned with her for a long time, carefully weighing the pros and cons of Ning’er staying with Jiang Pingchuan.

After much discussion, they reached a conclusion: Ning’er would surely fare better with Jiang Pingchuan than with them. After all, with Pingchuan at her side, no one would dare bully her. Hearing Zhou Fu’s analysis, Madam Zhou finally saw things clearly. Sanjiang had Gao Yao, but she liked Jiang Pingchuan far more. Moreover, he was the first man to enter her daughter's boudoir. According to tradition, her daughter must marry him and no other.

“Yes, I did. Thank you, Madam,” Jiang Pingchuan replied, turning to bow respectfully. But he saw Madam Zhou’s previously cheerful face suddenly cloud over at his gesture.

He smiled shyly, lowering his hand and scratching his head—a little embarrassed under her scrutiny for the first time.

“Pingchuan, to speak plainly, your Uncle Zhou and I have always hoped Ning’er would find a worthy husband. She’s of age now, and you’re the first to enter her room. From now on, don’t be so formal with me,” Madam Zhou said, her smile returning. Jiang Pingchuan nodded, cheeks flushing, fully understanding her meaning: in their eyes, he was already their future son-in-law.

“Madam, you’re right. It’s just that I…” he began.

“Ah, here’s Ning’er. You two talk, I’ll go help your Uncle Zhou.” Madam Zhou interrupted, patting his hand before turning to see Ning’er leaning playfully against the doorframe. With a cheerful laugh, she headed for the front hall, leaving Jiang Pingchuan watching as Ning’er approached with graceful steps.

“Brother Pingchuan, you were just saying you’re not ready for something—what was it?” Ning’er stood before him, rocking gently from heel to toe, as if both shy and playful, lightening the tension in her heart.

“Ning’er, the truth is, I’m not ready to settle down so soon. I…” But before he could finish, Ning’er pinched his waist hard, making him yelp in surprise. She looked up at him with a forced, teasing smile.

He could tell her smile was strained. Ning’er was clever; she already guessed what he intended to say before he finished. She interrupted him, not wanting to hear his refusal, and he understood—so he said nothing more, only watched her with a silent, pained smile.

“Silly Pingchuan, what are you thinking? Who said I want to marry you? The husband I want isn’t you. I’ve seen him already, so don’t get any ideas,” Ning’er declared with feigned seriousness and a hint of bossiness, her eyes distant as if recalling someone she’d met before. Jiang Pingchuan chuckled and nodded.

“Ning’er’s future husband will be much better than me,” he said, a note of self-mockery in his voice. He wasn’t sure if he was deceiving himself or if Ning’er was deceiving herself, but Ning’er pursed her lips and nodded earnestly.

“He told me to wait for him—to wait until he comes for me, clad in a robe of purple and gold, with boots of crimson clouds, riding a divine beast and wielding a sacred spear. But until he comes, you have to keep me company. Hehe,” Ning’er said dreamily, gazing at Jiang Pingchuan in adoration. Listening to her describe this dream suitor, Jiang Pingchuan suddenly realized she was speaking of him—of himself.

Purple-gold robe, crimson-cloud boots… Glancing at the purple skull at her waist, Jiang Pingchuan forced a wry smile, choosing not to explain. There were mysteries here even he did not yet understand.

“Alright, I’ll wait with you for him to come. If he never comes, I’ll stay with you always,” Jiang Pingchuan murmured, only realizing after he spoke that his words seemed to have come unbidden, as if his will was not his own. He looked again at the purple skull at Ning’er’s waist.

The skull’s once-flat mouth now bore a faint upward curve, as if it were smiling. In its hollow eye sockets, a dim violet light flickered. Jiang Pingchuan nodded, gently patting Ning’er’s head.

“Come shopping with me,” Ning’er said, pulling his hand and trying to drag him outside. When he hesitated, she shot him a suspicious look, then, seeing his hesitation, stuck out her tongue and tossed her hair before skipping off toward the front hall. Jiang Pingchuan, seeing her slight annoyance, looked at the hand she’d just held and smiled helplessly.

He wondered when he had grown out of the mischievous ways of his childhood. Seeing Ning’er already out of the back courtyard, he hurried after her.

As they passed through the front hall, Brother Wu, Madam Zhou, and the patrons all looked at him and Ning’er with knowing glances. Embarrassed, Jiang Pingchuan bowed hastily and slipped out of the noodle shop.

“Brother Pingchuan, you must take good care of Miss Zhou…”

“Manager Zhou and Madam Zhou are truly blessed with such a fine son-in-law…”

Hearing these comments behind him, Jiang Pingchuan nearly stumbled, his cheeks burning as laughter broke out. He silently berated himself for his lack of composure. As a child, he had feared nothing and no one; why had he grown so timid as an adult? Back then, he had even stolen a kiss from Xiaohua, despite her many admirers—he had always been bold. But now, he was a coward.

Ning’er, meanwhile, was beaming at him. Steadying himself, Jiang Pingchuan grabbed a folding fan from a nearby stall and snapped it open with a flourish. The stall owner started to scold him, but, recognizing Jiang Pingchuan, instead insisted he take more fans, leaving him red-faced and awkward, now sporting four fans tucked behind his neck like some clownish figure.

Nearly everyone in Sanjiang County had received help from Jiang Pingchuan at some point, and his reputation was well-known. Walking through the busy market, eight or nine out of ten people greeted him as he passed.

Following behind Ning’er, Jiang Pingchuan watched her flit from stall to stall, trying on rouge, hairpins, and ornaments, constantly asking him if they looked nice. He longed to tell her the giant red flower on her head looked ridiculous, but he dared not upset her, so he simply nodded again and again.

Seeing the joy on Ning’er’s face, Jiang Pingchuan thought to himself that he could grow to love this gentle, slow-paced life.