With an expressionless face, Lian Qiguang remained in a blank state, hands in his pockets, calmly allowing Xiahou Shaoxuan—with a “senior-aged” cold face—to grab him by the back of his collar like a chick and lift him off the ground as he carried him into the banquet hall.
Once inside, Xiahou Zhong had already appeared. Behind him stood Xiahou Jue and An Ruxin on the high platform. The originally lively and noisy banquet had turned unusually silent. Everyone had stopped talking, as if even breathing too heavily would be improper, their eyes fixed unblinking on the straight, towering old man on the stage—the man who had once led countless troops against foreign invasions and protected Blue Star’s centuries of peace.
Xiahou Zhong stood on the platform, his sharp gaze sweeping across the crowd. His aura was still as powerful as it had been in his youth—like one man holding the pass against ten thousand, sweeping through armies.
“Today is my birthday. I welcome all of you for coming, and I thank you all for showing me face,” Xiahou Zhong said in a deep, commanding voice, carrying the iron backbone of a soldier.
“As guests, please don’t be too restrained. It’s just a birthday. Don’t make it feel like a combat meeting. I’ve been through that for hundreds of years—I’m already tired of it.”
He waved his hand in disdain.
His blend of authority and casual humor immediately warmed the atmosphere again, and the banquet gradually returned to its lively state.
Nobles and officials moved forward one after another. Though intimidated by Xiahou Zhong’s presence, they did not dare approach him directly, instead surrounding Xiahou Jue and An Ruxin, flattering them endlessly. On the surface, it looked harmonious, but behind it all, hidden schemes quietly twisted.
Xiahou Shaoxuan carried Lian Qiguang, frowning as he looked at the “lively” scene. He turned away and moved toward a staircase through an empty corner.
“I remember who you are,” Lian Qiguang suddenly said, lifting his head from his blank state. His always expressionless face showed a trace of sudden realization.
Because of Xiahou Zhong’s presence, no one dared to act too freely. But even so, Lian Qiguang’s voice was not soft. Instantly, everyone paused and turned to look.
Seeing the little person in his arms, Xiahou Shaoxuan’s brow twitched. The knuckles of his tightly clenched fist turned pale. This short, thin little thing—light enough to be held like a doll—looked like he could be crushed with a single careless grip, yet he somehow had the ability to provoke his anger with just a few words.
From a distance, Xiahou Zhong watched his grandson and the youth hanging in his hand with great interest, his eyes flashing with amusement.
Being watched by so many people, there was no way to leave now.
Suppressing the throbbing in his temple, Xiahou Shaoxuan turned around and set Lian Qiguang down. Once his feet touched the ground, Lian Qiguang calmly straightened his wrinkled clothes, then gave Xiahou Shaoxuan a proper, formal salute.
“Since you have matters, I’ll take my leave. I’ll treat you to a meal when I have time.”
He turned to leave immediately.
To Lian Qiguang, after forty years of life in the apocalypse—where resources were scarce and food was more valuable than life itself—inviting someone to a meal was the highest form of respect and favor.
“Come back here,” Xiahou Shaoxuan ordered coldly, grabbing him again by the collar.
“You can’t hit me. Domestic violence isn’t allowed—it’s illegal,” Lian Qiguang said seriously.
Domestic violence!?
Xiahou Shaoxuan gritted his teeth, truly wishing he could pry open this brat’s head to see what was inside.
Does he look like someone who would commit domestic violence?
So, Xiahou Shaoxuan, had you already started treating him as your possession? You’re already talking about married life.
Cold-faced, Xiahou Shaoxuan radiated murderous frost, dragging Lian Qiguang through the banquet and toward the stage.
Lian Yucheng stood in a corner, staring at Lian Qiguang with clenched fists and deep worry in his eyes. Lian Xiaozhu covered her mouth tightly, terrified she might scream.
Xiahou Shaoxuan carried him to the steps, then hoisted him onto his shoulder and strode up the stage amid stunned gazes.
Once he reached Xiahou Zhong, he set Lian Qiguang down, then pressed a hand on his head, making him stumble as he struggled to pry it away.
“He!” Xiahou Shaoxuan swept his gaze across the crowd, his voice like thunder. “Is my wife!!”
The entire banquet was shaken into dizziness and ringing ears. Xiahou Jue and An Ruxin stared at their son in disbelief. Was this really the same cold, silent wooden block who couldn’t squeeze out three words since childhood?
Seeing the petrified crowd, Xiahou Zhong suppressed a laugh and quickly regained his dignity.
Cough.
He glanced at Lian Qiguang still fumbling under his grandson’s grip, then stepped forward.
“Today, aside from my birthday, it is also my eldest grandson Xiahou Shaoxuan’s engagement day.”
The crowd erupted in shock.
“This child, Lian Qiguang, is the son of one of my former subordinates. From today onward, he will be my grandson’s fiancée—my Xiahou family’s granddaughter-in-law.”
Xiahou Zhong turned back.
“Xiaoxuan, let him go.”
Xiahou Shaoxuan released his hand.
Finally free, Lian Qiguang stood properly, straightened his clothes, and expressionlessly looked down at the crowd, calmly accepting all their stares. His composure drew a flash of approval from Xiahou Zhong.
But this was a misunderstanding. To Lian Qiguang, this level of attention was nothing. In the apocalypse, he had once stood before millions of survivors and hordes of corpses alike—this was nothing in comparison.
“Xiaoguang,” Xiahou Zhong called warmly. “Come greet everyone.”
He walked forward two steps and stood beside Xiahou Zhong.
“I am Lian Qiguang, Xiahou Shaoxuan’s future…” He glanced at Xiahou Shaoxuan.
His usually calm eyes carried a faint reluctance.
“…wife.”
Even though he disliked it, under the threatening gaze, he still reluctantly said the words.
Silence.
“……That’s it?” Xiahou Zhong asked, slightly stunned.
“That’s it,” he nodded expressionlessly.
Silence again.
“Xiaoguang, don’t be nervous. You can say more,” Xiahou Zhong said kindly.
“I really already finished.”
A hand pressed down on his head.
“Wife, greet everyone properly,” came a cold voice from above.
Lian Qiguang looked up, seeing the upside-down face above him. His expression turned blank… then faintly aggrieved.
“I really already finished.”
Xiahou Shaoxuan’s mood instantly darkened.
He swept a cold glance across the crowd, releasing waves of icy pressure.
My wife is mine. If you make my wife unhappy, you make me unhappy. If you make me unhappy, you make the entire Xiahou Wolf Battalion unhappy.
And if you make the Xiahou Wolf Battalion unhappy…
At this moment, Xiahou Shaoxuan’s “wife-devoted path” officially began.
Everyone shivered, feeling a chill run down their spines.
Xiahou Zhong coughed lightly.
“Since that is the case, from tonight onward, Xiaoguang will become a member of the Xiahou family.”
“I object!!!!”
A furious roar came from the staircase entrance.