Chapter 488: Li Yaoyang's Wedding

September 23, 1999, Shenzhen Bao'an International Airport.

A flight from Luoyang had just landed, and Li Ping'an and Lin Xueqing walked out to the arrivals hall.

Having not returned to Shenzhen for half a year, the airport had changed— the newly expanded terminal shone dazzlingly, and the row of palm trees outside the glass curtain wall had grown a whole section taller.

Lin Xueqing linked her arm with her husband's, and seeing him glance left and right, she couldn't help but laugh.

"What, only half a year away and you can't even recognize your own home?"

Li Ping'an shook his head: "It's not that I don't recognize it, it's changed too fast. The last time I left, they were still laying foundations here; now the buildings are all completed."

He paused, then added wistfully: "Shenzhen changes every day."

A Wanshang business car came to pick them up, driven by Li Yaozong himself. Seeing his father step out, he hurried forward and took the suitcase.

"Dad, Mom, thank you for the long journey."

Li Ping'an glanced up and down at his son. The 32‑year‑old chairman of Wanxiang Group, dressed in a dark‑gray shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, his hair shorter than before, a bit slimmer than six months ago, yet full of vigor.

"How's the group doing?"

"All good," Li Yaozong opened the car door. "Zhang Wei said the 32‑core embedded processor wafers succeeded, performance met expectations. Xu Jiaming's Pangu 4.0 system piloted in the tax system last month received positive feedback. He Xiao's electric‑spray engine, after being installed in a vehicle, has logged twenty‑thousand kilometers, and the data is steadier than the imported ones."

Li Ping'an got into the car, listened to his son's report, his face expressionless, but satisfaction lingered in the lines at the corners of his eyes.

The car left the airport and turned onto Shen Nan Avenue. Outside the window, the familiar city flashed by one building after another: Wanxiang Dasha, Wanshang Hotel, Wanshang Mall, Wanshang Garden… each building represented a span of years, each brick soaked with his sweat.

"How's Yaoyang's side preparing?" Lin Xueqing asked.

Li Yaozong glanced at his mother in the rearview mirror, smiled, and said, "Mom, don't worry. Yaoyang is even more attentive than I am; he oversees the new house's renovation himself, has revised the wedding banquet menu eight times, and even hand‑writes the invitations."

Lin Xueqing breathed a sigh of relief.

Li Ping'an asked, "Has the bride's family been arranged?"

"All set," Li Yaozong said. "Zhang Xiufen's parents arrived in Shenzhen the day before yesterday, staying at Wanshang Hotel, and Uncle Wen Bin personally hosted them. The elders are quite plain, not talkative, but you can see they were well‑brought up."

Zhang Xiufen—Li Yaoyang's partner. A classmate from Harbin Institute of Technology, originally from Heilongjiang, she moved to Shenzhen after graduation and works as an engineer at a communications equipment company. The two have been dating for four years, and this year they finally tied the knot.

Li Ping'an nodded and looked out the window.

Outside the car window, Shenzhen's autumn has no falling leaves, only ever‑green trees and buildings that are forever under construction.

But his younger son is getting married.

September 25, Wanshang Hotel banquet hall.

The final rehearsal before the wedding.

Li Yaoyang, in casual clothes, darted in and out of the banquet hall, sometimes confirming lighting with the wedding planning staff, sometimes pulling the MC over the schedule, and sometimes rushing to the back kitchen to whisper about the menu with the head chef.

At twenty‑seven, when he gets busy he still has the boundless energy he had when he first enrolled at Harbin Institute of Technology.

Lin Xueqing sat in a corner chair, watching her younger son's silhouette, her eyes a little watery.

"Mom, why are you sitting here?" Li Nuanqing carried a glass of water over and sat beside her, "The rehearsal hasn't started yet."

Lin Xueqing took the water, looking at her daughter. The thirty‑year‑old Li Nuanqing, associate chief physician of the cardiac surgery department at Union Hospital, had her hair meticulously pinned up; her brows and eyes showed both her gentleness and her father's stubbornness.

"Where's your dad?" Lin Xueqing asked.

"He's over there chatting with the in‑laws," Li Nuanqing pointed to the other end of the banquet hall.

Li Ping'an was sitting with Zhang Xiufen's parents in the tea‑break area; the four of them gathered around a round table, engrossed in conversation.

Zhang's father, a retired middle‑school teacher, spoke slowly and deliberately, nodding from time to time; Zhang's mother said little, but her smile was gentle, constantly pouring tea for Li Ping'an.

"The father‑in‑law is a good man," Li Nuanqing said, "I heard Yaoyang's first trip to Heilongjiang, he cooked eight dishes himself and even brought out his own aged wine to treat the guests."

Lin Xueqing nodded.

"Zhang Xiufen is also wonderful," she said, "When she came home for a meal last time, she washed the dishes for me and even learned to make soup with me."

Li Nuanqing looked at her mother.

"Mom, you can't bear to let him go?"

Lin Xueqing was momentarily stunned, then smiled.

"What is there to be reluctant about? I'm not the one marrying off my daughter," she said. "Now we have one more person in the family, so holidays will be livelier."

Li Nuanqing clasped her mother's hand.

Outside, Shenzhen's sunlight poured through the floor‑to‑ceiling windows, gilding the silhouettes of mother and daughter.

Su Jingming still had that slender, gaunt look; his lenses were a bit thicker than on his wedding day, but he seemed more steady than before.

As a young backbone of Union Hospital's cardiac surgery department, he has spent many sleepless nights and performed numerous major surgeries in recent years.

"Jingming, is your hospital busy lately?" Li Ping'an asked.

"It's fine," Su Jingming took the tea Lin Xueqing offered, "Nuanqing's side is a bit busier; she has a heavy teaching load."

Li Nuanqing glanced at him: "You're afraid I'd report you to dad, aren't you?"

Su Jingming immediately adopted a serious tone: "No, no, I'm telling the truth."

Everyone in the room laughed.

Dinner was at home, with Lin Xueqing cooking herself. Red Braised Pork, steamed sea bass, garlic broccoli, and tomato‑egg soup— all of Li Ping'an's favorite home dishes.

At the table no one brought up work; they talked about everyday matters: Nuanqing's job, Jingming's health, Yaoyang's wedding, and Li Anning, who lives in Beijing—she's also married, to an anesthesiologist at Union Hospital, and gave birth to a daughter last year.

"Anning said they can't come," Li Nuanqing picked up a piece of vegetable, "the child is too young, flying is inconvenient. She asked me to convey her congratulations to Yaoyang."

Lin Xueqing nodded: "Understood. When the child is a bit older, they'll come to Shenzhen to visit."

Li Ping'an said little, merely eating slowly while listening to his children and grandchildren chat.

His hair remained jet‑black, his posture still upright, but the expression in his eyes had changed.

It wasn't fatigue, but contentment.

Like an old tree watching its branches unfurl in the sun, knowing it can finally rest.

October 1, National Day.

Shenzhen's weather was unusually fine, the sky a water‑washed blue, and sunlight poured through the floor‑to‑ceiling windows of the Wanshang Hotel banquet hall, illuminating every smiling face.

Li YaoYang stood in the lounge, adjusting his tie in front of the mirror for the last time.

At twenty-seven, he wore a custom-made dark blue suit, his hair neatly combed, his leather shoes polished to a shine.

But his fingers still trembled slightly—he had tied the tie three times and still felt it was crooked.

"Don't be nervous." Li Yaozong pushed the door open and came in, handing him a cup of water. "When I got married back then, I was even more nervous than you. I almost dropped the wine cup during the toast."

Li YaoYang took the water and took a sip.

"Brother, do you think… I can be a good husband?"

Li Yaozong looked at him, silent for a few seconds.

"If you can't do it, learn how." He said, "I'm learning too. Dad was learning too. In this world, no one is born knowing how to be a husband; only those willing to learn."

Li YaoYang nodded, set the water cup down, and finally glanced at himself in the mirror.

"Let's go." he said.

At 10:18 a. m., the wedding officially began.

The banquet hall was filled with guests. The senior executives of Wanxiang Group sat in the front row—Zhou Wenbin, Chen Jianghe, Zheng Guodong, Zhang Wei, Xu Jiaming, He Xiao, Zhou Huaming, Chen Anbang—one familiar face after another, all smiling, looking at the child on stage whom they had watched grow up.

Lin Xueqing and Li Ping'an sat at the main table, with Zhang Xiufen's parents beside them.

The wedding march began.

Li YaoYang stood on the stage, watching the banquet hall doors slowly open.

Zhang Xiufen leaned on her father's arm, walking toward him step by step.

She wore a white wedding dress, her hair styled in a simple bun, her face free of heavy makeup, only a faint smile.

The twenty-seven-year-old girl still had the straightforwardness characteristic of a Northeastern lass, but at this moment she simply gazed at the man on stage waiting for her.

Li YaoYang's eyes grew hot.

He recalled four years ago in the Harbin Institute of Technology library, when he accidentally bumped into her while borrowing books, scattering them across the floor. She crouched down to help him pick them up, lifted her head, and her first words were: "You walk without looking where you're going?"

Then she laughed.

That smile stayed with him for four years.

Now, she walked toward him in her wedding gown.

He reached out his hand.

She placed her hand in his palm.

Warm, slightly trembling, like that afternoon four years ago when sunlight streamed through the library window onto her face.

The officiant gave a speech, they exchanged rings, and they drank the nuptial wine.

The ceremony was brief, without excessive formalities, every second exuding the young people's straightforward efficiency.

When the master of ceremonies announced the ceremony complete, Li Ping'an saw his son and daughter-in-law exchange smiles, that smile holding no tension, only the reassurance that comes from being together.

He suddenly recalled the spring of 1942, when his parents starved to death in Henan.

At that time he was ten, just having crossed over, and immediately encountered the great Henan drought; he had no time to think of anything else, only knowing that as his mother breathed her last she gripped his hand and said, "Ping'an, live well, find your sister."

Live well.

Later he survived, found his sister, started a family, had children, had grandchildren, and had this little son standing on stage taking a wife.

Sixty-eight years had passed.

He could finally say to himself, "Mother, I have lived well."

Lin Xueqing gently grasped his hand under the table.

Her hand was warm, the fine lines bearing the traces of thirty-six years of daily life. He didn't look at her, simply returning her grip.

Two hands etched with the marks of time clasped together.

Just as it had been thirty-six years ago, when she first saw him on the Korean battlefield.

But back then, neither of them knew that this grip would last a lifetime.

The toast began.

Li YaoYang and Zhang Xiufen held their wine cups, going from table to table. From elders to colleagues, from childhood friends to classmates, they paused at each table, exchanged a few polite words, and took a small sip.

When they reached the main table, Li YaoYang looked at his parents and suddenly stopped.

Zhang Xiufen gently nudged him.

He took a deep breath and lifted his wine cup.

"Dad, Mom," his voice a little shaky, "this cup of wine is for you."

Li Ping'an raised his wine cup and looked at him.

This twenty-seven-year-old young man, his little son, now stood before him in a crisp suit, his eye sockets slightly red, just like when he first shouldered his backpack and went to school—he wanted to look back at him, but felt embarrassed to do so.

"YaoYang," Li Ping'an spoke, his voice not loud but each word clear, "Now that you've started a family, you're an adult. From now on, the two of you should walk your path together, discuss matters when they arise, face them together, without deceit, with honesty."

He paused.

"Learn well."

Li YaoYang nodded, nodding firmly.

The wine cups clinked, producing a clear sound.

Father and son each drank theirs dry.

Lin Xueqing watched this scene, her eyes moist.

Zhang Xiufen softly called "Mom," then lifted her own wine cup and offered a toast to her.

Lin Xueqing grasped her daughter-in-law's hand.

"Xiufen," she said, "if YaoYang ever bullies you, tell me."

Zhang Xiufen smiled, glancing at her husband.

"Mom, he doesn't bully me."

"That's good then." Lin Xueqing also laughed, "If he dares, I'll stand up for you."

Everyone at the table laughed.

After the toasts, the banquet entered a free‑talk period.

The young people gathered to chat: Zhang Wei and Xu Jiaming argued whether the next version of the Pangu system should support multitasking; Zhou Wenbin and Chen Jianghe discussed Hong Kong's recent economic situation; Zheng Guodong, cradling his grandson, was showing the people beside him photos on his phone.

Li Ping'an didn't join any table.

He walked alone to the terrace outside the banquet hall and lit a cigarette.

At sixty‑eight, he rarely smoked, but he made an exception today.

In the distance, Shenzhen's skyscrapers glittered in the sun. The city he had helped build with his own hands kept growing taller, larger, stronger.

Below, traffic on Shen Nan Avenue flowed like a river, with Wanshang buses weaving through it, like the assembly line he had seen in the Steel Rolling Mill when he was young.

Footsteps sounded behind him.

"Why are you hiding here alone?"

Lin Xueqing walked over and stood beside him.

Li Ping'an took a drag and exhaled slowly.

"Take a look," he said.

"Look at what?"

"Look at our family business." He gazed into the distance, "Look at Yaozong running the group well, look at Yao Yang settled down, look at Nuanqing doing well at the Yi Yuan, look at these old folks still able to drink and chat together."

He paused.

"It's pretty good."

Lin Xueqing said nothing, just kept him company as they stared into the distance.

The wind came from the sea, carrying a salty, damp scent, ruffling their graying hair.

"Let's go back inside," Lin Xueqing said, "The guests haven't all left yet."

Li Ping'an stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it into the nearby trash can.

"Let's go."

He turned, took his wife's hand, and walked back into the banquet hall.

Behind them, Shenzhen's sunshine remained brilliant.

The wedding was over, and after seeing off the last batch of guests it was already four p. m.

Li Yaoyang and Zhang Xiufen stood at the hotel entrance, watching their parents' car drive away.

"Are you tired?" Li Yaoyang asked.

Zhang Xiufen shook her head and leaned against his shoulder.

"Not tired," she said, "just a little reluctant."

"Reluctant about what?"

"Reluctant about today." She looked at the receding car shadows, "Today is too beautiful."

Li Yaoyang wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"From now on, every day I'll make you feel beautiful."

Zhang Xiufen looked up at him and smiled.

"That's what you said."

"I said it."

The two exchanged a smile, turned, and walked into the hotel.

That night, Li Ping'an and Lin Xueqing sat on their own balcony.

The balcony faced Shenzhen Bay; the distant sea surface glimmered faintly in the night, with a few fishing lights flickering on and off. Farther away, Hong Kong's lights stretched into a ribbon of light, like a sleeping dragon.

Lin Xueqing brought two cups of tea, handing one to Li Ping'an and holding the other herself.

"Are you happy today?" she asked.

Li Ping'an took a sip of tea and swallowed slowly.

"Happy."

"Yao Yang is settled now; a weight must have lifted from your heart, right?"

Li Ping'an didn't answer immediately.

He stared at the distant lights and remained silent for a long time.

"Xueqing," he finally spoke, "If my mother were alive and saw today's scene, what would she say?"

Lin Xueqing thought for a moment.

"She would say: Ping'an, you've lived well."

Li Ping'an was stunned.

Then he laughed, and as he laughed his eyes grew wet.

"Yes," he said, "She would say that."

He squeezed his wife's hand.

Warm.

As warm as his mother's hand had been in 1942.

All his life he had held many hands.

Some had let go, some still held.

What he held was home.

It was late at night.

Li Ping'an was still sitting on the balcony, and that cup of tea had gone completely cold.

Lin Xueqing didn't urge him; she just went inside, fetched a thin blanket, and gently draped it over his shoulders.

"Still not sleeping?"

Li Ping'an shook his head.

"Just a little longer," he said.

He watched the distant lights, watched the city he had lived in for twenty years, watched the land he had toiled on his whole life.

His eldest son is working overtime in Wanxiang Dasha's office, his daughter is busy on the operating table at Xiehe Hospital, his youngest son is in the New House whispering with his newlywed wife, his sister Li Pingle is at home in Shenzhen pampering her grandchildren with sweets, and his brother‑in‑law Chen Jianghe just finished drinking with him and should already be asleep.

His whole life, that's enough.

He stood up and poured the completely cold tea into a flower pot.

"Let's go, let's sleep." He walked into the house, turned his head and gave Lin Xueqing a glance, "Tomorrow, we still have to go out."

Lin Xueqing smiled.

"Where do you still want to go?"

Li Ping'an thought for a moment.

"Head south," he said, "to Hainan, to see the sea."

He paused.

"Then, to places we've never been before."