With three superpowers at his fingertips, he could dominate the 1970s.

After they had finished eating, several childhood friends and comrades rushed forward and escorted Song Yanzhou and Jiang Zhiyu to their new room on the second floor.

The new house wasn't big, but it was decorated festively. A pair of red "double happiness" characters were pasted on the window, red silk was draped over the headboard, and even the floor was scattered with fine gold foil and flower petals.

The door had just closed when a commotion erupted as the door was pushed open.

"Groom, you should start by telling us how you and your sister-in-law met!"

Before Song Yanzhou could react, the comrade who had spoken first had already put his arm around his shoulder.

A smile flashed in Song Yanzhou's eyes.

The alley in the port city, the dagger pressed against him, and the person who emerged from the darkness—all came back in an instant.

"I was on a mission when my wife rescued me."

"And then I started to cling to her."

The whole room erupted in laughter.

"Oh, I say, Commander—"

"People always tell stories of heroes rescuing damsels in distress, but you've got the opposite – the damsel in distress rescuing the hero!"

"Sister-in-law, well done!"

My childhood friend laughed so hard he slapped his thigh:

Congratulations on your marriage!

"Yanzhou, who's in charge of the family from now on?"

Song Yanzhou patted his chest, looking completely justified:

"That's definitely up to my wife."

"Hahaha, I'm impressed!"

"Commander, you're surrendering before you've even stepped inside?"

Jiang Zhiyu stood beside him, smiling throughout, but not saying much.

After a few rounds of back and forth, everyone figured it out—Commander Song was a complete show-off, and his wife was the aloof and quiet type, who commanded respect just by standing there.

Cousin Song Yanshu, holding a cup, came over, unusually serious, and patted Song Yanzhou on the shoulder:

"Inkstone Boat."

"We both came from the same compound, we've been through thick and thin together since we were kids—"

"You're not allowed to bully your younger siblings anymore."

"The couple supported each other through life."

Song Yanzhou, abandoning his previous arrogant demeanor, responded earnestly:

"Um."

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at him, then looked at Song Yanshu and smiled:

"Don't worry, brother."

Amidst the cheers, the crowd pushed the couple around, handing out wedding candies and pouring wedding tea.

Song Yanzhou held a handful of fruit candies in his hand, while Jiang Zhiyu held a teapot—one handing out candies and the other refilling water, and they did it quite well.

The new house was bustling with activity, like a pot boiling over.

---

Downstairs, several elderly people stopped eating and listened to the commotion upstairs.

Song Bingzheng held the teacup, slowly blew away the floating leaves, and took a sip.

"Young people are making a ruckus."

"OK."

An old comrade-in-arms next to me burst out laughing:

"That's good."

"Back in our day, none of us old folks had the time for all this wedding pranks—"

"We fight this battle today, and we don't even know if we'll keep our heads tomorrow."

"Um."

"Our country is doing well."

"They can eat their fill, go to school, and even get married with all this fuss."

Song Bingzheng smiled and waved his hand:

"Our generation has finished fighting the war—"

"The next generation won't have to fight anymore."

"This is the true meaning of protecting our country."

The old comrade nodded emphatically, said nothing more, and simply picked up his teacup and clinked it against Song Bingzheng's.

The aroma of tea slowly spread throughout the main room.

---

By the afternoon, the young people, having had their fill of fun, gradually dispersed.

Jiang Zhiyu and Song Yanzhou went downstairs and were stunned as soon as they turned the corner of the main room.

The entire Song family, young and old, gathered around the large table in the main room—

Song Huaijin was rolling out the dough, Chen Guifang and Yan Zhiyu were filling the dumplings, Song Yanwei was clumsily pinching pleats, Jiang Boxun and Su Wanqing were sitting next to her helping to peel garlic, and Qi Zhengli and Liu Hong were sitting in the middle as if they were family.

Sister Yang brought out a bowl of freshly chopped minced meat.

Song Bingzheng sat at the head of the main room, with Zhao Lanjun's wheelchair parked next to him. The elderly couple each held a lump of dough in their hands, slowly kneading it.

"We figured you two probably didn't eat much today."

Chen Guifang didn't even look up. "I'll make you two some dumplings."

Jiang Zhiyu paused for a moment, then quietly took Song Yanzhou's arm:

Is this a custom in your capital?

Song Yanzhou looked completely bewildered:

"...I don't know either."

Song Bingzheng heard this and shook his head with a smile:

"We don't have such fuss over things."

"It's just that there are so many people—eating dumplings is so lively. It's like celebrating the New Year. Isn't that great?"

As the old man spoke, he turned to look at Zhao Lanjun:

"I've lived most of my life, and today is the most lively day my family has ever had."

"Isn't that right, old woman?"

Zhao Lanjun slowly kneaded the dough in her hands, then looked up and nodded with a smile.

Jiang Zhiyu stood at the entrance of the main room, looking at the people filling the table—

Biological parents, godparents, grandparents, uncles and aunts, cousins, Song Yanzhou...

The room was packed with people, but no one was saying any polite words. They were all busy making dumplings with their heads down, occasionally glancing up to say a word to the person next to them.

People who are surrounded by family love are truly blessed.

Jiang Zhiyu's throat bobbed, but she didn't speak. She walked over, rolled up her sleeves, sat down next to Su Wanqing, and reached for a piece of dough.

Song Yanzhou also moved over and sat on her other side.

---

After we finished eating dumplings, the city lights were already on.

The two slowly went up to the second floor.

Song Yanzhou lagged behind, while Jiang Zhiyu pushed open the door to the bridal chamber in front.

The room was filled with red—red double happiness characters, red silk, red bed curtains—and gold foil scattered on the floor shimmered under the lamplight.

"Click."

Song Yanzhou slammed the door shut behind him.

The whole world suddenly fell silent.

This private space remains.

Jiang Zhiyu heard the person behind her slow their breathing.

She turned around and looked at him.

Song Yanzhou was still in his military officer's uniform, his epaulets neatly in place, his back ramrod straight, his eyes darting around but he dared not look at Jiang Zhiyu, and he didn't dare to move an inch.

Jiang Zhiyu chuckled softly and reached out to turn off the light.

Only a sliver of moonlight filtered in through the window.

She walked over and took his hand.

Sure enough, my hands were sweaty.

Jiang Zhiyu chuckled softly.

"Commander Song."

"nervous?"

Song Yanzhou hummed in response, his voice hoarse and unlike his own.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't say anything more, but just held his hand tightly.

The red candles were not lit.

But it was already—the wedding night.