Sharing a lifetime of meals together is the most enduring companionship of all

The clock is racing, and the second hand looks as if it is about to leap right off the dial. In half an hour the groom will set out to fetch his bride, yet his shirt and dress trousers are still hanging on the rack, and his tie lies tossed aside like a dying little snake. The unhurried groom is still in a torn T-shirt, helping us wrap the little wedding favors he will give out tonight around the long table - xi mi, celebration rice.

Ever since Bohong started growing rice, his friends have walked down the aisle one after another like runners in a relay race. As their good friend, he sincerely wishes them well as they step into the next stage of life, yet after attending several formulaic weddings, he and I both feel helpless about how most of the red envelopes we hand out end up going to the banquet vendors. The glorious 100th year of the Republic produced more than 160,000 happy couples, and it also left those of us of marriageable age battered and bruised by red bombs.

Honestly, I do not like lobster that much, and I am even less fond of abalone, shark fin and sea cucumber. Usually, halfway through the wedding banquet, the newlyweds come around with drinks for a skimming-the-surface toast. This toasting round is usually the thirty seconds when the couple is closest to the guests, and in those thirty seconds they must thank a whole table of ten relatives and friends, so each person gets an average of three seconds. In those three seconds there is a word of congratulations and a fleeting meeting of the eyes, and that is about it. After the wedding banquet is over, besides a belly full of soup and drink, what is really left?

At the very last moment, the groom finally changes into his suit, loads the xi mi into the wedding car, and sets off to fetch his beautiful bride. And the not-so-presentable best man, Bohong, also finally gets himself ready at the very last moment.