The rest of the dishes were all vegetarian and wild vegetables, which was quite decent, and no one complained.
Of course, you can't get full at a banquet. Buling barely took a few bites before all the plates on the table were empty. And it's not just her opinion; from ancient times to the present, banquet diners have always been the same.
Ming Xiangru and Sister-in-law Mo didn't even have time to react. The women at the table were all too quick; in the blink of an eye, one plate was empty.
The three women exchanged a glance, then tacitly put down their chopsticks. Forget it, they shouldn't overestimate themselves.
This was Bling's first time attending a wedding from the 1970s. It was simple yet lively, with everyone offering heartfelt blessings. There weren't as many elaborate rituals as weddings in later years, but there was a great deal of sincerity in them.
After the meal, everyone went home. What happened next was no longer their concern; it was their family matter.
The three of them walked back together. Just as they left the machine factory, Mulberry suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
Wearing a white shirt, black pants, and white sneakers, he sat on a bicycle, tilting his head and smiling at Buling: "Come on, I'll give you a ride home." He looked exactly like the school heartthrob from our school days.
Perhaps it was the dazzling sunlight, but the boy's smile seemed etched into Buling's heart, and she nodded involuntarily, "Okay!"
She turned around, about to say something to Sister Mo and the other woman.
"Go ahead, Little Bu."
"Bling, we're leaving now." The two were quite tactful.
Buling pursed her lips, revealing two small dimples, nodded, and got on the boy's bicycle, sitting sideways and holding onto the hem of his shirt.
With a slight effort, the wind blew, causing his shirt to billow and brush against Bu Ling's cheek. His white shirt carried a faint scent of laundry detergent, mixed with the fresh, warm smell of sunshine—a scent both clean and intense.
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