HLM – Chapter 1025 The Wedding in Progress

Wang Bo didn’t know whether the Māori cared about auspicious times for weddings. Anyway, when Motak and his fiancée finished their makeup, they came out.

The wedding was held right on the grass. There wasn’t any special preparation—everyone simply stood around in a circle. One side of the circle had an opening where an inflatable arch was placed, and a red carpet was laid out all the way to the makeup tent.

Next came the red-carpet procession. Unlike Chinese weddings, where the more important guests appear later, Māori weddings had the “stars” of the show—the bride and groom—walk out first.

The bride was a chubby girl, though slimmer than most Māori women. She looked about 1.7 meters tall and weighed maybe around 70 kilos. She wore a very Western-style white wedding dress, and standing beside Motak, who was in a suit, both of them were beaming happily at the red carpet.

A Māori youth beside them sighed, “Ah, my brother Motak is really not working hard enough. He’s been with Aipa for so many years and she’s still this skinny.”

Hearing that, Wang Bo glanced at Eva. “My god, in the eyes of Māori people, does it look like I’m abusing you every day?”

Eva looked horrified. “Honey, you’re Chinese—please don’t adopt Māori aesthetics or values.”

Just when the wedding was about to begin, a small problem arose.

Normally, a flower girl should walk up and present flowers. The bride was supposed to hold a bouquet while walking the red carpet. But the little girl assigned to flowers had taken part earlier in the incident where Eva’s jewelry was snatched, and her parents had given her a beating.

A brat was still a brat—she got angry and actually threw away the bouquet and refused to give flowers to the bride.

Now her parents panicked. They came over, one playing the soft role, the other the tough:

“Hununana is a good girl. Go on, give the flowers to your Aipa sister. She loves you the most.”

“You damned girl, go up there right now or I’ll beat you until you can’t open your eyes or pee today!”

Dale glanced over, walked up sweetly, and said, “Uncle, Auntie, if Hununana doesn’t want to go, then let me do it.”

Someone offering help was the best outcome. The MC hosting the ceremony quickly nodded and handed the bouquet to Dale.

Holding the fresh, dewy bouquet, Dale hopped along the red carpet toward the bride and groom, curtsied like a proper young lady, and then held the flowers up to the groom.

Motak’s fat cheeks trembled from smiling as he took the bouquet and passed it to the bride. The guests applauded.

People lined up along both sides of the red carpet, each holding a confetti popper. As the groom and bride walked by—“bang bang bang bang”—ribbons shot out in colorful streams.

The groom and bride walked at the front, followed by the groomsman and bridesmaid, then a boy and girl as child attendants, and lastly the Māori elder of their clan.

At Māori weddings, the officiator is the elder, while the MC was more like a director managing the process.

The elder spoke entirely in Māori, so Wang Bo didn’t understand a word. He had to guess the meaning from everyone’s reactions, and surprisingly he guessed quite accurately.

When everyone applauded, he clapped and even shouted in excitement; when everyone grew solemn, he stayed quiet with a serious face. His perfectly timed reactions even earned a few compliments.

The bride and groom exchanged rings. The prelude of a song began—everyone was supposed to sing together.

Wang Bo said, “A song in Māori? I don’t understand that.”

Atulu whispered, “Sh*t, boss, have you never attended a Māori wedding before?”

“No, why?”

“Then just follow. The song coming up is the most famous Māori love song, Pokarekare Ana. Everyone has to sing it to bless the newlyweds. You Chinese probably have something similar, right? Like offering blessings?”

Wang Bo shook his head. “No. We just give red envelopes. No singing, no talking required.”

“Yeah, but we need it. Come on, search the lyrics on your phone and follow along. If you don’t know Māori you can sing the English version, it’s fine.”

Wang Bo panicked. “Why didn’t anyone warn me earlier? Damn it, how am I supposed to sing this?”

“So just follow. It’s starting.” A deep, melodious chorus rose up, and Atulu opened his mouth to sing as well.

Wang Bo found the lyrics on his phone and followed the tune, opening his mouth as wide as he could while singing in a very low voice:

“…The trouble lies with Lake Rotorua,
If you cross it, girl, it will calm its waves…”

“Come to my side, girl, I love you so deeply.
My love will never dry under the sun—it will forever stay moist with my tears…”

“I have written the letter, I have sent the ring,
If my people find out, we’ll be in trouble…”

“My pen has snapped, my paper is gone,
But my love for you will never run dry!”

As they sang, the newlyweds excitedly walked up to hug everyone—almost every single guest. This meant everyone had to sing more slowly while the bride and groom moved quickly.

After the song ended, the Māori haka chant burst forth, and Motak’s male clansmen surged forward to perform the war dance with the groom.

In fact, not only his male clansmen—all the men joined in. When Wang Bo noticed this, he quickly ducked his head to reduce his presence, but two chubby women still shoved him forward.

He waved his hands apologetically. “I don’t know how to dance.”

One girl—who must have weighed 100 kilos—stared at him like he was a juicy cut of pork and said with drooling anticipation, “Then I’ll teach you.”

Without a word, Wang Bo immediately rushed into the group of dancers. Screw that—he had clearly seen drool dripping from that woman’s lips. He was terrified she’d nibble on him while “teaching.”

The Māori haka was simple—mostly rhythm and forceful movements. Wang Bo couldn’t keep up with their pace, but he’d seen many haka performances before and knew the basic motions.

So he muddled through. Although he wasn’t impressive, he didn’t embarrass himself.

When the haka ended, the wedding reached its finale—group photos.

Māori group photos were interesting: everyone lined up by height and arranged in the shape of a heart, with the bride and groom in the center, like the bud of a blooming flower.

“Alright, let’s begin our delightful feasting ceremony!” the MC announced cheerfully.

“Woohooooo!” the children shouted excitedly.

A wedding naturally included traditional hangi dishes, as well as all sorts of roasted and fried meats. There was a huge bucket full of vegetable and fruit salad—an enormous amount.

And of course, the essential Māori strong liquor. The alcohol was served in wooden barrels; once opened, everyone took a bowl and scooped it up with a ladle.

Wang Bo walked over and was immediately assaulted by the powerful alcohol fumes. He looked at Atulu in despair.

“My god… lethal force!”