Long before the first rays of sunlight illuminate the night sky, Wangji stirs from his sleep. He sits up. It is 5:00 in the morning.
Today is the day.
With a heavy heart, Wangji clambers from his bed. He calls for a servant, and a second later the paper doors slide open to reveal a young maid, balancing a tray full of steaming china platters. She carries it all the way to his bedside table.
"Breakfast, Your Excellency." She sets the tray down onto the table and dips her head in a bow.
"Thank you."
"Advisor Zewu Jun says to remind you that the union will begin in a few hours... You must be very happy to be wedding the beautiful and graceful Gu Meiyou."
For a moment, there is silence. Wangji draws the teacup steadily to his lips and takes a tentative sip. Setting it back on the tabletop, he replies, "I care deeply for the Lady."
"Pardon my intrusion, Your Excellency. You and Lady Gu make a lovely couple."
Something has been swelling in his chest all this while, and now it comes to a head and sends a pang to his heart. Then, as quickly as the feeling had come, he lets a stoic expression befall him.
"Perhaps."
•••
Ah Xian's footsteps are like drumbeats, plodding an unstoppable rhythm in the wake of every dirt path cross-section. He bounds through the forest, the juniors hot on his tail. He can hear their ragged panting behind him, dodging trees and leaping over rivulets and sharp stones. The sun is already starting to peep out from the mountaintops.
"By the gods, why are there so many trees!" groans Jin Ling. "Where the hell did they come from? This isn't the path we took coming here!"
"Maybe that's because we flew on our swords?" drawls Jingyi. Even his sarcasm is stretched thin by his haggard breaths.
"Wait... look!" Ah Yuan exclaims, voice picking up, full of hope. "That flowery fork in the trees—I think that's the one Brother Wen mentioned earlier! The shortcut!"
"What did you say?" Jingyi's faded voice rings from the back of the line.
Instead of moving to reply, Ah Xian watches as the young Lan Clan junior takes off down the crooked path leading in a spiral downhill, his bright spirits trailing the air behind him. A fondness sweeps up Ah Xian at the boy—now, really, a young man.
"You heard the boss!" calls Ah Xian over his shoulder, and spares a wink at the two clueless juniors behind him. "Come on now—we're already late!"
•••
Wangji stands in front of the full-body mirror, observing his reflection in the polished glass. His matrimonial robes—crimson red, sewn from silk as soft as sunlight—drape across his chest and broad shoulders before dripping to the bleached floorboards at his feet, piling softly there. His forehead ribbon, usually stark white, is now adorned with crimson. The blue clouds have been replaced with majestic spirals of golden dragons for the ceremony.
The Chief Cultivator gazes into the glass, head as empty as an abandoned water basin.
"Wangji!"
Wangji glances up sharply, to find Xichen lingering in the doorway of the chamber, hands clasped behind his back. His brother smiles at him through the mirror, eyes crinkling.
"Excellent, brother. You look marvellous."
Wangji doesn't reply.
"The guests are filing in. The Great Hall is nearly packed now, surprising as there is still an hour until noon. I suppose they all want to get a good seat for the union between Gusu Lan Clan Hanguang Jun and Yujing Gu Clan Gu Meiyou. It is an alliance for the ages."
Something about the way he said it sends unfathomable chills down Wangji's side, but he doesn't dare close his eyes in fear of being rude. He lowers his gaze to his hands. In his mind they are as crimson as his robes.
"Wangji." The Chief Cultivator glances up at his brother's calling. Zewu Jun is smiling by the shadows of the hot noon light. "I'm so proud of you."
•••
With the sun high in the sky, the group follows the Lan Clan disciple through the shrouds of forests in Gusu. It is noon; it had taken them hours already to travel. But Sizhui had been right—it really is a shortcut. Jingyi can see Cloud Recesses just peaking out amid the greenery...
...Jin Ling halts suddenly in his path, and Jingyi crashes into him. The two of them would have fallen forward if Master Wei hadn't managed to steady them with a firm grip.
"Wha... why have we stopped?" mumbles Jin Ling, frazzled.
Master Wei doesn't respond. His expression is grave. Dread piling in him, Jingyi dares sneaking a glance past the two in front of him—and curses beneath his breath.
There is a bridge in front of them in a state beyond repair. A few of its wooden planks have been dislodged, the posts securing it in place have been smashed, and the entire structure is leaning to the side, threatening to collapse. Beneath it lies a river thirty feet deep, waters rushing fiercely in a current that would kill them if they dared fall in and disturb it.
"What happened to the bridge?" exclaims Jin Ling, eyes huge. "Did Yaohuang the Pain-Spitting Dragon rise from the dead or something?"
"Typhoon?" prompts Jingyi.
"How could it—I mean, what could have—" flusters Sizhui, defeated. Master Wei places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.
The four of them proceed glancing around, peering over the edge for another means of making it to Cloud Recesses from here. Jingyi is in the midst of skimming through all the enchantments he is capable of for some kind of Solidifying Spell, when Jin Ling snaps his fingers and says brightly:
"I've got it!"
"What? What is it?"
"We could cut down that large tree over there and use it as, you know, a makeshift bridge. To cross the river."
Sizhui stares questioningly around the group, "Would that work?"
"He's right," Jingyi agrees, ignoring Jin Ling's surprise. The former scoffs a laugh. "Oh, get over yourself already! Ordinary flying swords of obsidian steel, maybe not. But Master Wei's sword..." all four of them stare down at the acclaimed Suibian. It glints proudly. "...it's made of starling silver. If it can cut through demons with ease, a mere log should be like slicing through a leaf."
Master Wei's eyes brighten, "Jin Ling, Jingyi, you kids are geniuses."
Jingyi expects Jin Ling to sneer and say something proud, but to his amazement, the young prince remains silent. They exchange glances, and share fleeting, awkward smiles. They don't have time to linger on it, but Jingyi is pretty sure that was the first time.
•••
To honour the wedding ceremony, crimson and gold banners decorate the streets of Cloud Recesses. People of different social classes flock the busy roads. Disciples and elders from both clans are dressed in their finest and stand in formation at the front campus. Wangji waits at the Great Hall, one hand grasping the white whale lantern Gu Meiyou bought for him.
For a time, Wangji glides through the hall in a daze, travelling from here to there. As if swimming in a cold, abstract, inevitable dream. He bows woodenly to the guests who rise merrily, clueless to his anguish, and congratulate him on a striking marriage alliance.
It takes him a while to realise that he hasn't seen Ah Yuan once.
A frown settles upon Wangji's face. He turns to his brother, "Do you see Ah Yuan?"
"I haven't seen him since last night's supper."
This sinks into Wangji's mind. Involuntarily, his eyes widen, hands stiffening in front of him. He is rigid for a long moment.
"Do not worry, Wangji. Perhaps he is simply running late; you know how obstreperous he is recently, after befriending that Lan Jingyi."
"We do not know for sure," answers Wangji evenly. "Hold the ceremony; I'll search for him." Wangji moves to leave the pavilion.
Xichen grabs his arm. "You must go through with the wedding."
"Not now. Ah Yuan is missing."
"We'll send out the seniors to search for him. You must stay here!"
"Brother—"
"The bride has arrived!"
Everyone's eyes turn to the front of the pavilion, and a hush falls over the crowd. Wangji looks up in time to see Meiyou escorted by a Gu Clan maid into the hall, one arm looped around the maid's while her other holds her black stallion lantern. She wears a scarlet dress with gold trimming, shining different shades of red and yellow in the sun. Her sweeping hairdo is adorned with a golden phoenix coronet, which gleams on top of her neat bun like daggers on display. She is like a porcelain doll with her starch white make-up and lips as red as the blood on Wangji's hands. Even with her face swathed in a heavy crimson veil, Wangji knows she is smiling.
"Meiyou! You look absolutely lovely!" Liban beams, brushing away a tear from his eye. Her sisters surround her, showering her with compliments and endearments. She hugs each of her family members and finally faces Wangji.
"You look very handsome," the bride gushes to Wangji.
Her eyes are very lively when she smiles, eye-bags like little suns cupping the bottoms of her eyelids. But they do not crinkle at the corners from age. For Wangji still sees Meiyou as a naive and unworldly child, whereas Wei Ying, on the other hand... well. Words are not enough to describe the moons which sparkle in the secret crevices of his face—
Wangji closes his eyes. He shouldn't be thinking about him right now. He can't. He mustn't.
Wangji waits a few moments, before gently peeling his eyes open once more, trying to dispel the image of the Yiling Patriarch from his mind.
Suddenly Wangji is hit by an unexpected wave of sorrow. He stares straight ahead, through the crowds of people and the city. He doesn't love Gu Meiyou. He will never love Gu Meiyou. No matter how hard he tries... no matter how much he wants to.
Wangji reluctantly takes his place beside his bride, wishing it is Wei Ying's face beneath the veil.
"Now the couple shall perform the ritual!" The marriage officiant booms from the front of the room. His voice echoes over the grounds. "Firstly, pay your respects to Heaven and Earth."
Wangji and Meiyou turn around, facing the entrance of the pavilion, and bow towards the skyline, clasping their hands in front of them.
"Secondly, pay your respects to family."
Meiyou kneels and bows at her relatives' feet while Wangji bows towards Xichen. Xichen smiles approvingly.
"Lastly, the couple will pay their respects to each other, thus joining together in holy matrimony."
The couple steps onto the elevated dais in front of them. She sweeps into a bow. But Wangji hesitates.
"Finish the ritual," Xichen hisses, kicking him in the back. Wangji flinches, but shakes off the shock quickly. He threads his numb fingers together, and begins to bow—
"WAIT!"