this changes everything. ⟲ wangxian

39. Countdown

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.