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Xue Meng did not know the first thing about wedding planning.
As the only young master of Sisheng Peak, from a young age, Xue Meng had always known that one day he would marry. As distasteful as the idea of dual cultivation was to him, Xue Meng comforted himself that it was not necessary for a fruitful marriage. A marriage was a kind of duty that he owed his ancestors and his parents, the beginning of a family of his own, a wedding and a wife and children around which he would build his life, to whom he would dedicate his achievements, proliferating his line and extending the branches of his family tree. A marriage arranged by an esteemed matchmaker, a young lady from a reputable sect, with luck a beauty, and a wedding planned by his mother, who had always excelled at such tasks in her position as Lady of Sisheng Peak.
And so it happened that for all the years that the idea of marriage and the accompanying wedding had lived in his head, Xue Meng knew next to nothing about how all of it was going to unfold.
Not for the first time since their deaths, Xue Meng wished for his mother, his father, for their guidance and care and arrangement. There was freedom in following the road already laid down, the path cleared, the obstructing branches chopped, so that one could keep one’s eyes directly in front instead of darting around for incoming danger, could focus on the larger goal ahead, staying true to one’s vision.
And now, Xue Meng was planning a wedding without even the slightest clue of where to begin.
And so Xue Meng asked for a meeting with the most renowned wedding vendors in the area. The flowers. The catering. The very red, very traditional decoration that he would have to insist on, the tea and wine for the ceremony, the firecrackers at the door, the wedding chamber, all decked out in red silk, the wedding attire in brocade and silk and embroidered with gold. Xue Meng would do anything to make sure that it would be hailed the wedding of the century.
The cultivation world could use a wedding that did not go wrong after that last disaster.
But all of this, this logistics, must be arranged, and Xue Meng had always expected a more… womanly touch on these matters.
And yet, he had to work with what he got, which was himself. The wedding vendors were agreeable enough, until they started to talk prices.
“I should think about ten million will cover all the flower expenses,” Madame the Florist said, a middle-aged woman with a fat chin and a gentle smile, the kind of auntie who always used to squeeze Xue Meng’s cheeks when his mother took him to the market as a child.
Xue Meng very much disliked those aunties.
Half-listening, he nodded. “Yes, yes, that sounds reasonable.” Next to him, Xuanji Elder coughed discreetly. The Elder held the purse string of Sisheng Peak, a position he had enjoyed since the time of Xue Zhengyong. Xue Meng was never too interested in these financial matters, and so it was with only minor irritation that Xue Meng acquiesced to Xuanji Elder’s request to be at the negotiation table.
Looking back, that was a wise decision. Clearly Xue Meng had already misspoken, and this was only the first vendor with whom he must negotiate.
Xuanji Elder glanced over at him, tilting his head to ask for permission. Xue Meng sighed, granting it. The Elder had a nice voice and was not too old of a man even with that title. “Actually, Madame Ji, I wonder if a different arrangement would be suitable. You see....”
Xue Meng decided to tune out the rest of that conversation. He would be planning this wedding, but that did not mean he had to stoop so low as to negotiate prices with commoners. He was Sect Leader Xue, Peak Lord of Sisheng Peak, and there was no way…
“Sect Leader Xue, there is a guest to see you.” Xue Meng blinked. A young disciple bowed to the group, his long hair in a long ponytail, his face obscured by how much he had bent over to show his respect.
The fat-chinned vendor smiled, stood up, and excused herself, making promises to remain in contact to continue their negotiation. Xuanji Elder gave Xue Meng a meaningful look, shaking his head as if to decry the naivete of youth, and trickled out of the room after her.
What would Xuanji Elder know anyway? He had never married either.
Xue Meng quite enjoyed receiving guests. Sisheng Peak was still the lone major sect within the Lower Cultivation Realm, and it took time for cultivators of the Upper Cultivation Realm to make the long trek there, even on swords. It was not that Xue Meng was starved for attention; he had his hands full with his own young disciple, with running the sect, with dealing with the Elders who always had something or other to say, apartments to request repairs to, budget increases to veto…
All in all, guests were a welcomed distraction.
Xue Meng often received guests in the grand hall, where his seat loomed large and the banners most decorous. It made him feel as if his father would return any second to sit in that seat, and even if that dream never came true, at least there were a few seconds of anticipation that brought that familiar feeling back, and Xue Meng would give almost anything to relive those moments even just in his own mind.
The figure waiting for him in the hall turned at the sound of his footsteps, that smile blinding.
Xue Meng’s heart clenched almost painfully tight in his chest, agitated in a way that had grown somewhat more familiar in the past few months.
“Mei Hanxue,” he said with a scowl, schooling his expression into one of studied disdain. “Why are you here again? Are things really so boring at Kunlun Taxue Palace?”
Mei Hanxue clasped his hands together in a bow, inclining his head. “Sect Leader Xue, greetings.”
“Hm.” Xue Meng sniffed, mollified by the display of deference. “What do you want?”
The weather had warmed up considerably in recent days at Sisheng Peak, the arrival of summer and the cicadas that kept him up at night. Mei Hanxue’s fur coat looked entirely unsuitable for the conditions, a ring of thick fox fur circling his throat, his robes obscured by the light blue cloak. His long hair was mostly loose today, the curls falling to his back, framing his face with a softness that looked entirely too touchable.
No. Entirely unsuitable. Xue Meng felt sweaty just looking at him. Mei Hanxue could stand to lose a layer or two before he collapsed from heat stroke.
“My brother and I had something to do in the area on sect business. Just thought we would stop by and pay our respect to Sect Leader Xue.” Mei Hanxue sidled up to him, and Xue Meng could almost feel the heat radiating off that body.
“I’m busy,” Xue Meng said, walking away, the tips of his ears growing hot. It really was too warm. He could not stand the sight of all that fur, not in this weather. “Where’s your brother anyway?”
Mei Hanxue caught up to him with his long strides, laughing. “I sneaked away first. He’ll come later when he’s done with the mission.”
Xue Meng gave him a sideway glance. “You keep making him do the hard work for you.”
“What are older brothers for?” Mei Hanxue said playfully. “Ziming, what are you up to? Can I help?”
Xue Meng took a deep inhale and breathed out heavily. “If you must know, I have a wedding to plan.”
The smile froze on Mei Hanxue’s lips, the light in his eyes sputtered. “A wedding.”
Xue Meng nodded. “It’ll be in two weeks.”
The silence fell between them so suddenly that Xue Meng could hear the arrhythmic thumping of Mei Hanxue’s pulse. “Congratulations are in order, then, Sect Leader Xue,” Mei Hanxue said woodenly after a moment.
Xue Meng waved his hand dismissively. “There’s a lot to do. Vendors, wedding invites, the decoration. Mei Hanxue, if you want to help, you can, but you have to actually work and not just play around,” Xue Meng said severely.
“En.”
Xue Meng glanced at Mei Hanxue’s face, which had turned a strange shade of white bordering on greenish, as if he would vomit all over the floor, all over Xue Meng’s robes. Xue Meng took a step back warily. “Are you sick? What’s wrong with you?”
Mei Hanxue shook his head, smiling weakly, the smile sliding off his face as quickly as it had appeared. “Nothing. What can I do to help, Ziming?”
Xue Meng took a moment to consider. “Come. You can help go over the guest list.”
The walk back to Xue Meng’s study was short, Mei Hanxue uncharacteristically quiet. Xue Meng was right; this heat was really going to be his death. He had half a mind to rip that fur cloak off of Mei Hanxue before he keeled over.
Stupid.
When they finally settled into Xue Meng’s private quarters, Mei Hanxue’s cloak indeed came off and was promptly carried away by an eager female disciple, clearly lovestruck by the sight of the dashixiong of Kunlun Taxue Palace. Xue Meng scoffed quietly to himself, reached up to adjust his own collar as he sat behind his low desk, Mei Hanxue cross legged in front of him on the other side of the desk.
Xue Meng pushed a long piece of paper over, motioning at the brush and inkpot. “Let me know if I forgot to invite any major sect representatives. This wedding is an opportunity to unite the cultivation world. I cannot afford to… offend anyone.” Xue Meng rolled his eyes, thinking of at least several people already on that list whom he would very much like to offend.
Mei Hanxue’s eyes roamed down the list, reading the names out loud. “Guyue’ye Sect, Jiang Yechen and foster son… Taobao Manor… Kunlun Taxue Palace, Ming Yuelou, Mei HanXue and Mei Hanxue… thanks for inviting us, Ziming.”
“Yeah, yeah, as if you wouldn’t just show up anyway,” Xue Meng muttered, picking through samples of wedding robe fabric that had been sent for his approval. “This one or this one?” The shades were nearly identical, but one piece of fabric had a slight sheen, the other fully matte. Xue Meng frowned. Would it look better shiny or matte?
Mei Hanxue’s eyes looked misty, his eyebrows slightly pinched, as if he was extremely uncomfortable and trying to not show it. Was he allergic to something in the room? Xue Meng was sure that the young disciples had already dusted this room this morning, so it was rather unlikely. “The shinier one,” Mei Hanxue said quietly, looking away and back to the list.
“Hmm.” Xue Meng was disappointed. He wished for more options. The shiny one wasn’t… shiny enough. He would request another sample from the vendor before making a final decision. “What about beddings for the wedding bed? Silk? Satin? I wonder what would feel better...”
Mei Hanxue choked, his face reddening, looking extremely pained.
Really, it was all those overly warm clothes he kept insisting on wearing. Xue Meng had no sympathy for those who dressed inappropriately for the weather.
“The bride must be looking forward to this wedding very much,” Mei Hanxue coughed. “Ziming is very considerate.”
Xue Meng shot him a look. “Who are you calling a bride? You can’t tell the designs I’m choosing are only for male robes?”
It was fascinating to see how quickly Mei Hanxue’s face could change color. Xue Meng was not used to it. Not much ruffled the dashixiong of Kunlun Taxue Palace, and it was often he who teased others. Xue Meng thought victoriously that it seemed Mei Hanxue could indeed be embarrassed about something, although Xue Meng would not have thought talks of wedding beds could evoke that kind of reaction in someone with Mei Hanxue’s reputation.
And, well, after what they did the other week…
Xue Meng coughed, brushing the images from his mind. Their relationships had remained largely the same since that first time, and if Xue Meng caught himself thinking about the brothers a little more than usual, it was only because dual cultivation as a technique was on his mind.
Purely for cultivation purposes.
Mei Hanxue folded the list and slid it back on the table. “I see.” Xue Meng thought it was very odd to see those lips turned downward into a frown. “The guests list looks good.”
“You don’t think I missed anyone?”
Mei Hanxue shook his head, a strange blankness in his expression.
“Okay,” Xue Meng said dubiously. “You want to work on reducing flowers expenses then?”
“Sure,” Mei Hanxue said tightly, holding his hand out. Xue Meng slipped him another piece of paper, this one scrawled in Xuanji Elder’s penmanship, the ink still not fully dried—he must have worked on it immediately after the vendor left and had it delivered while Xue Meng was still out walking—and Mei Hanxue’s fingers lingered on his just a touch longer than was strictly necessary. Xue Meng softened. Perhaps he should have been a bit more gracious to someone who offered to help with this accursed task. Mei Hanxue was not a sensible dresser, but clearly he was suffering from the heat of Sisheng Peak, and if he were more comfortable he could work more efficiently.
“You could take off your outer robe if it will help,” Xue Meng offered helpfully.
Mei Hanxue blinked. “What?”
“You’re wearing too many layers.”
“I don’t understand,” Mei Hanxue said faintly, self-consciously reaching for his collar. “But what about the wedding…?”
“Now you think about propriety? It’s precisely because of the wedding.” Xue Meng chided. “Come on. No one else is here to see.”
“Ziming, far be it from me to complain, but are you sure…?”
“Mei Hanxue, don’t tell me you feel shy about disrobing in front of others. I know you do it enough.” Xue Meng crossed out another item on the list in front of him, making a note to request satin for the wedding robe fabric. “Ahh, I think this color would really suit shizun’s skin. It just needs to be a little more eye-catching.”
Mei Hanxue, who was in the process of untying the sash around his waist, snapped his head up incredulously. “Your shizun?”
“I’ve been looking forward to this day for so long,” Xue Meng confirmed.
“I… did not realize your bonds were still so strong. I thought… Mo-zongshi…?”
“Pssh, you think Mo Ran can come between shizun and me? Get real.” Xue Meng scoffed. “I was always shizun’s favorite disciple.”
Mei Hanxue’s hands stilled, and a slight tremor took hold. He pressed his lips firmly together and made to get up, seemingly rather ill going by the shallowness of his breaths and the slight sheen of sweat on his brows. “Ziming, actually, I have to go. Sorry. I just remembered that I told ge to meet him outside for… sect business. Good luck with… wedding planning, and again, my congratulations.”
Xue Meng frowned. “You don’t look good. Are you sure you’re okay to leave? I can call Tanlang Elder to come and take a look at you.”
Mei Hanxue shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I just… I need to go.”
That was very odd. Mei Hanxue would never decline an offer to stay at Sisheng Peak, sometimes shamelessly commandeering the guest quarter even without Xue Meng’s invitation. He must really be feeling ill. “Okay then, I guess I’ll see you and your brother later. I’ll have the invites sent out later this week.”
Something suddenly occurred to Xue Meng. He had not yet thought of what music would be played at the wedding, and if Xuanji Elder insisted on cutting expenses…
“Also, I have a favor to ask.”
Mei Hanxue motioned to the female disciple waiting outside, asking her to retrieve his outer cloak. “Of course, what is it?”
“Would you and your brother play at the wedding? Pipa, guqin, whatever, the guzheng even, if you want. We need more musicians.” Alas, the musical cultivation taught at Sisheng Peak had declined in quality after the Yuheng Elder retreated to Nanping Mountain.
Mei Hanxue looked as if he were seconds away from bursting into tears, which was very odd, and Xue Meng thought that the heat must really be insufferable for those used to snowy, northern mountains. “Sure,” Mei Hanxue said tightly. “We’ll be there. Goodbye, Ziming.”
Mei Hanxue left in a shower of plum blossom petals, his qinggong as showy as the rest of him. Xue Meng sighed and shook his head. He was really hoping to get through more of the wedding planning today and had been secretly pleased with Mei Hanxue’s offer of help.
Oh, well. At least he took care of the music part, which was no small feat. There was still plenty of time left to make sure his shizun and Mo Ran have the most spectacular wedding the cultivation world had ever seen.
The next two weeks were a whirlwind of activities. Xue Meng had finally given in and requested assistance from all of the Elders of Sisheng Peak, severely reprimanding any who dared to shirk his or her duty.
“The Yuheng Elder is still an esteemed member of our sect,” Xue Meng snapped when one of them complained about being in charge of directing the disciples to decorate the main hall and the wedding chamber within the Red Lotus Pavilion. “I will not tolerate a single mistake within this wedding. This is an opportunity to display Sisheng Peak’s prowess within the greater cultivation world.”
The Elders tittered, looking around themselves.
“And he is my shizun,” Xue Meng said, a note of finality evident in his voice. He took out his father’s gold fan, the calligraphy on full display in front of his chest. “Does anyone have any questions for the Peak Lord?”
It appeared that no one did.
The planning went much more smoothly with more willing bodies, or unwittingly willing, in this case. The disciples, at least, were having the time of their lives. Rumors of the Yuheng Elder and Mo-zongshi’s incomparable beauty had spread among the younger disciples, and even those who had never seen these figures in person before dreamily sighed at the idea of a grand celebration for such an auspicious coupling.
Xue Meng only glared at them every other time he heard these kinds of gossips. It was essential to keep the energy level up if he wanted everything to go according to plan.
It all had to be perfect.
He sent a missive to Mo Ran, announcing the date, the guests list, the time, the location, and anything else that he thought Mo Ran and his shizun needed to know. Not that there was much. Everything was planned meticulously by Xue Meng himself, which was how he knew it was really going to be the wedding of the century.
Xuanji Elder nearly fell into a fainting spell when the sum of expenses was presented, but Xue Meng had been… persuasive.
It really was too easy to intimidate Xuanji Elder. Xue Meng frowned, wondering where he acquired this strange new talent. His father had always ruled with a gentle, loose fist, his mother with grace as soft as a song.
It didn’t really matter. Xue Meng shook his head. The invitations had all been sent out, and in compliance with shizun’s request, the identities of the grooms had been left off the invitation, so that it only read:
Sect Leader Xue Ziming
cordially invites our esteemed guests
to a grand celebration of nuptial bliss
on the most auspicious day of _____
to be taken place at Sisheng Peak.
Xue Meng thought the invitation had been worded excellently, and shizun would surely be pleased with the effort Xue Meng had undertaken to preserve his shizun’s privacy should the invitations fall into the wrong hands.
It would be almost four full months since Xue Meng had seen shizun. Mo Ran came by more often, dropping in unannounced in the late hours of the night, not wanting to draw attention from curious disciples or overly friendly Elders. Xue Meng thought he could understand that. And he could understand, too, shizun’s reluctance to venture into the greater cultivation world, even as Xue Meng had assured him numerous times through multiple missives that the Red Lotus Pavilion was always going to be his home, that he would be under no obligation to take on any disciples in the future, that Xue Meng was willing to dedicate this entire life to ensure that shizun was comfortable and happy.
And Xue Meng may have been naive, but he knew that for some reasons, his cousin made shizun very comfortable and very happy, and that cottage in Nanping Mountain was more of a home than the Red Lotus Pavilion could ever be, and that Xue Meng was just a disciple whereas Mo Ran was shizun’s whole world, and Xue Meng had always been a jealous kind of person, but even he knew when to stop pining.
They had their own lives now. Xue Meng looked around at the bustle of activities, at the young disciples flitting around, carrying yards of red brocade and setting up the entrance with large silk flowers, and thought that maybe this was his life, and he, too, could grow comfortable and happy here.
Unbidden, he thought of those two figures who had always found themselves one step behind him, and wondered if one day, they too would leave.
After all, they hadn’t tried to contact him in two weeks.
On the day of the wedding, Xue Meng donned his favorite robe in the deep blue of Sisheng Peak, a phoenix silver pin in his hair, carrying his father’s fan and his own sword, and he thought that this was going to be a spectacular day.
Seeing shizun and Mo Ran in person again was already the highlight, and if Xue Meng had to plan a whole wedding to get that chance, he would be fine if they decided to get married to each other again, and again, and again, year after year.
The guests trickled in just before the appointed time, the sun setting on the mountain, casting its last rays of golden light onto Sisheng Peak’s majesty. Mo Ran had requested an evening time, and Xue Meng had no real objection to that. The mistress of ceremony also confirmed that the hour was an auspicious one.
Xue Meng thought of Rufeng Sect’s disastrous wedding of many years ago, considered that perhaps Sisheng Peak’s wealth could not put on the same kind of ostentatious performance, but everything had been expertly taken care of by the bodies he had mobilized. Flowers hung from every corner of the main hall, trails of petals leading to the Red Lotus Pavilion for the couple’s retreat after the ceremony. Red silk ribbons trailed around the wooden columns, enchanted butterflies in silver and gold lighting the pathways, the light swaying with each flap of their translucent wings. Some disciples had come up with the rather ingenious idea of enchanting the haitang blossoms in the trees into pink luminescence, turning the groves of haitang around the perimeter of Sisheng Peak into a garden of delight previously unknown to the cultivation world.
The various sects of the upper cultivation world arrived together. Jiang Xi nodded at him stiffly, flanked by an entourage the size of three other sects combined, clad in a spectacular green robe clearly meant to impress, the silhouette flaring to the sides, layers of organza lifting the full skirts. Xue Meng silently rolled his eyes, turning his attention to greet the party from Taobao Manor, then the lone, simply yet elegantly dressed figure of Ye Wangxi, who was most difficult to track down, but Xue Meng would never deny his cousin’s request to see his hero present at his wedding.
Twilight brought the arrival of Kunlun Taxue Palace and the Mei twins to the main courtyard of Sisheng Peak, for once without their heavy cloaks, and Xue Meng was glad, considering what happened last time. Mei HanXue carried a pipa made of rosewood, adorned with mother-of-pearl etchings on the front, the strings gleaming with an unearthly light, silver and intangible as mist. On the younger brother’s back was strapped a long guqin of the same color and style, the two instruments as if crafted from the same branch within the heavenly gardens, their strings coalesced from starlight.
The disciples of Kunlun Taxue Palace were in full regalia of blue and white, their sect’s insignia shining brightly on the bronze clasps of their robes, their chests strung with the emerald gems unique to the brothers, their brows encircled in delicate circlets of silver with a single bright gem in the middle. Their hair was the only distinguishing feature between the two; both of them wore thin braids on one temple trailing to where the bulk of the golden curls had been pulled into a half-knot, the rest falling loose to the middle of their backs, but Mei HanXue’s braids were on his left, whereas Mei Hanxue’s were on his right side.
Xue Meng needed no such obvious sign to distinguish the twins, but he supposed it was convenient for more careless observers. The thought brought a light flush to the tips of his ears. Since when had he thought of himself as a careful observer of the Mei Hanxues?
This was truly ridiculous. It was the wedding, causing him to be so maudlin.
Already, the female disciples, and some of the males, clamored around the twins, their hands too ready to touch, their faces tilted upward toward the brothers as if sunflowers yearning for the sun. Xue Meng would not stand for any of that. This was his shizun’s wedding, and no one else was supposed to be the center of attention.
Had Xue Meng been less distracted, he would have noticed that even Mei Hanxue wore an expression of extreme gloom, surrounded by all those beautiful, dainty flowers, not a trace of his normal flirtatious manner to be found.
But Xue Meng was on a mission. The disciples wisely scattered at his approach, his gloomy face a warning enough. “Finally,” he said to the brothers, his expression in mock outrage. “I was starting to think that you wouldn’t show up, and then what would we do about the music?”
Mei HanXue’s wooden expression twitched. “Good evening, Ziming.”
“Yes, yes, pleasantries, whatever. Look more alive, would you? It’s an auspicious occasion.” Xue Meng felt a twinge of irritation and something akin to hurt, the mock outrage perhaps more genuine than he had intended it to be. He had not seen Mei HanXue for weeks, longer than the absence they had been accustomed to, and this was how he was greeted upon their first meeting in so long?
The Mei brothers could go fall off a cliff after they fulfill their promise of music.
“Take a seat, then, while we wait. The music should start after the ceremony concludes so that it will not detract the attention from my shizun.”
“Of course,” Mei Hanxue said, his peach blossom eyes as cold and desolate as his brother’s. “But Ziming… that is an unusual outfit you are wearing.”
“What?” Xue Meng was extremely offended. This was his favorite outfit. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“The color is… nontraditional,” Mei HanXue blankly replied.
“It’s Sisheng Peak’s color.” Xue Meng glared at them. “What other color would I be wearing? Honestly. Take a seat, then. The couple should be arriving soon.”
Mei Hanxue blinked, the frost slipping away for that quick moment. “The… couple?”
“You think we can have a wedding without the newlyweds? Has all the dual cultivation destroyed your brain at last?” Xue Meng demanded. He had no idea why he bothered with these two. “My shizun and Mo Ran are getting ready in the Red Lotus Pavilion. Their procession will begin in about five incenses’ time. So go find a seat, set up your instruments, whatever. Just be ready when the mistress of ceremony announces the time.”
The two brothers exchanged a look. Xue Meng noted curiously that Mei Hanxue seemed to shrink back from his brother, his expression somewhere between extreme relief and fear, his eyes misty, and Xue Meng was reminded of that day in his private quarter, of Mei Hanxue’s odd mannerism and the sickness lingering in his gaze.
He would have to ask Jiang Xi if the Guyue’ye Sect Leader could spare some time to look at this idiot. What if it was contagious?
Especially if they were to… dual cultivate again. Xue Meng shook his head, brushing away the heat in his ears.
The brothers exchanged hushed, heated whispers between themselves, but Xue Meng could hear every word. “I’ll deal with you later.” Mei HanXue’s expression was deadly and directed toward his young brother, the murderous intent barely contained within the ice of his eyes.
“You read the invitation yourself,” Mei Hanxue hissed back. “You cried.”
Just at that moment, the mistress of ceremony called out, her high voice enchanted to reverberate around the courtyard. “The time has come. We invite our esteemed guests to gather around to witness the celebration of our most auspicious newlyweds.”
Had he miscalculated the time? Xue Meng wanted to slap himself.
The twins were still glaring daggers at each other, the resentful energy strong. This would not do. Xue Meng would not tolerate this negative energy at his shizun’s wedding. “Shh!” Xue Meng turned around and raised one finger at them in a vaguely threatening gesture. “The ceremony is starting. You can bicker between yourselves later.”
Xue Meng was very much invested in finding out what could make Mei HanXue cry, of all people. This was indeed a conversation he would bring up.
But later, much later. For now, all he could focus on was the sight of his shizun and his cousin walking down the aisle toward the ancestral altar, hand in hand.
Shizun was clad in the satiny red fabric that Mei Hanxue helped him pick out; in the end, Xue Meng decided that an even shinier fabric would distract from shizun’s elegant figure and stance. He chose an embroidery of gold haitang blossoms around the edges of the robe, layers of spider-thin silk as the under robes, so that each step Chu Wanning took swayed with the delicate flutter of a thousand butterfly wings. The sleeves were made of that same gossamer material, long and wide, falling to cover their intertwined hands.
On his shizun’s head rested a gold guan, elaborately adorned with garnets arranged in the shape of an unfurling red lotus, paying homage to Chu Wanning’s position as Master of the Red Lotus Pavilion. It was Xue Meng’s special order from the craftsmen of Kunlun Taxue Palace, which, disappointingly, was not delivered by the Mei brothers. He would also have to ask about that later.
Next to shizun, Mo Ran also cut a fine figure. Whatever. Xue Meng supposed if there were anyone who could match shizun in stature and beauty in a wedding outfit, it would be his cousin, who had his hair half up and appropriately pinned with a guan for once, the full length of his hair reaching somewhere around mid-back. Good. Xue Meng had insisted that a high ponytail was too casual for such a momentous occasion. The hairdressers agreed, and Mo Ran’s ineffectual protests were very quickly silenced by the sight of multiple long hair pins clutched in the hands of the hairdressing aunties, whose patience was all wearing thin.
The happy couple walked down the aisle in small, steady steps, the weight of the ceremony turning each simple lifting of the foot into a deliberate gesture of commitment. Xue Meng glared at the back of Mo Ran’s head and dared him to abandon shizun at the altar. Longcheng was already ready in his hand…
But deep in his heart, Xue Meng knew the depth of his cousin’s devotion, the extent the two had gone to for each other, the journeys to the underworlds and to the other worlds that had finally led them here. Something ached deep within Xue Meng’s heart. Shizun’s face turned toward Mo Ran’s as they finally reached the ancestral altar, the mistress of ceremony announcing the auspicious hour, the wine poured.
His shizun looked deep into Mo Ran’s eyes, finding something within it that curled the edges of his lips into the most brilliant smile Xue Meng had ever seen. His cousin smiled back, completely besotted, and the two bowed to each other before all the witnesses and the earth and the sky, their arms curled around each other and partook of the wine, eyes locked, and that was that.
The cheers rose among the crowd. Xue Meng could barely hear it all, barely see it all.
A hand wiped at the thin skin under his eyes, the touch so light that he thought he had imagined it.
Xue Meng blinked, belatedly noticing that the haze in front of his eyes was a veil of his own tears.
“It’s okay, Ziming,” Mei HanXue quietly said, raising his sleeve to dab at the wetness at the ends of Xue Meng’s eyes.
Xue Meng sniffed. “What’s okay? I’m very happy for them both.”
“It’s normal to feel… more emotional at weddings,” Mei Hanxue said from the other side of him.
“I’m just… tired.” Xue Meng turned away. His shizun and Mo Ran were making the rounds, saying their greetings to the guests. They had decided to delay the bedchamber ritual until much later, after the grand feast had concluded. The music should really be starting soon, but here were his musicians, chatting the time away. Xue Meng rubbed at his eyes, willing the burning in his eyes to disappear.
“You planned a fantastic wedding.”
“I did.” Xue Meng sniffed. He was proud of his work, and it was nice to have someone acknowledge it. “Can you play now? The feast will begin soon. Sisheng Peak disciples will take over after you play a few pieces. I just wanted to open with something spectacular for shizun.”
“Our music is spectacular, huh?” Mei Hanxue’s easygoing expression was back, and Xue Meng noticed with a pang that he had missed it. The brothers had already set up their instruments on the spot, their fingers gliding over the strings, a lively melody filling the space, and yet their eyes were still on him, their lips curled into identical smiles of mischief and something very much like affection.
Xue Meng turned away, hiding his face from those searching stares, about to retort, but at that moment his shizun and Mo Ran approached, their red robes swaying in unison.
“Shizun!” he exclaimed, his face split in a wide grin. “Congratulations on your marriage!”
Chu Wanning smiled, phoenix eyes filled with kindness and much gentler than their usual sharp gaze. In wedding red, Chu Wanning was truly a peerless beauty, the bright color only accentuating the fineness of his features, the clearness of his countenance. “Thank you, Ziming. And for planning this event for us. It must have taken a lot of time and expense.”
Xue Meng blushed, bowing his head. “This disciple can only do so much for shizun. Please forgive this disciple for any mistake.”
Chu Wanning’s hand fell on his head, patting gently at his hair, and Xue Meng looked into that beautiful face, tears coming to his eyes of their own accord. “Silly boy,” Chu Wanning gently chided. “You are the best disciple this shizun could ask for.”
“Hey!” Mo Ran protested next to him. “What am I, then?”
Chu Wanning glanced toward Mo Ran, something unreadable and soft in his gaze. Finally, looking directly into Mo Ran’s eyes, Chu Wanning said in a low voice, “My husband.”
Xue Meng was sure that he was the only one who could hear the words besides Mo Ran. His cousin underwent a staggering transformation in his expression, a thousand emotions vying for center stage.
“We’re going back to the Red Lotus Pavilion right now,” Mo Ran declared, sweeping his arms under Chu Wanning’s knees despite the loud protests from the Yuheng Elder. “Thanks for everything, Mengmeng! We’ll see you tomorrow!”
And they were gone, chased by the loud cheering of the crowds.
Xue Meng sighed, looking after their retreating figures. So that was that, then.
It had been a good day.
Hands appeared on his shoulders, the fingers roaming across the thick fabric of his robe, and Xue Meng was drawn into a dual embrace, one blond head resting on each of his shoulders.
“You would also look wonderful in red, Mengmeng,” Mei Hanxue whispered into his ear, hot breath tickling the short pieces of hair curling there.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Xue Meng spluttered.
A kiss on his left cheek. Xue Meng turned his face, ready to protest, ready to yell about how many people were looking at them, and how dare they, right here, in the middle of the courtyard for all to see, but all he succeeded in was to have those lips planted right onto his own.
Xue Meng flushed furiously, drawing back, wishing desperately that the crowds were still too absorbed in their celebration to notice. Mei HanXue’s slight smile was as if the frost on a blade of grass had turned to morning dew under the sun. “We’ll see.”
“We’ll convince you yet,” Mei Hanxue continued on his other side. “Especially now that you have so much experience at wedding planning.”
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Xue Meng grumbled. “Go away.”
“Fine,” Mei HanXue said, “we’ll tell you all about it then. In bed.”
And in a rush of qinggong and peach blossom petals, they, too, were gone.
That night, Sisheng Peak rang with the sounds of celebration continuing deep into the night, the wedding of the century on the lips of every attendant for years to come.
That night, in two separate chambers at the summit of Sisheng Peak, such sounds were heard that became legend among the younger disciples, passed on from generation to generation.
Legends had it that on that very auspicious night, if one listened very attentively, one could hear the echoes of the wedding chamber at the Red Lotus Pavilion all the way from one’s location in the Peak Lord’s quarters, so loud were the cries of passion of the Yuheng Elder and Mo-zongshi.
As Xue Meng slowly drifted off to sleep tucked between the two figures curled protectively around him, completely exhausted after the frantic planning of the past few weeks and the frantic cultivation techniques they had just practiced, much to his token protestation that was too quickly swallowed by another warm mouth, he thought that it was truly an auspicious night. Spectacular, even.
And perhaps there was something to be considered about red outfits...