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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, XIAO.XINGCHEN. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 018.07.154.55 *** XIAO.XINGCHEN has joined 018.07.154.55 <XIAO.XINGCHEN> You have reached Xiao Xingchen. <XIAO.XINGCHEN> I am often away from my laptop, but I will do my best to answer as soon as I'm able. | ||||
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the room before him when he turns back to face the proceedings seems somehow smaller than it did. not 'cozy', not for a room this size, but private and hushed and not nearly so intimidating to approach the throne at the front of the room as they do now, stopping a couple of meters away.
and he glances to jiang wanyin beside him, gently questioning. here? or did he have somewhere else in mind? ) By your lead, ( he offers, in case yunmeng jiang has some manner of marital custom to undertake beyond the expected bows. xingchen has assisted in performing a handful of marriages already, but they were modest unions in remote villages and there was no great fuss over proper ceremony. )
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He grasps both his hands again and squeezes them. ]
Then let us begin.
[ This is really happening. It is happening. He is going to make this choice for his current and his future self. When he is old again, he will be bound by marriage vows and duties - things he wouldn’t easily dismiss and forget, even if his older self is reluctant to permit himself the companionship and comfort of marriage.
But it is more than that, more than for his future self. This is for him, too, for him and the boy who already makes his heart beat faster though they have only known another for days. If it were anyone else, cautious, forever worrying Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have made this reckless choice.
He releases his hands and moves to kneel.
Then, they shall begin. ]
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but he isn't nervous at all, now. not when jiang wanyin sinks to his knees before his lotus throne, nor as xingchen himself moves into proper place and smoothly kneels as well, sweeping his sleeves back out of the way.
one bow to the heaven and earth. though they've knelt facing one another, xingchen turns now to face the entry instead, arms looping to meet before him. if his companion does the same, he'll bend briefly into a proper kowtow. )
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After the first bow, he hesitates, brows furrowing with the renewed reminder that his parents aren't here. They should be here. They should.
One bow to the parents, tradition demands, and yet... He nudges Xingchen, still wearing that frown, and points him towards the empty throne. He bows to it, and wishes they were here. Wishes they were here, and proud of him, and approving of his choice. It is easier to pretend when they aren't here, after all. ]
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he straightens again for the second time now, smooth and unhurried, his movements nearly in unison with jiang wanyin's. a second's pause is left in the wake of it (the last thing he wishes to do is rush his companion through paying his filial respects), then he's shifting again - away from his betrothed this time, if only to give them each the space required for one bow to each other.
then his gaze finds jiang wanyin's eyes. if they'll meet his in return, xingchen offers the slightest of smiles - reassuring, but with a sort of muted spark to it. the smile of anticipatory solidarity shared just before setting off on a grand and valuable adventure.
from here, he sweeps gracefully into one last bow - the most important of the three, in his terribly biased opinion and with all due respect to (former) sect leader jiang and the violet spider - and then it's done. wordless vows exchanged, inexorably intertwining their lives. it's practical, truly. the both of them seem to grow worse at accepting such things as love or happiness as they age, but these things would only improve their mutual quality of life, not serve as a detriment... and now they've no choice in the matter, regardless.
when he rises from this final bow, his eyes once again seek those of the man before him. his co-conspirator in this clever scheme. his husband, as of this very moment.
he realizes now that he's never pictured having one - let alone marrying into the gentry. the absurdity of it has a bright little laugh bubbling up from his chest, soft enough perhaps but he's nonetheless lifting a hand to hide the delighted grin it left behind, shaking his head to dispel whatever affront he may have caused. ) Forgive me, it's-... ( pardon him, pausing a moment to stubbornly press his lips together and wipe away the foolish grin so that he can stop apologizing from behind his hand. it works (mostly), and his hands settle in his lap as he tilts his head just slightly. ) I suppose I'm just happy.
( oh, he didn't mean to sound so sentimental - he's not even sure that he has any room to, what with how little time they've known one another. and so, straightening his posture a bit, ) In a single afternoon, we've resourcefully solved the most prominent hindrance in our older selves' ability to thrive. ( there, that was sufficiently pragmatic - though he quite nearly spoils that very effort with the 'how shall we celebrate?' at the tip of his tongue. he might very well have asked it, too, if not for the abrupt dawning awareness that according to custom, he already knows the answer. )
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He smiles as well, a little hesitant but genuine, and rapidly brightening. ] We have. They will have to let themselves be happy together now. I... my older self, he wouldn't ignore a proper marriage. [ Not even one as unconventional as this one, he is sure of that much. He can't change so much in the future that he would ignore the bows he made before his father's throne, in his hall.
He reaches for Xingchen's hands again, tugging at his fingers for no other reason than that he gets a thrill out of being allowed to do so now. ] I didn't even manage to find a veil [ he points out sheepishly as an afterthought, and then finds himself blushing as he thinks about how the bride's veil is traditionally lifted in the bedchamber, once the groom joins her to... He swallows hard. ] Maybe we didn't need one anyway.
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(for the second time in the entirety of his recollection.)
now they're speaking of veils, and the mild chagrin in jiang wanyin's tone draws xingchen's eyes back up to his. 'maybe we didn't need one anyway.' xingchen shakes his head a little in agreement, and this new smile is quieter, more assurance than delight. ) I have already seen your face, and you've seen mine. I think that a veil would have seemed a bit silly, don't you?
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But... [ He bites down on his bottom lip and releases one of Xingchen's hands so he can reach out and gently touch his hair instead. ] I would like a lock of your hair. If... if that isn't too much to ask for.
[ Which, honestly, may be a little bit too late to start worrying about now that they have already gotten married. But still. Never too late to get flustered. He nods towards a silver tray, where he has laid out a small, pretty knife and a little embroidered pouch embroidered with purple lotuses. It had been a perfume pouch he found in the depths of his older self's stuff while searching for wedding-worthy robes, right until he emptied it out and repurposed it. ]
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when the hand lifts toward his face, xingchen's gaze shifts aside to track it in his peripheral, watching as those fingertips instead brush a bit of his hair. 'i would like a lock of your hair,' is the first thing his newfound husband asks of him, so terribly hesitant as if there's any chance that he might be denied. the notion of cutting his hair has never held quite the same gravity for xingchen as it might for a man with parents, or even the memory of them - but even if it had, he most certainly would have made an exception here. especially since jiang wanyin was so hopeful as to lay out a proper blade and pouch, unnoticed until now (what with everything else going on) but it earns a warm little smile as he turns back to his companion and nods once, definitively. )
It's yours, ( he says, 'as am i' at the tip of his tongue but left unspoken for now. it's true, neither one of them has any doubt left of it after all of this, but it still seems so terribly bold when they've known one another so short a time. even if it feels like quite a bit longer than that, thanks in part to the year's correspondence he read between them.
if this wasn't a 'now' sort of affair, jiang wanyin will have to excuse him - because now xingchen has lifted both hands to his hair, taking hold of the loose lock of long hair to one side of his face and winding it deftly into a simple narrow braid. he's standing all the while, drifting over toward the blade and pouch in question so that he's just beside it when finally he has the hand-length section of braid held firm between the index finger and thumb of each hand. ) Ah - I suppose it won't stay, without something to tie it off with. ( it was unnecessary anyway, most of the time one simply takes the lock of hair loose. that just seemed so flimsy and intangible to xingchen, compared to even a narrow woven braid like this. )
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He steps closer and reaches for the knife - a very nice large silver knife, more of a dagger, really, that he had found in his room. Now that he thinks about it, maybe too large and martial-looking for this task, but it had been the nicest one he could find in his haste. He brings it up to the lock of hair, his eyes catching Xiao Xingchen's as he moves in to cut. ]
You can cut my lock of hair, too, if you'd like... [ Albeit maybe not wholly traditional, it feels far more intimate like this, doing it for another. ]
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though one might expect him to watch the knife as it closes in on his hair, hands, and face, his gaze is locked on jiang wanyin's even after the other man turns eyes on his careful knifework. xingchen feels more than sees the lock of hair come free, and he's quick to adjust his grip so that both ends of the braid are accounted for, the newly-cut ends of his remaining hair now tickling at his chin.
'you can cut my lock of hair, too, if you'd like.' another little nod, and he finally breaks his (potentially one-sided) eye contact to glance at the knife, the braid, then back at jiang wanyin. ) If you'll hold this for a moment? ( he offers out the braid, shifting his fingers out to the farthest ends so that wanyin can pinch at least close to the ends like xingchen has been. if and when wanyin claims it, xingchen turns his attention to his companion's hair. ) Where shall it come from? And shall I braid this one as well?
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[ Xingchen will not just be cutting his hair, but he has also been invited to braid the strand, and that leaves him all the more giddy for some reason. He really is being childish here, they are freshly married and other married couples are nervous about the wedding night while he is already up in arms over his husband touching his hair. How ridiculous. But it is so very exciting! So he just stands there, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut as he surrenders himself to Xiao Xingchen's ministrations. ]
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but the grown xiao xingchen seems nonetheless capable of bullying him into this and that, and so xingchen adds this to the list of such things right now. their correspondence mentioned braiding, so it shouldn't be terribly difficult to leave a bit loose on such an occasion and fondly shush any protest.
as for the present, he knows well enough what the hair's been tugged loose for but waits for proper permission regardless - permission and, of course, relinquishing his own hair into jiang wanyin's capable hands. warm hands, he's reminded as their fingers brush, and he finds himself foolishly lamenting the fact that those hands are no longer holding his. but - 'will this do?' ) It will, ( he confirms, claiming the silver knife now that his hands are free to do so, though it's only to scoot the blade a bit closer beside him - taking stock of what he'll need.
then his eyes turn once again on his companion, landing briefly on jiang wanyin's own gaze before shifting to the bit of offered hair as he drifts a step closer so as to more easily reach. and reach he does, hands lifting (one brushes fingertips against wanyin's shoulder, a wordless 'i'm beginning to braid now' in light him closing his eyes) to take feather-light hold of the thin lock of hair.
the first few seconds, however, are distinctly lacking in any sort of actual braiding. instead, light fingers are smoothing the hair, settling any almost-tangles which linger from being tugged free as it was. then the braiding does begin - smooth, deft little movements which weave it neatly to match xingchen's own.
about halfway down the braid, he pauses a moment to brush the pad of his thumb against a bit of wanyin's lower lip and murmurs, ) You'll bloody it, ( before returning to his work.
and then he's finished, assessing his work and deeming it satisfactory. one end of the braid is tucked firmly between his index and middle fingers, the other end seized now between his fingertip and thumb at a point about halfway down the length of the hair. more than enough to leave as some manner of bangs, but still more than enough braid to serve their purposes. then the knife is collected from the table and he cuts the half-braid free in one smooth motion. the hair which remains half-unbraids itself at once, but that's fine. it's free to do as it pleases now, as xingchen sets the knife aside and offers a, ) Finished, ( with a smile once again tugging at the corners of his lips. )
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He remains silent until his hair has been clipped - he is well aware of the short strand now falling into his eyes like the bangs he usually wears at this age, feeling strangely comforted by the return of the familiar brush of hair against his cheek. ]
Thank you [ he finally manages to get out, and oh, but he still sounds a little croaky from that lip touch. And that didn't even include a kiss. Or... or any of the other stuff married people do. Right. Right. Focus on the here and now. He takes the strand of hair from Xingchen and knots the two strands together, all nice and neat, before placing them in the little pouch. Which he holds tight in his hand, eyes again on Xingchen's, and then tucks into his robe, right against his heart. ]
Better! [ he declares solemnly with bright red cheeks, as if he hadn't just done something humiliatingly sappy. ]
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but it can't very well be undone, so all xingchen can do is keep such a thing in mind for the future while he observes the process of knotting the braids and filing them away in the pouch which his companion has chosen. then that pouch is tucked- oh. jiang wanyin has tucked it into his robe, right against the skin of his chest as if to prevent so much as a layer of fabric from lingering between them. perhaps xingchen is reading more into the gesture than his companion intended by it, but it nonetheless has his eyes lingering where the pouch now rests for a couple of moments more.
the gaze which lifts to wanyin's now holds something weighty and inscrutable buried beneath the expected shades of delight and affection. ) Better, ( he agrees, hushed and warm. a moment passes, then another. then, ) Do we put out the candles, or leave them to burn? ( he's not entirely sure the proper procedure for such things. he also hasn't yet broken eye contact, though he's he's halfway surprised at his ability to maintain it at all, what with the distinct unspoken implication of 'before we depart' and the acute awareness of where exactly they would be departing to. )
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They are just newly married. Nothing to panic about here. (Okay, yes, he is still flailing on the inside, but in theory he could be not flailing and that would be okay, too!) ]
We should put them out. A-Niang would fly all the way to Ryslig to whip me if I burned down Sword Hall!
[ Well, fine, so maybe as a freshly married man in his own right he shouldn't have admitted he is scared of his mother - but in his defense, she is the scariest person he knows. Far scarier than that Fog God lady, going on his admittedly limited knowledge. Either way, he starts moving around to douse the candles. ] We. Ah. Can go to my room together, since there isn't a party I need to attend. Our room? My room? [ Pensive nose scrunch. ] The room!
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but by now they're nearly done with the candles, and jiang wanyin has (in his own stumbling way) directed them back to the true topic at hand. to what occurs once they've put out the candles and tidied what needs tidied. ) It can be your room, if that's more comfortable for you. I do still have residence elsewhere. ( and in truth, the concept of 'our room' feels a bit like he's encroaching. like declaring it as such places pressure upon them to formalize it as such, and steals away any chance they currently have to take what follows at a pace which they're both comfortable with.
soon the last candle's put out, plunging the room into a darkness broken only by the moonlight glowing faintly through the translucent sections of the sword hall's door. it gives xingchen a moment's pause, just enough to allow his eyes to adjust - and then he closes the distance between them, stopping just near enough to reach out and slip his hand into jiang wanyin's. ) Shall we? ( hushed, as if loath to disrupt the newfound quiet of the hall. )
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Before he can work himself into a new round of flustered defensiveness, Xiao Xingchen switches the topic to the other, even more embarrassing one than his secret damsel in distress fantasies.
He looks at their hands, at their fingers that are once more interlaced. He likes it. He likes it a lot. He gives his new husband's hand a little squeeze, followed by a shy but giddy grin, and tugs him along. ] Come.
[ The scenery on the way is nice though it would be even nicer in summer, and he takes it in with pride. ] All of this here will be yours now, too. Or your older self's. [ But for now, he takes him to what is apparently Jiang Cheng's bedroom now. It's not a room he really recognizes himself in much, between this being his father's room in his time, and the old man robes and boring books, or the laptop thing. There are only a few things he knows for his own, a few familiar trinkets and favorite books.
His grip on his hand grows eve firmer as they approach the door. ]
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in the meantime, xingchen is of course going to come along when he's tugged, following jiang wanyin off out of the hall, though he quickly moves to keep pace with beside him once they're walking along the pier. and in truth, he hardly realizes that his companion does the same as he surveys the moonlit surface of the lotus ponds, the elegant lines of the piers and buildings which hover above the water. he has been here several times since their arrival (if one could call it that), but it's never any less pleasant to look at. 'all of this here will be yours now, too,' jiang wanyin says, a quiet pride clear in his tone - and is that what what he thinks is on xingchen's mind? as he admires this lotus pier, does wanyin think that he surveys that which he now lays some sort of claim to? this home of yunmeng jiang is lovely, exceptionally so, but that's all the more reason that xingchen doesn't want it. doesn't want dominion over it. he would be more than content to simply admire it, to protect it if such a need arises - and perhaps, with help from jiang wanyin, to arrive within it and feel at home.
hopefully his continued admiration of the sights and the similarly steady hand curled around wanyin's is answered enough.
but then the grip on xingchen's hand tightens, and the path before them has no further branches but that which leads to the set of doors before them. a familiar set of doors, if only passably, from the day they awoke at this age. jiang-zongzhu's quarters. xingchen hardly knew the man then, yet his uncertainty and discomfort at the rooms being his were palpable in the air. and so, before jiang wanyin has a chance to let them in, xingchen's free hand lifts to set fingertips where the doors meet - a wordless 'one moment', as he looks to his new husband now. )
I had just remembered-... ( no, that isn't the way to go about it - naming jiang wanyin's discomfort so openly. instead, the hand on the door lifts now to catch the fresh-cut bit of bangs in the curl of his fingers, smoothing it fondly. ) I only meant to ask if you wouldn't prefer we retreat to the quarters you're more accustomed to. ( it's not as if xingchen is one to be all that impressed by some manner of grandiose suite. if given the choice, he would prefer they go where wanyin feels most at home. )
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He relaxes the tiniest bit when Xingchen cuts himself off, clearly awkward himself, and another little bit when he reaches out to play with his bangs. It's so sweet and affectionate and so very... it just feels so intimate, so much like the casual, tender intimacy he had always hoped he would have with his spouse one day. His heart thuds a little faster for it.
His eyes flicker from Xingchen's face to the door and back again, and his front teeth dig into his bottom lip. No, he doesn't really want to have his wedding night (whatever this may or may not entail) in his father's room. It is weird both because to him his father isn't dead and also uncomfortable because he doesn't want to think about that having changed in the last 20 something years. ]
But... shouldn't we? It's appropriate. [ Yet even as he says it, he already knows that Xiao Xingchen won't care about such things, so he gives a little nod without even waiting for his protests to be brushed aside. He gives his hand another squeeze. ] My room... my old room, isn't far from here, and it's still nearly the same.
[ It really isn't far. It is the same room he used to share with Wei Wuxian as a child and now - in his memory, now - has for himself. It looks like it hadn't been changed much, only some things missing, a few of them now found in his other room, and some things new which he would acquire in years to come. But it's nice and familiar, and he feels far more confident in there, even if the air is stale.
He gives Xingchen another smile. ] Thank you.
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and sure enough, here comes a nod, a squeeze, and a shift in plans. and even if the room is only nearly the same, it's far more so than this one, and any stale air can be remedied with a bit of sunlight and crisp breeze. or... just the breeze, xingchen supposes, at this hour.
'thank you.' the smile is answered with one of xingchen's own, his own newfound tuft of bangs fluttering faintly as he shakes his head. ) No need. ( he considers advising that jiang wanyin raise his standards for gratitude some - thanking xingchen for each new bit of consideration will exhaust him quickly and thoroughly, what with how much he'll be receiving - but that strikes him as a lesson best learned firsthand. so instead, he gives the slightest tug to the hand in his, drawing back a step from the door before them. ) Shall you be leading us in the proper direction, or am I to guess? ( a bit of teasing, to lighten the moment some. )
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[ Said and done, he grabs Xingchen's hand and drags him along.
His old rooms are indeed not far from his new rooms, and he finally releases Xingchen's hand so he can open the doors widely with both hands, making a grand show of it though the room isn't anything special at all.
Tidy, if a little empty for many objects having been taken when Jiang Cheng moved, but it has obviously been taken good care of. Jiang Cheng had already dusted and made the bed the other day when he had been uncertain if he would be able or willing to sleep in his new room. ]
It's nothing special [ he demurs with a self-conscious shrug. ] It's just a room. [ Larger than the room of a child that isn't a great sect's heir, of course, but still. ] The view on one of the larger lotus ponds is nice, but it is too cold now to keep the window open.
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yes, this will be a perfectly lovely place to spend the evening.
though jiang wanyin comments on the view, xingchen makes no effort to see it for himself. in the morning, perhaps, when the daylight might allow him to see a bit more of it. for now, he shifts his brief survey of the room to something a bit more helpful, locating the nearest candle for a bit of light. soon he has it lit, and though it's still just one small flame flickering in the darkness of the room, it's still more than enough glow by which to turn eyes on jiang wanyin. his companion seems to have lost a bit of the daring their bows briefly lent him, falling instead to a sort of self-deprecation or doubt - and that simply won't do.
xingchen returns to him now, each step soft and unhurried, until he's close enough to reach out and reclaim the man's hands in each of his. one is lifted now so that xingchen brush a light kiss to the knuckles. it's a gesture he has seen more than once in his scattered trips to bavan, and one which stands to convey his sentiments far better in this moment than any of their own realm's traditions.
then he brings that hand to his cheek, setting it there as if jiang wanyin has done so of his own accord. he might have, perhaps, had xingchen given him the time - but xingchen isn't especially inclined to allow him to fret for however much longer that might take. )
Wanyin. ( a single hushed word, his gaze steady on jiang wanyin's even if his new husband opts not to return it. after a couple of moments, ) If it's... this evening, that you're worried about - I hope you know that we don't need to do anything you aren't comfortable with.
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Before he can start considering getting some red cloth to drape the room in, Xingchen is back at his side and...
Oh.
He feels himself blushing under his touch, even as he smiles. ] I know. [ He licks his lips and ducks his head a little, but slowly since he is careful not to dislodge his hand. ] I know you wouldn't push me into anything I don't want to do. You aren't like that. And I want to! [ Cue a moment of silent mourning for his dignity, which is right now being consumed in the flames of his mortification. ] Do... stuff. It's just weird, you know! We aren't allowed to and then suddenly we are supposed to. But it's probably not that weird for you. You wouldn't have worried about being proper. [ With girls, that is, he had been reprimanded about being proper with girls. But it probably counts for boys, too, "don't you dare bring any bastards home!" aside. ]
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quite fortunately, the topic isn't mentioned, so xingchen isn't given the opportunity to be briefly but thoroughly surprised (and, admittedly, a bit impressed) by the lewdness of that remark.
instead, wanyin assures him of his faith in xingchen's character, and more intriguingly, of his desire - a declaration which colors his poor husband's face an even more vivid shade of red than before. as as tempting as it might be on another occasion to take this opportunity for a bit of light teasing, here in the wake of their wedding bows he finds himself inexplicably inclined to rescue him. to protect him from his own overactive sense of mortification, as silly as that sounds. then comes, 'you wouldn't have worried about being proper,' and xingchen lets out a quiet laugh despite himself. )
Oh, certainly not. What need could a daozhang possibly have for propriety? ( all teasing, of course, his grin perhaps a bit too bright for the occasion - but it quiets once his words are through, his expression shifting to something more subtly considering. one hand still intertwines fingers with jiang wanyin's, and the other drops now to catch his free hand too as xingchen steps in closer, close enough now that their chests nearly brush. it places him perfectly in range to lean in and brush a kiss against wanyin's lips.
then he's drawing back just barely enough that when his eyes open again, they can seek out his companion's. he doesn't leave any time for wanyin to comment or fluster, hushed words following at once. ) I have a proposition, if you'll hear it.
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