daozhangs | ic inbox, ryslig.

[ The poutiness is already starting to come out again at this delay now that he has finally worked up his nerve, but thinking about it properly, Jiang Cheng has to admit he is in the same position. ]

Early evening is acceptable. I will have to search for something red to wear as well. It must be possible to find something in this entire estate. [ He hopes. He really hopes. It can't be that hard, right? ] And if we are to have the ceremony here at Lotus Pier, then I will prepare everything, too, and I will make sure we have food and wine.

[ He grins. ] See? I'm already taking good care of you! Better than my older self does, living in scandal!

( they'll have food and wine. jiang wanyin will gather food and wine, he'll 'prepare everything' (whatever amount that entails, to a young master of the gentry), and he'll scour the estate for traditional reds as well - all before early this evening.

they'll be married early this evening. married, he and this man whom he's known for half a week and also more than a year, and it all just feels so terribly surreal that there's very little room for practicality to fill the space around it. were he any more properly grounded, xingchen might consider attempting to gather some manner of dowry regardless (it's only fair, isn't it?).

(he might also think what a shame it is that zichen can't be here to celebrate with them. then, of course, he would recall that zichen soon suffers and dies by his hand, so he supposes his dear friend's absence is not in his right to lament.)

but rather than any sort of pragmatism, he's filled with a strange sort of lightness - perhaps contributing to the half-dreamlike state of things or perhaps even because of it - and when jiang wanyin grins, the return grin is nearly automatic, spreading foolishly across his lips before he presses them together to try and fail to swallow it back. it's a losing fight, he knows, especially with all of this terribly sweet 'already taking good care of you' nonsense he's getting all the while.

and, 'better than my old self does, living in scandal!' to which xingchen offers a fond consoling little hum, one hand lifting to tuck a damp bit of flyaway hair behind jiang wayin's ear. ) I'm sure that he does just fine, ( he says, his tone perhaps a bit too warm and fond for the length of time which they've known one another, but it can't be helped... nor can the way in which he leans in now to brush the lightest kiss to jiang wanyin's cheek.

then he's turning quite definitively to haul himself back up out of the water and onto the dock, if only to distance himself a bit from the source of the flush of red now rising up along his cheeks and the tips of his ears. ) I'll see you this evening, ( is the farewell he bids as slips into his boots and heads off toward the gates, somehow managing all the poise and collection of a young daozhang despite the fact that he's dripping wet from nearly head to toe and actively wringing the water from his voluminous sleeves along the way. )

[ He...! He...! He...!

He just kissed his cheek!

Jiang Cheng stands there, stock still with wide, startled eyes and a thoroughly chili-red face, trying his hardest to stifle the little noises escaping his throat as he deals with the facts of this new reality. A reality in which Xiao Xingchen's lips had touched his cheek. Lips! On his face! He can still feel the phantom touch of warm lips against his cheek, so tender and gentle and...! He brings a hand up to cradle his cheek.

Wait. Xiao Xingchen is talking again. Something about the evening. ] Uhuh [ he murmurs, barely aware of the words but very aware of the lips - lips!!! - saying them.

Then he's turning around and walking away and that gives Jiang Cheng the view on no more lips - no! - but instead the view of his wet robes clinging to him, backside and all. He gives a panicked squawk and looks away, gaze firmly fixed on some lotuses. ]

Tonight! [ he yelps, though he still isn't quite sure he remembers what he just agreed to. Hopefully it really was that he will be back tonight, for the wedding, or else Jiang Cheng is going to have a very humiliating evening. ]

Edited 2021-10-24 18:48 (UTC)

( and so xiao xingchen makes his way to bavan (he briefly considers stopping back at his own cottage, but for all the colors of robe he apparently owns, he's quite sure that red isn't one of them), doing his best to navigate the disconcertingly tall and busy city as efficiently as he's able. it's quite fortunate that this is his second trip rather than his first - that saves him the time of wondering at each new marvel he encounters, allowing him to focus properly on figuring out where best to seek out the most passably relevant clothing shop.

it's... quite a bit harder than anticipated, to say the least. he's almost ready to forfeit and improvise when one final shop at the edge of town yields the first garments in all of his search with any real familiarity to it. only two or three garments off in one corner of the shop, marketed quite clearly as dresses for women, but one is the proper red it will certainly serve well enough for the occasion.

and so, as the earliest shadows of evening begin to filter in amongst the light of the late afternoon sun, a red figure can be spotted approaching the gates of lotus pier. at first glance, it almost seems as though he's found a proper robe after all, but it's only passably so in form and certainly not in function. the overlapped 'robe' front is sown in place, and it's quite fortunate that the garment is a couple of layers thick on its own because no further layers can be effectively worn over-top or underneath.

at the gate, xingchen pauses, drawing a deep breath into a chest slightly tighter with anticipation and (he'll admit it) nerves.

and then he knocks. )

Edited 2021-10-24 21:21 (UTC)

[ Much to Jiang Cheng's chagrin, it turns out that - scandalous! shocking! far too exciting! - cheek kisses are soon the least of his misfortune.

He had said he would have Lotus Pier ready by evening, and well, it would have been an optimistic assessment even for a Lotus Pier fully staffed with disciples and servants, but by himself? Cooking alone would take him so long, not that he actually gets that far.

No, he trips right over #1 on the itinerary: his wedding robes. Simple fact is, his older self doesn't own anything red and searching the other rooms doesn't come with any more luck. Where is a convenient Wen when you need them? It's all Jiang uniforms, and private clothes in sensible colors. Nothing red, except in one trunk which holds dusty old robes that include red underrobes. Which is almost worse than not finding any red robes at all, it's not like he can get married in his underwear! It would be far too shameless.

He has some more luck with the decorations, finding in the inventory the huge swathes of cloth in which Lotus Pier is draped for special occasions - white for mourning, red for weddings. Not that he has time, or is able to arrange these drapings around the gate and entrances to various buildings, though he does manage to haphazardly attach some to the gates of Lotus Pier and the doors of Sword Hall, where he has decided the wedding will take place. This also leaves with heaps of leftover red cloth, so in the end, he just cuts off a sizeable swath of the red drapes and wraps them around himself over the red under robes. Nobody will notice, right?

He has just barely managed to track down some wine and the leftover sweets from his Bavan trip when he hears the knock and rushes over.

Sword Hall, at least, is festive enough brightly lit with candles in the dying daylight and filled with the scent of their best incense. ]

You're here! [ he yelps as he yanks open the door and nearly trips over his too-long impromptu robes. And then his mouth opens and closes a few times as he takes in what Xiao Xingchen is wearing. It is unusual in cut but it is delicate and fluttery and... His blush returns. ] You are pretty. [ His eyes widen in alarm. ] Not that you aren't always pretty!

( and jiang wanyin, in turn, has quite clearly failed to find proper attire - but his valiant attempt to improvise is honestly far more endearing to xingchen than any success may have been and he couldn't have asked for anything more delightful.

a verdict which jiang wanyin proves wrong no more than a second later, blushing an even lovelier red than his makeshift attire and then stumbling his way through none other than a compliment.

and xingchen breathes out a quiet grin, gaze dropping to the space between them for a moment as he tries and fails to will away his own blush. ) Yes, well. ( don't mind him, stepping in to lift both hands and smoothly adjust the 'collar' of the curtains which jiang wanyin wears so they lie more comfortably in place. ) I don't suppose that might count as my dowry? ( he's teasing, of course. he hasn't forgotten that such a thing was declared unnecessary. )

[ Uh. Um. Oh.

How is he supposed to be using his words when Xiao Xingchen is right in front of him, and fussing with his ~~curtain toga~~ makeshift robes? He blushes even more fiercely at the small tender gesture. It is so doting. So... so... so domestic. ]

We are going to be married! [ he breathes, all shocked and terrified and still so very excited. It had been his idea to do it right away but it is still overwhelming to think this is really happening. It bowls him over once again whenever he lets himself think about it.

He shuffles his feet a little and looks away. ] Being pretty can be your dowry, why not [ he tells him belatedly, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. He coughs. ] I prepared Sword Hall. I hope you don't mind. It's not... what it would have been at home. [ Slowly, he offers his hand to Xingchen, palm up. ] But it's the best I could do?

( it's true. they are going to be married. and while such an occasion is bound to spark some degree of nervousness in even the most prepared of individuals, there's no need for his companion to worry over such things as the limited preparations at his disposal on such short notice and with so little of their own realm here to pull from.

and so when he sets his hand in jiang wanyin's, he goes a step beyond the expected formality and grips it instead, light but steady. one might even call it an assurance of solidarity. ) I don't mind, ( he says, a quiet smile still lingering at the corners of his lips. ) It's-... ( he almost said 'it's lovely', but what a silly thing to say. how would he know? he hasn't even seen it. instead, he simply says, ) I don't mind at all.

[ This, this is better than empty reassurances when he would indeed have just pointed out that Xingchen hasn't seen it yet. But this promise that it doesn't matter and the firm grip on his hand soothes him, calms the whirlwind of his mind. ]

Alright [ he says and nods. ] Then it will have to be enough. [ He frees one hand and tugs Xingchen along. ] Come. I will show you what I have prepared. There was not enough time to do much. I underestimated how long it takes to do things by yourself. But I think it still turned out nice.

[ There is Sword Hall wreathed in red - conspicuously the same pattern of the fabric as his "robes" but never mind that - and the doors wide open to the candle-lit scenery. He has picked lotus flowers to decorate the room with, and the makeshift snacks banquet set up comes in A-Niang's best dishes, the ones only used for impressing other sect leaders.

His hand tightens on Xingchen's. ] It's not much but... It would be more impressive if Lotus Pier were filled with people.

( and xingchen follows, of course, tugged along quite willingly by a chattering jiang wanyin. at the mention of 'not enough time', he considers offering to help prepare anything which remains to be done - but wanyin had been so pleased to do this for xingchen all on his own, and it's better not to make him worry that this somehow isn't enough after all.

which it is, of course. xingchen could quite easily have done this in a particularly peaceful bit of forest, let alone the lotus pier sword hall draped from top to bottom with evidence of his companion's brief but dogged effort to live up to standards set with far more time and hands at work - all for xingchen. as if he might think himself uncared for without it, which is silly but perhaps it's precisely what jiang wanyin has grown up learning: that if you don't go through all of the requisite formalities and busywork for another, you're all but declaring them worthless. it makes xingchen a bit sad, in truth, that his dear friend and soon husband may ever have had to worry that his love wasn't pretty enough for others to recognize as such. and for what? it's all needless gentry nonsense. has it ever made anyone happy, or simply made them work harder to find their happiness?

it's oddly fitting, for wanyin to have dressed in the same cloth he draped around the hall - because he, too, is enough. and his love may not be pretty, but it's warm, in xingchen's palm and in his chest. 'pretty' feels so terribly subjective, so irrelevant, an assessment meant more for a flower than for something like this. like the candlelit lotus flowers accenting the hall. those are wonderfully pretty.

'it would be more impressive if lotus pier were filled with people.' xingchen's shaking his head before the words have even quite finished, his gaze still taking in all that jiang wanyin has done. ) No, ( he says, wondering and hushed in the otherwise silent room. ) I prefer it like this. ( a moment more, and he looks to jiang wanyin again. ) Like this, you only need impress me - and you've done it. ( his smile returns, though his words are still quiet (it feels fitting, in such a place), to say - ) If you're of a mind to impress me further, you might allow yourself to shed such worries for the evening.

[ Does he like it? The way Xingchen is inspecting his hurried but earnest efforts, it does seem like he approves, and Jiang Cheng's puny teenage chest puffs up in solemn pride. He did well. He is making his clan and his future husband proud (his parents wouldn't be proud, but no amount of time or effort could change that.)

At that slight chiding, he makes an indignant little noise at the back of his throat. ] But how am I supposed to just stop trying to impress you, or worrying about it! This is one of the most important days of our lives. [ But he does relax a little for the reassurance that he has already succeeded to impress him, even if the verbal acknowledgment of that comes with a little scowl. ] You are far too easily pleased. You should hold me to higher standards.

[ He shakes his head. ] But. We should get started. It's just... awkward getting started when there are no people to perform the ritual for, or set the pace of it. My parents would be making the decisions if we were getting married at home.

[ His parents, for sure, even with Xingchen not being under their authority. His mother has that way of taking charge whether it is actually her place to do so or not, and Jiang Cheng would certainly be far too cowed to argue. Maybe in this, at least, Xingchen is right, and it is better it is only them. ]

( right - they should get started. the reminder nudges xingchen into a bit of action, and he turns (hand still in jiang wanyin's so guess who's tugged along) to retreat to the entrance in order to slide closed the sword hall's doors.

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. )

[ He gives Xingchen an encouraging smile and a nod. Yes, right here is the place he has intended, in front of the empty lotus throne. It will be the closest he can get to his parents being here and giving him his blessings.

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. ]

( 'then let us begin.' and so they shall. it's odd - all day, all week really, things have felt just the slightest bit dreamlike even at the most serious of times - but not now. this, jiang wanyin and the ceremony before them, feels properly real for the first time since he awoke in a cottage he didn't yet know was his own. it's as if he's felt just slightly blurred at the edges for days, but in closing the doors of the hall behind them, he's managed to contain himself somehow - to ground himself in this spot, in this moment. and as his hands are released and jiang wanyin moves to kneel, xingchen wonders if he shouldn't be more nervous than this. he was certainly nervous enough at the dock when they set the agenda for this evening, and even throughout his search for proper attire, the blood in his veins seemed to buzz just slightly.

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. )

[ Jiang Cheng is too young to have practiced extensively for that day, or been overly concerned in studying the formalities of it at all, so he simply makes sure to make it his best bow, using every last bit of grace that has been drilled into him since childhood. Trying to make himself worthy of this moment and of the boy who will become his husband - a boy who will grow into a great man, no doubt, one that Jiang Cheng can only hope to be equal to.

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. ]

( the parents - this is to whom they bow next, and while xingchen has never properly felt the absence of his own, it seems for a moment to cast jiang wanyin slightly adrift. xingchen casts a quiet, unobtrusive glance his way, a moment stolen to discern if this might be too difficult for him under the current circumstances... but no sooner has he stolen said glance than jiang wanyin's elbow nudges his arm to direct them toward the throne. his father's throne, or so it surely feels. and while jiang-gongzi bows with the weight of every ounce of the legacy he can't shake the need to fulfill, xingchen's own bow contains a promise. perhaps they can't be here to see this, or to protect their son from the cruelties of this realm as one can only hope that they would try their best to do - but xingchen can. he will, both now and once they've returned to their proper ages. from all that he's read, it seems very much like he was already quite determined to protect this man, regardless.

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. )

[ Happy. He is happy. Happy enough to be laughing and smiling, and all of that for being married to Jiang Cheng. There is a little sour part of him that whispers, he wouldn't be so happy about it if he knew him better, or if he had the comparison to Wei Wuxian. But Wei Wuxian isn't here and Xiao Xingchen hadn't cared to wait until he knew him better, so he must accept this choice of his, must try and let himself be happy, too. He knows this, it's just still a little bit hard to wrap his mind around it all when their wedding came as sudden and rushed and unconventional that it might as well be counted halfway as eloping together.

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.

( when jiang wanyin reaches for his hands, xingchen gives them over quite willingly, his gaze dropping for a moment to watch as they're tugged more readily into his companion's reach. as they're held, for the second time this evening.

(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?

Maybe it would have been a little bit silly [ Jiang Cheng agrees, somewhere halfway between mollified that he didn't mess up by forgetting to provide one, and disappointed that there really would have been no point to a veil. It would have been exciting, lifting it. With his sword, maybe, and then leaning in to kiss him, like they do in the stories. Cheesy, ridiculous stories which he has absolutely no reason in and never pays attention to when the storyteller tells them in town, he is only at that inn for the tea. ]

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. ]

Edited 2021-11-13 20:45 (UTC)

( oh. that - the lifting of the veil with his sword and swooping in for a kiss - that admittedly would have made quite the compelling case to have found him a veil after all. it's fortunate that xingchen hasn't the slightest clue such ideas crossed jiang wanyin's mind, or he might actually find it in himself to be a bit disappointed.

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. )

It will hold, when I tie our strands of hair together [ Jiang Cheng interjects, and that makes him feel even more foolish and sappy about the entire affair, though he isn't even asking for anything outlandish. It's just so... Well. It is embarrassing to admit he wants that pouch, and that he believes his older self will want it, too. He can't imagine any future, no matter how jaded, where he would not want to carry a token of his spouse's love with him.

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. ]

( for what it's worth, xingchen doesn't think that it's embarrassing at all. a man's spouse is to be their companion in life and death, what better reason could one find to collect a sentimental token? but though xingchen can read that embarrassment in jiang wanyin's features, it's not quite enough to warrant calling attention to by addressing it aloud. he hopes instead that the readiness with which he took to selecting a lock of hair and weaving it into a tidy braid might balm his companion's unease with the fact that xingchen is no less invested in this than he is.

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?

Oh, just... Wait. [ His older self doesn't seem to have bangs anymore, it is all uniformly long hair, but he tugs a strand loose now to let it fall into his eyes and offers himself up to Xingchen for scissors and braiding, while his own fingers close tightly around Xingchen's strand of hair - not without letting their fingers brush, and taking a secretive, delighted thrill in it. ] Will this do?

[ 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. ]

( and so xingchen quietly observes as jiang wanyin tugs loose a bit of his hair, watching it drift down to frame his face - and he decides in that moment that he rather likes it. even just so haphazardly as this bit of hair tugged loose from its proper arrangement, it still manages to soften the angles of his face. makes him look a bit less severe, or at least less like he's attempting to look severe (the smiling and such have already watered down his severity quite a bit). xingchen wonders for a moment how terribly severe his new husband looks at his proper age. if such a thing scales outwardly as it does in their relative harshness of character, the grown sandu shengshou must be quite formidable indeed.

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. )

[ He freezes the moment that there is a finger touching his bottom lip, making him feel warm and tingly and just making him feel so much just from this tiny little touch. He lets the touch happen in wide-eyed, stunned surprise, far too caught up in the moment to even think of anything clever to say.

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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