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The jewels in the lady’s hairpiece made a soft tinkling noise in the silent room, a delicate sound which stood in poignant dissonance to the way she dramatically jumped to her feet in a flurry of robes and long limbs.
“Stop this wedding!”
Lan Wangji blamed both his somber mood and the screeching falsetto for the fact that he didn’t register this tall, beautiful figure as who they really were for a moment.
Wei Ying.
Sect Leader Jiang was the first one to follow in jumping to his feet, but Uncle’s was the first voice that rang out.
“Madame!”
Jiang Yanli’s hand tightened in his when she looked over the crowd, and he took it as a comfort as he looked over Wei Ying’s painted cheeks, devouring the way he stood there unafraid in the face of everyone who persecuted him. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he stood, stoic, Jiang Yanli’s hand tightening in his with every passing moment.
Wei Ying’s eyes met Lan Wangji’s for just a split second, but it was long enough for him to shoot a dashing wink that sent Lan Wangji’s heart skidding between his ribs. Jiang Yanli giggled at his side, and Lan Wangji squeezed her hand back. He didn’t know what was going to happen in the next movements, but he had a feeling that, one way or another, they wouldn’t be married today. He wondered if Jiang Yanli were as relieved as he.
Wei Ying’s eyes darted away back to the crowd around him, but Lan Wangji could still read the mischievous twinkle that spoke of apoplexy for Lan Wangji’s uncle.
“This man,” Wei Ying announced, pausing as he pointed a trembling finger at Lan Wangji, “has taken both my heart,” another pause, this one to let the ghost of a grin flit over the corner of his painted lips, “and my virtue!”
Lan Wangji nearly flinched against the instantaneous burst of voices. There were some shouting in outrage and some in horror. He glanced to Nie Huisang to find his fan failing to hide the delighted grin on his face.
Lan Wangji almost wanted to grin himself. He trembled now. He’d been trembling since leaving the Burial Mounds with the taste of Wei Ying on his lips, but he trembled anew, now with delight. He daren’t let himself hope, but there was still some part of him that couldn’t help but wonder if this meant Wei Ying felt the same. What other reason would he have for stopping this wedding, especially after gifting Lan Wangji with such a strong approval.
Though this may have just been his way of rescinding that approval and trying to ruin Lan Wangji’s reputation for kissing Wei Ying while he was engaged to his Shijie.
Shufu had now jumped to his feet to join Jiang Wanyin in confronting, red-in the face and wobbling on his feet. Lan Wangji hoped this wouldn’t harm his uncle’s health too badly.
Jiang Wanyin looked as if he was deciding between flying forward and removing the woman from the pavilion or taking the scant steps that would be needed to sock Lan Wangji in the jaw for disrespecting both this maiden and his sister.
Apparently, Wei Ying seemed to dub the din insubstantial, because he continued in the wake of the cacophony, clearing his throat loudly to draw attention back to himself.
“He has also fathered my child!”
Shufu hit the floor in a dead faint before Xichen could reach to catch him, and Jiang Wanyin seemed to make his decision, turning to Lan Wangji with fire in his eyes.
“Surely the young maiden has been mistaken,” Xichen called from where he knelt, fanning Shufu to try and rouse him. “Perhaps some other—“
But Wei Ying interrupted.
“I am no maiden!”
His voice was so loud and grand that it almost made Lan Wangji smile. He may have had he not been standing at the altar with a woman he desperately didn’t want to marry.
There was an awkward pause wherein Wei Ying struggled with the ties of his borrowed robes, a pause that made Jiang Wanyin’s irritated groan upon recognizing the figure in the robe echo throughout the room.
And then, Wei Ying was half-undressed, chest bared, hand wiping rouge from his lips and powder from his cheeks. The din around them had become nearly deafening in the moment Wei Ying had loosened his robes and only continued to rise in pitch when Wei Ying was revealed under his, assumingly, painstakingly applied disguise.
“Wei Wuxian!” Bellowed Jiang Wanyin, who was ignored.
Wei Ying scrambled up to the front and grabbed Jiang Yanli and Lan Wangji’s joined hands in both of his chilly hands.
“Shijie,” he breathed, his breath coming in pants. He gave Jiang Yanli a toothy grin and refused to meet Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Shijie, I need to talk to you is this a bad time?”
She smiled and used her free hand to cup one of Wei Ying’s roughe-smeared cheeks.
“It’s never a bad time for my Xian-xian.”
Wei Ying’s eyes flitted briefly to Lan Wangji’s before settling back on Jiang Yanli.
“Are you in love with Lan Zhan?”
Lan Wangji’s heart began to beat so hard in his chest that it almost felt like it might fall right out.
Wei Ying continued when Jiang Yanli answered only with a wide-eyed glance to Lan Wangji.
“Because if you are, then I will leave right now and we can forget all this mess.”
And Lan Wangji’s heart beat faster as a flush rose to Wei Ying’s cheeks.
“And if I’m not?”” Jiang Yanli asked.
Wei Ying gulped audibly.
“Well, then I’d ask if you might let me marry Lan Zhan since I am in love with him.” Then, Wei Ying finally turned to look at Lan Wangji. “That is, if he’ll have me.”
Lan Wangji was almost afraid he’d freeze in the face of the rush of relief and joy over him, but instead, he reached out in a mimic of Jiang Yanli’s previous action to cup Wei Ying’s jaw.
“Yes, WeI Ying. Always Wei Ying. Only—“ He cut off when he caught a glimpse of his bride standing there, still clutching his hand.
He felt a flash of guilt until he noticed the soft smile on Jiang Yanli’s face.
“Who’s would I be to stand in the way of my Xian-Xian’s happiness?” She let out some soft, disbelieving giggle. “Or my groom’s?”
Wei Ying threw his head back in a laugh for just a split second , his head tilting where Lan Wangji had it cradled so carefully. Then, just as quickly, he pulled Lan Wangji forward into a desperate kiss.
Jiang Yanli finally let go of his hand so that he could draw Wei YIng close.
“I owed you one,” Wei Ying whispered when they broke apart.
“You owed me two,” Lan Wangji said and then, “I love you.”
And they were kissing again, wedding reds be damned.