”Oh.”
That’s all Zizhen is able to say when he sees the small party of three walk into the Koi Tower’s great hall. One man is in white and the other in black robes, both carrying a horsehair whisk and wearing an identical eyepatch over one eye. A young woman in purple-white robes walks a half-step behind them.
”What?” Jingyi asks, looking around. ”Who? Where? What’s going on?”
Zizhen ignores him and keeps staring at the young woman. She’s wearing a small smile and her head is tilted slightly to the side, making her look slightly cocky, and her eyes—
”Those are some weird fucking eyes,” Jingyi says at the exact moment when the group stops in front of Sect Leader Jin and Young Madam Jin, Jiang Yanli, and a hush falls over the crowd. They’re close enough that there’s no way the group didn’t hear him.
”Jingyi,” Sizhui sighs at the same time as Jin Ling elbows him to the side.
The young woman turns her head slowly to look at them with her pearl-white eyes. She raises a brow, making Jingyi let out a startled ”meep,” and then clearly dismisses them.
Zizhen sighs.
”Welcome to Lanling, Daozhangs Xiao Xinghchen and Song Zichen,” Jin Zixuan says. ”After everything Wei Wuxian has told me about you, it’s an honor to finally meet face to face.”
Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen bow, the woman following their example a short moment later.
”Thank you, Sect Leader Jin,” Xiao Xingchen says. ”I have to say, the honor is mutual; we’ve also heard a lot about you.”
”Don’t believe a word,” Jin Zixuan says dryly.
Xiao Xingchen laughs softly. ”Wei Wuxian has only told us good things about you, I promise,” he says with a smile. ”May I present our daughter, Xiao Qing.”
Xiao Qing, Zizhen mouths as the young woman bows and greets Sect Leader Jin and his wife.
”Wait, no,” Jin Ling says slowly, looking at Zizhen with narrowed eyes.
Despite his father’s complaints, Zizhen isn’t in any hurry to marry. Oh, he knows he’ll have to and that he might have little to say who his bride will be, but he’s decided not to worry about it. He’s still young and, as his father is in no hurry to step down from the sect leader’s seat, Zizhen has decided that he’d rather travel. Besides, his friendship with the top two young masters of the Lan Sect and young master Jin will help make him a more worthy candidate. Or that’s what he tells his parents—Zizhen himself doesn’t really care about the status of his future bride.
That said, he’s pretty sure his parents would eagerly accept Xiao Qing. Not every sect can brag about relations to an immortal, after all. No matter if it’s only by proxy.
”I’m going to marry her,” Zizhen says dreamily and lifts his cup to take a sip, not even noticing his cup is empty.
Jin Ling groans from his daybed. ”You haven’t even talked to her! How the hell are you going to marry her?”
”And her eyes are creepy,” Jingyi adds.
Sizhui has better manners than either of them, so he merely presses his lips together in a tight smile. ”She certainly has striking features,” he agrees. ”But hopefully her eyes aren’t the only reason you’re thinking about marrying her?”
”She might not want to marry,” Jin Ling points out.
”She might not even like men,” Jingyi adds.
”You might want to start by talking to her,” Sizhui says.
”Mn,” Zizhen says. He sets his cup on the table and stands up, smoothing his robes down, and says, ”I’ll do that now.”
”Wait—”
”Now?!”
”Good luck!” Sizhui says over the other two.
”Thank you!” Zizhen calls over his shoulder.
They’d been spending the evening in Jin Ling’s rooms, so the first thing he needs to do is to exit the family wing and head out to the guest wing. Once there, he stops a servant and asks where Daozhangs Xiao and Song’s quarters are.
He’s poised to knock on the door when a sharp voice behind him asks, ”What are you doing at our door?”
He turns and comes face-to-face with her.
”Ouyang Zizhen, at your service,” he says and bows. ”I was actually hoping to see you, Lady Xiao.”
She snorts. ”I’m not a lady,” she says. ”And I don’t need a servant.” She crosses her arms on her chest. ”Did you need something?”
The door behind Zizhen swings silently open.
”A-Qing,” Xiao Xinghchen says. ”That’s not polite.”
”Well, neither is calling my eyes fucking weird,” she snaps back, giving Zizhen an unimpressed look.
”Lan Jingyi has a bad habit of blurting out everything he thinks without actually thinking about what he says,” Zizhen says calmly. ”For my part, I like your eyes. They remind me of pearls.”
”Pearls,” Xiao Qing says flatly.
Zizhen smiles and nods eagerly. ”Three of my sisters have mother-of-pearl combs. They’re quite pale, so my sisters think they’re too plain, but I think they’re very beautiful.”
Behind him, Xiao Xingchen clears his throat. ”Would you like to come inside, Young Master Ouyang?”
Zizhen doesn’t really pay attention to the conference. It’s not the first gathering he’s participated and it’ll hardly be the last, and since it’s held in Lanling, there’s a lot of…well, empty space and redundant entertainment around the official meetings. Zizhen is very fond of his dear friend Jin Ling, but even he has admitted that his sect is ridiculous. Even after everything they did after Jin Ling’s grandfather died, the Koi Tower is still opulent and plated in gold.
But the lax schedule means there are plenty of opportunities for Zizhen to seek Lady Xiao out. So far, she hasn’t been too impressed by Zizhen (or his friends), and she’s gotten into a screaming match with Jingyi twice (Jingyi is still sulking after losing both). She’s whip-smart, she’s fast, and she’s excellent with a cane and very good with a sword, and her sense of humor could probably make even Sect Leader Nie’s brother blush bright red.
In short: she’s perfect.
It’s the last day of the conference when he sees the hairstick with an actual pearl at a stall in the market. He doesn’t even think twice about the price or how incredibly forward it would be to gift it to Lady Xiao—he merely admires the smooth, dark wood and the shimmering pearl in the curled end, and buys it without bothering to haggle.
”A very good purchase, young master,” the stall owner says, wrapping the hairstick in a slip of pearl-white silk. ”A perfect betrothal gift.”
”Mn,” Zizhen says. He certainly wishes so—but if nothing else, the other end of the hairstick is sharp enough to use as a weapon. Lady Xiao will (probably, hopefully) like the functionality.
Xiao Xinghchen opens the door after the knock. ”Ah, Zizhen!” he exclaims, then adds an apologetic, ”I’m afraid A-Qing isn’t here at the moment.”
”Do you know when she might be back?” Zizhen asks politely. ”I have…that is, I would like to give her something before you leave.”
Xiao Xingchen quirks a brow. ”Is that so?” he asks. There’s a faint smile playing on his lips but his eye is serious. ”And if she doesn’t want to receive it?”
Zizhen bows deeply. ”I wouldn’t dream of forcing a gift on her,” he says. ”If we are to walk different paths from here on, I will be forever grateful to make the acquaintance of such a formidable lady.”
”You do have way with words,” Xiao Xingchen murmurs, then shakes his head, and opens the door wider. ”Do come in. She shouldn’t be long.”
The room looks bare compared to the first (and only) time Zizhen visited them. A couple of spare purple robes and a haphazard pile of scrolls rest on a daybed, and Zizhen hastily averts his eyes, only to meet Xiao Xingchen’s amused look.
He ends up having tea and playing a game of weiqi with Xiao Xingchen, and is about to lose spectacularly when the door opens and Lady Xiao stomps in, Song Zichen following at a more sedate and calm pace.
”You!” Lady Xiao exclaims as Zizhen scrambles up to greet her. ”What are you doing here?”
He clears his throat and bows, holding out the wrapped hairstick. ”I saw this today while I was running errands and thought of you.” He swallows as Lady Xiao unwraps the hairstick and then just stares at it for a while.
”It’s very simple,” she says drolly.
”Things don’t need to be complicated or overly ornate to be beautiful,” Zizhen says. ”It might look humble but the pearl is of high quality and the other end is sharp enough to act as a weapon.”
”Hm,” Lady Xiao says, rolling the hairstick in her hand like a dagger. ”And what would you say if I told you I didn’t need a stupid hairstick?” she asks without looking at him.
”I’d say that it is a gift that carries no demands or expectations other than fond thoughts from someone who will forever cherish the short time we spent in each other’s company.”
She huffs and makes the hairstick dance across her knuckles before disappearing it into her sleeve. ”Well, I guess you can write,” she finally says.
Zizhen would very much like to grin like Senior Wei when he has an invention breakthrough but instead, he forces his face to stay normal. ”My sisters complain that my letters are always too long and I send them too often,” he says.
”I’ll believe it if it happens,” she says haughtily. ”Goodbye.” Behind her, Xiao Xingchen beams like the sun, and even Song Zichen’s usually stoic face looks mildly approving.
The sects depart after a late lunch but Jingyi, Sizhui, and Zizhen stay for another day to spend time with Jin Ling. They stand on the side balcony and watch the proceedings and listen to Jingyi’s running commentary.
”—and that’s why you shouldn’t drink, Sect Leader He,” he mutters when said sect leader almost face-plants on Jiang Yanli’s lap. ”Stupid to try to match Senior Wei and Sect Leader Jiang anyway, only an idiot would—”
The rest of Jingyi’s opinion is lost on Zizhen as Senior Wei and Hanguang-jun walk out with Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen, because Lady Xiao walks on the side facing Zizhen and she has a simple, dark hairstick with a perfectly round, white pearl adornment in her hair.
Lady Xiao is wearing the hairstick Zizhen gave her.
Zizhen might just combust.
”—you wouldn’t believe—wait,” Jingyi says. ”Zizhen? Why are you so red? And smiling? What is happening?”
Seven months after their first meeting in Lanling and three months after they officially started courting, Zizhen has sufficiently proved to Lady Xiao (or A-Qing, as she’s allowing him to call her) that he does indeed write lengthy letters regularly. Her letters tend to be shorter and more anecdotal (and sometimes have spelling mistakes he will never, ever point out), and he cherishes each and every one.
Through her letters, he’s slowly learned to know more about her, and from between the lines, he’s able to see glimpses of a childhood she’d rather forget and experiences that have shaped her into the sharp, smart, and suspicious woman she is now.
Sometimes it feels like she’s challenging him, arguing with him just for the sake of arguing, to see if he’s serious or if he’ll decide she’s too much and not worth the effort.
Zizhen is determined to prove her wrong.
He’s writing a letter when a familiar, wide, white sleeve obscures his vision only to disappear a moment later, leaving an ornate clay pot smack middle of his letter.
”What’s this?” Zizhen asks, staring at the ink smears making his description of the beautiful landscape illegible.
”For your betrothed,” Jingyi says, sounding very smug.
Zizhen places his brush on the stand and turns to face his friend. ”I’m sorry, I must be exhausted. I thought you said you brought something for my betrothed?”
”Yep!”
”Why would you do that?”
Jingyi sits down next to him and leans forward. ”So, the thing is—”
”The short version, please,” Zizhen interrupts.
”That’s very rude of you, my friend,” Jingyi says.
”I know you,” Zizhen says dryly. ”You’d be more than willing to chat the whole day without getting to the point, my friend.”
Jingyi purses his lips, tilts his head to this side and that, then shrugs. ”True. But anyway, Sizhui and I visited the market, and there was a group of these very pretty ladies—” he pauses to waggle his brows, ”and they were perusing cosmetics, and I happened to overhear some of that conversation—”
”Happened?” Zizhen asks, amused.
”Hey! I was being perfectly respectful!”
”I’m sure. How many times did Sizhui shush you?”
”Only twice,” Jingyi says.
”Remarkable.”
”I know! I was being very discreet. Anyway, apparently this cream is perfect for worn and chafed skin—”
Zizhen’s eyes blow wide. ”JINGYI!”
”What?” he snaps. ”Why are you yelling at—” Then his face goes first white and then bright red. ”NOT LIKE THAT!”
”Then—why—what are you talking about?”
Jingyi blinks several times, staring at something just behind Zizhen’s right shoulder. ”You’ve talked about how she trains with a cane. I noticed her hands were chafed and rough because she isn’t a cultivator and can’t heal her hands with spiritual energy. That’s the skin I was talking about.” He’s still very red.
Zizhen has no clue when Jingyi had the time to notice the state of A-Qing’s hands but he’s touched anyway. Despite his (loud) shortcomings, Jingyi is a good and thoughtful friend who always tries to help other people out.
”You are an immature ass but thank you,” he says, picks up the pot, and takes a sniff. The scent is subtle but pleasant, fresh and a little spicy at the same time. ”This is really nice. I’m sure A-Qing will love this.” He glances at Jingyi. ”Do you want me to tell her it’s from you?”
Jingyi waves his hand in a vague motion. ”You can write her whatever, I don’t care.” He purses his lips, glances at the ceiling, picks his nails, flicks his hair, and when Zizhen is ready to ask him to kindly fuck off, he leans forward and mock-whispers, ”Do you want me to tell you what the ladies were actually talking about?”
Zizhen,
You can tell the loud idiot that ogling women’s hands is fucking creepy but the cream was okay. You can buy more of it for me.
We’ll be heading to Pingyang next. Sect Leader Yao is an obnoxious oaf but it’s always such fun to stare at him and see when he loses his nerve and starts implying I should leave and let the men talk. Which is hilarious because Zichen-ge doesn’t talk at all and Xingchen-ge just smiles and lets me do the talking.
It’ll be interesting to see how he’ll react to you and meA-Qing
PS. so did he tell you what the women were talking about?
If asked, Zizhen is not nervous.
Why would he be? He’s met Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen many times, had tea with them and talked with them, and this time is just one of many to come. Hopefully.
He fiddles with his sleeves a bit, smoothes down his lapels, and moves the cups and teapot on the table slightly to the left, ponders a bit, and moves them back where they were.
(He’s totally nervous.)
He hears them as they make their way up the inn’s stairs; A-Qing’s rapid questions and Xiao Xingchen’s more sedate commentary, Song Zichen a quiet presence in the background as usual. Zizhen stands up, takes one last critical look at the table, and walks to the door, ready to open it the moment the first knock on the door.
”Ouyang Zizhen,” Xiao Xingchen greets him with a smile.
He bows and shows them inside. ”It’s good to see you again, Daozhangs. I trust your travels have been safe?”
”Safe, interesting, a learning experience,” Xiao Xingchen says. Song Zichen nods as he walks in, and then—
”Nothing to say?” A-Qing asks, quiring a brow.
Zizhen ducks his head a bit. ”You are as lovely as always, Lady Xiao,” he says.
”Flatterer,” she huffs and stomps toward the table with tea and snacks, but he spies a light blush on her cheeks. It makes her even lovelier.
They make plans to meet the next day but when the time comes, Xiao Xingchen arrives alone.
”A-Qing isn’t feeling well,” he apologises. ”She wanted to send you a message but I told her I’d come see you in person.”
”Nothing serious, I hope?” Zizhen asks. ”Is there anything I can do to make her feel better?”
Xiao Xingchen gives him a fond look. ”You are kind to worry but it’ll be fine. She will feel better in a couple of days.”
”I’m glad to hear that,” Zizhen says and glances at the tea set. ”Would you like some tea anyway?”
Xiao Xingchen inclines his head and sits, waiting serenely as Zizhen busies himself with the tea. They drink in companionable silence, and when the tea is gone, there’s a moment of stillness as Xiao Xingchen visibly gathers his thoughts.
”I must confess that I had some doubts about you,” he finally carefully says, tapping his empty cup with a finger. ”Back when you gave A-Qing the hairstick. Our daughter is very dear to us but we are fully aware that she can be…challenging to new people.” He looks up and smiles, making his eyes crinkle prominently enough so that it’s visible even from under the eyepatch. ”I’m very glad I was wrong.”
Zizhen shakes his head. ”Daozhang, I’m sure I’ve told you that I grew up with seven big sisters,” he says wryly. ”I’ve lived my whole life with women who tell me what to do and who tolerate no stupidity.”
”Ah,” Xiao Xingchen says, amused. ”I see.”
”I don’t mean she reminds me of my sisters,” Zizhen hurries to add. ”She’s definitely both more clever and beautiful than my sisters, not to mention interesting and compelling.” He feels himself blush. ”My mother often says I need a strong woman to balance out all the daydreaming I do—not that it’s all I do—”
Xiao Xingchen raises a hand, interrupting him with a soft laugh. ”There’s no need to fret, I understand. I often feel that’s the case between Song Lan and myself as well.” He falls silent and gives him a long look. ”We’ll stay in the area for a couple of weeks, I think. You’re welcome to join us on night hunts, if you’d like.”
Zizhen beams. ”I would be honored to! Watching you and Song Zichen work is always a pleasure, and A-Qing—I mean, Lady Xiao—” he stammers.
”If she’s given you permission to call her A-Qing, I’m not going to stop you,” Xiao Xingchen says with a knowing look.
Zizhen doesn’t trust his voice to answer, so he merely nods instead.
”Well then,” Xiao Xingchen says and stands up. ”I think I’ll head back. Song Lan is probably in need of a respite from our cranky daughter.”
Zizhen bites his lip and hesitates a split moment before he blurts out, ”If it’s not too forward, could you give her this?” He rummages around his qiankun bag and hands Xiao Xingchen a small sachet.
Xiao Xingchen takes it, looks at Zizhen, and then at the sachet again.
”It’s mint,” he adds. ”My sisters…well, they felt this was one of the few things that helped during their…um.” His cheeks turn red and he clears his throat. ”It works either cold or hot, and a little bit of honey will improve the taste.” Then he remembers what he actually got for her. ”Oh, and this, too. I told her about rose-flavored pastries and she said she’d like to try them,” he says, holding out a beautifully wrapped package.
Xiao Xingchen takes that, too, and tucks both the mint tea and the pastries into his sleeve. ”I think we’ll be heading toward Baling soon,” he says, eye twinkling. ”Good day, Zizhen.”
It isn’t until Xiao Xingchen has left and Zizhen is clearing out the tea set that his words actually hit home, and he needs to sit down for a moment.
It’s a mistake. Zizhen knows it’s a mistake.
”This is a mistake,” he mutters to himself as he steels himself and finally walks up to Senior Wei.
”Hm?” Senior Wei asks, looking up from his talisman work.
It’s another cultivation conference, this time in Qinghe. It’s a lot more fun than the one in Lanling or (sorry, Sizhui) in Gusu, mostly because Sect Leader Nie has an extremely low tolerance of idle gossiping and politics. He’d much rather solve things by hacking at them with his sabre (it works most of the time, but it could get a bit awkward during a gathering), which is why the meetings have been short and efficient, and the next three days will be spent night-hunting.
”Did you need something, Zizhen?” Senior Wei asks, cocking his head.
”Um,” Zizhen says and then falls silent. He isn’t sure how to ask.
Senior Wei narrows his eyes. ”Is this a cultivation-related issue or something personal?”
”The second,” Zizhen manages.
Senior Wei sets his brush down and moves the talisman sketches aside, then pats at the bench next to him. ”Okay. Ask away.”
Zizhen sits and frowns at his hands on his lap. ”I—” he tries. ”There’s this—” he tries again. He huffs, then takes a breath and says, ”You are married, Senior Wei.”
”Yes, I am,” Senior Wei says slowly. ”And if I’ve understood correctly, you might be, too, in a short while.” When Zizhen stays silent, Senior Wei lets out a small hum. ”Is this about your betrothal? Do you have second thoughts?”
”No!” Zizhen says. ”It’s…” He bites his lip. ”I want to do something…romantic,” he finally says, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. ”But I’m not sure what.”
Senior Wei stares at him. ”What—and you’re asking me?” he says, his voice going high with incredulity.
”Who else could I ask?” Zizhen retorts. ”I can’t ask my mother because we could both die of mortification, none of my friends is even courting, and the only other example of a loving marriage I know is Sect Leader Jin and Young Madam Jin. Do you really want me to ask them?”
Senior Wei makes a face.
”Besides, in many ways, Lady Xiao reminds me of you. Smart, quick, irreverent—with all respect, of course, Senior Wei.”
”Of course,” he snorts.
”Sandu Shengshou would probably be even closer, but…”
Senior Wei gives him a flat look. ”Jiang Cheng wouldn’t know romance if it hit him on the head with a shovel,” he says. ”Don’t bother asking him. He doesn’t understand anything.”
”Of course, Senior Wei,” Zizhen obediently says and wonders if Senior Wei would forget about all of this if he just ran away now.
Senior Wei lets out a considering hum and purses his lips, a faraway look in his eyes. ”Let’s see…” he says slowly. ”Obviously it’s been a while since we were courting and it’s not like it was very traditional. Or very long.”
Zizhen knows this. Everyone knows this—Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s relationship was a near-scandal back in the day, and not only because it came to light when Lan Wangji shoved Wei Wuxian against a tree during a crowd hunt and kissed him (ravenously, some people say) in full view of all attendees. Terribly romantic and very assertive, yes, but Zizhen is quite sure A-Qing would probably geld him if he tried that. (Or laugh herself to tears. Zizhen isn’t very assertive.)
”There’s poetry and music and romantic letters,” Senior Wei lists. ”Walks in gardens and gazing at the moon. It really depends on the person you’re trying to woo.” He gives Zizhen a pointed look. ”Or you could always ask Huaisang, you know. He has an extensive collection of erotic and romantic books and, well. We are in Qinghe, after all.”
Zizhen has no intention of asking Sect Leader Nie’s younger brother for literary recommendations. ”Well, what do you find romantic, Senior Wei?” he asks, slightly desperate.
”Obviously Lan Zhan is very romantic even though no one ever believes it,” Senior Way says. ”He isn’t fond of talking but shows his feelings through acts of love.” Senior Wei tilts his head slightly and a mischievous glint appears in his eyes, and Zizhen knows he’s going to regret this. ”But if you ask what’s my favorite thing, it’s the one where he recreates our first date, the one where we confessed our love for each other, and then he took me in the field—”
”Yes, thank you, Senior Wei!” Zizhen yelps over his narration, face bright crimson and with a deep sense of dread he’ll never be able to look at Hanguang-jun the same way.
He ends up borrowing a book from Nie Huaisang. Turns out that the Nie have a tradition of battle poetry which A-Qing finds both hilarious and deeply moving.
She also kisses Zizhen on the cheek which makes it all worth the hassle.
”…and that’s something you should always keep in mind, son,” a-die concludes, stroking his beard with visible self-importance.
”Yes, of course,” Zizhen replies. He has no clue what his father has been talking about for the past who-knows-how-long. Something about the sanctity of marriage, marital duties, spousal support, and…plums? Honestly, he hasn’t been paying that close attention to it.
Because Zizhen is now married.
He’s married and in his red robes, and his wife (his wife!!) is sitting across the room, head bent close to Jiang Yanli and Wen Qing, and Zizhen is mildly terrified of what the older women are telling his wife (his wife!!!). He probably shouldn’t ask. Just for his own peace of mind.
”Ah, Yongzheng!” a-die exclaims. ”Just the person I wanted to see! Sit, sit!”
Sect Leader Yao is definitely not the person Zizhen wanted to see but as he’s a filial son, he stands up to bow. And then he sighs inwardly as he’s tugged down to sit in between them, and both Sect Leader Yao and a-die place their hands on his opposite shoulders and lean forward.
”Now,” a-die says sagely. ”Yongzheng and I have something important to tell you.”
”We do,” Sect Leader Yao agrees.
”Yes, a-die,” Zizhen says, resigned.
”You know that between us, Yongzheng and I have over 50 years of sect leader expertise combined,” a-die says.
”Mn,” Zizhen says. Expertise might be a bit generous but…
”Nianzu has been my dearest friend through thick and thin,” Sect Leader Yao continues. ”He was there when I got married and I was there when he got married.”
”Yongzheng was by my side when I lost my parents and I supported him when he lost his son,” a-die adds. ”We might not always agree on politics or cultivation practices, but there’s one thing we’ve never argued about.”
He pauses, giving Zizhen a meaningful look. As a dutiful son, he asks, ”And what is that, a-die?”
”The importance of family,” a-die says.
”And friends,” Sect Leader Yao says, nodding seriously.
Zizhen’s eyes dart to the corner of the room where Jingyi and Jin Ling are again arguing about something (of likely insignificant nature), Sizhui standing next to them with a patient, all-suffering air. Jingyi throws his hands in the air and shakes his head, turning to take a look around the room. He catches Zizhen’s eye and proceeds to make a series of weird facial expressions that Zizhen interprets to mean something along the lines of, I can’t believe Jin Ling just said that but whatever, do you need rescuing?
He shakes his head and grins at Jingyi’s put-upon sigh as he turns to face Jin Ling again.
A-die clears his throat. Zizhen looks at him and a-die inclines his head not-at-all-subtly in the direction of Zizhen’s friends. ”Make sure that your friends always know how much you appreciate them,” he says.
”And stay true to your friends,” Sect Leader Yao says. ”So that they’ll keep you true.”
The elderly men look at each other with wet, bright eyes, and Zizhen is suddenly reminded that yes, they do share a lot of history, a series of trials and tribulations he has no clue about and that have nothing to do with him.
”Aiyah,” a-die huffs, clearing his throat again and then clapping his hand several times on Zizhen’s shoulder. ”It’s your wedding day, Zizhen. Go see to your wife and leave us old men reminisce in peace.”
Zizhen stands up and gives them a deep, respectful bow. ”This son thanks father and Sect Leader Yao for the sage advice,” he says. ”May my friendships prosper and last as long as yours.”
Both a-die and Sect Leader Yao huff and roll their eyes as they wave him off, but Zizhen can see the pleased look on their faces and a flush on their cheeks that has nothing to do with wine. He’s also slightly surprised about how much he means his words—for years now, his golden rule about life has been to think about what a-die and Sect Leader Yao would do and then do the exact opposite.
This time, though, he’s going to do exactly as they say.