Briefly Connected (wangxian)

Chapter 07

Wangji stands outside the ceremony hall entrance. He could hear his pulse clear and accelerating inside him, his palms cold, nerves buzzing in his brain—he's nervous. He's never met anyone this way, he should give himself that, but he's not sure if he has ever reacted this way to a five minutes away text.

A while ago he excused himself from his brother saying he has to get a friend. He's coming to help out, Wangji told him, and Xichen gave him a look which he pretended as if nothing, preferring to not decipher. There's half an hour for the ceremony to begin—he asked Wei Ying to be here with enough time to spare, not too trusting of his nerves that have been weird since yesterday.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he looks at his phone again. The picture of Wei Ying he received specifically. He had a satin button-up on, the purple accentuating the pale skin of his chest that peeked through the undone buttons; a silver necklace, the pendant invisible in this angle.

And then there's a voice message. A raspy voice which he had to listen to on a low volume, holding his phone next to his ear, like a whisper. He chews on his lips—he has to work on this tick—he was right to not trust his nerves.

A minute or so passes, and Wangji's phone is ringing. His nerves electrify from his head to the tip of his toes, he doesn't know if he's ready but he clears his throat and picks up. "Hello?"

"Hi, Lan Zhan. I think I'm in front of the place. Should I just come in?"

Wangji almost forgets that this is the first time they're talking on the phone. He clears his throat again. "Yes. You can identify the ceremony hall from the decorations. I'm in front of it."

"Got it. I'm in the taxi that just came in."

But two cars with taxi signs drive past the gate as he watched. Wangji's more eager than he thought he'd be when his eyes follow them. From the first one climbs out a man in a leather jacket, Wangji doesn't even have to notice the satin shirt to know that this person is Wei Ying. He carried the aura. Wangji can't pinpoint what it is.

He's putting Wei Ying's pieces together. It's so weirdly satisfying: the pale skin of his neck to his face, the face to his slightly long hair highlighted in a dark maroon, the shirt to the black straight-legged pants falling short up to the hem of his boots. The quizzical expression he wore looking around, the bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He's existing in his vision whole and alive; for a moment Wangji doesn't know if he can believe it.

Wangji raises a hand in a small wave. Xian's mouth breaks into a gorgeous grin, and he's taking fast steps toward him. "Lan Zhan?" It's a question, and Wangji hums to that.

His brain is short-circuiting wondering what he should do. A handshake, say hello—Xian's arms are around his neck, tiptoeing to reach the noticeable height difference—well, there's no need then. "God," Xian squeals into the hug. "I can't believe this. You're really here."

Wangji chuckles. "I am." He catches a glance at the necklace, it's a tear-shaped pendant shining on his chest.

"God, you're so tall," Xian says, eyes casually roaming on him. "Waistcoat it is. I was so in a rush when I saw your text and was wondering if that's all you're gonna wear." There's a silvery chuckle. "Would have been a treat, though. When is the ceremony starting? I'm not late, right? Okay, I'm already rambling. Please let's go in or I'll talk all day."

Wangji, bemused, feels his lips stretch to a smile. "It's okay. This way."

Xian follows him. The ceremony is to be held outside, with a cocktail party arranged in the hall that opened to the garden. He feels a weird little giddy build-up, wanting to shoe Wei Ying the angelic deco in there. He pointedly reminds himself that they've got time, and takes him inside instead.