The Mad Ҡìղց

Wedding

The morning sun broke through the clouds, bathing the grand courtyard in a warm glow as the ceremonial crowd gathered. Yan Li, Jin, Wen Qing, Cheng, Ayana, and Niobe stood at the altar, their radiant smiles brighter than the gilded decorations that adorned the venue. The vows they exchanged were heartfelt, weaving a spell of romance and unity over everyone present. Each word seemed to draw tears, longing, and applause, as the onlookers secretly wished they could trade places with the newlyweds.

Ayana's dress was a masterpiece of tradition and elegance. The crest of the Lan clan glimmered on her sash, a proud symbol of her lineage. Yan Li looked every bit like the radiant bride, her cheeks tinged pink as Jin's whispered promises brought a constant blush to her face. Niobe, strong yet tender, held Ayana's hand with a steady grip, their bond apparent even in their shared glances. The brides and groom blushed and smiled all day, their happiness infectious.

Wen Qing stood with grace and quiet confidence, her Wen clan's traditional attire shimmering in the sunlight. Her long crimson robes were embroidered with intricate gold patterns, symbolizing prosperity and eternal love. Jiang Cheng stood beside her, visibly nervous yet unmistakably captivated by his bride. As they recited their vows, Jiang Cheng's voice wavered, the unspoken love and admiration in his eyes melting the hearts of everyone present. Wen Qing smiled softly, reaching out to steady him, her calm reassurance grounding them both.

When the vows were complete, the crowd erupted in applause, flower petals showering the newlyweds. The courtyard buzzed with joy, each moment steeped in the magic of everlasting bonds and shared happiness.

But amid the joy and laughter, there was one notable absence.

"Where is Wei Ying?" Lan Xichen asked, his eyes scanning the crowd. He turned to Lan Wangji, his voice tinged with curiosity. "I thought you said he would come."

"He will," Wangji replied calmly, his gaze unwavering. "He's preparing Lady Yan Li's favorite dish."

Lan Xichen smiled, the kind that carried both amusement and acceptance, but he said nothing more.

While the rest of the guests reveled in the celebration, one heart burned with simmering rage—Madam Yu's. She wasn't upset about Lan Wangji choosing not to marry her daughter; that wound had long been closed. No, her anger was far more personal. It was Wei Ying, and now, her fury demanded an outlet.

As the clock struck 7 PM, the merriment continued with dancing and drinking. However, Lan Wangji excused himself, leaving the crowd unnoticed. His footsteps carried him to the quiet edges of the house, where the slave quarters lay shrouded in shadows.

There, beneath the dim flicker of a lantern, he found Wei Ying tied to a wooden pole. He was stripped to his undergarments, his head bowed but his spirit unbroken.

"Young Master," a slave called out timidly, stepping in his path as Wangji approached. "You mustn't untie him."

"Why?" Wangji's voice was low but firm, his fists clenching at his sides.

"When Madam Yu punishes us, only she can undo it. If anyone interferes, the punishment is doubled." The slave bowed her head, trembling.

"I'd like to see her try," Wangji hissed, brushing past the girl with a determined stride.

Without hesitation, he untied Wei Ying. The ropes fell to the ground, and Wei Ying raised his head, offering a faint, defiant smile. Wangji noticed the bruises marring his skin and felt a wave of anger rise within him.

Shrugging off his robe, Wangji draped it over Wei Ying's shoulders. "Come," he said softly, his tone betraying the fury he held in check. He guided Wei Ying back to his chambers in the main building.