daomingsi, dongshancai.

it'd be rude not to accept

Shancai's breath came out in short gasps, her chest aching as she bent down to her knees and tried to cool down in the empty women's bathroom.

There was a shiny sheen of sweat on the nape of her neck, and because of all the running she'd done in the rush to get to the bathrooms, she could already tell her hair was in that disastrous Bridezilla-turned-zombie style. Shancai's heart thudded rapidly in her chest.

Bridezilla. . . she mused.

That was kind of funny, considering what she was about to do.

Now, Shancai knew she wasn't that kind of girl. She was always the nice if shy one, you know, the one who would always say and do things in the best and most tactful way she knew how— well, at least she always tried to.

She took a few furtive glances around her to make sure there really was no-one in the bathroom, then fumbled around in her huge handbag, pulling out a huge blonde wig. Shoving it ungracefully down on top of her hair, Shancai turned to look at herself in the mirror. A slow smile crept over her face. She looked unrecognizable, to her satisfaction. There was no way he'd recognize her now.

She bit her lip.

But still. . . it was him.

She should probably take a few precautions.

Shancai hummed a tune to herself as she reached in her handbag once again to pull out a pair of dark sunglasses and dark lip gloss. She smeared on some of the lip gloss messily, and placed the sunglasses carefully over her eyes, smiling at her reflection. There. Now there was no way even her mother would recognize her, let alone him.

She slung the bag onto her shoulder and walked towards the bathroom exit. Opening the door, she peeked out into the wedding hall, then immediately closed it. She pulled out a walkie-talkie, putting it to her mouth.

"Little weed pig, reporting for action. Over."

There was an instant reply. "This is Chai Tea. She'll be gone to greet guests in the lobby in two minutes. Make sure you get there, little pig. Over."

"Little pig? It's little weed pig, Ximen! God! Over!"

"Who is Ximen? I don't know who that is. I'm Chai Tea. Do you copy, little pig? Over."

". . . "

". . . this better work. And yes. I copy. Over."

Smoothing her wig, Shancai peeked out of the door again, really taking in the huge hall this time. It was grand and magnificently decorated, and her nerves popped up. Why again was she doing something so incredibly stupid? She touched her neck instinctively, and felt something metal pressing into the skin which reminded her. The necklace. His love.

That was why.

She pulled out a pair of drumsticks out of the handbag, then left the bag next to one of the bathroom sinks, since it was empty now. Taking a deep breath, she slowly walked out. Shancai could feel the stares on her but kept her head high and posture stick straight. She was not Shancai anymore, but. . .

"Valentina Sokolov, and da Sokols!" She announced. The DJ looked at her in confusion. "Oh. . . you don't seem to be on the itinerary, Ms, um. . ."

She pasted on a bright smile. "Ve vere booked late. And I must tell you, sir, ve are very popular in Russia, and our schedule is very busy. So it vos last minute decision you see. But Madam Feng vill love us. . . she is a huge fan. . . or vould you like to go confirm vith her—?"

He looked frazzled. "No, no, of course not, she is in the lobby right now, Ms, er. . ."

"Valentina. Valentina Sokolov."