epilogue|| DAOMINGSI and SHANCAI

1 - married to stupidity

Ah Si stands at the altar, prepared to face the rest of his life, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans. It's funny. He wants to laugh when he thinks about it. Who knew the moment the great Daoming Si finally got married, he'd be wearing old travel clothes, viewed by no audiences, and stationed in a small, abandoned church on the outskirts of Barcelona?

"It's so hot," he complains.

The priest next to him glances up briefly, startled. Ah Si turns to the priest, realising he doesn't understand what he's saying.

Ah Si leans forward. "Caliente," he preens. "Caliente, caliente."

"Ahh, ahh.." the old man nods back, smiling meekly.

Shancai finally walks through the doors. She's not even wearing a dress.

"What took you so long?" Ah Si demands. She's not wearing a dress... but, she has some flowers in her hair. White flowers. Braided into a crown, they lay delicately across her forehead, framing her freely-flowing black hair. Ah Si studies her the closer she gets to him. His expression changes. "Where did you get that?"

She fumes, "That's none of your business." She turns away, not bothering to hide eye-roll. Ah Si frowns at this. "Can't you be a little more patient when waiting for your bride? We're getting married after all..."

Her words dawn on him. Ah Si has the impulsive urge to shoot back careless words, but he surprises himself by holding it back. It's so uncomfortable he almost shouts. But... he surprises himself again. He holds it all back.

He turns and gazes at Shancai. The longer he looks at her, the calmer he feels. Everything that is pent up inside him, like a cranky wave, slowly dissipates.

He releases a breath, still studying her. She really does look very pretty today. Despite that ugly frown on her face.

She realises he's staring at her. She double-takes a glare at him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She demands, but her expression is transforming with every passing second. She stares back at him. The hardness in her features begins to melt away.

Ah Si scoffs faintly, "Because I want to."

He doesn't know who starts to smile first, but once it starts, neither of them can stop. She even laughs a bit, ducking her head. She is so pretty when she laughs—no. Pretty isn't the right word for it. Pretty doesn't even begin to describe the way Shancai looks, smells, feels. Shancai is more than pretty. Shancai is more than beautiful.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She repeats. Ah Si wants to kiss her.

She hits his arm but he doesn't stop staring.

"Daoming Si," she's blushing. "We've been making this poor man wait for us for so long— I think he wants to go home by now. We should get this over with."

She's right.

The old priest seems uncomfortable as he takes out this big red book and sifts through it. His eyes dart back and forth between the book, and Ah Si and Shancai, who stand next to each other, their arms touching.

The priest utters words in Spanish. But the wedded couple announce their vows in their native tongue.

The grand hall of the small church is empty. There is no one here, but the two of them (and the poor priest). Daoming Si takes Dong Shancai's hand next to him, only slightly shy.

"I do," he says.

"Do you really?" She mutters quietly, skeptically. She's smirking.

"Shut up. Don't make me change my mind."

She laughs.

By the time it's her turn, the priest has practically already closed the book.

"I do," she says. Ah Si doesn't say anything. He grins at her. He must be grinning really widely because his face starts to hurt. She hits him gently across the cheek. "Wipe that stupid look off your face. You look stupid, I tell you."

"Don't call me stupid."

"You are stupid."

His expression transforms as fast as sand running from one end of an hourglass to the other. He scoffs, blinking furiously, "Well—you're now married to this stupid guy, how about it?" She cackles. "Did you know that? If I'm stupid, then you're married to stupidity. Even though you're so much more stupid than me, so I won't make much of a difference, stupid girl."

"You stupid head," she says.

"You're a stupid head."

Neither of them notice when the priest takes his leave. Neither of them notice when the two of them are finally alone in the small, crumbling, abandoned church on the outskirts of Barcelona. Hands threaded, their meteor rings glimmer in the dim light of the church; their laughter and bickering bounce around the hollow walls. Hidden somewhere in the chaos, they share a kiss.