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On the day of their wedding, Xie Lian wears Hua Cheng’s ring of ashes on his finger.
Of course, it doesn’t exactly fit; the ring is a snug fit on Hua Cheng, but Xie Lian’s fingers aren’t quite as slender as his beloved’s. Nevertheless, he doesn’t let this hinder him—he pesters Mu Qing endlessly until Mu Qing gives up and tinkers with a spell or two to keep it firmly anchored in place as far as it’ll slide up Xie Lian’s finger without constricting.
“I will never understand what you see in him,” Mu Qing says over Xie Lian’s delighted laugh, adjusting Xie Lian’s elaborate hairstyle for the night. It lacks any of the usual heat or bite, though, and he stops Xie Lian right before he sets out to meet Hua Cheng to adjust it again, careful to not apply anything more than superficial, “otherwise that demon might actually kill me.”
The first thing Hua Cheng does when he sees Xie Lian is stumble over his feet. He knows this by the way Hua Cheng’s jewelry gives a sharper-than-usual series of jingles, followed by a soft curse. He can’t help but grin even before the veil is lifted from his head by Hua Cheng’s careful, careful hands, and then… he’s the one at a loss for words.
It seems that no amount of time will ever prepare him for how beautiful his husband is, nor will he ever be anything less than swept away, dizzied, by the sheer love and wonder in Hua Cheng’s eye whenever he looks at Xie Lian. His throat seems to close up as he finally takes in his… his husband.
He’s dressed in brilliant red from head to toe, much like his husband; his signature silver jewelry seems to be more…understated, than usual? They seem different, though Xie Lian can’t quite place a finger on why. He’s distracted, anyhow, by the way Hua Cheng reverently whispers, my beloved, and, oh, now it’s all he can do to not cry. Oh, dear. Mu Qing and Jian Lan had worked so hard to make him look as beautiful as he feels—!
“San Lang,” he says, and it’s not just a nickname on his tongue, anymore. It’s—weightier. It’s—everything. Hua Cheng blinks, still somewhat dazed, and then, as Xie Lian lifts his hand to Hua Cheng’s face, his eye catches on the flash of diamond. “I’m..”
“Gege…?” he breathes out, eye trained on the ring. “Is that..?”
“Ah. Yes,” Xie Lian reddens, but he can’t stop smiling. Hua Cheng looks at him with wonder, like he’s discovered something immeasurably precious. “I just figured, well… it’s our wedding day, so it seemed fitting?” He’s really never been as good with words as his beloved has been, but with the way Hua Cheng’s gaze softens impossibly further, he knows his point has gotten across perfectly. “Are you… happy with it?”
It’s sort of a risky move. A ghost’s ashes are a precious thing, their literal existence in this world. To entrust it with a beloved one is an equally-risky move, but then, Hua Cheng did say he could do whatever he wanted with it—
“Of course I am,” Hua Cheng says, beaming with the weight of all the love in the world. “I love you so much, gege. Dianxia. My beloved.”
Xie Lian laughs, overjoyed and enraptured and every word that exists to encompass this feeling of utter delight and contentment. If this is what love feels like, then he’s glad that he waited near a century to find this beloved, dear ghost in his arms.