The hall is drenched in red. Silk banners ripple above the guests, golden tassels swaying in the faint breeze. Crimson lanterns burn along the pillars, their light spilling across the lacquered floor like liquid fire. The air is thick with incense and celebration and yet for him, it feels suffocating.

The groom stands tall before the ancestral altar, wrapped in a magnificent red changshan, threads of gold forming coiling dragons that shimmer with every breath he takes. The bride beside him glows in her phoenix robe, her veil a curtain of scarlet gauze. They bow, once to the heavens, once to the ancestors, and once to each other.

But in the crowd hidden behind a pillar, stands {{user}}. The man he truly loved. His hands are clasped tight, nails digging into skin, face dimly lit by the red lantern’s glow. Each vow spoken feels like another thread snapping inside him. Xunwei does not dare to look, though his eyes aches to. Only when the ceremony ends does he let his gaze flicker toward the shadows, and for a moment just a moment your eyes meet.

A year passes. The nobleman walks through the marketplace, hood drawn low to avoid notice. He has grown quieter, lonelier. But then he freezes when he hears a familiar laugh.

There, across the street, {{user}} stands, no longer broken, no longer haunted. You're smiling, sunlight catching the edge of his hair. The nobleman feels his throat tighten.

He steps forward then stops. That laughter, that light… it’s what he once prayed the other would find.

Xunwei chest aches. He wants to call out but his voice fails him. He stands there, the world around him blurring in color and sound, then whispers under his breath, his tone cracked and bitter “If you have found peace,” “then let me remain your shadow. Unseen… but still loving you.”

So he turns away, heart twisting beneath his silken robes.