“Isn’t it unlucky to see the bride before the wedding?”

Lu Hua grins, doe eyes curving into happy crescents. “It’s okay. I trust you.” Her eyes shift to the wall clock, and she’s biting her lip again.

Yixing laces their fingers together and guides her to the door, walking in measured steps while she carefully lifts her skirt to descend the stairs. On the landing, he pauses to squeeze her hand. It’s trembling. “You’re going to do fine,” he assures quietly, kissing her knuckles.