witness
The wedding was held in the Botanic Garden on the south side of the city—a botanical garden famous for its lakes and flowers.
On a June afternoon, the sunlight was bright but not glaring. The lake surface shimmered with a soft silver light under the gentle caress of the wind, like scattered fragments of sunlight. Along the lake shore was a wide and quiet lawn, with tall birch and pine trees embracing the space like rows of trees. When the wind blew, the entire meadow seemed to breathe softly.
The wedding area was set up in the middle of the lawn—facing the lake and backed by the depths of the garden. White benches were neatly arranged along the central red carpet, each with an ivory ribbon tied to its back, the hanging ribbons swaying gently in the breeze. The lake breeze carried the scent of water and flowers, creating a fresh, cool, and soft atmosphere that made one relax as soon as they stepped into the space.
The flower archway at the entrance is surrounded by pale pink and creamy white roses, their blossoms glistening with the dampness of the lake. Delicate white veils hang between the roses, swaying gently in the breeze like breaths. The lake ripples softly in the sunlight, and occasionally a few ducks glide by, leaving almost imperceptible trails.
The wedding setup wasn't extravagant, but rather possessed the natural, bright, and refreshing beauty unique to botanical gardens—flowers, wind, water, and light made up the whole. There was no deliberate embellishment, but rather a "feeling of life as it is."
As guests took their seats, a cool, damp breeze blew across the lake onto the lawn. Children chased bubbles across the grass, guests chatted quietly over small glasses of champagne, and families took photos in front of the flower archway. Under a small white frame by the lake, a musician tuned his guitar, the open strings carrying softly in the wind.
Pan Qiu sat in a front-row seat near the edge, her gaze passing over the benches, flower arches, and red carpet, directly overlooking the lake—a vast expanse of soft, shimmering silver stretching out in the distance like a tranquil backdrop. A sudden, indescribable peace welled up within her. Light danced on the lake, the wind caressed her face; she sat in this embrace of nature, quietly awaiting the start of the ceremony.
The wind by the lake had softened at some point, as if someone had quietly turned down the volume of nature.
The musician changed the music. The previously lighthearted background music gradually faded away, replaced by soft and solemn piano sounds. The whispers among the guests seemed to be gently suppressed by this music, gradually settling down.
The host walked forward from beside the white archway and raised the microphone:
"Ladies and gentlemen, Claire and David's ceremony is about to begin."
The guests on the lawn sat up straight, the flower girls stopped running, and the entire space fell silent. As the second chord of the piano prelude faded, the emcee stepped aside to make room for them.
"Let us first welcome today's officiant—Ethan Ellery."
Pan Qiu paused slightly the moment she heard that name.
Yes.
She suddenly remembered that during her first year of doctoral studies, one night she opened Ethan's profile for the first time and scrolled down, where she saw a small line of text in the least conspicuous corner:
Certified Marriage Officiant.
She was even stunned for a moment, thinking to herself how this person could be involved in all sorts of strange things.
Later, during an interview in that introductory psychology course, she couldn't help but ask him, "Why did you become a wedding officiant?"
That day, Ethan leaned back in his office chair, speaking calmly as if he were telling someone else's story—a childhood friend's wedding had gone awry, the emcee couldn't make it at the last minute, and at his family's request, he applied to be the emcee on the spot.
He spoke of it casually, as if it were just an accidental duty, a convenient favor.
At the time, Panqiu thought it was just a minor incident—she was both curious and found it special. She never imagined that one day she would actually sit in the front row of a wedding and see him standing under the flower arch, becoming the witness for a couple's marriage.
To actually witness this scene in my lifetime.
This feeling came suddenly, yet it was like a breeze from a lake, gently brushing across my heart—bringing a quiet sense of good fortune.
Ethan emerged from the shadows of the birch trees to the side. Sunlight fell on his shoulders, as if illuminating him with a very faint halo. The lines of his dark gray suit were clean to the point of being austere, his shoulders were firm, and his collar was neat. He held the dark brown leather ceremony book in his hand with a steady and quiet demeanor.
He made no fancy moves, but simply walked step by step along the side of the red carpet toward the small ceremonial platform by the lake.
Suddenly, Qiu felt that the world had become brighter.
It wasn't because the light had become stronger, but because—she had never seen Ethan like this before.
This is not the man with his head bowed in the office, burdened by academic pursuits; not the man who is restrained and quiet in the meeting room; nor the man who gently and patiently explains questions in the classroom.
Instead, he is Ethan, standing in a position of blessing, anticipated by everyone, walking solemnly and with faith into the light.
Like a rainbow, appearing without warning after a sudden rainstorm.
It was so bright it made your heart stop, and so beautiful it made you forget to breathe for a moment.
A sense of luck, tinged with a touch of cruelty, slowly rose from the depths of her heart—
It is lucky to meet such a person when you are young;
And from now on, it will be difficult to be easily moved by anyone, which is unfortunate.
At that very moment, Ethan looked up.
Across the wind, across the sunlight, across the guests and the benches, his gaze steadily settled on her. That moment of eye contact was so brief it felt like an illusion, yet it also felt as long as it gently illuminated all the silence of the past few years.
Pan Qiu felt a sudden tightness in her chest.
It's hard to describe the feeling—it's like a lifetime in a single glance.
And in Ethan's eyes, there was a slight movement. It was subtle, not obvious, just a slight tremor in his eyelashes for a second, like the smallest trace of an emotion stirred by the wind.
The lakeside wedding ceremony unfolded slowly, accompanied by Ethan's voice.
His voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like a tone specially tuned for this lake—unhurried, carrying a gentle and steady strength. Every word fell into the wind, but wasn't scattered; instead, it seemed to be gently supported by the lake's surface.
When he said—
“Good afternoon, everyone…”
Good afternoon, everyone...
Panqiu suddenly realized that she was witnessing an Ethan she had never seen before.
Not the Ethan with his brows furrowed by academic pursuits in the office, not the Ethan patiently explaining concepts in the classroom, nor the Ethan quietly standing in the corner during meeting breaks, but the Ethan standing in a position of blessing, anticipated by everyone, walking solemnly and with faith toward the light.
He opened the ceremony book, his gaze falling on the newlyweds, his tone calm and clear:
“Today, in the presence of everyone who loves you…”
"Today, in front of all those who love you..."
A lake breeze blew by, gently lifting his robe, and the soft sunlight outlined a quiet, luminous border on the profile of his face. He continued, his speech slow but reassuringly certain:
“A vow…”
"oath……"
"is not a promise that you will never fail."
"This is not a promise that you will never waver in your faith."
The sound of the wind seemed to subside at that moment.
"It is a promise that even when you do, you will find your way back to the person you chose."
"It is a promise—that even if you have strayed from the right path, you will come back to the person you have chosen."
Pan Qiu's chest tightened slightly.
She suddenly realized that the tone in which he spoke these words was not the calmness of reciting a ritual text, but an understanding that had been repeatedly calibrated by time. It was as if someone, after a long period of solitude, had finally understood what truly needed to be cherished.
Ethan slightly raised his eyes, his gaze lingering on the newcomers for a moment before naturally looking away.
"A vow is the courage to stay when life is ordinary."
"A vow is the courage to stay even when life becomes mundane."
The lake surface shimmered slightly in the sunlight.
“It is saying—I will walk with you, in the days that shine…”
"It is saying—in the bright days, I wish to walk alongside you..."
“…and in the days that ask for patience.”
"Also in those days when patience and waiting are required."
Panqiu's breathing involuntarily skipped a beat.
She sat in the front row, near the edge, the wind blowing across her face from the lake, carrying a damp coolness. At that moment, she suddenly had an absurd yet real feeling—as if these words weren't being spoken for the first time, but rather had been practiced countless times in someone's mind.
Ethan's voice became softer, yet more steady:
“And above all, a vow means this—”
"And most importantly, an oath means—"
He paused for a second.
That one second was so brief it was almost imperceptible, yet it silenced the entire lawn.
I choose you.
I choose you.
Not once.
"Not just once."
"Not only today."
"And it's not just today."
"But every day I am given."
"But it's in every day I'm given."
In that instant, the world became so quiet that only heartbeats could be heard.
As Panqiu watched him stand under the flower archway, bathed in the lake breeze and sunlight, she realized for the first time with such clarity that solemnity itself possessed an astonishing, serene beauty.
Ethan, on the other hand, presented this beauty without reservation.
She was deeply moved, yet a faint sense of regret welled up within her. The wind stirred her skirt, and she knew—this was not a promise to her.
But this vow will stay with her for a very, very long time.
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