The lanterns went up first.
Yizhen had insisted on lighting the first one himself…"tradition," he said, as if he hadn't invented the tradition five minutes earlier. Now they swayed in long ropes overhead, warm gold pooling over stone and grass.
The courtyard had been stripped bare by afternoon: tables dragged aside, chairs stacked against the wall, the firepit built from old edging stones that definitely did not come from the Emperor's private garden.
All the servants had been dismissed. Not a single minister had been told. This night was only for family.
By dusk, they owned the space completely.
The children set up races around the koi pond, daring each other to sprint across the narrow stone bridges without falling in.
The grandchildren carried sticks like swords and whacked each other until someone shouted unfair and everyone else shouted again.
