There had never been anything more mesmerizing in Yue Xing's life than seeing Liming Manor dolled up like so in celebratory decorations. It was a wonderful cavalcade of bright colors.

  The grand gates of the manor had been pulled wide open and guests began pouring in starting from early in the morning. High-class citizens from Yan’an Town, merchants and council members all arrived in carriages or on horseback. The courtyards were fizzing with life, the air thick with the sound of loud conversations and boisterous laughs, and laden with the smell of expensive perfume.

  The kitchen itself was a warzone, an insane mess. Yue Xing hated it there, no matter the coaxing from Auntie Ye. He wanted out from there even more than ever before. It wasn’t helping that Auntie Ye had scolded him pretty badly after she found him loitering around the gardens the day prior.

  Yue Xing was very angry at her, and he was still stewing in his own frustration. The day before, she had told him to go back to the kitchen and stop bothering the scholars in their duties. Ye Huiqing quite basically ordered him to fall in line, like a little kid.

  As sweet and warm Auntie Ye was, the more apparent it became to Yue Xing that she didn't believe in him like he did in himself. Yue Xing didn’t fault her. She’d spent almost a decade working as a kitchen maid, it was no wonder she thought Yue Xing was only having silly childish dreams.

  But Yue Xing wasn’t having it. He didn’t want to be stuck in the kitchen for the rest of his life, cutting vegetables or his hands in the boiling hot water. He didn’t want to collapse into bed at the end of the night from exhaustion, slick with grease and sweat.

  So if by noon Yue Xing dropped a pot or two only to be chased out again by the cooks in a fury, who was to say Yue Xing wasn’t just being clumsy?

  In any case, didn’t Song Chang say to Feng Jiaying that he was a junior scribe? What sort of scribe slaved away in a kitchen instead of attending festivities with the rest of his peers? Song Chang had been endlessly kind to him, the least Yue Xing could do was play along with his clumsy cover story. That was one way to convince himself he wasn't just being selfish.

  He found himself back in his room again. Yue Xing pulled on the nicest robe he could dig up, a pretty blueish green one. It was a hand-me-down, like any other thing Yue Xing had ever owned. It was also his favorite one.

  He stared at his reflection in the mirror, leaning in close to clearly see the lines of his face. He used a ribbon to pull his dark hair up into a neat ponytail, letting some loose strands fall away to frame his face. Yue Xing stared at himself and his reflection smiled back.

  Maybe when Zhan Wei convinced Song Chang to let him be a real scribe, he could use his salary to get himself some truly nice clothes. New ones, never worn before. Something that was just his, something that wasn’t mended and stitched back together.

  Yue Xing stared at himself for a long time, messing with the ends of the ribbon, twirling it between his fingertips. If his past self could see him now, Yue Xing surely wouldn't have recognized himself.

  Stepping out, the manor was even more beautiful up close. The garden was filled to the brim with guests, more people than Yue Xing had seen before. They were all so elegant, dressed in vibrant colors, hair done with a million braids and pins.

  They reminded him of Feng Jiaying. If the woman dressed like this on a normal day, then however did she dress herself up for a festival?

  Yue Xing smiled, but his smile was soon dampened by melancholy. Seeing everyone around him, Yue Xing felt like a fish out of water. His nicest clothes and most elegant hairdo were probably what these people wore to sleep. He suddenly felt like a little kid who was playing pretend by putting on his parent’s clothes.

  The laughter and chatter drifted in from the garden, carried on the warm afternoon breeze along with the faint scent of osmanthus. Somewhere beyond the walls, someone was already tuning a stringed instrument, the notes tentative and meandering, as if reluctant to break the calm of the still early hour. Yue Xing had never quite felt this out of place.

  Yue Xing began tidying his ribbon once more, pulling on the bow until it was nice and tight. He smoothed over his robes in a nervous manner, as if trying to work out all the creases. He hoped that would make him feel more pristine.

  Still, as he stepped closer to the doorway and let his gaze wander over the sea of unfamiliar faces once more, the unpleasant feeling lingered. Faced with the bright colors and shining gemstones, he felt painfully plain. Out of place no matter how carefully arranged.

  Yue Xing clenched his fingers at his side, then quickly relaxed them, forcing his shoulders straight. He let out a stiff breath.

  He could play pretend. Yue Xing was good at it. His whole life had been pretend up to this point. If he was out of place now, he would just have to strive harder and become better. He vowed that one day these people could only wish to outshine him.

  So no matter how badly he wanted to turn back around on his heel, run back to the kitchen and admit to Auntie Ye that she’d been right, Yue Xing willed himself to take a step forward, to come out from under the awning and plunge into the sea of people.

  From step one, he was lost. He could barely make out anything. Yue Xing tried to search for familiar faces, but everything blurred together into one big colorful mess. Yue Xing clenched his teeth together and tried not to let his anxiety get the best of him as he pushed onward.

  Just when the air around him started to feel too warm and heavy, the crowd mysteriously started to part. It was as if an immortal had stepped down from the heavens above, Feng Jiaying appeared in front of him like a blinding light at the end of a tunnel.

  In his astoundment, Yue Xing took a step back, but before he could move out of her way too, Feng Jiaying’s hand reached out, taking a hold of his by the wrist.

  “There you are! I was looking everywhere for you, A-Xing!” the woman beamed, swaying a fan in her other hand, even more ornate than any other one she usually appeared with.

  Yue Xing’s eyes widened, his lips falling open from shock, gaping like a fish out of water. Feng Jiaying was looking for him? Wait, what was with that nickname, A-Xing? Yue Xing wasn’t aware they were on such friendly terms. Or was Feng Jiaying mistaking him for someone else also named Xing? Maybe an old acquaintance she hadn’t seen in a long time?

  With Lady Feng’s sudden appearance, Yue Xing could feel the searing stares thrown their way, eyes gouging into the back of his neck. He felt his face flush a deep crimson red. Was Feng Jiaying humiliating him on purpose? Was she deliberately trying to show off the stark differences between them—her, dressed like a princess and him, like an ordinary nobody? Like a goddess and a street rat.

  Yue Xing wanted to pull his hand away, but Feng Jiaying only held him tighter, the smile on her face vibrant and blinding. “Here, you were looking for your jade pin, were you not?” Feng Jiaying pulled the hairpiece from her sleeve, extending the ornately carved jade towards Yue Xing.

  Now Yue Xing was completely convinced she had mistaken him for someone else entirely. What in the world was she doing? As if Yue Xing could ever dream of owning a jade hairpin! But before Yue Xing could register, faster than light itself, Feng Jiaying had already slipped the pin into his hair, securing it nicely.

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  “There. Ah, wonderful. You sure know how to make even such simple things look beautiful. You have a great eye for things.” Feng Jiaying said brightly, and Yue Xing was getting more and more confused by the second.

  “Come now, I wanted to have a word with you before the festivities began.” she tugged on his sleeve and Yue Xing could only mindlessly stumble after her, only remembering to fix his step after a couple paces.

  “Lady Feng, what…” The air punched from his lungs, Yue Xing finally stuttered out when the woman dragged him away from all those prying eyes. Feng Jiaying pulled him into a pavilion overlooking the valley.

  She finally loosened her grip on his wrist, instead flipping open the fan she continuously swayed. For a woman of her size she had a surprisingly strong grip, Yue Xing pondered as he rubbed the small red spots forming on his skin.

  Feng Jiaying peered back at him over her shoulder, her lips pulled into a cunning grin as she tilted her head. “What’s with that wide eyed expression? You know, a thank you would surely suffice. I practically pulled you out of a wolves’ den.” she laughed.

  “Ah, yes, thank you…” Yue Xing quickly said, bending at the waist. Even though he couldn't understand a single thing happening around him, he wasn’t as foolish as to actively want to offend Feng Jiaying. And the woman appeared quite unpredictable, Yue Xing thought it better to play along.

  Once straightened up, he could suddenly feel the weight of the jade pin in his hair. It was indescribably foreign. He reached to touch it under the watchful gaze of Feng Jiaying. “This… This pin isn’t mine though.”

  “I know.” Feng Jiaying said, continuing to smile, which was beginning to irritate Yue Xing. What kind of game was this woman playing with him? “Consider it a gift. A sign of my patronage, if you will.”

  She leaned back against the railing of the pavilion, allowing the autumn winds sweeping up the side of the mountain to toy with the few loose strands of hair she had. Her eyes appeared to be glinting a warm golden color in the sunlight, in line with the jewelry dangling from her dark hair.

  In the honey backlight, she really did look like an immortal descended.

  “How long have you been working here again? I forgot.” Feng Jiaying asked, her tone slick with something Yue Xing couldn't put his finger on.

  “Two months.” Feng Jiaying gave a hum at his answer. Yue Xing felt unease creep up his spine.

  “What do you think of Chang-er?” she asked again. “You know, he’s had a rough start out here in Hepo, but he’s still trying his best. I hope that people can see that.”

  Yue Xing blinked silently. It was definitely strange to be asked questions like this by a woman he barely even met two days prior, the sister of his boss no less. It was even stranger to be downright interrogated, no matter how honeyed Feng Jiaying’s tone was.

  “Lord Song is very kind.” he answered softly. Feng Jiaying’s eyes didn’t leave him at the declaration as though she was waiting for a but to be added to the end of the sentence. There was no but, however.

  “I’m glad we see eye to eye then.” She pushed off the railing, stepping closer and making Yue Xing’s form stiffen up once more. Feng Jiaying’s eyes took him in from head-to-toe.

  The lady pursed her cherry painted lips, reaching out to adjust a strand of hair that had fallen into Yue Xing’s dark eyes, causing the young man to become flushed.

  “No more questions.” she said smoothly, sidestepping Yue Xing. Yue Xing turned to watch Feng Jiaying’s form descend the stairs.

  Though, before leaving completely, the woman turned back one last time. Yue Xing couldn't make out the expression on her face when she spoke. “I meant when I said you make simple things look wonderful. I hope you keep that in mind.” Her voice carried over the distance between them easily. “Happy Mid-Autumn Festival, A-Xing.” she grinned before disappearing.

  Yue Xing subconsciously touched his fingers to the tip of the jade, cool to the touch. Feng Jiaying’s words continued to linger in his mind.

  The rest of the afternoon passed him by in a blur. He didn’t mingle with the unfamiliar faces, choosing instead to simply listen to merchants argue and noble ladies laugh, perched on a cool stone bench under the shade of a magnolia tree.

  He wasn’t completely alone though. Feng Jiaying visited him quite a few times, or more like any time she accidentally happened to pass his seat, bringing him desserts and a cup of wine which he gently set aside the moment she turned her back.

  He had caught a glimpse of Song Chang as well, dressed in rich blue robes, his brown strands tied into a ponytail instead of his usual knot, adorned with a glittering silver haircrown. The man looked quite regal, even from afar.

  He wanted to approach the man himself, greet him and say how wonderful the manor looked, especially as the sun began to descend and the lanterns illuminated the garden with their golden lights, like bright little stars descended.

  However, Yue Xing didn’t want to embarrass the magistrate with his presence, especially not in front of important guests. In any case, Song Chang appeared constantly busy throughout the afternoon, leaving one conversation only to immediately be dragged into the next one.

  By the time the Moon crept up high enough on the dark sky, its silver light mixing with the golden lanternlight, the manor was a pleasant buzz of life. Yue Xing sighed to himself, wordlessly watching the guests entertaining themselves while music quietly hummed throughout the garden. Yue Xing eyed the winecup that had sat next to him for the past couple hours, the clear liquid reflecting the moon’s pale disc.

  After some time mulling it over in himself, Yue Xing reached out and clasped the porcelain between his fingers, elegantly, like he’d seen the other guests do. It smelled vaguely fruity, but also strong, like it wanted to clog up his nostrils in one whiff.

  Yue Xing took a tentative sip and frowned. It tasted just as strong as it had smelled. Yue Xing quickly downed the entire thing. It slipped down his throat rather easily.

  “Enjoying yourself, I see?” A voice sounded from beside him. Yue Xing quickly turned to discover Song Chang seated next to him on the bench. When the man saw Yue Xing finally noticing him, he smiled.

  “Aren’t you a bit too young for that?” Song Chang asked, glancing down at the empty cup still nestled in Yue Xing’s hand.

  “I’m not a little kid, Lord Song.” he said, but couldn't contain the smile that settled on his face. He was just a few weeks short of seventeen—definitely not a kid, if Yue Xing was to say. Song Chang merely stifled a laugh.

  “All right. Not a kid, got it.” he said. A couple moments of silence settled over them, before Yue Xing suddenly thought to ask.

  “How come you’re here?” he spoke softly, if even a little confused. Just a few minutes ago he had seen Song Chang still locked in a discussion with one of the guests, a man dressed in dark purple and golden jewelry. Now, though, it seemed Song Chang had abandoned his guests in favor of accompanying Yue Xing.

  Song Chang tilted his head, the same way Feng Jiaying had just a few hours prior—it was undeniable how similar the siblings were. “I saw you’ve been sitting all alone for quite some time now. Thought I’d check in.”

  Though Song Chang’s tone was light and airy, full of playfulness, Yue Xing couldn't help but pick out the underlying notes of pity that Song Chang tried his best to conceal from him.

  “I was still enjoying myself nonetheless.” Yue Xing said instead, trying not to think too much of what Song Chang might’ve been thinking.

  “Of course.” the man sighed with a smile. “In any case, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling out of place. I can’t have one of my junior scribes feeling left out.” When he said those last few words, his smile grew a little bigger, more knowing.

  It took Yue Xing a couple seconds to process the strange shine in Song Chang’s eyes. But when he did, he let out a soft little gasp. His eyes widening, he couldn't even begin to conceal his excitement. Song Chang laughed kindly at his reaction. The magistrate continued.

  “Zhan Wei spoke to me this morning. I’ll see to it that you start tomorrow morning, sharp. Unless you no longer wish to do so, of course.”

  “No! I mean, yes, I do. Of course I wish to. Thank you, Lord Song. You won’t regret it.” Yue Xing beamed, and it felt as if his heart wanted to leap right out of his chest and do a dance around the garden.

  He couldn't believe his own senses. Zhan Wei really had convinced Song Chang to give him a shot, and Song Chang had really agreed! He could barely restrain his excitement.

  Song Chang patted his shoulder, his hand warm and firm. “I’ll hold you to that.” he said, before he stood from the bench with a huff. He extended his hand, motioning for Yue Xing to follow him. “Come, the lion dance is about to begin.”

  “The lion dance?” Yue Xing asked, confused. Song Chang laughed.

  “You’ll have to see for yourself.” he winked as he turned away with a playful grin. He yelled for the whole garden to hear. “My friends, please accompany me to the Southern Pavilion to continue our festivities! Liming Manor has prepared a special performance to officially start off our evening.”