Hongzhi Year 18, Fifteenth Day of the First Month.
Lanterns bright as day.
I stood at the alley entrance, looking at the overwhelming sea of light before me, and still stopped.
It wasn't the first time coming out. But I still froze.
A muffled bang overhead—a firework exploded, and golden sparks rained down from the night sky like shattered gold. The crowd let out a collective gasp. That sound was like a tide, surging from the street head to the alley end, then surging back.
The air was mixed with too many scents—the burnt aroma of lamp oil, the smoky smell of burning charcoal, the oily fragrance drifting from fried cake stalls, and someone warming a pot of hot wine nearby, the alcohol scent mixing with the body heat of the crowd, warm and puffy against my face.
Last month's Lantern Festival, I already thought it was plenty. But Yuanxiao was different—the whole city of Beijing was lit up. Every household hung lanterns at their doors, stretching from the street head to the unseen horizon. Paper lanterns, silk lanterns, glazed lanterns, zoetrope lanterns, and those one-person-high Aoshan lanterns, stacked into mountain shapes, with paper immortals standing on top, ribbons fluttering, looking like they were about to fly away.
"Zoned out again?"
Zhu Houzhao stood beside me, his cloak hood pulled low, revealing only a section of chin. His voice carried a smile.
"More than last time." I said.
"Duh, it's the Lantern Festival." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he had personally ordered the whole city to hang lanterns.
Then he stepped forward.
I followed.
There were too many people.
So many that after walking just three steps, I was bumped on the shoulder by a child carrying a carp lantern. The child ran off without looking back. I stumbled, and before I could steady myself, I was pushed forward by the crowd behind.
And then—
A hand grabbed my hand.
Not the wrist.
The hand.
Palm dry and warm, fingers distinct. In that instant, my heart felt like it was squeezed—not fear, but an inexplicable panic, like missing a step on the stairs, the body reacting before the mind.
His fingers tightened slightly.
He pulled me out of the crowd.
I looked down.
His hand, wrapping mine. His fingers were a segment longer than mine, knuckles slightly protruding. The warmth of his palm transmitted through the back of my hand, like charcoal fire in winter.
"Don't get lost." he said.
Voice not loud, half-covered by the crowd's clamor.
Not a command.
An excuse.
I looked up at him. Under the cloak brim, the tip of his ear was red in a small patch.
I didn't pull away.
He didn't let go.
We walked like this, hand in hand, into the deepest part of the lantern market.
A large crowd was gathered ahead, gongs and drums shaking the sky. It was a Lion Dance. Two golden lions tumbled and leaped in the sea of people, an embroidered ball leading the way. The performers inside the lion heads stepped to the rhythm, leaping with every step.
"Sugar-coated hawthorn—sweet and sour sugar-coated hawthorn—" A vendor's hawking pierced in from the side, dragging a long tail sound.
The crowd pushed forward. I was pushed two steps, my shoulder bumping against his arm. He didn't let go, didn't dodge. I looked up at him—he was looking down at me, eyes under the cloak brim illuminated brightly by the lantern light.
"Don't wander off." he said.
But I didn't wander off. He didn't let go.
Walking to a sugar figurine stall, I stopped for a moment.
"There's candy over there." I said, nodding my chin toward the stall.
He followed my gaze, then looked back at me.
"Didn't you say you didn't want one last time?"
"I want one this time."
He looked at me. The corner of his mouth twitched up. He didn't speak, fished out a few copper coins from his sleeve, and handed them over.
"Rabbit." he said.
The vendor answered, scooped up a spoonful of melted sugar, wrist turning, and a chubby rabbit took shape. Ears still one long, one short.
He took the sugar figurine and handed it to me.
"You always want rabbits?" he asked.
"Is that bad?"
He didn't answer, turning his head away. The tip of his ear under the cloak hood turned red again.
"Why the preference for rabbits?" he suddenly asked, his tone carrying a deliberate nonchalance.
I thought about it. "Fat. Silly. Looks easy to bully."
He turned back to look at me, expression subtle.
"...Are you talking about the rabbit or me?"
I couldn't help but laugh.
He glared at me, but the corner of his mouth also twitched up.
We continued walking. Hands still clasped.
Walking to a mask stall, he stopped, picked up a monkey mask and looked at it.
"Did you wear this when you were little?" I asked.
"No."
He put down the mask, his fingertips lingering on the edge for an extra second.
"Why?"
"Mother said, for the Crown Prince to wear a mask is improper."
He said this with a very light tone, but the ending paused slightly—like a sentence finished, but half remained unspoken.
I didn't press.
But my hand tightened slightly.
He felt it. Didn't speak, didn't look at me. But his hand also tightened slightly.
Just a little.
Ahead, someone was loudly reading riddles. A young scholar stood under a lantern, holding a red paper strip, swaying his head and reciting: "'Dragon soars the Nine Provinces'—Guess an object!"
Someone in the crowd shouted: "The Emperor!"
The scholar shook his head: "Wrong, wrong—"
Zhu Houzhao's pace slowed a bit. I glanced at him—his gaze fell on that scholar, corner of his mouth slightly upturned, carrying an expression I couldn't read.
"Do you know the answer?" I asked.
He didn't answer, pulling me away.
Walking a few steps out, he suddenly lowered his head and whispered in my ear: "It's 'Lantern'."
Voice very light, breath brushing my earlobe, warm.
My ears instantly burned.
Didn't know if it was because of the answer, or the distance.
Walking into a slightly quieter alley, I suddenly stopped.
There was something stuck to his cuff—probably rubbed off when squeezed by the crowd earlier, a grayish patch, exceptionally conspicuous on the moon-white fabric.
"Don't move." I said.
I let go of his hand—his fingers tightened slightly, before letting go.
I fished a handkerchief out of my sleeve, stood on tiptoe, and tried to wipe the stain off his cuff.
Couldn't reach.
He was more than a head taller than me. I stood on tiptoe until my toes ached, fingers still not reaching. Unconsciously, I leaned forward, hand resting on his shoulder to steady myself. The back of my hand pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat transmit through the fabric—faster than usual.
"That's enough." he said, voice a bit hoarse.
"Not clean yet—"
"That's enough."
I looked up at him.
He looked down at me.
Very close.
Close enough for me to see the curve of his eyelashes—slightly upturned, casting a small shadow under the light. Close enough to see the lantern light reflected in his pupils, bright and dim, like two small lanterns.
He wasn't looking at the lanterns.
He was looking at me.
My hand was still on his shoulder. His breath brushed my forehead, warm, carrying a hint of sugar figurine sweetness.
The surrounding crowd was still surging. Gong and drum sounds, firecrackers, vendors hawking, children laughing—all sounds suddenly felt distant, like receding tides, pushed far away.
Only him.
And the lantern light.
"If it's dirty, it's dirty." he said, voice very light, as if talking about something unimportant.
He reached out, took the handkerchief from my hand, casually wiped the cuff, then stuffed the handkerchief into his own sleeve.
"Let's go."
He grasped my hand again.
Turned and walked forward.
I followed him, heart beating fast. The back of my hand still retained the warmth of his chest.
We walked onto a bridge. Below was a frozen river, the ice surface reflecting the lanterns on both banks, like a broken mirror, light shattered into pieces inside.
He stopped, leaning against the bridge railing, looking at the river surface.
"Do you like it here?" I asked.
"It's okay."
"Compared to the palace?"
He was silent for a while.
The lanterns on the river shattered for a moment, then gathered again.
"Mm."
Just one word.
Ending tone dragged out long, like someone thought for a long time before saying this word.
In the distance, another firework ascended, bang, exploding, golden-red light falling on him, illuminating his profile light and dark.
"Because no one bosses you around." I said.
He turned to look at me.
The cloak brim swayed slightly in the wind, revealing a pair of eyes illuminated by the lantern light. No denial.
There was something in those eyes I couldn't describe clearly—like a person standing on ice for a long time, suddenly seeing another person on the opposite side.
Distant urgent footsteps came. Not ordinary pedestrians—those were neat, rhythmic footsteps.
I subconsciously looked back.
At the alley entrance, several figures in guard uniforms flashed by.
My heart lifted.
Zhu Houzhao saw it too. His body tensed slightly—only for an instant—then he let go of the bridge railing and stood straight.
"Let's go." he said, tone no different from before, but pace quickened.
We turned into another alley, took a detour, before returning to that familiar foot of the wall.
The guards' footsteps were far away.
He leaned against the wall, exhaling. White mist dispersed in the moonlight.
"Close call." he said, corner of his mouth upturned, tone like talking about something fun.
But I saw a thin layer of sweat on his temple.
"Are you scared?" I asked.
"Scared of what?"
"Being discovered."
He looked at me.
Moonlight fell on his shoulder, dyeing his cloak silver-white.
"If I was scared, I wouldn't have come out." he said.
Then he reached out, patted the top of my head—the movement was quick, like a casual act.
"Let's go. Climb the wall."
He climbed up first. I stood at the foot of the wall, looking up at him.
Moonlight shone on him, the cloak hood slipped down, revealing the young man's face. Stray hairs on his forehead were blown up by the wind, revealing a smooth forehead. He sat on the wall, extending his hand toward me.
Moonlight fell into his palm, like holding a scoop of water.
"Grab me."
I grasped his hand. Palm warm, fingertips a bit cool.
He pulled hard, I got onto the wall. He held my waist, this time I wasn't scared, jumping down directly.
He caught me.
Landing, my forehead bumped against his chest. Heartbeat transmitted through the fabric, fast. Same speed as mine.
"Stand firm." he said, voice a bit hoarse.
"Mm." I didn't move.
He didn't let go.
Under the moonlight, we stood in the alley, shadows overlapping.
After a while, he let go.
"Let's go."
We walked back to the Eastern Palace. Only two or three lanterns remained lit under the corridor, firelight swaying unsteadily in the wind.
Walking to the side room door, he stopped.
"Lizi." (Little Pear)
"Mm?"
"Where's the sugar figurine?"
I looked down at my hand—the rabbit sugar figurine was still there. One ear bitten off by me, one left.
I held it up to show him.
He looked, smiled. Tiger teeth revealed, eyes curved like crescent moons.
"Fat rabbit." he said.
"Like you."
He paused.
Then smiled wider.
"Good that it's like me." he said.
He turned and walked away. After a few steps, he suddenly stopped, turned to look at me.
Moonlight shone on his face, cloak hood already removed, revealing the young man's clean face.
"From now on," he said. "Come every year."
I looked at him.
"Are you sure?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
I fell silent for a moment.
Distant night watchman's drum came, one beat after another, muffled.
"Because you are the Crown Prince." I said.
The air suddenly went quiet.
Even the wind stopped.
He looked at me. Silent for a long time. So long I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he said:
"Then I must come even more."
Voice very light.
But those eyes were very bright.
Like a person standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down, then taking a step forward.
He didn't speak again, turned and walked away. This time no looking back.
Moonlight followed behind him, stretching his shadow very, very long, all the way to my feet.
I pushed open the door, entered the side room.
On the window sill, last month's rabbit sugar figurine had melted a bit, leaning softly against the window frame, but still chubby. I put the new rabbit sugar figurine next to it.
Two rabbits. One ear long one ear short, one standing, one leaning.
Like him.
Like us.
I lay on the bed, staring at the two rabbits on the window sill.
Distant sporadic firecrackers, intermittent.
He said, come every year from now on.
I said, because you are the Crown Prince.
He said, then I must come even more.
He is the Crown Prince.
The least free person under heaven.
But he said, then I must come even more.
I closed my eyes.
Corner of my mouth twitched up.
(End of Chapter 6)