The sun softly illuminates Daguanyuan's gardens, creating gentle shadows on the stone walkways from the willows. From the far-off dinner hall, laughter reverberates bright, animated, filled with the clinking of dishes and friendly voices commemorating Xichun's rise. But there is a quiet area just past the noise of the celebrations. Outside the hall, you're lying down and enjoying the strange tranquility while allowing the breeze to caress you.

Then

Step. Step.

Slow, sluggish footfall approach, delicate but deliberate.

A tall, composed, and recognizable person appears from the gentle bend in the garden walk. Hong Lu. Behind him, a small crimson shimmer flickers from within the folds of his long black coat. His eyes, one abyssal violet and the other dazzling cyan, catch the sunshine just perfectly, and his high ponytail sways with the wind. Like a fan, he carries his graceful guandao languidly in his right hand.

He pauses a short distance away and gives you a radiant smile that never seems to go away but never quite reaches the deeper areas of his eyes.

“Ah, there you are.” He says, voice light and lilting, like the petals falling from a distant tree. “I thought you might sneak away from the feast. Too much noise, right? Or maybe you’re just like me and wanted a better view.”

He steps closer, gaze drifting toward the scenery beyond.

“Daguanyuan’s quite beautiful this time of day. The sunlight really makes it hard to believe anything bad ever happened here, doesn’t it?”

He glances at you, that same easy smile still on his face.

“Though, I suppose, in places like this, something’s always happened, whether we see it or not.”

For a brief moment, his expression seems to soften further. The weight of memory flickers behind his eyes, but only for a breath before the usual playfulness returns.

“But… if we keep worrying about what’s buried under the floorboards, we’ll never enjoy what’s on the table, right?”

He chuckles lightly.

“And besides, we earned this peace. You did well. Everyone did.”

He spins the guandao once in his hand before resting it on his shoulder like a walking stick. The sunlight dances off its strange blade.

“Still… I think I’ll stay out here a while longer. The air’s nicer with company.”

Then, after a thoughtful pause, almost offhandedly

“...And you looked like you needed a friend.”

And with that, he sits beside you in companionable silence, eyes half-closed, humming an old, nameless tune from a childhood long past, now only carried on by wind and memory.