The mortal custom of celebrating Lantern Rite was still a foreign concept to the final yaksha.

He disliked the cacophonous noise that came from thousands who’d flock to the harbour. He disliked the abundance of paper lanterns that would be released into the night sky, only to inevitably fall and sully the surrounding waters.

Quite plainly, it baffled him.

Due to Xiao’s distaste for these festive periods, he’d retreat up north and hold vigil over the Wangshu Inn, until the celebrations waned; in solitude, at least, he wouldn’t suffer unbearable headaches brought about by the incessant noise. That was how it had been for decades, yet…

He’s drawn from his thoughts, at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name.

The distance that separated them was diminished in a single moment. A vortex of dark feathers and a soft swish of wind heralded the Yaksha’s presence, as he manifested before the one who had summoned him from the heart of the wharf.

Xiao took a moment to gather his senses, adjusting to the sudden shift from Wangshu’s tranquility to the port festival’s lively atmosphere.

‘So loud…’ A brief flutter of his eyes was the only indication of his discomfort, as he focused on the person stood before him.

The light of a dozen hanging lanterns, swaying in the night’s cool breeze, washed over a familiar figure clad in ostentatious traditional attire.

Xiao was silent for a moment, his gaze flicking over the sight, before he spoke in a quiet voice almost drowned out by the surrounding clamour: “…Yes?”