Chapter 35
The Autumn Festival in the capital was like nothing Daiyu had experienced. The teeming streets were decorated with rich vermillion banners at every corner, with the royal dragon insignia plastered across them. Vendors selling sticky rice snacks, candied fruits, colorful masks, savory foods, and all types of festivities cluttered the roads packed with people from all types of backgrounds. The aromatic smells overpowered the usually pervasive woodsmoke, and the lights—oh, the lights. The city was alive by the evening, with bright lanterns strung together on every street, blazing firelight like she was in a different world altogether.
Daiyu watched—transfixed by the glittering lights—the sprawling, dazzling city below her. She leaned against the balcony railing, the crisp, cool air against her skin and the starlit midnight sky canopying above her. It was the second day of the festival and she already wished it would last all year long. At least then she could marvel at it forever and partake in the giddy delight everyone seemed to be stuck in.
“It’s a shame my family left so soon after the wedding,” Daiyu murmured, turning to Muyang, who was similarly leaning on the railing with his unreadable gaze set on the capital. Feiyu had warped her family back home the day after the wedding, since her parents wanted to celebrate the Autumn Festival at their village since it would be their last time living there. But now that she had witnessed the beauty and extravagance of this festival, she didn’t want to go back to the now-dull festival that occurred in her hometown. “They’re missing out,” she continued with a sigh. “I told them it would be better to stay.”
“They’ll be able to witness next year’s festival.”
“I know, but that’s a long time from now.” Daiyu breathed in the smoky, fragrant smells permeating from the city. She had been at awe at the festivities yesterday and had walked through the streets, marveling at everything she saw—fire-breathing dancers, actors dressed in dragon costumes that looked far too realistic, and singers with rich sons—and even today, the second day, after all feasting and dancing, she was just as excited, albeit a bit exhausted.
“What a beautiful sight,” she whispered at the twinkling lights.
“Indeed.”
She turned to find him staring at her, a grin curling over his soft mouth. All at once, her face flushed with warmth and she was reminded again of his gentle touch. Heat pooled in the pit of her belly. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to devour me.”
He chuckled faintly, leaning closer to her and wrapping an arm around her waist. He pulled her close to him and she gasped at the sudden motion. At the way her body reacted to him.
“Muyang, what are you doing?”
“Admiring my wife.” He dragged a finger down her spine and she shuddered.
“Well, maybe you can admire me later.” She turned to stare back at the capital, no longer able to focus on the glittering lights and the bustle through the streets. She leaned into his touch, her cheeks flaming. “Right now, I’d rather pay attention to the festival.”
“Hmph.” Muyang followed her gaze to the rest of the city. “It’s the same as it always is.”
“For you.” Daiyu clucked her tongue. “Not everyone gets to witness this. I’ve never been to a festival as grand as this one.”
“It happens every year.”
“I suppose the glamour of it is lost on you,” she said with a long sigh. “Probably because you’ve grown accustomed to all of this splendor. But I’m not like that. I hope to never become like that. I want to appreciate beauty at all times.”
“You don’t sound like you’re talking about the festival.”
“Well, no.” She could feel her blush spreading, this time from embarrassment. “I mean in general. I don’t want to ever become ungrateful, or get too used to all of this. I want to remember where I came from.”
He was quiet for a moment as if mulling over her words. “Where you come from, huh?”
“Speaking of which …” She peered up at him. “Where are you from, Muyang? You obviously had a life before you became the emperor. What were you doing? What was life like? Did you have a family?”
Muyang stiffened, the festive mood dampening in mere seconds, replaced by a storm that seemed to brew in his black eyes. He locked his jaw and stared straight ahead. “I’d rather … not talk about it.”
“Oh. I … I’m sorry.” She hated that she had ruined the moment. Whatever sparks were flying between them buzzed away. There was only coldness now. She touched his hand lightly, but he pulled away. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“I don’t have many fond memories of my past,” he said carefully. “I don’t … really remember much.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” He breathed out deeply. His emotions shuttered from his face and a mask seemed to slip back in place. Suddenly, he was calm again, unbothered, and closed off. And, it seemed, done with this conversation. “Daiyu, how about we talk about your life?”
“Um, there’s not much to talk about.” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she watched him carefully; she hated that he was no longer as relaxed as he was earlier. She could sense the tenseness of his shoulders, the edge in his smooth voice. “I grew up on a rice farm. My father and his father, and his father before him, for many decades, grew rice. So of course, that’s what we did too. Life was pretty … simple.”
“What were your days like?”
“I’m not sure you’d be interested in my boring life,” she said with another laugh. She tightened her grip on the balcony railing and traced the embossed grooves along the metal. “Seriously, nothing interesting ever happened.”
“I want to know.” He placed his hand atop of hers. His fingers were warm, a stark contrast to the cool night air. “There’s nothing boring about you, Daiyu. So tell me about your life. Your family. Your … everything.”
She began to tell him about her daily life on the farm, about the mundane tasks she did every day. Soon, before she knew it, she was telling him everything. About Lanfen, her brothers, her parents, her neighbors, all the farm animals they had, and everything about their small village. She told him about the flower fields she loved to frequent. About the friends she grew up with, the changing of seasons, the fond memories she had. She kept talking, and talking, and talking until she was sure he would grow bored.
But he didn’t. He simply watched her and nodded, asking questions from time to time.
“Well, I’m sure I can talk forever at this point,” she said with a nervous laugh. “But maybe we can do something else now? I’d hate for the night to pass and we realize we’ve done nothing but discuss my boring eating habits back at the farm.”
Muyang smiled gently and her heart fluttered in her chest. “You’re not boring me, Daiyu. I hope you understand that.”
“Yet.”
“I don’t think you could ever bore me.” He wove his fingers into hers, intertwining them. Bringing her knuckles to his mouth, he planted a soft kiss against the grooves of her hand. “But since you insist on doing something, would you like to take a walk with me? Through the festival?”
Daiyu bobbed her head quickly—excitedly. “Yes, I’d love to.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m telling you, you’ll grow accustomed to it eventually, and then it’ll lose its shine. But right now, when you’re so full of enthusiasm and thrill, I’d like to relish this moment, since it might not come again.”
“And I’m telling you, that won’t happen.” She turned to the glittering capital once more. “I never want to grow bored of this view. I want to enjoy it every time I see it. No matter how many times I see it.”
She could feel him staring at her again, and her blush continued to deepen.
The night carried his voice away and she almost didn’t hear it when he murmured, “Me too.”