Smoke was already curling up from the kitchen stove in the Lai family's small courtyard. Bihua, in plain clothes, was cooking a pot of thin porridge.
In one corner, cloths washed the night before hung drying, stirring softly in the breeze. Layne sat at the stone table in the main hall, frowning over his homework.
"How do you write this character again…?" He traced strokes on the tabletop with his finger, muttering to himself.
Bihua set down a hot bowl of porridge by his hand and said gently, "Don't rush—eat first. Your father will want you in the front shop to help with the accounts later. Don't dawdle."
"Oh." Layne grumbled, lowering his head to shovel in porridge.
From the shop came the rattle of an abacus—Lai Su, checking the books. Counting without looking up, he said, "No school today. Eat, then help me move rice. You can go out after your homework's done. Be back before dusk."
"Got it!" Layne answered around a mouthful.
As the sun climbed, the town streets grew lively. The incense shop hung fresh gold paper and red banners. Outside the lantern shop, paper lanterns painted with the Water God, sea beasts, and grain totems swayed from their hooks.
Clutching a copper-leaf token, Layne slipped out from the rice shop's back yard. Lin Ji and Bao Silang followed, arguing over who could finish a string of sweet cakes faster.
Syrup smeared at the corner of his mouth, Bao Silang blurted the latest rumor:
"Someone saw a dragon's head rise at the Ling River mouth last night!"
"You got tricked again," Lin Ji said coolly.
"My brother said so—he saw it himself coming back from the town watch!"
"Then how is he still alive?" Layne asked, dead serious.
"You two don't get it!" Bao huffed, swallowing. "The Dragon God spared him 'cause my brother's too handsome."
The three of them laughed their way through the narrow alleys as if their voices could fill the world. Light-footed, they cut from the east market toward the south gate.
By the gate, an old woman selling incense sat at a small table, carefully painting a paper lantern. Her hands were nimble, tracing delicate designs in gold powder.
A ring of children gathered close, eyes wide, gasping at each stroke.
"Don't touch!" she scolded, shooing them without looking up. "These are for the Water God to see!"
But the children only chirped louder, crowding her desk.
Just then, Layne slipped in behind her. While she wasn't watching, he puffed a playful breath—the freshly painted lantern tipped and fell.
The old woman jerked up at the sound with a gasp, eyes scanning for the culprit. All she caught was a line of little rascals' backs vanishing into the crowd.
They crossed an arched bridge when a calm voice called, "Don't run."
The three skidded to a halt.
It was Master Shen, in plain clothes, a paper-wrapped parcel in hand, returning from the temple. His expression was composed, his tone mild. "No reading today?"
"Good day, sir!" the three chorused, bowing.
"Holiday," Layne blurted.
"Holiday doesn't mean mischief," Master Shen said, letting his gaze pass over them one by one. "If a lantern is smudged, the Water God won't accept it."
Lin Ji looked down. Bao Silang scratched his head and grinned. Layne opened his mouth, then shut it.
"Enough." Master Shen lifted his parcel and walked on. "I'm only here to buy incense."
He melted into the crowd.
"He's in a good mood today," Bao marveled. "Didn't make us copy characters."
By midday the sun was warm. The three squatted by the tea stall in front of the temple, listening to the bearded storyteller slap the table and launch into Sea Fire Swallows Ships.
"In the far south, waves rise thirty zhang—about a hundred feet! There sails a great ship like a building, called the Bone Ship. Its hull is bone, its plates are iron. It spits fire like a dragon and can swallow thirteen harbors in a single night!"
Layne's eyes shone. He grabbed a dead twig, swinging as he listened.
"That's called sweeping the floor," Lin Ji said flatly.
"Who cares!" Layne flicked the stick toward Bao. "Behold my Three Bone-Sweeping Forms—"
Crack! The twig shattered on a stone post.
The children around them howled with laughter. Even the storyteller chuckled: "If you ever boarded a Bone Ship, you'd split the keel before the enemy even arrived."
Leaving the tea stall, they headed back, passing the festival shed at the south gate. Several temple attendants were rehearsing the route with the idol. A red cloth covered its head; a corner of gilt face peeked out.
The bridgehead was crowded. Just as they were about to move on, Layne stopped.
Not far ahead, Madam Wang came walking with Wang Rou. The girl's wrist was wrapped with colored bands. She kept her head down, step by slow step.
The three fell quiet.
Madam Wang's face stiffened when she saw them. Wang Rou glanced up and met Layne's eyes for a heartbeat, then quickly looked away.
Layne's mouth opened, but no sound came. His fingers pinched the hem of his shirt.
"Don't look. Let's go," Bao murmured behind him.
Layne nodded, turned, and tugged them into a run.
Behind them, Madam Wang's expression shifted. Wang Rou peeked after them.
By dusk, cooking smoke rose and the streets filled with savory scents.
At the Lai family's rice shop, Lai Su worked the abacus over a sack of new rice. Lanterns lit the doorway. A shophand wiped the counter.
In the kitchen, Bihua stirred the soup—winter bamboo shoots, chicken pieces, a few red dates floating on top. The aroma drifted gently into the main room.
At the table, Layne was breathlessly recounting his day.
"And the storyteller said there are Bone Ships that breathe fire, and they burned thirteen harbors in one night!"
Lai Su set down his bowl with a grunt. "You really believe that? It's just bluster."
"But he told it so well!" Layne's eyes sparkled. "A ship made of bones—like a skeleton—armored in iron. And the best part? When the wind blows, it can even fly!"
Bihua passed him a dish and smiled. "Did you have fun today?"
Layne nodded, still chewing. "Yeah! The days around the festival are the best—so much to see, so many people!"
After dinner, Bihua laid out his bedding, smoothing the hair on his forehead.
"Mom," Layne said suddenly.
"Mm?"
"I heard there are whales that drag islands across the sea. Do you think… that's real?"
Bihua laughed softly and tapped his nose. "If you believe it, then it's real."
She tucked in his quilt, blew out the lamp, and left the room.
Layne stared at the ceiling. Moonlight, filtered through the window lattice and trees, cast shadows like waves—like great ships and strange beasts. Night lay gentle outside, starlight scattered.
"If you came to take me on an adventure," he whispered, "that would be perfect."