By the third day of the Festival of Blessed Waters, Youzhen was livelier than ever.
For three days the god's effigy had stood on the altar, honored with incense. Along both banks of the Ling River, banners fluttered, while children crowded the streets and levees with paper lanterns in hand.
Candy stalls and incense booths in the market were jammed with people. At dawn, the temple keeper had already sent helpers to scrub the ritual path. Workers at the rice shop bustled between customers and deliveries for the altar, while even the tavern at the gate set out tables in the open air.
A temporary bridge spanned the river. Children dashed across, chasing and laughing. Lanterns named after the twelve solar terms hung along the streets, each one inscribed by teachers and students of the town's academy.
When the temple drums sounded three rounds, the entire town seemed to hold its breath for the night ahead.
That morning, Layne had been circling the back courtyard in excitement.
"Mom, mom! Are the river lanterns ready? Can I use red paper this year?"
Bihua was sunning tribute rice in the yard. She looked up with a smile. "Didn't you pick yellow yesterday?"
"But I want red instead!"
He darted into the shop, colliding with Lai Su as he came in.
"What's the hurry?" Lai Su steadied him, weariness still in his eyes.
"I need to be ready first—so the Water God sees my lantern before anyone else's!"
"Then write your wish properly. No nonsense."
Layne hugged the paper lantern to his chest, hiding it behind him. "I made a really big wish!"
Lai Su chuckled and tapped his head. "Go, then. Don't ruin your clothes."
"Got it!" Layne bolted off, sunlight chasing at his heels, as though sending him on his way.
By dusk, the riverside was ablaze with lanterns, the townsfolk gathered in full.
The temple keeper proclaimed loudly:
"Three drumbeats! On the first, light the river! On the second, release your lanterns! On the third, do not look back, do not speak—let your wishes follow the water, let them sink and be fulfilled!"
At the first beat, paper lanterns surged forward like a tide.
Layne knelt on the grass mats with Lin Ji and Bao Silang, writing beneath the flicker of torches. He chose a bright square of red paper and carefully wrote:
"Mom, don't be angry anymore. Dad, don't be so sad. I want to go to Qingzhou—and farther, if I can!"
He paused, frowning, then added another line:
"Rou, don't be afraid. I won't scare you again."
Lin Ji inked the single character Feng (abundance), pressing it neatly in the center of his lantern.
Bao Silang covered his paper with drawings of pastries, a skewer of candied haw in his mouth. "I've got tons—bean buns, pork pies, osmanthus cakes…"
Wang Rou clutched her lantern with trembling hands.
"If you're afraid to set it down, I'll do it for you," Layne whispered.
She nodded slightly. "Thank you."
Behind them, Madam Wang's lips tightened, but she did not intervene.
The second drum sounded, and lanterns were lit one by one.
The river bloomed with light, as if a thousand stars had been strewn across its surface, each carrying a hidden wish into the night.
Layne crouched, setting his lantern gently upon the water.
"Go on," he murmured. "Don't drift away. Be good."
His tone was like sending off a mischievous friend, though his hand shook as he let go.
From the crowd, Bihua's gaze never left him. Beside her, Lai Su stood silent. After a pause, he said quietly, "When they leave town in two days, will he still remember this lantern?"
Bihua did not answer—she only clasped his sleeve.
That night, the rice shop glowed warmly.
Bihua ladled out the offerings into bowls. Layne sat across, chewing rice cakes with delight.
"Did you have fun today?" she asked.
"Yes!" He nodded eagerly. "I made a huge wish! Guess what it was—"
"You can't guess," Lai Su said lightly. "It won't come true if you speak it."
"Right!" Layne pressed a finger to his lips. "If I tell, it won't work!"
Bihua smiled, refilling his soup. "Then I won't ask."
"Mom, the day after tomorrow—are we really leaving town?"
"Yes," she said gently. "We'll see the lantern fair in Qingzhou, taste the fruit there."
Layne's head bobbed with excitement. "Great! I'll buy the biggest lantern and hang it on our roof!"
Lai Su chuckled. "Pick a lighter one, or you'll bring the roof down."
After supper, he went to the shop to tally accounts. Bihua cleared the table, folded their clothes.
Ash still smoldered in the courtyard incense brazier. The wind stirred it into the air, carrying the scent of sweet rice.
On the festival's fourth day, the skies were clear.
At dawn, the drums sounded thrice. The temple keeper himself brushed the dust and incense ash from the god's effigy. The altar fire was sealed, and the mayor lit the Returning Incense. The statue was borne back to the shrine, marking the festival's close.
The townsfolk followed in procession, chanting, sprinkling water, burning folded paper offerings. Along the river, families lit incense bowls. Platters of offerings were carried across the bridge into the shrine.
Outside the temple gates, long tables had been set. Cold dishes of tribute covered the bamboo mats. Neighbors sat together, eating the Returning Feast.
"Those who eat of this feast," the temple keeper proclaimed, "are blessed for all seasons!"
Layne sat between Bihua and Lai Su, gnawing happily on a chicken leg. "Mom, look—the sugar figurine stall set out a feast too!"
"Eat yours." She laughed, wiping his mouth. "Don't stare at others' sweets."
At the next table, voices whispered:
"They say someone's here from above. No one knows what they're investigating."
"Even the True Division officials came to receive him—never seen such a thing."
"He's staying in the temple quarters. Didn't light a single lantern. This morning, didn't join the feast—just stood watching as the statue returned…"
Lai Su's expression was calm as he kept serving rice. Bihua only reached under the table to clasp his fingers. She said nothing.
Back home, she packed their things.
"Mom, will we take the official road out of town?" Layne asked.
"Through the south gate. We'll arrive before noon."
He stuffed a paper pinwheel, brush, and candy into his bundle, bouncing with excitement.
"Only clothes and paper," Bihua sighed. "We'll buy treats in Qingzhou."
"Aww, fine…" he muttered, pulling them back out.
Lai Su slipped a cloth pouch into the luggage. "I've packed dry rations and coin."
Bihua set it aside, then asked softly, "That man… was he here for you?"
Lai Su was silent for a long moment. "…Most likely."
"You knew? Then why not leave with us?"
"If I go, none of us will get away."
She lowered her head, twisting her sleeve. At last, she said, "I understand."
Night deepened.
The lamp wick flickered, like wind at the eaves.
He gazed out the window, thinking: I know what you want to ask—if I regret it. With you, I never have.
Bihua could not sleep.
She entered Layne's room. He was sound asleep, quilt tucked neatly, a faint smile still lingering on his lips.
She knelt, arranging his toys at the pillow, brushing the hair from his brow.
Outside, the stars were still, the river long since swallowed by darkness.
Rising, she moved to the door. The wind pushed it half open. She stood there—waiting, or perhaps only thinking.
At length, she whispered:
"…Perhaps we should not leave tomorrow."