“A banquet? Will it be at the main house?” Yao couldn’t help his excitement as his mother carefully sipped her tea, not seeming to share his enthusiasm. She carefully rested her cup back on the table, smiling softly as she nodded. “The big one?”

“No, at your aunt’s. It will be your sixth birthday, and my sister agreed that we could have a larger celebration this year,” his mother continued, and Yao could barely contain his excitement. He knew his mother was in a difficult position because his father travelled around a lot instead of staying with them and he was born before they could get married. Apparently, from what the servants said, it was her mother’s choice to remain unmarried, so as not to hinder his father’s business. 

“Will–”

“Your father will not be back in time for your birthday, although he did already send a gift,” his mother interrupted and Yao nodded, not quite managing to hide his disappointment. His mother insisted his father had visited for his third and fourth birthdays, but Yao couldn’t remember those visits and therefore, they didn’t count. “He will visit in two months, and I’m sure he’ll bring you a second gift.”

“Okay!” Yao grinned, focusing as he picked up his cup. He knew this was a form of lesson, and he sat perfectly still as he sipped from his cup, careful not to slurp or spill the tea. As he set the cup down, he noticed the pride in his mother’s eyes and it made his heart swell. “Will other children be there?”

“Some of the other families have children your age, and my sister has agreed to invite their families to the banquet.” his mother confirmed and Yao felt his excitement grow. Finally! He could maybe meet other kids like him, kids that could understand him better than his cousins. “After all, it is good for you to get to know them.”

“Oh?”

“... Yes. You will likely see more of them as you get older.” Was the only reply his mother offered as she sipped more tea. Yao knew from her expression not to push and even though he was still annoyed from earlier, he decided to instead eat one of the slices of candied plum. It was sweet and sticky on his fingers, the tartness blooming just behind the sugar like a hidden treasure, and for a moment, everything else faded. He sucked the syrup from his fingers, glancing at his mother in time to see her raise an eyebrow, not in disapproval, but mild amusement.

The conversation drifted for a while after that, his mother shifting to more neutral topics: the new fabric that had arrived in the city, the shape of the peonies in the courtyard garden, a passing mention of a white heron spotted near the river. Yao tried to listen, he really did, but his mind was already running ahead to the banquet. What the hall would look like, how many children might come, what games they could play before the grown-ups sent them off to the side room.

He had never had a birthday banquet, but he had heard about them from his oldest cousin Feng. She always boasted  hers in great detail; how there were musicians and performers, how the cooks made delicate sweets in the shapes of birds and flowers, how her hair was braided with red ribbons and her robe had gold thread stitched along the sleeves.

Yao imagined his own version now, with himself at the center of a great table, a lacquered chair with a cushion so plush he could sink into it. Maybe there would be fireworks, or at least lanterns. Those big, floating kinds that drifted into the night sky and carried wishes with them. He’d heard of that before too, in a story his nurse used to tell when he had trouble falling asleep. She said each lantern carried a message to the stars, and if the stars agreed, they’d whisper it back down when the wind was quiet.

“Will there be lanterns?” he asked suddenly, sitting up straight again. “Can I light one?”

His mother looked up from her tea, a faint smile lingering on her lips. “I will ask your aunt. But it depends on the weather.”

Yao opened his mouth to argue, then caught himself and only nodded. It was too good an idea to ruin by pushing and lanterns or not, he would finally have his own banquet.  Not something small in the corner room with just his cousins and the steward bringing in a plate of sweets. This one would be at the big house, where his aunt lived, where the family gathered for festivals, and where the servants’ footsteps echoed across the tiled floors because the rooms were so wide and grand.

“Also, the head of the Taiheng family will be there, so do remember your manners.”

Yao’s mood instantly fell. Even if he could not remember his father visiting for his fourth birthday, he would never forget the only time his mother took him to the main house with her and he met that man for the first time. He had always somewhat understood that his family was not part of the main family, that even his aunt answered to someone else. But the head of the Taiheng family hadn’t even looked at him properly; the man’s eyes had barely flicked over him before returning to the tea tray the steward had just set down.

“I will,” Yao finally answered, feeling his mood sour a bit. He knew at most, he would only have to greet the man, but he didn’t want to meet him again. Feng said that he had a son who was the same age as her, but Yao secretly hoped the son wouldn’t be invited. He didn’t want to meet that man’s son.

His mother didn’t speak for a long moment, and when he finally looked up, she was watching him with a stillness that made Yao’s stomach twist. Not unkindly, but with a look he had seen before, when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

“I know it’s not the answer you want,” she said at last, placing her cup back in its saucer with the same precision she always used, “but it is simply a formality. He comes to visit because he is responsible for our well-being as we are a branch family, so merely show him respect and it will be fine.”

“I understand, Ma,” Yao answered, managing to smile as he reached for the second slice of plum. This time, it tasted slightly less sweet, but not enough to ruin his mood entirely. It was still sticky and rich, and he let the flavor distract him as he chewed slowly, nodding again more to reassure her than himself.

His mother said nothing more about the Taiheng head, and for that, Yao was grateful. The weight of that man's disinterest clung to him in a way he didn't quite have the words for. Even at five, nearly six, Yao had learned to notice when adults looked through him rather than at him. He didn’t like that kind of silence, the kind that made him feel smaller than he already was.

But the idea of the banquet tugged his thoughts forward again. His own banquet. With sweets, and games, and lanterns if the wind was kind. It would be his turn to sit tall and be the center of it all.

His mother reached forward and gently brushed a thumb along the corner of his mouth, wiping away a smear of plum syrup. Her hands were always soft, the backs pale and elegant like the silk sleeves she wore. He leaned into the touch for just a second, and then straightened again, remembering the posture she always corrected him on.

“You’ll have a new robe for the banquet,” she said, her voice lighter again. “It’s being made in the city now. Pale green, with embroidery along the cuffs.”

“A tiger?” Yao asked eagerly.

“Mountain peaks and cranes.” She smiled. “Tigers are for later. Cranes are lucky. And they’re beautiful.”

Yao nodded, not wanting to seem ungrateful. While he did like tigers, he liked cranes too, the way they stood tall on one leg, like they were always half-preparing to fly. His favorite, however, was the carp but only ones that could become dragons. 

He wanted to be a dragon one day.

“I can’t wait to see it.” Yao grinned.

“You will. It should be done in a week, if the tailor doesn’t delay.” she replied, smoothing the folds of her sleeve. “Come. We’ll go to the garden for a short walk before your writing practice.”

Yao let out a dramatic sigh again, but truthfully, he didn’t mind the garden. The fish were back in the pond this season, and he liked to try to find the biggest one. He stood, adjusting the hem of his robe as he followed her from the tea room into the courtyard. The light outside was soft and golden, stretched thin across the stones and the carefully raked gravel. It was late afternoon, the sun beginning its descent behind the tiled rooftops and budding trees. The air was cool but pleasant, and the scent of early spring blossoms clung faintly to the breeze; peach, plum, and something deeper.