Yao grinned as he bowed, excited as another family walked in with their child. His eldest cousin Feng stood next to him and for once, she wasn’t nitpicking everything he did. Even though she was only seven years older than him, she always acted as if she was forty. But today, she stood tall and quiet in her red silk robes, her own hair braided and pinned with gold-flecked combs, watching the arriving guests with the same composure their aunt used at formal gatherings. 

Of all his cousins, Yao disliked Feng the most. She spoke the loudest and often tried to control everyone around her just because she was the oldest. She often even antagonized their aunt’s actual children and even when she did get in trouble, she hid behind her father to protect her. Yao already knew she was likely only greeting guests with him because his aunt didn’t trust her to be around the other children unsupervised. He did his best to ignore her, glad that at least his mother was also with them.

Yao's robe was new, just as his mother had promised and she was wearing a similar robe as she stood behind him. The pale green silk shimmered faintly in the lantern light and the cranes stitched into the cuffs seemed to move when he did. His hair had been combed and tied back with a matching ribbon, and though it had taken too long and he’d been told three times to stop fidgeting, now that he stood at the entrance with the family, being introduced to guest after guest, he was glad he had been patient. He wanted to be seen tonight.

As soon as their guests moved on, Feng gave Yao a quick nudge. “Straighten your collar.”

Yao ignored her, knowing she was just trying to have some control over the situation. Instead, he gave her a quick smirk and tugged his collar deliberately crooked, just to make her frown. It worked; her nostrils flared slightly and she muttered something under her breath as she reached forward to fix it herself. But before her fingers touched the fabric, their aunt's voice called from across the hall.

“Feng, attend the guests from the west pavilion.”

Feng hesitated just long enough to throw him a nasty look before gliding off with the kind of poise Yao knew she practiced in front of her mirror. The hall was still bustling, soft murmurs rising and falling like river currents, the silks of every robe catching the golden light of lanterns swinging gently overhead. A musician in the far corner plucked at a string instrument, its notes twining delicately through the room. 

“Master Taiheng,” Yao quickly bowed as his aunt spoke, glad he hadn’t noticed him approaching. His heart immediately jumped into his chest as he heard two sets of footsteps. He had come with his son. “Thank you for coming.”

“So, this is your son,” the man’s voice seemed to hang in the air a half-second too long, as if it didn’t quite belong in the gentle murmur of the banquet hall. It wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t warm either and it bothered Yao that the man had ignored his aunt to instead address his mother. But he straightened slowly, his arms at his sides, head lifted just enough to meet the man’s gaze without staring. 

This time, the head of the Taiheng family did look at him and that was somehow worse. Not because it was cruel. There was no scowl, no dismissive wave. Just the quiet, clinical gaze of someone assessing an object he hadn’t expected to find noteworthy. Yao bowed low again, steady and deliberate, the way his mother had practiced with him.

“Thank you for attending, Master Taiheng,” he said, voice soft but clear. It echoed faintly against the polished stone of the floor. His mother had said not to mumble, no matter how nervous he felt. He did his best to remain calm, even as he so desperately wanted to run away.

“He favors your side of the family,” he remarked to Yao’s mother, tone impassive. Yao didn’t know if that was a compliment or not, but his mother inclined her head in quiet agreement, hand still lightly resting at the center of Yao’s back, a touch that grounded him more than she probably realized. “Wei, go join the others.”

“Yes, Father.” The new voice made Yao chance another look up, and he saw the boy smiling at him as he walked past. His blue-grey eyes were kind, but something about them still made Yao wary. His and his mother finally stood up straight as the man headed inside, and Yao felt his chest relax slightly. His mother’s hand gently patted his back once before she, too, moved to greet another guest.

The entrance hall was thinning now, the last few families arriving in elegant clusters, their laughter floating up toward the high ceiling. Yao glanced around and spotted Feng near the inner doorway, standing stiffly beside a lacquered screen as she directed another group toward the inner hall. She didn’t look his way, but Yao could tell from the tilt of her head and the slight squint of her eyes that she was tired of smiling. He was too. His cheeks ached from all the polite expressions and his stomach was beginning to remind him he hadn’t eaten since midday. The scent of roast duck and ginger broth wafted from the banquet chamber and made his mouth water.

“Yao.” His aunt’s voice cut through his thoughts, smooth and level as always. She’d returned to his side without him noticing. “The main doors will be closing soon. Go and wash your hands before we are called inside. You’ll sit beside your cousin for the first course.”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, Aunt.”

He was already halfway down the corridor toward the courtyard basin when he realized the boy, Wei, was just ahead of him, moving at a slower, almost hesitant pace. Yao slowed, taking a moment to really look at him. Wei’s dark hair had been combed back to expose the sharp, quiet angles of his face, and when he turned slightly, his eyes caught the lantern light, bright and unnerving in their clarity. Blue, not pale but strikingly deep, like river glass under moonlight.

“The basin is empty,” Wei said as Yao approached. “The water has to be drawn again.”

Yao stepped into the courtyard, frowning slightly. The washbasin was there, carved from cool stone, but only a trickle of water spilled from the spout at its side.

“The servants must be busy with the banquet,” Wei added, crouching to adjust one of the copper valves. He didn’t fumble the way Yao expected. His movements were careful and practiced, like he’d done this before. A moment later, water began to flow again in a slow but steady stream.

“You know how to fix it?” Yao asked.

Wei straightened. “Only a little. The basin near our rooms does the same thing sometimes.”

Yao looked at him more closely now. There was nothing special about his robes. They were made from dark blue silk, tastefully embroidered at the sleeves, a pale sash at the waist, but something about how he stood seemed… measured. Not stiff, not proud, but composed in a way that made Yao straighten his own back instinctively.

“You aren’t scared of me.” 

Wei’s voice made Yao jump and he noticed Wei had moved to allow him to access the basin. He made a soft noise in response, not sure how to respond. Wei scoffed, his voice softer as he continued. “Most children avoid me because of my father.”

“So? You are not him,” Yao managed as he stepped forward and dipped his hands into the basin. The water was cold, clean, and helped soothe the faint nervous buzzing still caught in his chest. “You didn’t say anything cruel. You just fixed the water.”

Wei blinked, then looked away, a faint shrug rolling through his shoulders. “He doesn’t say cruel things either. That’s the problem.”

Yao glanced at him, unsure what that meant. “You don’t like him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

The way Wei said it, calm, almost disinterested, didn’t match the tightness around his mouth. His hands were folded behind his back now, posture still perfect, but he wasn’t looking at Yao anymore. Yao let the silence stretch as he dried his hands on the cloth hanging near the basin. It felt like one of those moments his mother always told him to tread carefully, to watch with his eyes and listen without interrupting.

“Um,” a new voice entered the courtyard, and Yao turned to see another boy behind them. He had light hair, almost white in the warm lights, and his blue-grey eyes looked around nervously as he adjusted the sleeves of his robes. “Is… the basin?”

“It’s here,” Yao grinned, stepping aside to let the boy come closer. He did so slowly, bowing slightly as he noticed Wei. “Young Master Taiheng.”

“Young Master Shenglou,” Wei answered, offering another cryptic smile to Yao. “I will see you both inside. Happy Birthday, Young Master Luoyin.”

“Thank you,” Yao managed to answer, turning his attention back to the boy next to him. This one was close to his age, and Yao quickly recognized him as one of the two children who had piqued his interest early. “I’m Yao.”

“...Li.” 

“Nice to meet you, Li.” Yao grinned, watching as the boy managed a slight smile. “We should hurry before someone comes looking for us.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” Li apologized as he reached in to wash his hands, but Yao could tell from the way he moved that he wasn’t as nervous as he was pretending to be. Yao leaned closer, barely able to hide his smile. 

“Thank you.”

Li looked up surprised, but he gave a quick laugh and reached for the drying cloth. When he turned to face Yao again, any signs of nervousness were gone and he took a moment to properly fix his sleeves from where he had lengthened them on purpose. 

“Wei isn’t bad. He’s just not used to anyone being comfortable around him, even older kids.” Li answered, and Yao felt his smile grow. “But how did you know I was pretending?”

“I pretend too sometimes, if I need to trick my cousins or the adults,” Yao chuckled, enjoying the way Li's eyes lit up in understanding. It was the kind of glint that felt like a secret handshake, quiet and immediate. They both paused as a soft chime rang out from deeper inside the house; not loud, just a high, cascading note that drifted through the corridors like falling silver. Yao recognized it as the signal for the family to begin moving toward the banquet chamber.

“We should go.” Li turned to glance toward the inner halls and Yao nodded, hoping they could speak more after the first course. 

“Let’s.”