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The morning after the festival came too soon. The bright joy of the lantern-lit streets had faded, replaced by the somber quiet of departure. Chi Yu stood by the cart as her parents loaded the last of their belongings, her fingers toying with the bracelet Huayiang had given her the night before. Its intricate beads seemed to pulse with life, a tangible reminder of the fleeting connection she’d made.
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“Chi Yu, stop daydreaming and help your father with the chest!” her mother scolded, her tone sharp from the stress of the move.
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“Yes, Mama,” Chi Yu replied, slipping the bracelet back under her sleeve and hurrying to help.
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The chest was heavy, its weight biting into her hands as she and her father hoisted it onto the cart. The reality of leaving struck her again, each movement making it more real. This wasn’t just a morning chore—this was goodbye. Goodbye to the streets she’d memorized, the neighbors she knew by name, and the city she’d always thought she’d grow old in.
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As they secured the chest, her younger brother, Ming, bounded up, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Do you think Sizhou will have dragons?” he asked, his eyes wide.
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“Not real ones,” Chi Yu said, forcing a smile. “But maybe dragon kites or carvings.”
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Ming’s enthusiasm was undeterred. “I’ll find a dragon one day,” he declared, racing off to inspect the cart wheels.
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Her father chuckled. “That boy’s head is always in the clouds,” he said, patting Chi Yu on the shoulder.
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Chi Yu nodded absently, her thoughts elsewhere. She glanced back toward the direction of last night’s festival, half-expecting to see Huayiang standing there, his dark changshan stark against the morning light. But the streets were empty save for a stray dog nosing through discarded wrappers.
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“Chi Yu!” her mother called again. “It’s time!”
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With a final look at her childhood home, Chi Yu climbed into the cart, settling beside Ming. The wheels creaked as the ox began its slow march forward, and Chang’an started to shrink behind them.
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As the city disappeared from view, Chi Yu reached into her sleeve, letting her fingers trace the bracelet. Last night felt like a dream—a brief, impossible connection in the midst of a sea of celebration. Yet the bracelet was real, and so was the promise they’d made.
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“Chi Yu, why are you so quiet?” Ming asked, tugging at her sleeve.
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“I’m just thinking,” she replied.
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“About what?”
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“About dragons,” she lied, smiling at him.
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Ming grinned, satisfied, and returned to peering over the side of the cart.
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The journey to Sizhou was long and uneventful, the days marked by the steady rhythm of the ox’s hooves and the occasional chatter of passing travelers. Sizhou, when they finally arrived, was a different world entirely. Its streets were narrower, its buildings taller, and its air heavy with the scent of river water and freshly ground spices.
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Their new home was modest but comfortable, nestled at the end of a bustling street lined with food stalls and fabric merchants. Chi Yu’s mother wasted no time organizing the household, barking orders as Chi Yu and Ming unpacked.
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Days turned into weeks, and life in Sizhou settled into a routine. Chi Yu helped her mother in the kitchen, ran errands for her father, and kept Ming out of trouble. Yet, no matter how busy she was, her thoughts often wandered back to Huayiang and the night of the lantern festival.
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She hadn’t told anyone about him—not her parents, not even Ming. It felt too personal, too precious to share. But at night, when the house was quiet and the city’s noises softened to a distant hum, she would hold the bracelet and wonder.
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Did he still have her hairpin? Did he think about her the way she thought about him? Would he keep his promise?
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One particularly humid evening, Chi Yu was sent to the market to fetch dried lotus seeds for dinner. The street was alive with activity—merchants calling out prices, children darting between stalls, and the scent of roasting chestnuts thick in the air.
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As she haggled with a vendor over the price, a flash of maroon and gold caught her eye. Her heart skipped. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw Huayiang, his dark silhouette weaving through the crowd.
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“Miss, are you buying or not?” the vendor asked impatiently.
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“Sorry,” Chi Yu muttered, handing over the coins.
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She grabbed the pouch of seeds and hurried after the figure, her pulse quickening. She darted through the throng, her eyes scanning for the familiar dark changshan and quiet confidence. But when she reached the end of the street, there was no one there.
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She stood still, catching her breath, her heart sinking. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been. Sizhou was far from Chang’an, and the idea of him being here was impossible.
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“Chi Yu!” a voice called.
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Startled, she turned, expecting to see her mother or Ming. Instead, a stranger stood there—a boy about her age, holding a small folded piece of parchment. He looked nervous, shifting from foot to foot.
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“Are you Chi Yu?” he asked.
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“Yes,” she said cautiously.
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“This is for you,” he said, handing her the parchment before disappearing into the crowd.
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Chi Yu unfolded it, her fingers trembling. The handwriting was neat and deliberate, the words simple but clear:
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"From Xinghua Mountain, to Sizhou. All happy events have a return. Wait for me."
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She clutched the note, her heart racing. For the first time in weeks, she smiled—a small, hopeful smile that lit up her face.
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Huayiang hadn’t forgotten. Neither would she.
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