Chapter 49 · Galaxy in First Lanterns

Tokyo's twelfth lunar month arrived quietly. As Grandma Chizuru hung paper lanterns in the entryway, a bronze bell on the eaves chimed in the crosswind, its ding-dong carrying the faint scent of osmanthus—from the osmanthus tea Su Qinghuan had brewed that morning, wafting through the vents.

"Little Peach, bring out last year's carp lanterns." Grandma Chizuru tiptoed to adjust the lantern tassels. "We need twelve this year, one for each spirit pattern envoy's memory."

Little Peach emerged from the inner room hugging a faded cloth bundle, golden powder clinging to her hair from rummaging. Unwrapping it, twelve carp lanterns lay revealed, each canvas worn by time: an armored general (Yuekui), a double-bunned girl (Chizuru), a aproned woman (young Su Qinghuan)… The last lantern was blank, painted with only a half-star.

"This is mine." Lin Ye took the final lantern, his Reverse Scale Core warming at his waist. The moment his fingertip touched the canvas, ripples of light appeared—the face of Yuekui as she'd carried Chizuru through ruins on that stormy night three hundred years ago, her cherry-blossom hairpin shining.

"It's me." Yuekui's voice emerged from the lantern, clear as melting mountain snow. "We always said that after the war, we'd hang a string of long-burning lanterns at Locking Dragon Abyss, each holding a 'reunion'." Her gaze swept over them. "Now I'll complete the last one for you."

In the afternoon, a lantern frame was set up under the Spirit Pattern Tree. Sakura adjusted projections on her tablet, Jiu's murder of crows brought golden powder to adorn the lanterns; Su Li used her spatial spirit pattern to project images of Locking Dragon Abyss three hundred years ago onto the ground—creeks, campfires, and wounded envoys materialized. Asagao sat beside Little Peach, teaching her to gild the carp lantern's fins: "Draw wave patterns here, like scales on General Yuekui's armor."

"Captain, why doesn't this lantern have a name?" Little Peach held up the blank one.

Lin Ye looked at Yuekui's phantom in the lantern, recalling her words from a dream: "The brightest star belongs to the most precious 'now'." He took a stardust meteorite fragment from his pocket—given by Grandma Chizuru that morning, said to be the last remnant of Yuekui's spirit when sealing the pollution.

"Call it 'Now'." He inlaid the fragment into the canvas. "Because all 'reunions' exist in every 'now'."

At dusk, the twelve carp lanterns lit up one by one. Warm yellow light filtered through their painted patterns, casting twelve shadows on the ground: Yuekui's armor reflecting campfire light, Chizuru's sugar painting fluttering in the wind, Su Qinghuan's apron scented with rice balls, Lin Ye's Reverse Scale Core glowing with Yuekui's spirit pattern core… The central shadow was brightest, showing Lin Ye and Little Peach hand-in-hand—Little Peach holding a carp lantern, Coalball perched on her shoulder, tail brushing the lantern's star.

"Turns out lanterns can hold time." Grandma Chizuru smiled, touching the tassel, her tear mole gilded by light. "I used to think reunion meant returning to the past, but now I see…" She looked at Little Peach's shadow. "Reunion is someone willing to make every today a yesterday worth remembering."

Late at night, Lin Ye sat alone on Tokyo Tower's deck. The Reverse Scale Core hovered over his knees, starlight flowing with today's lantern scenes: carp lantern glow, Yuekui's smile, Little Peach tiptoeing to hang lanterns… Each was like crushed starlight falling into his spirit pattern core, melting into warmer gold.

"Captain." Little Peach's voice came from the stairs. Wrapped in his new scarf, holding Coalball, golden powder in her hair from play, she said: "Grandma Chizuru says Yuekui's lantern will shine extra bright tonight."

Lin Ye looked at her lantern-lit face, recalling that stormy night three hundred years ago when he'd carried injured Yuekui, murmuring "Little Peach, don't be afraid". Now he held Little Peach, standing on first snow, thinking: Yuekui, look—we're all safe.

Wind swept the tower, lifting a golden cherry petal that fluttered to the lantern frame, landing on the last carp lantern. The star in the lantern suddenly shot into the sky, becoming a new star—brighter and warmer than the one Yuekui had sealed with three hundred years ago, as if saying:

"Reunion is never an end. Every 'now' is worth remembering, cherishing, and reheating with love."

Somewhere far away, a healed soul watched, smiling softly. It was Yuekui, and every "Reunion Knot" once wrapped in love.