The morning of the festival arrived like a tide of color.
From the highest pavilion of the palace to the farthest open courtyard, silk banners fluttered in the breeze. Red, gold, and jade ribbons were tied to pillars. Lanterns swayed gently, catching sunlight like scattered fire. Incense smoke curled lazily into the sky, carrying the scent of sandalwood and blooming plum blossoms.
The palace gates opened wide.
Merchants from distant towns, craftsmen from rural villages, wandering artists, potters, embroiderers, calligraphers, painters, and travelers poured in through the stone archway. Some carried baskets of wares. Some brought scrolls wrapped in silk. Others held wooden boxes tied with string, their faces full of hope and nervous excitement.
The festival that happened once every three years had begun.
