The Gu residence gleamed beneath the late spring sun, its golden roof tiles glowing like poured honey. Servants hurried about the courtyards, laughter and chatter mixing with the scent of steamed buns and sweet jasmine.
Inside the inner garden, chaos had taken human form, and her name was Gu Lianhua.
"Miss Lianhua! Please slow down!" cried Yu Meng, the round faced maid who handled the kitchens.
Lianhua only twirled faster, her silken sleeves flaring like butterfly wings as she spun across the polished courtyard stones.
"I can't slow down this part needs to look like flying!" she said breathlessly.
Yu Meng threw up her hands.
"If you fly any harder, my poor heart will stop!"
From the veranda, Gu Tianyi crossed his arms, trying his best to look disapproving and failing.
"You call that dancing? It looks like you're fighting invisible soldiers."
Lianhua gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest.
"How dare you! This is an ancient court dance from Mother's storybook!"
"It looks like ancient chaos," he muttered, ducking when she tossed a flower petal at him.
"You just don't understand how to dance," she declared, with a childish, serious face as if she knew about dance.
"When Father comes back, he'll say I dance better than the palace maidens."
"Father won't say that."
"He will! He always agrees with me!"
"Because you cry when he doesn't," Tianyi shot back.
Yu Meng tried and failed to smother a laugh.
"Young Master Tianyi, you'd best keep quiet before your sister starts throwing dumplings next."
Lianhua perked up immediately.
"Dumplings? Are there dumplings?"
"Not yet," Yu Meng said, wagging a spoon.
"But if you stop spinning long enough, I'll have some ready before your dance knocks the teapot over again."
Lianhua beamed.
"You're the best, Aunt Yu!"
"You say that only when you're hungry," the maid teased.
"That's because I'm always hungry."
Even Tianyi couldn't help smiling at that.
"At least you're honest about one thing."
---
Later that afternoon, the gardens glowed under drifting petals. Yue Qin sat beneath a parasol while her daughter practiced her dance again, this time with a small maid named Lin'er trying to copy her steps.
"Left foot no, the other left!" Lianhua said, giggling as Lin'er stumbled.
"I-I can't do it, Miss!" Lin Xian whined, cheeks red.
"You can! Pretend you're a petal! Petals don't trip."
"But petals don't have feet!" said Lin Xian.
Lianhua laughed so hard she fell onto the grass. Even Yue Qin, who had tried to maintain her noble composure, covered her mouth with her sleeves to hide her smile.
Tianyi appeared at the veranda's edge, holding a wooden sword.
"If you practiced sword forms as much as you danced, you'd be strong."
"I'd rather be pretty than strong," Lianhua replied smartly, standing and giving him a twirl that made the sunlight flash off her golden hairpins.
"You're both," Yue Qin said warmly, her voice carrying gentle pride.
"But no more jumping we don't want bruises before dinner."
---
As the sun dipped lower, Yu Meng appeared again, carrying a tray that made even Tianyi's composure waver. Steam rose from a basket of lotus-leaf rice, crisp duck slices glistened beside bowls of plum sauce, and the scent of sweet red bean cakes filled the air.
"Food!" Lianhua sang, spinning again before rushing forward.
"Aunt Yu, you're a genius!"
Tianyi raised a brow.
"You said that yesterday."
"Because she's still a genius today."
Aunt Yu chuckled as she set the tray down.
"Careful, little one. Sweet words won't get you extra cakes."
"They always do," Lianhua whispered conspiratorially, earning another burst of laughter from the servants.
The household felt alive the sound of light footsteps, cheerful chatter, the faint plucking of a lute from the far veranda. For a moment, everything was golden, like the calm dream of a home untouched by war.
---
That night, soft rain began to fall. The courtyard shimmered, and the steady drip, drip, drip against the tiles filled the silence between candlelight and sleep. Yue Qin sat by the window, brushing her daughter's hair.
"Mother," Lianhua murmured, her eyelids heavy.
"Do you think Father can hear the rain too?"
"Yes," Yue Qin said softly.
"The same moonlight and the same rain. The world isn't as big as it seems when hearts stay close."
Lianhua smiled faintly.
"Then I'll laugh louder tomorrow, so he can hear me."
Yue Qin kissed her forehead.
"Do that, my little swallow."
---
The sky had turned pale with morning mist when the sound of hooves broke the quiet.
From the veranda, Yue Qin's needle paused in mid-stitch. A strange chill crept up her spine. Messengers did not come at dawn unless something was wrong.
The guard at the gate called out softly,
"A rider from the northern border, Madam!"
Her heart clenched. For a heartbeat, she could not breathe. The silk slipped from her fingers, falling soundlessly to the floor.
Lianhua looked up from her toys.
"Mother?"
Yue Qin rose slowly, forcing her steps to stay steady.
"Stay here," she said, though her voice trembled.
The courtyard seemed too quiet as the rider dismounted dust-streaked, weary, and solemn.
He bowed deeply.
"A letter from Commander Gu Shen."
Her hands hesitated before she reached for it. The wax seal was unbroken, crimson against the pale parchment. She stared at it for a moment, afraid to open it, afraid that whatever words waited inside would steal the air from her lungs.
Then, with one deep breath, she broke the seal.
The handwriting was bold, strong, alive. And as her eyes moved over the first line "My beloved Yue Qin and our children…" the tightness in her chest broke into a soft, shaking sigh.
Her lashes trembled; relief shimmered like light in her tears.
"He's safe," she whispered.
"He's safe…"
Lianhua and Tianyi ran to her side.
"Mother, what did Father say?"
Yue Qin knelt, pulling them close.
"He's strong, but the obstacles are rough. He says it may take five months before he can return home."
Lianhua's face fell.
"Five months? That's so long."
Yue Qin smiled through the last of her tears.
"Yes, it is. But we'll wait, and we'll keep on our happy mood so he can hear us all the way from the border."
She said as if the father could really hear and feel their happy moments
Tianyi straightened proudly.
"I'll train every day until he sees how much I've grown."
"And I'll dance," Lianhua said, lifting her chin.
"So when Father comes home, I will dance as beautifully as the palace dancers to welcome him."
Aunt Yu sniffed, wiping her eyes.
"Then I'd better make extra dumplings. Dancing burns energy."
The courtyard rippled with laughter again a laughter that felt stronger, brighter, even through the rain.
That night, as the moon rose above the wisteria, Yue Qin placed the letter in her jewelry chest, beside a tiny jade swallow. Outside, the children's giggles drifted faintly through the corridors.
---
Somewhere far away, under a different sky, Commander Gu Shen paused by his campfire and looked toward the east. The wind carried a sound, soft, familiar, like a child's laughter echoing through the rain.
He smiled.
And for the first time in many nights, he slept peacefully.