Although it was already close to the first watch of the night, the streets were still packed with people, even livelier than during the day. Although Yilong was a small county, the Lantern Festival was a day of universal celebration, best displaying the flourishing peace under the emperor’s rule. Therefore, no matter how frugal the county magistrate was, he still had to scrape together a few strings of coins for the clerical expenses to purchase some lanterns for the people to enjoy. In addition, every shop also had to make some lanterns to suit the occasion, both to earn a year’s profit and as a kind of reward for their old customers.

The two of them crossed the Farewell Bridge, and saw that beneath the bridge, a riot of colors made it as bright as day. Groups of children ran past them carrying lanterns, and under each lantern gathered crowds of people admiring the scene. As the saying goes:

Let not the jade clepsydra or bronze clock urge the night away,

Iron gates and golden locks are open all night long;

Who can sit idle at home when the moon is out,

Where can you hear of lanterns and not come to see?

But more people were watching others than the lanterns themselves. It was rare for a few village girls or young ladies to come out together to admire the lanterns, and they became the targets of some idle youths, who boldly approached to say a few words of flirtation, causing bursts of laughter. The girls, blushing with embarrassment, stamped their feet and ran off in small steps, while the laughter behind them grew even louder, mixed with a hint of pride.

Charles Bolton had already slipped away on some pretext. With money in hand and it being the Lantern Festival—a night of longing—his heart was itching unbearably, so naturally he went to Cuihua Tower to look for his favorite girl.

Emily Thompson strolled down the bridge. Ahead, a street was crowded with small vendors, the liveliest place of all. There were people selling lanterns, kneading dough figurines, carving masks, setting up stalls to sell toy guns and swords. In just a short while, Emily Thompson already had two lanterns in his hands.

“Fortune-telling! Ten coins a time, no charge if it’s not accurate!” A clear and sweet voice came from the street corner. Emily Thompson suddenly remembered that boxwood comb, and his heart warmed. He picked up the hexagonal glass lantern and slowly walked toward the voice.

Chapter Six: Lantern Festival Night (Part Two)

“Young master, would you like your fortune told? No charge if it’s not accurate.” In the dim lantern light, the girl’s smile bloomed like a flower.

“I am—” Emily Thompson hesitated for a moment, took out a copper coin from his pouch, placed it in front of the lantern, and smiled, “I’m here to thank you for picking up my comb.”

“Oh!” The girl recognized him, a hint of a smile flashing in her eyes. Looking back and seeing her grandfather busy interpreting a character for someone, she pointed to the wall behind her and said with a smile, “If you want to thank me, then buy a lantern!”

Only then did Emily Thompson notice that there were more than a dozen lanterns hanging on the wall, some like carp playing in water, some like lotus leaves holding flowers—each one vivid and lifelike.

“I made all of these myself. If you want one, young master, it’s only five coins each, cheaper than the others.”

“Great! I’ll buy them all.” Emily Thompson took out a string of coins, placed it in the girl’s hand, and casually picked up a lotus-leaf-and-flower lantern.

“The rest of the lanterns are yours as a gift.”

But the girl shook her head and said, “How could I just take your money? You can give these lanterns to your family or friends.”

“I’m all alone, what family do I have? If not, then tell my fortune again!” Emily Thompson smiled slightly, glancing at the old man who was interpreting a character. He heard him say at last, “The ‘spring’ character has too much of the Qin radical; in the future, do not trust anyone with the surname Qin. Remember! Remember!”

“Thank you for your advice!” The person having his fortune told put down a few coins, cupped his hands, and left. The old man felt for the money, carefully put it into his inner pocket, then turned his head and smiled, “Young man, would you like your fortune told?”

“But fortune-telling doesn’t cost this much, does it?” The girl took a few coins, handed the rest back to Emily Thompson.

Emily Thompson did not take them, only smiled and said, “Not at all. The mysteries of fate—one word can be worth a thousand gold coins. What you say today may resolve my confusion in the future.”

“Young man is right. My decades of life experience—is it only worth ten coins?” The old man, thinking of his cheap price, sounded rather desolate.

Seeing that he wouldn’t take the money, the girl had no choice but to accept it. She lit a few more lanterns, and in an instant, the little fortune-telling stall was aglow with dazzling colors, especially bright.

“Would you like a character reading or a face reading, young master?” The girl’s tone was calm, her smile gone, and there was even a hint of coldness in her eyes and brows.

Emily Thompson was taken aback, only then realizing he had been a bit presumptuous just now. Fortune-telling might be a humble trade, but it had its own code of conduct—how could they accept charity? But if he asked for the money back, it would hurt even more. Emily Thompson felt uneasy, so he could only force a smile and say, “Then let’s do a face reading!”

“Very well! Please sit upright, young master.”

Emily Thompson sat properly, sneaking a glance at the old man. He saw that the old man’s eyes were dull and without light—he really was blind. Emily Thompson felt his face grow hot; his guess that day had been a bit mean-spirited. After spending so much time with Kong Fang the Daoist, his way of looking at people had become a bit twisted.

“How old are you, young man?”

Emily Thompson was surprised. Isn’t fortune-telling about guessing people’s age? Then he thought it over and relaxed—after all, he was in the Tang Dynasty.

“I’m twenty-three,” Emily Thompson smiled at the girl, “just come of age.”

The girl ignored him, only carefully examining his face. Suddenly, she said, “Young master, could you take off your headscarf? It’s blocking your hairline.”

She looked closely at his brows, then whispered a few words to the old man. The old man’s face showed some surprise, then he shook his head and signaled the girl to look again. The girl examined him again, but still stubbornly stuck to her own opinion.

“What is it? Is there something wrong with me?” Emily Thompson forced a smile, feeling uneasy as he thought of his strange experiences.

“Not at all,” the old man said gently with a smile. “It’s just that your features are rather rare.”