Yokai Tea Party

On the chaise lounge, Xiao Xiao's hand loosely draped over his forehead, eyes half-open and half-closed. Above, branches crisscrossed, blocking the excessively bright sunlight. The white plums were translucent, their cold fragrance clear and crisp. A length of plain sleeve dangled down. ... From the paulownia tree on the other side of the courtyard came occasional soft "chirp chirp" "mew mew" sounds. Interspersed were intermittent "giggle" calls, like a child's laughter, yet carrying an inexplicable eeriness. ... The soft touch brushing his face made him smile. In his drowsy haze, he thought: Unknowingly, the courtyard has become so lively. Time for a tea party.