Warm white light spilled down from overhead, falling on the path paved with stone slabs, on the neatly trimmed shrubs lining either side, and on the little white flowers still blooming profusely in the night.
Shoko slowed her steps.
The light brightened her heart, too. After all, getting an old stick-in-the-mud like Zhiyan to do something this romantic was a rare occurrence indeed.
Shoko's fingers stirred slightly in Zhiyan's palm.
Zhiyan turned to look at her, but Shoko said nothing. Her eyes curved with her radiant smile, and as though her mood had rubbed off on him, the nervousness in his heart eased a little.
At the end of the path stood an arch built from white wood of some unfamiliar kind. Vines and little white flowers wound around its top, the blossoms glittering under the lights as though someone had scattered a handful of silver flecks over them. A lamp hung on either side of the arch. Unlike the ones along the path, these were long and slender, resembling some ancient sort of lantern, with pale gold patterns of leaf veins painted on their shades.
Zhiyan let go of Shoko's hand.
He turned slightly aside, making room for her, and raised his other hand in an inviting gesture.
Shoko glanced at him. His eyes shone with nervous anticipation.
She did not ask what he was going to do. She stepped through the arch.
Beyond the arch was a terrace, spacious enough to hold dozens of people without feeling crowded. A low railing made of white stone ran along its edge, reaching just to waist height. From there, the distant city lights stretched out unobstructed, densely spread through the night like a golden river of stars that had spilled over and was still slowly flowing.
A pale floor covering lay