(a little zhongven-ish thing i wrote for a random competition)
Despite the late hour, the city never had been more lively. The moon hung high in the sky, though the light reflected by it drowned in the lights of the lanterns on the ground.
Golden specks reflected in the lotus ponds and the eyes of children running through the bustling streets, holding lanterns of their own or tangren on sticks, that also amazed any foreigners who had travelled the distance to witness the festivities.
The air was pregnant with a variety of scents, sweet and smoke and spice convoluted into the event's very own fragrance that was as familiar to him as the back of his hand.
The wood underneath him creaked with every new figure that made their way onto the bridge over the street, the perfect spot for a view of the harbour.
Sitting at a small table, he held onto his cup of tea, a small cloud raising from it in the autumn cold and his gloved fingers tracing the porcelain absentmindedly.
A child holding tanghulu ran by the table, causing it to shake a bit with its steps. The man held onto his tea as he stared into the cup, reminiscing.
No amount of lanterns and laughter managed to take away the inherent numbness of his heart, though.
Sipping on his tea as if it could give him back the warmth he had missed, he looked up at the sky, a few stray sky lanterns rising into the darkness until they vanished.
He had seen this sight more often than anyone and not everytime it had been lanterns vanishing.
The other seats at the table were empty, one by one had been abandoned through the course of time until he was left with no one to share the tea with.
With every one of his friends leaving, a numbness clung to his heart, a stone in his stomach that not the best tea in the world could melt, nor the warmth of any lantern.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Around him was noise, around him was laughter and shouting and music and life, something he had witnessed ceasing.
After millennia, he was still in the same spot. The landscape had changed, structures had fallen and risen like the tide, and every opening of his eyes brought upon a new day, though nevertheless as empty as the one before.
A gust of wind ruffled his hair and clothes, bringing a sweet scent of apples and wine, and upon opening his eyes, he watched the steam from his cup swerve like a sail. In the dark tea a pair of light eyes reflected, a warm smile on a soft face.
“Would you mind if i joined you here, 老朋友?”
The words reached his ears like a long forgotten ballad, still the same after all this time and immediately recognized by the beating heart in his heavy chest.
A hand was extended, pale fingers on a package sliding it across the table until it reached the middle. The same fingers unwrapped it with sweet care, and revealed mooncakes.
The same fingers had waved at him in the past, had held him as if to keep him from falling apart, had become his anchor until they had disappeared into the depths and left him behind.
One of the mooncakes was taken by the other, and a smile still plastered onto their face.
“Have some, you look a bit empty”
He was. He had been empty ever since his friends had passed, one by one vanishing either into the afterlife or the world.
But seeing this familiar smile across from him, the warm glow of the lanterns shining onto them, the heavy rock in his stomach was replaced by a softness.
He smiled, and for the first time in a while it had been genuine. This gained a soft chuckle from the person across, who raised the mooncake to their lips and bit into the golden dough.
He finally reached for a mooncake himself, and the sweetness melted his sorrows for a night.
