Chapter 7
The Summer Pavilion of the palace was painted hues of gold and orange to mimic the rising summer sun, but over the years, verdant vines had overtaken the structure. They coiled around pillars and fell from the rafters, draped from the rooftop and across the wooden floor. Aihi recalled her childhood, where her father had ordered, every year, for the vines to be chopped down, burned at the root, and the pavilion cleansed.
After a decade of the incessant vines returning, he had grown weary of the constant maintenance, and Aihi became attached to their reliability. Seated on her silk cushions, looking out at the canopy of wisteria, she was immersed in the essence of Seiryan summer: rows of rainbow coloured hydrangea, magnolia trees, the rush of cedar and pine spice drifting on the
