WHEN LANTERNS FOUND THE MOON* 🏮🌙

EPISODE 6: STEP EIGHT

5:41 am. Day 6.*

Li Chen was already on step 6 when the sky started turning blue. He didn’t even remember driving here, parking, or getting out of the car. It was pure muscle memory — the way the body moves before the mind fully accepts where it's going.

Step 6. The exact same step he had frozen on yesterday. His hand rested on the railing in the exact same spot, gripping the cold metal.

Step 7 was waiting. Yesterday, he went back down. Today... he didn’t.

He took step 7, then stood there, breathing hard. The musalla door was 15 steps above him now, completely closed. No sound came from behind it yet; it was still too early. He had six minutes until 5:47 am.

*5:44 am.*

Li Chen took step 8.

The grit of construction dust crunched slightly under his heavy boot. He froze, looking up, waiting to be caught. Nothing happened. Step 8 was solid. Real. It didn’t give way under him. He let out a breathless, quiet exhale.

Then he took step 9. Step 10. One deliberate step at a time, exactly the way he had heard her teaching the children: *“Slower this time. Like this...”*

*5:46 am. Step 15. The landing.*

He was standing right outside the musalla door. The door was plain — no sign, no lock. It was just a simple sliding panel with a small glass window at eye level, covered by a curtain from the inside.

Li Chen could hear soft shuffling from within. Mats were being laid out. A child whispered. His fist raised instinctively to knock, then dropped right back to his side. What was his excuse going to be? *“I’m the architect”*? *“I couldn’t sleep”*? The sheer absurdity of it made his hands shake.

*5:47 am. On the dot.*

*Allahu Akbar... Allahu Akbar...*

The Adhan started from the masjid down the street. At the exact same second, the musalla door slid open just five centimeters. Not fully — just a crack.

Her eye appeared in the gap. Dark, calm, and entirely unsurprised.

Li Chen forgot how to breathe. For three seconds, neither of them moved.

Then, she slid the door open fully.

She stood there in a long navy abaya, her hair covered, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Behind her, the three children sat on tiny prayer mats, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. The musalla was incredibly simple: clean mats, a small wooden shelf with Qur’ans, and the Qiblah marked clearly on the wall.

And then there was her. Close. For the very first time, Li Chen was standing right in front of her. He had watched from a car, from across the street, and from step 7. Now, she was barely two meters away.

She didn’t speak first. She just waited.

Li Chen’s throat felt entirely dry. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Finally, he managed to choke out, “Assalamu Alaikum.” His voice cracked slightly on the very last syllable.

“Wa Alaikum Assalam,” she said. Her voice was steady, soft, and kind. Then she waited again.

Li Chen realized he was holding his breath, so he finally let it go. “I’m... I’m the architect,” he said, instantly wishing he could take the words back. “For the site. Li Chen.”

He had given his name, though she still hadn’t given hers.

Her eyes softened just a fraction. “The stairs are open to everyone.”

That was it. No interrogation. No asking why he was lurking outside a prayer room at 5:47 am. Just a simple fact: *The stairs are open.*

The youngest child gently tugged at her abaya. “Teacher, we’re late.”

The woman looked down at the child, then looked back up at Li Chen. “You can wait outside,” she said. It wasn’t a command, just an option. “Or you can listen from the hall.”

Li Chen nodded before his brain could even process the invitation.

She slid the door closed gently. She didn't slam it in his face; it felt more like she was giving him the privacy to decide what to do next.

He didn’t go back down the stairs. Instead, he slid down to sit on the very top step outside the door, resting his back against the raw wall. Inside, the recitation began.

Li Chen closed his eyes. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear her perfectly — clear, unhurried, each Arabic letter precise. The children recited right after her, stumbling occasionally, then correcting themselves under her guidance. He didn’t understand a single word, but for the first time in 27 years, Li Chen wasn’t trying to solve a problem. He wasn’t trying to build anything. He was just... listening.

*6:05 am.*

The door slid open again. The children came out first, carrying their rolled-up mats. They peeked at him, giggled amongst themselves, and ran quickly down the stairs.

Then she stepped out. She didn’t look at him directly, keeping her gaze on the opposite wall to give him space. “The concrete crew starts at 7,” she said quietly. It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

Li Chen blinked, caught off guard. “How did you...”

“Lao Wang mentioned it yesterday,” she said simply.

Li Chen’s heart skipped a beat. She had talked to Lao Wang. She already knew exactly who he was. And yet, he still didn’t know her name.

He stood up, his legs feeling strangely heavy, as if he’d been sitting there for hours instead of minutes. “Thank you,” he said. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he was thanking her for — the open door, the fact that she hadn't turned him away, or just the words.

She nodded once. Then she walked past him, heading down the corridor toward the stairs. Her steps were completely quiet, measured, and graceful. Li Chen watched her go until she turned the corner past step 12. Only then did he finally breathe again.

*7:30 am. Site office.*

Xiao Mei slid a hot coffee onto his desk. “You’re glowing, Boss.”

Li Chen looked up from his desk. “What?”

“Your face. You just look... lighter.”

Li Chen touched his cheek, not knowing how to answer.

Down in the margins of his blueprint, he noticed he had written four words without even realizing his hand was moving: *Astaghfirullah. SubhanAllah. Alhamdulillah. Allahu Akbar.*

This time, he didn’t erase them.

[END OF EP 6]