Tides of the Hidden garden

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the horizon with hues of orange and gold. Inside the tall, stone walls of an elegant yet somber household, a young boy sat by the edge of a koi pond, watching the fish glide through the water. **Yin Zian**, no older than eight, dipped his fingers into the cool water, yearning for something beyond the quiet solitude of his home.

"Zian!" his mother's sharp voice broke the silence, making him flinch. She appeared in the doorway, her expression stern. "How many times have I told you not to sit idle? Practice your calligraphy. Your future depends on discipline, not daydreaming."

Yin Zian obediently stood, bowing his head. "Yes, Mother."

His father, a towering figure draped in fine silks, added, "And no playing with the village children. They will distract you from your studies. Remember, you carry the weight of our family name."

Zian nodded silently, retreating to his small study. Yet, as he passed the garden's gate, his gaze lingered on the world beyond—the bustling village he could only glimpse through cracks in the stone walls.

---

The next day, while practicing his calligraphy under the shade of a cherry blossom tree, Zian heard a rustling noise. Startled, he turned to see a boy his age climbing over the garden wall. The boy's grin was as bright as the sunlight filtering through the trees.

"Hey!" the boy whispered, brushing off the dirt from his simple yet vibrant clothes. "I'm **Hua An**. You live here, right? This place is huge!"

Zian blinked in surprise, unsure how to respond. "You… you're not supposed to be here," he stammered.

Hua An laughed, unconcerned. "Rules are boring. Besides, I saw you yesterday by the pond. You looked lonely."

"I'm not lonely," Zian replied quickly, though his voice betrayed him.

Hua An tilted his head, studying him. "Then why are you talking to me?"

Zian hesitated but eventually smiled—a small, shy curve of his lips. "Maybe I am a little lonely," he admitted.

From that day, Hua An became a regular visitor. He came from a different sect, one known for its free-spirited ways, unlike the strict and reserved environment Zian was raised in. Hua An would sneak into the garden, bringing small gifts like wildflowers or fruit from the market. Together, they laughed, played, and shared stories under the cherry blossom tree.

For Zian, Hua An's presence was like a ray of sunlight piercing through the dense fog of his life. For Hua An, Zian's quiet and thoughtful nature felt like a calm harbor after the storms of his own chaotic world.

---

But happiness is often fleeting. One day, as they sat by the koi pond, Hua An's usual smile was absent.

"My parents found out I've been coming here," he said quietly, avoiding Zian's gaze. "They said I'm not allowed to see you anymore. Our sects… they don't get along."

Zian's chest tightened. "But you'll come back, right? You promised you'd show me the festival lights next month."

Hua An forced a smile. "I'll try."

Days turned into weeks, but Hua An never returned. Zian would sit by the garden wall, hoping to hear the familiar rustling of leaves or see the bright grin that had brought color to his gray world. But the silence remained.

Trapped by the walls his parents had built around him—both physical and emotional—Zian couldn't even leave to search for his friend. And so, the garden, once filled with laughter and companionship, became a place of bittersweet memories.