Six hundred years ago, Zhu Di ascended Wansui Hill and gazed down upon the myriad lights of the Forbidden City. Three hundred years ago, the Qianlong Emperor strolled beneath the White Dagoba, listening to the drifting chant of Buddhist sutras as a few startled crows rose into the cold air. Tonight, on the Lantern Festival, red lanterns hang from willow branches, and the night sky gradually takes on the background hue of an ancient silk painting. At the moment of greatest eclipse, the dark-red shadow of the moon appears like a vermilion seal left behind by a court painter, pressed again and again upon the glazed tiles of Wanchun Pavilion, and lightly imprinted upon the gilded flame jewel finial atop the White Dagoba.
