But even that—even those massive, impossible letters—wasn't all.
Because the garden had been transformed in ways that went beyond just the flowers.
Lanterns hung from every tree—delicate paper and glass constructions in soft golds and whites, dozens of them, maybe hundreds, each one still glowing with candlelight despite the sun having already risen. They looked like captured stars, suspended in the branches, turning the whole grove into something magical, something that belonged in dreams rather than waking life.
Silk ribbons in crimson and gold streamed down from the branches like waterfalls, dozens of them, hundreds of them, catching the morning breeze and fluttering gently, creating movement and sound—a soft whisper of fabric against leaves that was almost musical.
