A sea of photographers stood atop Jingshan Hill, tripods planted against the wind.

They faced south.

Waiting.

Someone beside me checked the time.

Another adjusted a neutral-density filter.

Nobody spoke much.

We all looked down toward the Forbidden City, waiting for sunset—waiting for the palace lights to come on.

~

From above, I could almost trace our footsteps.

There was the Gate of Heavenly Peace beneath Mao’s portrait.

Somewhere beyond it lay the security checkpoint where we’d emptied our bags and handed over our passports.

Beyond that stretched the courtyards we’d crossed one after another until they blurred together.

From up here, the palace looked whole.

Inside, it hadn’t.

Dani’s and my audio guides had drifted out of sync—each telling different stories despite our standing a mere twenty feet apart.

We’d wandered into side buildings that turned out to be gift shops disguised as galleries.

We’d found a hole sections of the complex hiding behind additional ticket gates.

The guidebook promised nearly ten thousand rooms.

We mostly found courtyards, locked doors, and souvenir stores.

From here, the missing pieces disappeared.

The roofs rolled away in perfect rows. Each ridge lined with tiny ceramic figures marching toward the corners.

The courtyards formed a rhythm impossible to see while standing inside them.

Only now, looking down from Jingshan Hill, could I understand the size of the place we’d spent the afternoon walking.

~

The photographers shifted on the hill.

Cameras clicked.

Dani shivered

The wind moved through us, carrying incense, pine, and the faint smell of ginkgo from the temple below.

I put my camera down and wrapped my arms around her.

The sun dropped lower.

Below us, warm light spread across the palace roofs until they glowed like hammered gold.

The walls deepened toward red.

Shadows pooled between the halls.

Someone near me muttered.

Nothing happened.

No floodlights flickered on.

No walls illuminated.

The palace slowly disappeared into the evening while the city beyond came alive instead.

Office towers dissolved into neon.

Giant video screens bloomed through the smog.

Headlights stitched bright lines through Beijing.

One by one, the photographers packed their tripods and disappeared into the darkness.

The Forbidden City faded into silhouette.

The golden roofs surrendered to shades of blue.

The blue tiles stayed blue.