In this chapter titled The Red Lacquer Music-Stand, the story opens with a boy awakening to the enchantment of dawn, overwhelmed by a sense of awe that seems to saturate the air around him. The moment feels both sacred and surreal, as shifting sunlight slices through darkness with vivid precision. He watches as morning light invades the stillness with golden slashes and vibrant red reflections, like something alive trying to claw its way into the waking world. These movements are described with such intensity that they seem to embody more than just nature—they reflect the boy’s emotional state, charged with anticipation and wonder. This early scene captures the power of perception in youth, where even familiar surroundings transform into something magical under the right conditions.

The boy’s quiet ascent into the loft mirrors an inward journey toward clarity and devotion. Once inside, the dust in the air is illuminated by sharp beams of gold and crimson, creating a sacred atmosphere that energizes rather than frightens him. He is “hot with joy,” not simply because of the warmth of the light, but because he feels himself part of something vast and luminous. Within this space, dust motes seem to pulse like particles of divine breath, infusing the air with life and movement. His fear dissolves as the darkness lifts, and with it, an instinct awakens—a need to give thanks. What follows is not a religious ceremony in any formal sense, but a spontaneous spiritual awakening shaped by beauty, reverence, and a longing to connect with something eternal.

Driven by this awakening, the boy begins searching for something worthy of the moment, something to act as a shrine. His hands move quickly, touching every item in reach—a book, a vase, a box—each ultimately deemed imperfect. Every object seems to fall short, marred by scratches, dust, or age. His eagerness is tempered by disappointment, revealing an instinctive understanding that sacred acts require worthy vessels. Then, his gaze falls upon the red lacquer music-stand. Smooth, unchipped, and gleaming with the deep glow of polished finish, it stands out not just as beautiful, but as complete. To the boy, it becomes an altar—both literal and symbolic—a centerpiece for his expression of gratitude, devotion, and wonder.

What he places upon the stand reveals the spiritual fabric of his soul. Tulip petals, memories of warmth and color; bits of wood and string, tokens of the natural world’s quiet power; and incense pastilles—burned not just for fragrance, but for their symbolic gesture of ascent toward the divine. The act is deeply personal and surprisingly layered. It shows not only his youthful imagination but also a profound understanding that holiness is not found in grand structures, but in sincerity. The blending of elements—natural, handcrafted, cultural—turns this solitary boy into a kind of spiritual artisan. Though no doctrine guides him, his offering becomes a liturgy of instinct, shaped by feeling, memory, and the beauty of small things.

As day breaks, his vigil becomes a quiet rite, and the red lacquer music-stand takes on even greater meaning. Its surface reflects the shifting light, turning from deep red to orange-gold, like a relic waking to the morning. The boy’s body is tired, but his spirit is focused, energized by the seriousness of his commitment. This moment is not simply play—it is transformation. In his mind, the room has become a temple, his act a solemn gesture, and the new day, a promise. Light touches everything differently now, not just physically but symbolically—casting an entirely new meaning onto the familiar loft.

Cultural echoes enrich the scene without overpowering it. The incense he burns, the quiet he keeps, the reverence he holds for his altar—these gestures feel universal, but are colored by specific textures and scents. Chinese pastilles release slow, curling smoke, recalling traditions far older than the boy himself. The “tarnished Venice glass” of morning implies not just age, but art—a flawed yet beautiful window into something higher. These references deepen the spiritual ambiguity of the moment, suggesting that the sacred transcends any one culture, faith, or geography. The boy’s connection is not to a named god, but to the very idea of the divine, made real through his intention and imagination.

By the chapter’s end, the act of worship—though quiet and unseen—is complete. The boy has passed from darkness into light, from restlessness into purpose. His offering, small though it may seem, carries the weight of deep sincerity, bridging the physical and the spiritual. In doing so, he enters a kind of inner adulthood—not defined by age, but by awareness. What he touched that morning was more than light and lacquer—it was the fragile, glowing edge of transcendence. The red lacquer music-stand, once ordinary, now stands as a symbol of how even the simplest things can carry great meaning when illuminated by attention, care, and reverence. Through this quiet transformation, the chapter becomes a reflection on how the sacred reveals itself through presence, through beauty, and through the instinct to give something back.