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(SOL–PENT UPON THE SEVENTH STEP.)  Whereupon the sun musters devoir to the sky and the stars waltz in blithe augury, they spill the light upon the ballad of Xu Minghao’s red-lettered centennial.

The night breeze calls out to the brightest star in the sky, the Thespian bound to the milieu watercolor of the heavens, pulling him in. Stardust breeds adulation as the tide of the seventh of November washes over, bearing the fruits of virtue arising with the day of THE8. The stars, scattered, gather to whisper him across the ether: he who walks the dreamy lands, who paints peace upon orbit and creates art in every revolution.

On this day, the stars slow down. The world turns a bit gentler, painted in soft shades and silver hues that follow his path. XU MINGHAO, may your days be as soft as the stardust and moonlight that molds you.

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