Ye Garden in Late Autumn | A Courtyard Dyed in Vermilion Under Painted Eaves

If you want to find the richest autumn colors in Jiangnan, you must go deep into Ye Family Garden. Every blade of grass and tree here is immersed in an ancient ritual called "late autumn." The maples in the garden are now undergoing a grand burning. The red is not a frivolous scarlet but a deep vermilion—like an inkstone soaked in time, or the rosy clouds flowing out of a Song Dynasty painting. They lean by the ancient pavilion, reflect before the lattice windows, and the most touching moment is when they reach toward the layers of deep gray eaves. The black tiles are like inkstones, quietly receiving this heaven-sent vermilion; the gilded ridge beasts on the roof, set against the red leaves, lose some of their majesty and gain a gentle warmth. This is "a courtyard dyed in vermilion under painted eaves"—the red is alive, rustling in the wind, while the flying eaves and dougong brackets remain still, as they have for a hundred years. The movement and stillness together paint a living autumn fine brushwork. Strolling through the garden, the fallen leaves underfoot rustle like whispers of time. Among the rugged lake stones, the verdant pines and cypresses form the best backdrop, making the red maples even more breathtaking. Turning a corner in the corridor or standing quietly by the pond, you suddenly feel that a drifting red leaf might be knocking on some long-sleeping memory. This is the late autumn of Ye Garden. It is not noisy, but quietly delivers the most intense colors to the most silent ancient buildings, brewing a garden full of intoxicating, warm tranquility. When you leave, it seems a faint vermilion autumn hue has also dyed your sleeves.