It was just a few breaths' worth of time.
In this once bustling small town, the scholars, common folk, and prostitutes...
seemed controlled by countless invisible threads, moving in uniform steps from all directions toward Duke Wu Temple, singing and dancing as they went:
"Carving wood and pulling strings, beauty and white hair just the same. Twirling sleeves before the light, casting long shadows. Joy and sorrow, partings and reunions, indistinguishable laughter and cries. Facing each other, all are guests in the Yellow Millet Dream..."
They encircled Wu Wencai and the woman who had violated the "Theater Rules," ushering them into the center and into the temple.
Behind them, hundreds, thousands... more and more people gathered, yet surprisingly orderly, without any noise or accidental stampedes.
The boisterous sound of gongs and drums contrasted sharply with this.
"Tak tak... tak tak..."
