Chapter 21: Lanterns Hung at Yunying Pavilion, Su Jin Vanishes Amidst the Illusion on Stage

Lanterns painted the evening clouds, and the bright moon shone upon drifting clouds.

Passing Rouge Lane, the streets to the east grew livelier. On makeshift stages lining both sides, young attendants in black clothing used bamboo poles to hang crafted lanterns upon racks. Silk streamers for the Lantern Festival cascaded from the stages, forming dazzling clusters.

The citizens of the city walked, sat, or stood, gesturing at the raised stages and discussing the performances. Carriages for lantern viewing rolled leisurely by, inside which elegantly adorned ladies covered their mouths and laughed softly, playing to the refined tastes of their gentlemen.

By the river south of the mansion, many women in plain dress pushed lotus lanterns they had folded earlier into the water. Stars reflected in the river, and the lanterns drifted farther and farther, comforting unknown wandering souls.

Seizing the east wind, carriages in pursuit of wild fun also stopped by the riverside valley. As floral trees blossomed in the night sky, the poets, now weary, drew coquettish, bashful maidens into their carriages to indulge in another kind of romance...

Fifteenth day of the eighth month, thirteenth year of Jian'an, West Market, Cloud Shadow Quarter.

Early hour of the Dog.

Cloud Shadow Quarter ran north-south along an official canal, with several sky bridges spanning it.

Clouds floated above the bridge, shadows fell upon the water; hence, the previous prime minister of Jian'an, Li Guangfu, personally named the place Cloud Shadow.

Pedestrians crossed above, performances took place below.

Unlike the bridges elsewhere in the city quarters, the sky bridge of Cloud Shadow was the grandest among the seventy-two quarters, leaving a vast open space beneath.

The area under the bridge was perfect for performers; gentlemen young and old loved to come here for amusement and diversion. All kinds of people gathered, and over time it became a hidden hub for the wandering trades of the underworld.

With the Lantern Festival in full swing, everyone from every walk of life was present: artists from the Western Regions, actors from Jiangnan. If one wished to see unusual acts, here was the place.

Vendors selling candied hawthorn, cakes, and fried leaves wove through the crowds—this was the best business of the year. The eateries in the quarter also set up stalls, offering fried lamb legs, milk cakes, stinky tofu, coconut pastries...

In the open spaces, wandering doctors sold medicine, fortune-tellers set up stands, Western Region performers showed off their tricks, and runners took the opportunity to hawk iced pear water among the spectators.

Ma Sitiger and his daughter Su Jin wandered leisurely, unknowingly arriving beneath the bustling sky bridge.

The commander of the northern desert, now without his sword, carried instead many novel trinkets: a cricket jar woven from grass and bamboo, with a dark cricket chirping inside; a clever birdcage hung from the buttons on his chest, holding a green-feathered parrot.

“Ah Jin, I've told you to slow down. Be careful not to fall,” Ma Sitiger said gently, watching Su Jin, who also carried many items as she strode ahead.

“I won’t! Aren’t the horses of the desert much bumpier than these?” Su Jin replied, tossing a candied hawthorn into her mouth and making a mischievous face at Ma Sitiger.

“Then do you like the desert more, or Jian'an’s capital city?” Ma Sitiger glanced at the bustling city and softly asked Su Jin.

Su Jin pouted and pretended to ponder for a while before smiling brightly, “I like both.”

Her odd demeanor made Ma Sitiger laugh heartily. He reached out and flicked her forehead, saying helplessly, “You really are greedy, wanting both the fish and the bear’s paw.”

“Father, don’t hit my head!” Su Jin rubbed her forehead in protest—not out of pain, but embarrassment with so many people watching.

Ma Sitiger smiled without replying. Su Jin spoke again.

“I still prefer the desert.”

His smile lingered but turned somewhat stiff. He asked, “You don’t like Jian'an’s capital?”

Su Jin thought for a moment, dimples showing as she smiled, “I do like Jian'an, but I prefer the desert’s wind, its snow, its sunsets and yellow sands. And moreover—”

She paused, then continued, “Moreover, the desert has Father and my brothers.”

“That’s a sweet tongue you have,” Ma Sitiger laughed.

Su Jin, holding her candied hawthorn, flitted through the market like a butterfly. Ma Sitiger glanced back and murmured, “I wonder whether those two are from the Six Gates or the Northern Garrison…”

“He’s noticed us?” Standing before the mask stall, the stargazer Qi Jingmo lowered his voice.

“There’s already word in the quarter that Ma Sitiger, commander of the northern desert, is a first-class martial master. You think he hasn’t spotted us?” the smoker Hua Banxia replied irritably.

“That won’t do, I need a mask to hide myself.” Qi Jingmo muttered, grabbing a Monkey King mask from the stall and putting it on.

“Ten coins,” the stall owner demanded.

“Ten? Why not just rob me?” Qi Jingmo glared. What usually cost three to five coins was now ten for the Lantern Festival.

With crowds flocking in, price hikes were common. After some argument, Qi Jingmo reluctantly handed over ten copper coins.

“Not enough, it’s now twenty,” the stall owner said, eyeing Qi Jingmo’s coins.

Qi Jingmo fumed, “You—”

Before he could finish, the stall owner pointed, and Qi Jingmo saw Hua Banxia sauntering off, wearing a long-eared goblin mask.

She hadn’t paid!

“Twenty coins.”

“No money.”

“Twenty coins.”

“……”

Under the sky bridge, a crowd gathered to view lanterns, and many performers showed their skills.

One performer, with a hundred-pound stone on his chest, had his partner swing an iron hammer, which came crashing down. The stone shattered, yet the man stood unharmed.

The monkey trainer had several monkeys jump through flaming hoops, walk tightropes, and climb iron trees, as if they understood human ways.

Another master spat purple-red fire, turning it into dazzling blossoms.

Each performer displayed their prowess, but what drew the most spectators was a group of Western Region foreigners.

They cordoned off a space and began their show.

Su Jin and Ma Sitiger squeezed into the crowd. The foreigners were performing a trick called “planting melons.”

The stall was surrounded three layers deep. Two masked foreigners took out a small pouch of melon seeds. One dug a pit, the other dropped in two seeds.

Chanting strange incantations, a miraculous scene unfolded. A green vine slowly broke through the soil, growing rapidly to over two feet.

In a blink, a large watermelon appeared on the vine.

As soon as it ripened, the vine vanished into the earth.

One foreigner took a curved blade and skillfully sliced open the watermelon, speaking to the crowd in halting Zhou language, “Taste.”

Watermelons were common in the desert but rare in Jian'an. The crowd scrambled for a taste.

The melon trick piqued the crowd's curiosity. One bold spectator called out, “Planting melons isn’t so special. Can you conjure a woman for us? That would be real magic!”

The two foreigners exchanged glances. One laughed, “That’s not difficult. Watch my skill.”

He drew a scroll from his robe. At first, it was palm-sized. With a few flicks, he tossed it into the air, where it unfurled to more than ten feet high.

The spectators looked up. Upon the scroll was a painting of a foreign woman playing in water.

Her jade feet dangled in the stream, clothed only in white gauze, her graceful figure barely visible through the mist. The crowd swallowed hard at the sight.

“Bravo!” someone shouted, and soon everyone was cheering.

Copper coins flew onto the open space, soon covering the ground.

The foreigners smiled, ignoring the coins.

“Shall I summon this beautiful lady?” one asked.

The crowd nodded eagerly, tossing coins with even more enthusiasm until they carpeted the ground an inch deep.

“Sister, come forth!” the foreigner bowed respectfully to the painted lady.

Before all eyes, the woman seemed to come alive. Color bloomed on her face, her figure became three-dimensional, and soon she stepped out of the painting.

Every smile and gesture was lifelike.

The local townsfolk had never seen such a spectacle; their eyes were fixed, longing to burrow into the foreign lady’s neckline.

Barefoot, she walked up to Su Jin and smiled, “Little sister, the palace in the heavens is lonely. Would you like to accompany me?”

The crowd cheered, “Go with her, see what the celestial palace is like.”

Su Jin, amused, nodded—she’d seen many tricks, none so dazzling, and her curiosity was piqued.

Ma Sitiger frowned slightly. Though they were just performers, years of warfare had made him wary of foreigners.

“Ah Jin,” Ma Sitiger began, but Su Jin gave him a pleading look.

He sighed, unwilling to dampen her spirits, and nodded in consent.

Mist swirled as the barefoot foreign lady gently led Su Jin into the painting, and they vanished.

“What a splendid trick!” the crowd cheered.

The mist cleared; the scroll fell to the ground with a smack. The lady was gone, and so was Su Jin.

“Where is she?” Ma Sitiger’s eyes turned cold as he moved to seize the two masked foreigners, but with a strike, they turned out to be straw puppets.

“Grab the money!” someone shouted, and chaos erupted as spectators and passersby scrambled for the coins, half the street converging.

Amidst the confusion, several dark figures quietly dragged a wooden chest away.

By the time Hua Banxia and Qi Jingmo fought their way into the crowd, they only saw Ma Sitiger’s face dark with rage.

“Something’s happened. Hurry and send word to the Six Gates,” Hua Banxia said gravely.