The Show Begins
Translator: Cinder Translations
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You Qi was like a walking mood killer. As soon as he spoke, Tang Shirou's hand trembled, and she dropped the paper head to the ground.
The head rolled a few times before hitting a box with a soft thud and stopping.
But to everyone's surprise, the stopped paper head shook slightly and just happened to turn its face toward where Tang Shirou was standing.
Under its rough craftsmanship, the torn-like eye corners curled up slightly, and a harsh red line was drawn across the mouth with a red pen. It looked as if it were smiling at her.
A chill crawled up Tang Shirou's spine.
The next second, it spread throughout her whole body.
Nightfall came quickly, just like the night before. Under the dark sky, a thin mist slowly covered the lake, drifting in from an unknown source. All three teams cautiously huddled in their respective rooms.
They lit all the candles, but no one made a sound.
They were all waiting.
Waiting for the drumbeats to signal the start of the show.
And for Young Master Huang.
Three paper heads were placed neatly in the corner of the room. Under the dim candlelight, the fatty took just one glance and felt his hair stand on end.
During the day, these paper heads had seemed crudely made. But under the flickering light at night, they looked as if they had come to life, grinning eerily.
It was the doctor who later explained to him that, despite their rough appearance, a great deal of effort had gone into making them. The craftsman was an expert, able to infuse a certain spirit into each brushstroke—something that an ordinary artisan couldn't achieve.
The fatty only half understood, but he knew that the doctor's drawing skills were impressive, especially in sketching. With just a few strokes, he could capture a person's essence. It was thanks to the doctor's drawings that they had once found Xia Meng.
They say all art is connected—perhaps this was similar.
That thought lingered in his mind.
"Hmm?" The fatty's eyes suddenly flickered.
"What are you getting all jumpy for?" Xia Meng whispered sharply, her nerves already on edge. His sudden reaction interrupted her thoughts.
Jiang Cheng turned his head to look at him. "What is it?"
The fatty hesitated at first. After a long pause, he asked in a less-than-confident voice, "Did… did you guys just hear something?"
"No."
"What did you hear?" Jiang Cheng asked in return.
"I don't know either," the fatty admitted honestly. "It sounded like… like something splashing." He hesitated again, swallowed hard, and finally said, "Something swimming… in the lake."
Xia Meng's expression changed immediately. "Are you sure?"
"I'm not sure," the fatty said, feeling nervous. "But I really—"
Dong!
All three of them tensed up.
It was the drum.
It wasn't very loud, but in the dead silence of the night, it was unmistakable.
The hollow sound of the drum echoed across the lake, traveling far.
Dong!
Another beat.
"Take your things, we're going." Jiang Cheng put on his paper head and slowly pulled the door open.
Outside, mist swirled over the lake, obscuring the water's surface. If not for the eerie atmosphere, it might have looked like a heavenly paradise.
The fatty and Xia Meng also put on their paper heads and followed Jiang Cheng outside.
With visibility so low, and all three dressed in opera costumes with paper heads, it was hard to tell who was who without relying on sound.
They moved cautiously toward the lakeside, each holding onto the sleeve of the person in front of them.
That was Jiang Cheng's idea—because in a place like this, even disappearing for just a minute could mean that whoever returned might not be the same person.
The other two teams were slightly ahead of them. By the time Jiang Cheng's group reached the lakeside, the others had already gathered there, gazing toward the opposite shore.
On the far side of the lake, faint lights began to appear.
At first, just a few.
Then a dozen.
And finally, dozens of them—bright red lanterns floating on the water, drifting through the mist.
Like countless blood-red eyes that had been gouged out.
"The drum has already sounded. There's no time to delay," An Xuan's voice came from one of the paper heads. "Let's head to our designated positions and begin preparations."
No one objected. This had all been decided beforehand.
They followed the lake's edge for a while until they found a secluded courtyard marked on their map.
It seemed long abandoned. When they pushed open the wooden door, it let out a long, grating creak.
Tonight, the moon was bright.
In the moonlight, in the open courtyard before them, stood two square-shaped red sedan chairs.
The curtains at the front were pulled open and tucked to the sides, revealing only a single seat inside each sedan.
The sedan chairs were decorated with colorful, auspicious patterns—festive and grand, as if meant for the wedding of a noble family.
But at this moment, no one felt any joy.
Because tonight, their play involved these sedan chairs.
A wedding at midnight.
"Do you all remember the steps?" An Xuan's voice carried a rare trace of tension.
"Our group, plus Brother Chen, is the first team," An Xuan said. "After the third drumbeat, we go first. The rest of you are the second team—after the fourth drumbeat, you follow to provide support."
"Remember," he lowered his voice, emphasizing, "once the play begins, no one is to speak, make unnecessary movements, or remove their paper heads and costumes. Otherwise, things could go wrong."
"At the fifth drumbeat, we switch sedan chairs. Those inside don't move."
"At the sixth drumbeat, both teams will carry the sedan chairs and split in different directions before regrouping here."
"And at the seventh drumbeat… the play will end."
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Through the eyes of his paper head, a faint glint reflected in the moonlight.
"Let's hope we all make it through this safely."
With those words, the two teams each moved toward their assigned sedan chair—something they had already decided earlier.
Each team had five members: four bearers and one "bride."
Since it was a wedding, it made sense for a woman to play the bride. In An Xuan's group, only Tang Shirou was suitable. In Jiang Cheng's group, there were two women—Xia Meng and Zuo Jing.
Even though it was just a play, playing the bride seemed riskier.
The script never mentioned who the groom was.
But everyone with a brain knew—it was Young Master Huang.
Because he was the real protagonist of tonight.
Everyone else was just supporting cast.
The fatty had expected Xia Meng and Zuo Jing—both sharp and capable women—to argue over who would play the bride.
But to his surprise, Zuo Jing agreed to take the role without hesitation.
That stunned the fatty.
It seemed that, in Zuo Jing's eyes, being given to Young Master Huang was actually the safer choice.
Midnight arrived.
The show was about to begin.
(End of the Chapter)
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