Although the Bramble Basin was constructed from bamboo strips and wicker, adorned with various colored silks, it spanned a vast area that seemed to have no end. It enclosed a fixed field of play, yet the government exercised no control over who occupied the space within. The true authority lay with the guilds spontaneously organized by various craftsmen and performers. Currently, the leader was Jin Zhongbao, the current master of "Arhat Gold," a troupe that had enjoyed fame in the martial world for nearly a century. Whether one could set up a stall and perform depended entirely on the amount of tips received during the first twenty days of the twelfth lunar month. In other words, only by contributing enough to the guild could one gain entry; these contributions were eventually returned to the performers as the foundational funds for the Bramble Basin’s shows.
The weather today was considered fair, though the northern winds were overly fierce. They whipped the silk and satin wrapped around the perimeter of the Bramble Basin into a fluttering frenzy. Occasionally, a ribbon or two would break free, either soaring straight into the azure clouds to vanish from sight or drifting slowly down to land upon the shoulder or hair-bun of a young man or woman. This would prompt a bashful smile from the lady as her companion laughingly reached out to pluck it away. I wore a mianmi—a veiled hat of pale purple gauze adorned with pearls—that draped from my crown to below my shoulders. Seeing a golden silk ribbon, two fingers wide, about to entangle itself around my head, I didn't even have time to raise my hand before Master Envoy nipped it between her fingers. She gave it a light, smiling puff of breath, letting it fly free into the distance.
Such a gale was no gentle, poetic affair for some of the performers inside. For instance, not far from the entrance was the "Soft Pole-Climbing." In ancient times, pole-climbing involved one person holding a pole while several others climbed and flipped around it in perilous, astonishing displays. Gradually, it evolved so that the person below did not use their hands but supported the pole with their forehead, teeth, nose, or chin. Now, they had abandoned the rigid bamboo pole entirely, using instead two long, supple silk ribbons. Driven by the strength of their arms, the performers would whip the silks into the air, while three to six people danced and spiraled between the two vibrant streaks of color. A highly skilled troupe could even coordinate ten people, keeping them aloft for half an hour without touching the ground. Given that these performers only had the cultivation of the Qi Refining stage, this was truly no easy feat and relied almost entirely on technique.
Amidst the sudden gusts, the silk ribbons swayed unpredictably. Yet those performers, dressed in black and light as swallows, showed no panic. As long as their toes touched even an inch of the fabric, they could leap as usual. Against the backdrop of the clear blue sky, the red and yellow silk ribbons were like lines drawn by a divine hand, as if a celestial artist had just splashed a few drops of ink onto a colorful painting—ink that had not yet dried and was still trembling as it rolled across the paper.
Then there was the Seven-Plate Dance, popular since the Han Dynasty and praised in the Yuefu poems as "graceful sleeves soaring over seven plates." It featured women as light as Zhao Feiyan, waving colorful sleeves and leaping upon plates to dance. The crisp sound of their slippers tapping against the upturned empty plates, synchronized with the beat of drums, provided both visual and auditory delight. By now, it was no longer limited to seven plates; there were dances with seventeen, twenty-seven, or even seventy-one plates. Furthermore, the plates did not lie obediently on the ground but were suspended in the air by spiritual power, spinning or standing upright without pause, while the dancers whirled among them, striking them with sleeves or feet. When the cold wind gusted, the skirts of the beautiful women were blown upward; as they danced high in the air, lecherous rogues would tilt their heads back, eyes wide, trying to catch a glimpse...
Through my veil, I glared at these hooligans, but it was useless. I could only hurry away, taking a guide pamphlet from the entrance and eagerly spreading it out for Wei Qingming to see. "What does A-Yun want to watch?" I asked with a smile.
"Weren't you curious about the beast fights, A-Zhi?" She raised a hand and pointed into the distance. "The arena is at the very end."
I shook my head. "I'm not just here to play by myself. There's no rush." Saying this, I joyfully grabbed her hand and shook it repeatedly. "Today is a reward for Master Envoy's return home. Whatever you want to play, whatever you want to have, whatever you want to eat—I, Su Zhenzhen, am footing the bill!"
Master Envoy was indeed amused by me. Following my lead, she leaned in to glance at the pamphlet and pointed to a spot: a magic show involving Tang Clan mechanisms. Recalling the set of exquisite fragrant wood dolls she had given me before, I had a sudden realization. So, this was Master Envoy's hobby. I made a silent note of it in my heart.
Since the beast arena was on the opposite edge, the two of us took a shortcut, strolling hand-in-hand with laughter and chatter. Along the way, we encountered a snack stall where the vendor had cleverly soaked haws and fruit in rock sugar syrup, dyeing them five colors and freezing them overnight in the snow to create beautiful, sweet ice treats. The vendor had even fashioned them into the shape of bird nests, resembling miniature Bramble Basins. Delighted, I bought two. I had only finished half of one when Wei Qingming actually reached out and asked for it. Under my astonished gaze, she calmly finished the entire, cloyingly sweet sugar treat.
"Slow down," she said. "Eating this in winter is too cold."
So she just wanted me to eat less. Where was it cold? It was so warm that the back of my throat felt like it was melting from the sweetness.
We hadn't walked far, having already caught glimpses of the shadow play by the "Golden Voice and Jade Throat" couple and the marionette show by the "Red Pomegranate and Green Willow" siblings. The mechanism performer, said to be a descendant of the Zhen family of the Tang Clan, merely brought out a transparent locked box, stuffed a person inside, and locked it. If they couldn't escape within half a stick of incense, they would be skewered by a flying dagger formation. After all that buildup, it turned out he was just promoting his own locks! I stamped my feet in frustration, hating that I hadn't given Wei Qingming a fresh and exciting experience. I was so annoyed I wanted to drag the stall owner out and poke a few holes in him myself. She, however, was in high spirits, smiling as she patted my shoulder to comfort me, leaning down to examine the pile of dizzyingly complex mechanism locks one by one. In the end, I still supported the business; any item her fingertips lingered on for a moment longer was swept up by me in a heap as I paid the bill.
She seemed completely caught off guard by my thoughtfulness today. With a smile and a word of thanks, she reached out to carry the heavy bag of metal, but I stuck out my tongue playfully and ran off with it in my arms.
Seeing me vanish into the crowd in a flash, she seemed to grow anxious, frowning as she called out, "A-Zhi... Zhenzhen, Zhenzhen..."
Only then did I realize I shouldn't have strayed so far from her. I hurried back, and only then did her expression relax. She no longer tried to fight me for the bag, instead taking my hand and holding it firmly.
A troupe of performers with painted faces, wrapped in animal skins, marched past playing music. This was the Dance of a Hundred Beasts. Their costumes were extraordinary, built from fine copper and soft wire frames covered in mottled silk to represent mythical figures like the Phoenix, the Qingluan, the White Elephant, and tigers and leopards. Accompanied by music and dance, it truly resembled the "monstrous beasts leaping, great birds crouching" spectacle of the Fish-Dragon Dance described in Zhang Heng's *West Capital Rhapsody*. Remembering the night of the banquet in Chunan where Wei Qingming and I had also worn beast masks—that white cat mask is still cherished and kept at home—I flipped up my veil. Smiling, I stood on my tiptoes and lunged toward her just as I had back then. Only this time, there was no mask to block us, and I kissed her lips directly and plainly.
Once the beast-men had passed, flames roared and thunder rumbled from a stall further down the road. It was a magic show, so we wandered over to watch. Although the interior of the Bramble Basin was crowded everywhere, this spot was packed tight. I finally managed to squeeze closer, only to find that the tricks were just the usual "dropping" of large objects from wide sleeves or "palming" to manipulate small items. They were actually quite ordinary. The reason for the high popularity was likely that the stall owner felt he lacked attraction, so he had thrown out a gimmick: anyone who could successfully replicate his techniques could choose any one of ten prizes. This had drawn over a hundred people, including a group of Imperial Academy students in white robes. Xie Bin and a few older ones who had finished their imperial exams were among them.
The one currently attempting to replicate "Three Immortals Returning to the Cave" was a tall, thin man with a narrow face and long cheeks, looking quite like a monkey. When he couldn't figure it out, his anxious scratching of his head made the resemblance even stronger. Wei Qingming smiled and pointed to these people, introducing them to me one by one. "That monkey is indeed surnamed Hou. He is Hou Tianyong, the one who wrote the play *The Pear Blossom Fan* that made the Yunlai Troupe famous overnight. The one next to him is Qian Danxu, the only grandson of Qian Yong, the leader of the literati."
She named a few more, all of them famous figures, many hailing from scholarly families in the two capitals, having earned worldwide fame for their talent before even reaching the age of twenty. I clicked my tongue in recognition, then tugged on Wei Qingming's sleeve with a grin. "They may be masters of books, but this palming technique doesn't care for 'thee' or 'thou.' No matter how much Young Master Hou sweats in his anxiety, even if a tear of longing shed last year has yet to reach his chin today, he still might not solve it!"
Wei Qingming knew I was using the classic joke about a long face. She smiled, and sure enough, Hou Tianyong pushed the bowls away and admitted defeat in frustration, drawing a round of boisterous laughter from his friends. I had already set my sights on one of the ten prizes. Seizing the opportunity, I raised my head proudly and said, "Let me try!" I rolled up my sleeves and chose a challenge called "The Momentary Lotus."
The name of this trick was elegant, but it was actually just taking a lotus seed, immersing it in hot water, and having it sprout and grow into a standing lotus flower in an instant. I didn't understand the mechanics behind it, so I could only use an illusion. With a smirk, I flicked my finger. The lotus seed sleeping at the bottom of the large sea-bowl trembled slightly as if waking from a slumber, lazily spitting out two green buds like little tongues. Before the ripples on the water's surface could settle, a delicate and precious yellow lotus named "Yingying" bloomed forth. The Imperial Academy students were the first to cheer, erupting into a roar of applause.
I smiled and reached out to the stall owner, about to point to a prize, but the bearded man glanced at me and actually said, "That doesn't count."
"How does it not count?" I was extremely displeased and was about to argue my case. The scholars behind me were also about to protest the injustice, but Wei Qingming gently squeezed my hand and said with a faint smile, "It's fine." With that
