Two excruciating weeks passed quickly, and Finley granted Abrial her long-awaited freedom from the infirmary tent. The two of them began to attend the early morning and afternoon drills of the raiding regiment, which were a piece of cake for Abrial — except the part about waking up early. Finley practically had to pour a bowl of cold water on her face every morning to wake her up, reminding Abrial that this was what she’d been so excited about, wasn’t it? So get out of bed.

As Abrial and Finley were heading to the eastward dining tent for dinner, feeling very sore from all of the drills and horseback riding Sir Niklas had enthusiastically forced the regiment to practice for hours, Lyra ran up to them, waving wildly.

“Hey! Where are you two going? Aren’t you heading to the Autumn Festival?”

“What Autumn Festival?” Abrial puzzled, stretching her aching back. “I’m starving. We’re heading to get food.”

“There’ll be plenty of good food at the festival!” Lyra bubbled excitedly and motioned for Abrial and Finley to follow her. “C’mon! Bi Gho’s poetic event is starting soon!”

As long as there was good food, Abrial was going, and as long as Abrial was going, Finley would follow. They headed off together through the maze of tents.

“What’s this Autumn Festival?” Abrial wondered aloud. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Of course, as one who had read so much that she knew everything, Finley answered swiftly:

“There is a strong tradition in the north of Gongkua of celebrating the coming and going of the seasons. The Autumn Festival, or Setting of Summer Festival is celebrated in various villages on the tenth day of the ninth month, three weeks after the Day of Shadows. Festival traditions vary throughout the north, but it generally involves gathering, eating, drinking, and being merry.”

“Yup!” Lyra chirped in agreement. “It’s my favorite part of the year! The Wei camp administration always puts so much effort into making the Autumn Festival shine!”

Abrial’s stomach growled angrily. “What kind of food will there be? And how much?”

“All kinds! And plenty.”

----------------------------------------

Lyra wasn’t kidding. In the enlarged clearing that had been cleared just for the sake of the Autumn Festival, a long table similar to the one used for the banquet after the return of the raiding regiment was laden with savory, sour, and sweet dishes of every kind imaginable. Abrial’s eyes widened and sparkled like obsidian marbles at the sight, and if her mouth had opened any wider, she would have drooled all over her robe.

She and Finley sat down with Lyra at a table not far from the food with plates piled high with buns, noodles, meat, and rice wrapped in lettuce with spicy bean paste, pastel rice cakes, and a number of mouthwatering confections.

This was the best day of Abrial’s life, for sure!

“I love the Wei camp!” she proclaimed, pastel rice cake filling her cheeks and making her look like a fiercely overjoyed little chipmunk. “And I love Autumn Festivals! I’ve never seen so many delicious things in my life! Finley, you have to try the rice cake, mm!”

Her voice was muffled as Finley covered her mouth with a handkerchief, wiping away the fluffy rice cakes bits around her lips.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth, you’ll choke.”

Abrial chewed and swallowed in a blink, looking a little grumpy. “I won’t choke! I do this all the time. Hey, Lyra — what’s that? Is it a stage? What’s it for?”

She pointed at the large wooden platform set up at the front of the courtyard, which she had just noticed. There were very tall wooden posts with silken red curtains hanging down from them, obscuring whatever stood on the platform.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Lyra said sheepishly, nibbling on a stick of candied strawberries. “It must be for Bi Gho’s event. Every year, one of the Wei camp leaders puts together a surprise activity for the festival attendees. Last year, Master Wei organized a beautiful natural display of dancing water and orchids, and he grew a garden of rare silver flowers for everyone to walk through. It was so beautiful! And the year before, Sir Niklas…well, he had everyone play this silly game he called “Truth or Dare” to win…um…” Lyra looked flustered suddenly. Abrial got an ominous feeling in her stomach.

“To win what?”

“...ahem, pieces of his armor. All of the women and a lot of the men got overexcited, so he ended up making the prize for participating a smile from him instead.”

Abrial made a face like she was on the verge of vomiting up all of the rice cake she had just stuffed down her throat. Finley looked unphased as she sipped her steaming barley tea.

“Anyways,” Lyra moved on quickly, “this year is Leader Bi Gho’s turn to put together an event. She really excels at the literary arts, so maybe everyone’s been expecting a poetic event.”

As if on cue, the curtains rose over the wide stage platform. The masses of people sitting, standing, meandering and laughing as they ate and drank their fill in the fading afternoon light hushed and turned to watch.

Standing in the middle of the grand stage, framed by fluttering scarlet silken curtains, was a divinely beautiful lady draped in robes of pearly jade silk. She was so lovely that it made one wonder whether she was an immortal goddess who had descended from the heavens.

Of course, it was Bi Gho.

She stood posed elegantly with her wide white fan spread and held at a graceful angle beside her face. Her splendid coral lips smiled with joy concealed beneath literary grace. When she spoke, her voice swept through the entire enormous clearing with the strength of a tiger, and yet still flowed as gracefully as the curve of a swan’s neck:

“Festival-goers! Women and men, children and the elderly, and all you others in between. Those who love the day and those who prefer the night, those who seek peace and those who long for adventure — gather round, gather round! Tonight, you shall view a most stunning performance, one of heartbreak and loss, rebirth and rejoicing — an original, epic play, written by my very own poetic self, titled Eternal Heartbreak and the Rebirth of Love!”

Loudly enough for everyone to hear, Bi Chanjuan groaned not too far from Abrial and Finley. On the stage, Bi Gho didn’t seem to hear.

“Hear ye, Hear ye!” she continued, flourishing her fan dramatically and sweeping luminescent long-lashed eyes over the crowds. “This play has yet no actors, and without actors, it cannot be performed! So, I ask that anyone who wishes to participate come up to the stage and drop their name into this bowl!” In her free hand shone a polished golden bowl, which she seemed to have drawn out of thin air. “I shall pull names to let fate determine who should take each of this performance’s roles, and then our adventure shall begin! Now, who will take up this honorable challenge?”

Silence in the clearing. Crickets chirped.

No one was willing to get up and put their name in the bowl.

What kind of risk was that, anyways? If they were chosen, they’d have to act out this play in front of all the hundreds of people here! And Bi Gho had hardly told them anything about it — what if they were picked for a really embarrassing character? Plus, how were they going to act without having ever practiced?!

Bi Gho cleared her throat and reached into the bowl. To everyone’s surprise, she pulled out a slip of paper with a flourish. How did that get in there? Nobody had stood up yet!

“Ah, I see we have one volunteer! Bi Chanjuan, my beloved meimei, has put her name in the bowl! Thank you for your bravery, meimei. Next! Who else is willing?”

From nearby, Bi Chanjuan’s furious voice rang out: “I’m not fucking willing! Jiejie, I didn’t put my name in, take it out right now! I’m not playing in your idiotic play!”

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“Did I hear something?” Bi Gho called from the stage, cupping her ear.

Bi Chanjuan cursed for a little longer, then gave up when Bi Gho didn’t seem to hear her.

“Wonderful! Now that we have one volunteer, everyone should feel less nervous. Come, come, enter your names for a chance to participate in the exclusive debut of this original masterpiece of a performance!”

Slowly, a few especially drunk people who had had enough liquor to stop caring about saving face stumbled to the stage to scribble their names down and place them in the bowls. Then, other curious festival-goers followed suit, rising to put their name in the lottery for a chance to see if “fate” would give them a special role in this play, until the stage was crowded with volunteers scribbling and pushing to drop their names in.

Abrial’s interest had been piqued by that line about fate determining roles. Thank goodness she had never been exposed to gambling and she had Finley to keep her away from such dangerous activities, or with her natural gambling spirit and bad luck, she would be in mountains of debt! After much prying and pleading, she succeeded in dragging Finley to enter their names as well, just for fun. At the crowded platform, they witnessed Dieter being dragged by Klara to enter their names, and even Niklas casually dropping his name in with a grin.

Once everyone had settled down into their seats again, murmurs of questions about what this play would be like and who might be chosen began rippling through the clearing. Bi Gho waved her fan to send a silencing gust of cool wind through the air. Everyone watched her with anticipation. After all, it was well-known that Bi Gho was a literary enthusiast and a graceful goddess, the Lovely Poet and Fierce Scholar. Any play she had written must be quite exquisite — and even if not…it would be fun to drink and watch fellow magicians make fools of themselves onstage!

“I shall now allow fate and the literary immortals guide me in choosing the best actor for each role.”

Bi Gho’s hand descended into the golden bowl. The first name she picked out was for the main character. As Bi Gho read the name, her eyes lit up.

“The protagonist of this story — will be my beloved meimei, Bi Chanjuan!”

At her table, Bi Chanjuan’s face paled to a shade as white as the moon, then turned green, and then flamed red. But under the expectant stare of her jiejie, she didn’t say anything, just glared at everyone who was smiling apologetically around her with a face that said, I don’t know you or care who you are, but I’ll dig your eyes out and eat them for looking at me like that, huffed, and floated up towards the stage.

“Now, the protagonist’s lover — Dieter Bernadotte!”

Two people immediately exploded into outrage.

“Jiejie, fuck no!” Bi Chanjuan shrieked, almost falling off the stage.

“Like hell!” Dieter barked ferociously from his table, face red as a tomato.

“Meimei, I’m afraid I can’t change the roles. As I said before, I have called on both fate and the literary immortals to assist me in choosing roles. Can I defy them? Do not fear; I have purposefully avoided writing scenes with kisses. In addition, you will be given the chance to hit him with the roles as such. Isn’t that good for you?”

Bi Chanjuan seemed to calm down a little, though her face was still white with rage. She studied Dieter from the stage, as though considering him as a punching bag with interest.

“I’m not doing that!” Dieter refused adamantly. “You can’t make me!”

“Dieter, c’mon, please!” cried the small amber-haired girl sitting beside him — little Klara. She shook his arm vigorously. “I wanna see you act! And be a main character! Please please please?”

Dieter looked slightly affected by her pleading, but even though his expression of resistance softened slightly, his arms remained crossed and his stance resolute: he was not, by any means, going to go up on stage and pretend to be Bi Chanjuan’s lover. N-No way in hell!

A chill seemed to blow through the clearing. All around, people shivered involuntarily. Up on the stage, Bi Gho had flicked her fan open again and was waving it before her face. Her mouth smiled with divine loveliness, but her eyes pierced through the crowd straight to Dieter like two spears of ice.

“Dieter, dear,” she called sweetly, her voice sending terrified shivers down everyone’s backs for the third time tonight. “Are you really choosing to refuse this role I toiled to write? Do you really wish to go against the will of the literary immortals?”

Her tone made one wonder whether she was talking about some heavenly immortals of literature, or herself.

Dieter’s face went pale as snow, his orange freckles standing out like fried stars beneath his wide eyes.

“N-no, Leader Bi Gho…that’s not what I meant…”

“Ah, I see. I must have misunderstood! Pardon me. Come up to the stage, if you will, then! We don’t have all day.”

With a ghostly face, Dieter stiffly stood and went to stand on the stage next to Bi Chanjuan, while Klara cheered brightly from the crowd.

“They should call her Tyrant Bi Gho,” someone muttered. “She’s scarier than a dictator when someone goes against her.”

Many hummed in agreement. Thankfully, Bi Gho didn’t seem to hear. Her eyes thawed and returned to their glittering state of graceful joy again.

“Wonderful! Our two protagonists have arrived. Let us move on to the rest of our cast…”

And so, over the next few minutes, twenty or so more people were called up on stage. It so happened that Abrial and Finley were called one after another. Slightly disappointed at not being called to be a protagonist, but still feeling a bubbling anticipation at the idea of performing in a play for fun, Abrial pulled a pale-faced Finley up to the stage to stand with the others.

When the entire cast had been filled, Bi Gho lowered the curtain and gave them all quick instructions as to how this would work.

“There will be no scripts. But do not be afraid; I am learned in the literary and mental disciplines of magic, so rather than having paper scripts to read off in such a clunky manner, all of the necessary lines and actions will be delivered straight into your minds and through your lips. You need only be present for me to direct.”

“Isn’t that just controlling us like puppets?” Dieter grumbled. He and Bi Chanjuan were standing as far from one another as possible in the huddled group of “actors”.

Bi Gho put a hand to her chin thoughtfully. “If you think about it in that manner, then, I suppose, indeed it is! You all have volunteered to be my lovely puppets for this performance. I wish you all the best of luck, and admire each and every one of you for your bravery in volunteering! I will hand out all of your roles now, with a little information on your characters for reference. Read them quickly, and then we will get to it! There is no time to waste — only an audience to awe!”

Abrial looked at the paper she had been given, struggling to read the swirling script and string the letters together.

Name: Yao Xiu

Identity: Kind magician living in peaceful seclusion with husband

Husband: Yun Shi

Her heart dropped a little at this semi-boring description — what kind of “kind” character living in “peaceful seclusion” who was married could be all that fun? — but she didn’t lose hope. If Bi Gho was really good in the literary arts like everyone said, she would try to give every character a chance to shine, right? So maybe this “Yao Xiu” would do something cool. Yeah, she totally would!

Abrial leaned her head over to see Finley’s character slip.

“Mine’s all right — who’re you, Finley?”

Finley was gripping her character slip very tightly for some reason. Without Abrial’s notice, she had already read her own and Abrial’s slips. Now, she seemed reluctant to show Abrial hers.

“Hey, what is it? Let me see!”

Abrial snatched Finley’s wrist and brought it to her face to read the slip:

Name: Yun Shi

Identity: Hard-headed magician living in peaceful seclusion with wife

Wife: Yao Xiu

Abrial blinked.

That couldn’t be right…Right?

An awkward laugh escaped her mouth, and she let go of Finley’s wrist right away. For some reason, her cheeks were flaming suddenly.

“That’s…silly!” she stuttered, laughing. “I’m Yao Xiu. It says we’re husband and wife — it says I’m your wife! There must be a mistake, haha. Right, Finley?”

Finley was silent. She watched Abrial’s face, her own expression unreadable.

“Bi Gho jie!” Abrial called. “There’s been a mistake! You got Finley’s gender wrong, this slip says she’s my husband!”

Bi Gho glided over, the curves of her hips swaying gracefully. She swept a look at their two slips, then laughed brightly, tapping the corner of her coral lips with her closed fan.

“What mistake? These are the correct roles you two were drawn for. Does gender matter? Men play women all the time in literary performances. Why can’t it be the other way around? Come, take your places; the curtains are about to rise, and the puppeteering will begin in a moment!”

Abrial was speechless. Face burning, she returned Finley’s slip. Her stomach lurched when she saw Finley still watching her intently with those glittering hazel eyes. Feeling a sudden need to cover her face that was burning for heaven-knows-what-reason, Abrial pulled up the scarlet collar of her robes like a mask and covered her face, chewing on the fabric. She looked very silly, but at least she didn’t have the weird sensation that she was standing naked in front of Finley like she had felt she was a second ago.

Thankfully, at that moment, Bi Gho’s “puppeteering” of the play indeed began. A peculiar, calm sensation befell all of the actors, their faces and bodies relaxing and filling with poise. Abrial felt like a clean, cool river was running through her mind, directing her limbs to relax and her heartbeat to calm. Those who were a part of the first scene walked calmly to their spots behind those silken scarlet curtains as if directed by an invisible force.

The curtains rose, and the play began.