Zhou Xuan was alerted only after a reminder that just hundreds of meters ahead of the carriage, there stood a stone bridge.
The bridge was a pavilion bridge; aside from the bridge's deck and rails, from the beginning to the end, a total of sixteen stout columns supported a massive ceiling.
After the time it took for a few puffs of smoke, the carriage stopped at the head of the bridge, and Zhou Xuan woke Yu Zhengyuan: "Big Senior Brother, we've arrived."
"So soon...?" Yu Zhengyuan felt he hadn't slept long.
Snorers tend to be like that, appearing to sleep soundly, but actually, the quality of their sleep is not high. During brief naps, there's often a sense of not being fully rested.
Yu Zhengyuan stretched several times before remembering the task at hand. He hastily got out of the carriage, opened the door, and supported Mr. Dai towards the theater of the dead.
While the two men were not paying attention, Zhou Xuan, bending over, reached into the back door of the carriage and pocketed the business card, then extinguished the fire and got out of the carriage.
On the way to the theater of the dead, Zhou Xuan still had his doubts; why Mr. Dai was able to diagnose his ailment.
Could it be?
At the entrance to Dai Mansion, that which wrote on the paper, could it not be Qing Lian, but Mr. Dai?
No, that's not right,
Zhou Xuan denied this conjecture.
On the paper, he only wrote one sentence, "Can the two of us have a chat?" The phrase is very vague and could point in many directions.
It could be the heartfelt confession of a young man yearning for love,
Or a prelude to writing a draft for a letter.
But to interpret it as whispering white noise—what a stretch of imagination that would be?
"Let's just walk and see."
Zhou Xuan felt it was better to open his heart and enjoy himself, rather than to ponder blindly, for life is too short for such confusion.
He reined in his scattered thoughts, focusing on the scenery by the river.
The view of Corridor River was indeed nice, delicate like a fine jade in a humble setting.
Along the riverbank, many small Maitreya Temples were built, only slightly larger than ordinary shops.
"These Maitreya Temples, are… odd… oddly delicate, small yet exquisite."
He was at a loss for words.
Even someone as good at flattery like Yu Zhengyuan struggled to find the precise words to praise the small Maitreya Temples.
They were indeed very small,
Buddhist temples are typically known for their grandeur.
To display such grandeur, the simplest approach is to build large and tall, making the imposing nature naturally apparent.
If funds are lacking and grand temples cannot be built, there's still a way: make the Buddha statues smaller.
Small Buddhas make the temple look bigger, similar to the effect of pulling up a belt to make the legs appear longer, creating an illusion through visual effects.
However, these adjacent Maitreya Temples not only had small buildings, but the Buddhas within were also enormous, with their heads almost touching the temple's canopy. Due to their wide girth, the Buddhas squeezed the pathways on both sides, leaving only enough room for half a person. If worshipers were slightly overweight, they couldn't even squeeze through the aisle when turning sideways.
At first glance, Zhou Xuan felt a sense of suffocation for the Maitreyas.
"This is the custom around Corridor Bridge. The people here are poor and fear disasters. Whenever there are imbalances in wind and rain, every household would resort to chewing tree bark, so even without money to build large temples, they make the Buddha statues very large, praying for Lord Buddha's mercy to control the weather."
Mr. Dai pointed to an elm by a house nearby, saying, "In the past when there were disasters, they chewed that kind of tree, felled it, peeled off its bark, dried and ground it into powder to eat!"
"Alas!"
Yu Zhengyuan sighed, feeling a deep empathy for natural catastrophes.
Zhou Xuan then said to Mr. Dai: "So, Mr. Dai, are you a local from Corridor River?"
"Xiao Xuan, you are mistaken. Mr. Dai is from the Capital City; he came to Ping Shui Prefecture early on in business. How could he be..."
"That's right, I'm from Corridor River. Class Leader, you have a keen eye."
Mr. Dai continued towards the elm tree at his own pace.
Yu Zhengyuan asked secretly: "How did you figure out Mr. Dai is a local?"
"Ha, just look at Mr. Dai, doesn't he resemble an old man searching for his roots? Carrying boundless nostalgia for his hometown? There's sorrow in every word he speaks."
"You can discern that? Your ears are quite sharp. Ah, Mr. Dai, be careful..."
Mr. Dai walked in front of the tree, where there was moss underneath. He accidentally stepped on it and nearly slipped.
Yu Zhengyuan ran over quickly and steadied him, asking, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine. Now the people of Corridor River have become wealthy. When people become rich, they no longer want to see reminders of poverty, including trees."
Mr. Dai gently patted the elm, praising, "Now, fewer people in Corridor River plant them, but they are good trees, good trees. You have never tasted the tree bark ground into powder. It's quite good, soft and mellow."
He wasn't just sentimental about trees,
As they walked all the way to the performance stage for departed souls, every few tens of meters, Mr. Dai would stop, and at every house, every small temple, even the railings by the river, he would explain a thing or two.
Anyone unaware would have thought Mr. Dai was a tour guide, leading Yu Zhengyuan and Zhou Xuan on a one-day tour of Corridor River.
With the frequent stops and ponderings, by the time they arrived at the supernatural performance stage, they had already missed the agreed time.
The play was scheduled to start at ten o'clock, and by the time they arrived, it was already half past ten.
Reporters from various newspapers, armed with long guns and short cannons, were waiting. Upon seeing Mr. Dai, they swarmed over.
"Mr. Dai, what's the next charity plan for the benevolent society?"
"Public friends think that doing charity for death row inmates is meaningless, what is your take on this?"
"This year, Ping Shui Prefecture is going to greatly promote industry. Mr. Dai, could you talk about the prospects of this policy?"
There were all sorts of questions.
Zhou Xuan didn't find them noisy, but thought their flashlights were too glaring, a snapshot like arc welding, that sizzled painfully in his eyes.
Apart from the reporters, Xu Li and Second Master's Wife Song Jie were also there, both dressed in cheongsams with heavy makeup, looking very formal.
"Ah, Xiao Xuan, no trouble driving, right?" Xu Li greeted Zhou Xuan.
"Driving, you can learn it just by looking a few times. Sister-in-law, why have you come?"
Xu Li whispered in Zhou Xuan's ear, "See those newspaper reporters? They were all invited by Mr. Dai for interviews. Mr. Dai also allowed us from Zhou Family's Troupe to promote ourselves, so the Class Leader asked me and Song Jie to come over. We both have a very proper image."
Oh,
So that's how it was.
Indeed, there really was no such thing as a free lunch. The small amount of money to arrange a play for six death row inmates was nothing compared to the good reputation spread through the newspapers.
The interview took a long time, and the focus was mostly on Mr. Dai. Xu Li's makeup was almost melted by the sun before it was time for their interview.
But she was happy, after all, she didn't spend any money to get the newspaper coverage, so what was there to complain about?
The audience waiting to watch the play, on the other hand, was constantly complaining.
The audience was mainly local folks from Corridor River. Hearing that there was a supernatural play performed by Zhou Family's Troupe and that it was free to watch, anyone who wasn't busy came with their own stools.
After waiting for a long time, however, the play had not yet started, and they were naturally getting anxious and frustrated.
Finally, after the interview was over, Yu Zhengyuan sought permission from Mr. Dai, and after receiving it, the eldest senior brother gave a thumbs-up to the master calling the performance.
The prompter with an iron megaphone announced the invitation for distinguished guests to take their seats.
Several disciples from Zhou Family's Troupe acted as temporary porters, carrying the six death row inmates to the main seats in the auditorium.
Dressed up clean and smartly, the six convicts were settled in their seats, but the locals watching the play moved back a bit, and some couldn't help spitting on the ground in disdain.
With the six seated, the supernatural performance officially began.
The play performed as brilliantly as ever, Zhou Xuan felt that the actors of Zhou Family's Troupe were very professional, whether it was the singing or the movements, not inferior to the professionals at all.
However,
The play was chosen by Mr. Dai, the selected scenes were from "Yutang Spring," with more dramatic acts and fewer martial arts acts.
The audience below was listless.
"Why isn't there any somersaults?"
"No one is swinging a flowery spear, it's boring."
They didn't care whether the play was well performed or not, they were just hoping for something exciting, to see a martial artist standing on several stacked tables, flipping backwards.
Even though most people were unsatisfied with the play, very few left early.
They had come all the way...
And from time to time, the troupe masters were giving out free candy and seeds with burlap bags.
The play wasn't great, but munching on sunflower seeds was quite enjoyable.
Zhou Xuan listened to most of the play, initially finding it entertaining, but as it went on he began to feel sleepy. He fetched two long benches from backstage, placed them beside the stage, joined them together to make a makeshift bed, and lay down preparing to sleep.
Before sleeping, he wanted to study the business cards in his pocket.
Just as he laid down, he noticed something off about the audience watching the play,
Most of the audience members were local people from Corridor River.
Among them, at least one-third had heels that couldn't touch the ground, standing on their tiptoes, and when sunlight shone upon those people, there were no shadows on the ground...
"Swoosh,"
Zhou Xuan abruptly sat up from the long bench. With his experience as a ghost, he could tell that this one-third of the audience members, were not alive...