Chapter 3

　　The commercialization in the Miao village was indeed overwhelming.

Stalls and shops selling trinkets were practically everywhere, along with numerous so-called specialty stores. Yet the “specialties” inside were nothing unique—commonplace items found anywhere.

I couldn’t tell if the girls in Miao costumes were genuine villagers or tourists posing for photos.

　　We wandered aimlessly along the village’s bluestone paths. Earlier, when I’d pushed open the window in my room to look out, I’d noticed that the bluestone paths radiated out from the central square in concentric circles, connecting the stilt houses. Each “ring” was linked by smaller paths, so no matter where you were, you could quickly reach the central square.

　　“Wow, this is gorgeous!” Qiu Lu pointed at a shimmering silver ornament in a shop, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Xu Zirong, dragged along by her, resignedly accompanied the young lady as she wandered here and there. One hand was held tightly, while the other was stuffed full of local specialties and snacks Qiu Lu had bought, leaving him anything but idle.

　　My gaze swept over the area, and suddenly I noticed what seemed to be carved patterns on the pillars of a stilt house. Faded by time, they had grown almost indistinguishable from the wood itself.

These were all excellent subjects. I believe it is precisely in the most ordinary details that a people’s cultural beauty truly shines through. Conversely, many deliberately crafted sights often miss the mark entirely, like adding unnecessary embellishments.

　　I quickly raised my camera and paused to capture the moment. But in that mere half-minute interval, when I turned back, where were the three of them?

They must have wandered off, fascinated by something new.

　　I sighed softly. This was fine—alone, I could focus on capturing what truly interested me.

Hanging my camera around my neck, I sent them a message via phone, suggesting we meet at the central square. That landmark was impossible to miss, no matter which way you came from.

　　After sending the message, I spotted another wooden stilt house structure that seemed intriguing. I quickly grabbed my camera and headed over.

This stilt house contained no trace of modern technology, built entirely with traditional mortise-and-tenon joints. It wasn’t just culturally distinctive; it also held value for studying traditional architecture.

　　As I snapped photos, a sudden, inexplicable pang of dread struck me. That sensation of being watched by an unseen gaze returned without warning. My spine tingled, my scalp tightened, and I shivered—the faint buzz from the alcohol dissipating almost instantly. 

I glanced around, but the surrounding crowd was bustling with people coming and going. No one seemed to spare me a second glance.

Was it just my imagination again?

　　I set down my camera. As I turned, my peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a dark blue robe fluttering down between two stilt houses. The silver trim at its hem caught the sun’s glint for just an instant at a perfect angle.

I walked along the cobblestone path, snapping photos of anything that caught my interest and even taking pictures for a few tourists along the way. By the time I reached our meeting spot, dusk had settled in.

A towering bonfire blazed in the central square, crackling and popping. A fence encircled it, preventing anyone from getting too close and getting burned. The crowd flowed toward the square as if guided by an invisible force. Their destination was remarkably unified—the cobblestone paths leading to the plaza were packed with tourists, Miao girls, and young men.

I chose a seat near the front of the viewing area and began reviewing my photos. With a light press of the button, the images scrolled backward one by one.

　　Most captured architecture and landscapes, rich with ethnic character. As I swiftly scrolled, one image suddenly caught my eye. I froze, then quickly pressed back.

　　In the image, stilt houses stood silently on the hillside, their wooden walls weathered to a grayish-brown hue by time. Yet it wasn’t the stilt houses that caught my attention.

Perhaps by chance, the moment I pressed the shutter, a young boy walked across the frame, forever captured in the photograph.

　　His profile was captured: fair skin, a high, straight nose, and deep-set eyes—a face of fine bone structure. His rosy lips made the stilted house behind him look dull and gray. His eyelids were lowered, his expression unreadable.

　　I surmised he was Miao, for his shoulder-length hair was braided into intricate, delicate plaits, adorned with gleaming silver Miao ornaments dangling from his head. At the bottom of the frame, the navy collar of his traditional Miao attire revealed a prominent Adam’s apple.

　　He must have been moving quickly, for the stilted houses I’d intended to capture were rendered with a natural blur in the photograph.

Truthfully, this shot should have been discarded. Yet as my finger hovered over the “delete” button, something inexplicable held me back.

　　Just then, a high-pitched, resonant song filled the square, and my attention shifted from the camera to the gathering.

Unnoticed, everyone had settled onto the wide viewing platform, leaving the open square clear. Two lines of men and women in Miao attire emerged in single file from opposite entrances—men on the left, women on the right. Hand in hand, their faces radiant with smiles, they sang Miao love songs.

“The moon shines bright and clear, oh—”

The lead woman raised her voice—high yet steady, crisp without shrillness—her bearing dignified and graceful. The other women clustered around her, smiling warmly toward the opposite side.

　　Soon, a man in deep blue Miao attire stepped forward, hands on hips, responding in song.

“Without my beloved, my heart grows restless, oh—”

Miao love songs often feature simple, accessible lyrics, passionately expressing feelings for one’s beloved. Paired with their uniquely high-pitched melodies, they possess a certain charm where the profoundly common becomes profoundly elegant.

　　After the love song exchange, a man well past fifty stepped into the center of the square. His Miao attire was clearly distinct from ordinary garments, adorned with exquisite embroidery and intricate patterns. I recognized motifs of flowers, birds, butterflies, phoenixes, and maple trees, while others remained unfamiliar—likely unique totems of their ethnic group. He wore a massive, heavy black conical hat atop his head, its brim so wide it nearly obscured his entire body, adorned with precious silver ornaments.

　　This Miao man exuded seasoned composure and dignified bearing. Merely standing there, he commanded our attention, drawing our gazes and silencing us as we listened intently.

“Esteemed guests, welcome to Dongjiang Miao Village. Tonight marks our Miao tradition of wandering to make friends. Unmarried guests are also welcome to join in this grand celebration.”

　　With that, he bowed slightly and turned to leave. I overheard an elderly man seated nearby whisper to a young person beside him, “That’s the Miao chief of the village. That ceremonial robe he wears is worth over a hundred thousand yuan!”

The young people immediately exclaimed in wonder, “The Miao chief! That sounds so impressive!”

　　“Is he like a village chief?”

“Does he have government approval? Did the villagers elect him, or was he appointed by the government…?”

The group soon erupted into a lively discussion. After listening for a moment, I found it uninteresting and shifted my gaze back to the square.

　　By now, the square had erupted into a cacophony of voices. Young men and women in traditional Miao attire, along with others in casual clothes, danced and sang around the bonfire. The Miao people possess naturally beautiful voices; even amidst the chaos, their singing sounded enchanting. Some had already begun the frenzied “foot-stepping” ritual.

　　This was what Anpu had described earlier: if a man boldly stepped on his beloved’s instep and she reciprocated, it sealed their courtship.

Countless couples stood hand-in-hand, backs arched, eyes fixed on each other’s shoes. The men showed no hesitation, knocking several girls’ shoes off with their forceful steps.

　　Amidst this frenzy, I spotted Wen Lingyu, Qiu Lu, and Xu Zirong!

Qiu Lu and Xu Zirong were holding hands while stomping, while the usually reserved Wen Lingyu seemed swept up by the atmosphere. She linked arms with several Miao girls, swaying freely to their rhythm.

　　Just as I spotted them, Qiu Lu lifted her eyes and saw me on the viewing platform.

Her eyes lit up. She nudged Xu Zirong and pointed in my direction, signaling him to look. Standing amidst the noisy crowd, I couldn’t make out their words, but I had a pretty good guess.

　　Because they stopped playing tag and started walking straight toward me instead.

“Li Yuze, come quick!” Qiu Lu waved at me, as if inviting me to join some incredibly fun and joyful activity.

　　Xu Zirong stepped right up and grabbed my right arm: “Aze, don’t just sit here watching! This is a golden chance to get out of the single life—let me help you seize it! Come on, let’s go!”

　　I wanted to refuse, but first, Xu Zirong was just too strong to resist. Second, thinking about it another way, experiencing a Miao ethnic activity firsthand—immersing myself in their customs and culture—might actually be a great way to explore ethnic traditions.

Xu Zirong dragged me onto the square, while Qiu Lu had somehow brought Wen Lingyu over.

　　“Come on! It’s so much fun!” Qiu Lu shot me a meaningful glance.

Wen Lingyu’s face was flushed crimson. When she lifted her eyelids to look at me, her eyes brimmed with unsaid words.

I knew her feelings, of course, and I knew Wen Lingyu was extremely popular—the object of many suitors.

But not mine.

　　I’d always assumed my avoidance would make her understand—after all, rejecting a lady outright was rude, and I didn’t want to strain our foursome’s dynamic, at least not now. That way, she’d move on sooner, finding her true match.

　　I cleared my throat. “I’ll go check over there—I only brought one pair of shoes!” With that, I casually picked a direction and hurried away.

Behind me, I faintly heard Qiu Lu comforting Wen Lingyu and gritting her teeth in frustration.

“Useless straight guy! Serves him right to never get a girlfriend! Hmph!”

　　But before I could take a few steps, everything blurred before my eyes as several people surrounded me. It turned out my haste to leave had led me straight into a group of Miao men and women dancing and singing.