As evening fell and the sky darkened, Yunjiang Miao Village seemed to be waking up.
Lanterns were hung in front of each Stilt House, their warm yellow glow forming a continuous trail that pointed toward Drum Tower Square, the center of the village.
The crowds gradually gathered, most dressed in brightly colored Miao attire. Silver ornaments jingled as laughter and chatter filled the air.
Jiang Shu ambled along with the crowd, taking in the bustle, so different from what the village had been like during the day.
A few temporary stalls had even sprung up along the road to Drum Tower Square, selling snacks and handicrafts.
Suddenly, a stall in a corner caught her eye.
It was a simple setup: a piece of dark blue homespun cloth spread on the ground, with a dozen or so masks scattered across it.
The vendor was an old woman with graying hair, dressed in traditional Miao attire. She kept her head bowed, slowly twisting hemp cord, as unconcerned as Jiang Taigong fishing—content to let those who wished to bite come to her.
The masks, however, caught Jiang Shu’s attention at once.
Each bore the unmistakable marks of old-fashioned handcraft, with bold, mysterious designs.
Some depicted ferocious beasts with bared fangs. Others were abstract human faces, their eyes slanting upward and lips full, giving them a primitive air. Still others were decorated with tiny feathers, shells, or dull silver pieces.
Some covered only the upper half of the face, leaving the lips and chin exposed; others concealed the entire face.
Unable to resist, Jiang Shu crouched down and picked up a half-mask.
It had a deep-red base, with patterns like flames entwined with vines painted in gold and black lacquer. A close-set row of tiny silver beads, oxidized nearly black, lined its edge. It felt cool to the touch, yet the wood beneath had a gentle warmth.
She held the mask loosely over her face and looked through the eyeholes at the shifting figures and lantern light. The world seemed framed in a strange new way.
The old woman, who had been quiet all this while, finally raised her eyes and glanced at Jiang Shu. Her voice was hoarse. “Buy one, miss. Wear it during the song-and-dance show later. If you feel like dancing, you can just join in. No one will recognize you.”
Her words struck right at the heart of what had been bothering Jiang Shu!
She had been worrying that she might get swept up in the atmosphere later—or be pulled into the dancing by the enthusiastic locals—and that her social anxiety would flare up on the spot.
With the mask to hide behind, it felt as though she would have an extra layer of protection: she could take part and still disappear into the crowd.
“Sure!” Jiang Shu decided at once, her voice brightening. “I’ll take this one.”
She paid promptly and held on to the red half-mask.
As she continued toward Drum Tower Square, she ran her fingers over the mask’s raised patterns. Some of the unease she had felt in an unfamiliar place quietly faded, replaced by eager anticipation for the song-and-dance show about to begin.
A huge bonfire blazed in the center of Drum Tower Square. Its leaping flames cast shifting light and shadow across the faces around it, driving away the chill of the mountain night.
The show began.
First, an elder with a full head of white hair, dressed in heavy Miao attire embroidered with intricate patterns, stepped up to the fire and slowly began to sing an old song in a desolate, ancient melody.
Jiang Shu couldn’t understand the words, but the voice seemed to carry the weight of a thousand years, and the noisy crowd gradually fell silent.
Next came the lively reed-pipe dance.
The young men of the village began playing uniquely shaped lusheng pipes. Their music rang out, clear and far-reaching, as they moved through complex steps full of strength and exuberant vitality.
The atmosphere gradually grew more charged.
Once night had fully fallen and stars speckled the velvet-dark sky, the liveliest part began: dancing together around the bonfire.
The young women of Yunjiang Miao Village, dressed in their finest and wearing all kinds of mysterious masks, were the first to join hands and form a circle. They stepped lightly and briskly, their silver ornaments chiming.
Laughing, they sang in clear voices and warmly invited the tourists around them to join in.
Jiang Shu was watching intently from the edge when a hand suddenly closed around her wrist. A young woman in a bird-feather mask grinned at her. “Come on, little sister! Dance with us!”
Jiang Shu jumped and hurriedly waved her hands, backing away. “Huh? I can’t, I can’t. I don’t know how to dance…”
But the young woman was strong, and several others gathered around, laughing and inviting Jiang Shu over one after another. They were so enthusiastic it was hard to refuse.
The people around them turned to look, their encouraging smiles kind.
After trying to protest a few times, Jiang Shu was half-led, half-dragged into the circle.
The circle began to move. The steps were simple, but as a newcomer, Jiang Shu still found herself fumbling.
Feeling the good-natured eyes on her, she couldn’t help blushing. Then she suddenly remembered the mask and hurriedly pressed the half-mask she had been clutching to her face.
The wood touched her skin, instantly blocking most of the outside gaze.
Through the eyeholes, the world became limited and safe, as if the mask had given her a protective disguise.
She let out a small breath. Her tense body relaxed a little, and at last she managed to follow the steps of the person beside her, copying their footwork and hand movements.
More and more tourists were drawn into the circle, and the dance grew larger. Laughter, singing, footsteps, clinking silver ornaments, and the crackle of the fire blended together, creating a lively, joyful atmosphere.
Later, someone started a new variation, and the circle changed into a dance with men and women facing one another. The movements grew bolder and more uninhibited.
Jiang Shu had been dancing for a while. Once the initial nerves and novelty wore off, a fine sheen of sweat dampened the hair at her forehead.
She looked at the dancers paired off around her, their interactions lively, and felt her cheeks growing warm beneath the mask. The warning bells of her social anxiety started ringing again.
That was enough. This was just the right amount of experience.
Taking advantage of a moment when the dancers changed places and the crowd grew a little confused, she quietly let go of the hand beside her and edged outward step by step. Like a slippery fish, she slipped soundlessly out of the whirling center of the dance and blended into the spectators gathered along the edge.
Jiang Shu had left the heat and clamor of the dance circle and was standing in the shadows, steadying her slightly quickened breathing. The mask was still clasped in her faintly overheated palm.
The bonfire light flickered across her face.
Just then, someone made their way against the flowing crowd and walked straight toward her.
That person also wore a half-mask, though it was entirely different from the ornate one in her hand.
It was darker, made of wood in a more primitive style, and carved only with simple patterns resembling flowing water or vines. The mask covered the upper half of his face, leaving only his sharply defined jaw and thin lips visible.
He stopped in front of her, standing straight and tall. Even in ordinary Miao attire, he seemed quiet and composed, utterly at odds with the jubilant atmosphere around them.