Chapter 12 – Even Just a Dance can Overwhelm Emotions (2/2)

—A woman with an unknown name, and a relationship that could never be forgotten.

Little Gao had thought he would never see her again, and yet here she was in front of him.

—Was it a dream?

She saw him, too.

She stared at him dumbly. Was she surprised? Happy? Did she want to run to meet him? Or did she want to run away?

Little Gao didn’t give her a chance to decide.

He rushed forward and took hold of her, grasping her hands.

This was no dream, and no illusion.

His hands were filled with a feeling of rich warmth, as was his heart.

“Why did you leave that day? Where did you go? Why are you here?”

Little Gao didn’t ask any of these questions.

As long as they could see each other, those things weren’t important.

“You’re here, you’re really here. This time I won’t let you leave.”

He pulled her back up the stairs, his eyes fixed on her face.

And then suddenly, her face suddenly changed, filled with a look of horror.

Her pupils suddenly contracted in terror, and then widened. It seemed like her body would collapse.

—What had she seen?

Little Gao looked at her in shock, and he was about to turn around to see what she was looking at.

But then, his face was also filled with a look of horror, as if he had seen something extraordinarily terrible. A long time passed. And then he finally dared to look back.

He turned his head, and looked at Zhu Meng.

The look on Zhu Meng’s face was like that of a wild beast. A wild beast who had fallen into the trap of the hunter, heart-broken, furious, and hopeless. The person he was looking at was the same person Little Gao had pulled up the stairs.

Die Wu.

And in that instant, Little Gao suddenly understood everything.

Die Wu.

This woman, who he had found so enchanting, and felt he would never be able to forget, was Zhu Meng’s enchanting, unforgettable Die Wu.

—How could fate be so cruel!

But this was not fate, and it was not coincidence. Not by any means.

Zhuo Donglai looked at them, his eyes filled with the laughter of an evil god watching simple humans make sacrifices at his altar.

Freezing hands.

Everyone’s hands were freezing.

Little Gao let go of Die Wu’s freezing hands, and started walking backwards. He kept walking until he reached a corner.

Zhu Meng’s stared at his face, and his bloodshot eyes seemed to have transformed into spears.

Spears dripping with blood.

Little Gao died.

Even though his body didn’t die, that bloody spear had pierced his heart.

But this death was not a release.

—What would Zhu Meng do to him? What should he do to Zhu Meng?

Little Gao didn’t dare think about it, and couldn’t. He wasn’t able to think.

The only thing he could do was leave.

Who would have thought that just as he was about to leave, a voice would suddenly say, “Wait a moment.”

Little Gao was shocked to find that Die Wu had recovered her composure, and was suddenly unafraid to face him.

“I know you want to leave, that you feel you must leave,” said Die Wu. “But you need to wait a moment before you go.”

Composed and resolute, her eyes radiated a power that it seemed no person could resist.

Only when someone is afraid of nothing can they summon this kind of power.

Die Wu turned to face Zhu Meng. “I remember you once said that when I dance, no one is allowed to go.”

Zhu Meng’s fists were clenched, as if he wanted to grab the world and crush it to pieces, destroy everything.

Zhuo Donglai laughed. He smiled eerily at Die Wu and said, “You can still dance?”

“Have you ever seen the silkworms in spring?” she answered. “As long as they are not dead, they will continue to spin silk. I’m the same. As long as I’m still alive, I can dance.”

Zhuo Donglai clapped his hands together. “Well then, that’s excellent!”

The fox-fur cloak fell, the dancing garments fluttered.

The white-haired musician, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, stood up. His wan, tired faced looked like a piece of yellow, wrinkled paper.

“I’m blind, old and blind,” he said slowly. “My heart has long since been empty of any happiness. So, I always play sad songs for the great men here. But today, I want to make an exception.”

“You want to play a happy song for us?” asked Zhuo Donglai.

“Yes.”

“Did you think of something happy today?”

“No.”

“No? Then why do you want to make an exception today?”

The white-haired musician stared off into the darkness with his two unseeing eyes. His voice was hoarse and sad. “Even though I’m blind, old and blind, I can still sense that there is too much heartbreak here today.”

There was a twang as the pipa sounded out. The old man’s first note sounded as if it were played on a silk string that could move the soul. The single silk string transformed into countless silk strings; the pipa’s music sounded like pearls falling on a plate of jade.

Every string of silk, every pearl, was graceful and joyous. What he played today was definitely not a song of helpless sorrow.

What he played was a song of the joy of life.

Die Wu danced.

Her dancing was also filled with joy, as if she had forgotten all of the sorrow in her life.

Her life and her dance had been fused together.

Because all she had left in her life was dance.

Because she was a dancer.

In this instance, she was no longer the person who had experienced the sorrows of life, a suffering woman. Instead, she was a dancer; noble, pure and beautiful.

In her dance appeared her happiness and youth, and in her dance, her happiness and youth also faded away.

“The treasured sword is ruthless, Zhuangzi dreams no dreams;

Dance for the king, transform into a butterfly.”

The old man playing the pipa suddenly began to weep.

He played a joyful tune, yet tears filled his empty eyes.

He could not see the people in the room, but he could sense them.

—Such sorrowful people, such darkness.

His happy tune could only make sorrow more sorrowful. It was as if his joyous melody had transformed into a type of ridicule.

There was a “pa” sound as one of the pipa strings broke.

The dance was also broken.

Die Wu fell down like a leaf at Zhuo Donglai’s feet. And suddenly, from within Zhuo Donglai’s bootleg she pulled out a dagger.

The short dagger glittered like a gem.

She raised her head and looked at Zhu Meng, then she turned and looked at Little Gao.

The dagger in her hand had descended, descended toward her knees.

Blood splattered.

As soon as the dagger descended, blood splattered.

Underneath the blade of the dagger, her legs had become like two rotten logs.

After the dagger descended, she was no longer a dancer. There are no dancers in the world with severed legs.

Such beautiful legs, so lithe, so nimble, so beautiful.

(1) Don’t forget that Die Wu’s name literally means Butterfly Dance.

(2) Here he is referring to himself as “Laozi” again, which is a way to talk to people who you view as your inferior.

(3) Pipa is a type of stringed instrument.