Why isn't Huaiyu here yet? That brat Zhigao... Yeah, he's heartless.
Huaiyu flew into the arena.
He started with a new tactic. It was a combination of persuasion and pressure—
Street performers are known for their ability to travel and explore new venues. To stay in one place for an extended period and compete with the ever-changing nature of the entertainment industry, they have to constantly change their jobs in order to make a living and avoid having to seek new opportunities elsewhere.
Today, Huaiyu is wielding a red-tasseled broadsword and a nine-section whip. The nine-section whip is a long whip made of iron chains. It requires the use of hidden force to keep the whip straight and the use of concealed power to make it coil back. Whenever the whip and the sword are used alternately, one on the left and one on the right, one soft and one hard, one long and one short, Huaiyu's cunning and agility always wins applause.
As he performed his act, he seemed a little anxious. Was there a new spectator on Yangzi? Had she arrived yet? In which corner was she watching him tumble and roll? In the midst of the sudden attack, the knife had almost injured him.
He didn't want her to come.
He didn't even really miss her. —Incredibly, they were in the same place again, each showing off their own skills and working on each other.
Finally, Huaiyu finished off the attack with a move called "Eagle Spreads Its Wings." After sheathing his sword and whip, he saw Dandan. Dandan smiled happily at him and even clapped her hands. Thankfully, he hadn't abandoned her, and Huaiyu felt relieved. So, he had come thinking of her.
He was a bit simple-minded, and stepped forward to say:
"You didn't do well, you were too careless. You'll do better next time."
Dandan exclaimed, "How impressive!"
"To be honest, this whip is quite difficult to handle. You'll have to carry it, right?"
Huaiyu scratched the tip of the nine-section whip against Dandan's palm, once, twice, three times.
Dandan bit her lip and quickly grabbed it, shaking and pulling it forcefully.
"Hey, you little rascal, 'smearing sesame paste,' who's making you laugh?"
Just as they were laughing and joking, they suddenly heard a bird chirping.
It was birdsong. The birdsong was clear, melodious, and very bright.
It stopped after only a few chirps: "Chirp, chirp chirp, chirp chirp—".
With a serious air, Zhigao opened a large fan with a "whoosh," as if he had casually taken it from somewhere. He first gave Huaiyu and Dandan a wink, and then arrogantly stepped onto the stage.
Zhigao first bowed to the guests who had finished looking around the martial arts arena:
"Fellow villagers and elders, I am Zhigao! Also known as 'Qiegao'—"
Seeing that Dandan was paying attention, he continued blowing:
"People call me 'Bird-Killing'. I've grown up here, and now I'm on an empty stomach, doing some shows for Boss Tang, and making a living by eating a flatbread. Please come and support me. Even if you don't like it, please give me a shout-out and don't just walk away. If you like it, please give me a few coins. This is my first time doing this. Today, I'll open your ears to a whole new world."
He spoke eloquently, as if he were reciting something he knew very well.
Zhigao gently fiddled with the lattice fan a couple more times, listing them off as if they were his own treasures: "There are cuckoos, larks, skylarks, and thrushes. Now, this fan will serve as the birds' wings. When the skylark calls—"
He tucked the fan behind him, stretched his neck, and made two "squeak" sounds, causing the fan to flap twice.
"Wow, it's so similar! So similar!"
A stir ran through the crowd. Seeing this was a new trend, even some people carrying birdcages and playing tricks on their birds came over. Intrigued by the novelty and the excitement, more and more people joined in.
Zhi Gao was pleased with himself, and then a plan came to mind.
Then he added:
"When the thrush calls, its two wings are closed—"
Those listening were captivated, their eyes wide and ears piercing. An old man, carrying a cage, was also listening, his hand stroking his beard frozen in place, only following Zhi Gao's wave and gaze. The birdsong carried far, and Zhi Gao was quite the character in the arena; one bird among a forest, and all the other birds seemed to be drowning out his voice, even making a fluttering motion...
Suddenly, the old man started shouting in the middle of Zhigao's performance:
"Oh no, my bird is dead!"
He lifted the cage up, and everyone could see that the thrush had already kicked its legs. It died shortly afterward.
The old man was making strange noises:
"How did you stir it?"
"Grandpa, your thrush has quite a temper, it's so competitive. When it heard that I imitated the crow so well and was called a shadow, it got really angry!" Zhigao laughed.
"Look! How wonderful! Look! How wonderful this 'bird-killing' is!"
The onlookers gasped in surprise. More coins were thrown into the arena.
The old man was indignant:
"You little rascal, pay me back for my bird!"
Zhi Gao hurriedly said, "I'm so sorry, I've really upset you. I apologize. But we street performers make a living by performing our craft well, and we can imitate anything perfectly—"
"Yes," the onlookers all sided with Zhigao.
"It's because he's so skilled, that's why you can't swallow your bird in one gulp!"
Just then, a loud shout came from outside the venue:
"Bark! You've run into my trap today!"
A thug named Ding Wu, in his forties, strode in with his triangular eyes drooping at the corners, his flat nose with a forked tip, and two yellowed teeth protruding from his upturned lips. He grabbed the cage and pointed at it:
"Look! What 'bird that's infuriating'? I saw that brat grab a pebble and shoot it when no one was looking. Oh, isn't the thrush lying next to this pebble?"