Chapter 87 Cherry Blossom Viewing 5 Flower Wedding
The three of you ran in different directions, while you followed the direction of the eaves and rushed in headfirst.
Upon entering.
There are two entrances.
Click. Click. Click-click-click-click.
You staggered back a few steps, and cherry blossoms rushed towards you like a gust of wind and rain.
Accompanied by the crisp sound of a shamisen being plucked, several paper doors opened one after another, revealing a flat tatami floor covered with a thick red velvet carpet.
Several lanterns painted with gold patterns hung from the ceiling, their soft light barely illuminating a corner of the room. Finally, a dazzling beam of light, completely out of place with the scene, shone in the center of the house.
This is... a stage?
As the drumbeats gradually rose, the sounds of the shamisen and shakuhachi intertwined slowly, creating a solemn and somber atmosphere.
You rub your eyes to make sure you're not hallucinating, and quickly crouch down behind a clump of potted plants to hide. Your eyes, however, are drawn to the two main characters in the center of the stage—the groom is dressed in a magnificent black and gold kimono, with a long sword hanging at his waist as a symbol of his status.
He wore a mask identical to the masked man's, except his mask had detailed facial features, and his brows revealed a condescending indifference. His eyes, outlined in ink, scanned the audience, as if he had everything under control.
The bride was dressed in a white kimono, with a thick hood that completely covered her face, leaving only her white-painted jawline visible.
She lowered her head, remained silent, and was quiet and beautiful.
"She was originally an ordinary peasant girl from the countryside, chosen as a wife by the son of a nobleman. But how could a newlywed bride of humble origins bear the responsibilities of the mistress of a grand mansion?"
The music became more urgent at this moment, with the shamisen playing delicate glissando, like a blade slicing through the air.
The groom turned around, his steps slow and deliberate, pausing intermittently.
His voice was low and cold, the deliberately drawn-out tone trembling in the air: "Once you marry me, you will be mine. You can only follow the family rules and obey my orders."
The bride lowered her head even further and softly replied, "Yes."
"The peasant girl has no other merits, except that she is far more obedient than the noblewoman. However, she is too humble and lacks poise, so she can never be considered respectable."
The drumbeat slowed down from a rapid pace, boom!
The aunt, dressed in a white and gold kimono, pointed and said, "Bride." Her voice was sharp and sarcastic. "Why is your dress so disheveled? Don't you know the rules of our household?"
The bride knelt down: "Yes, it's all my fault."
Thump!
The mother-in-law, dressed in a deep purple gown, stood frozen beside her aunt: "How clumsy! Pouring tea is as slow as counting grains of rice. Your rough fingers are so rough you'll probably snag your fine clothes. If you're so lazy and uncouth, how can you serve the whole family well?"
The bride slammed her forehead against the ground: "Yes, it's all my fault."
Thump!
The grandmother, dressed in a black robe embroidered with gold and holding a gilded cane, made her entrance. Her aunt and mother-in-law both knelt to greet her: "Now that you've entered my family, the most important thing is to continue the family line. If you can't continue the bloodline, you have no value in being here, looking so listless."
The shamisen's sharp turns are slightly high-pitched, while the three noble ladies all have noses and eyes drawn with fine ink lines, and they speak with a trembling voice.
The bride simply buried her face in her knees: "Yes, it's all my fault."
Thump!
"Now that you've entered the family, you should naturally be grateful for your in-laws' teachings. Their so-called pickiness is just a sign of their respect."
The dull, low drumbeats continued endlessly, each one resonating with your heartbeat, causing a faint tingling sensation in your temples.
The groom reappeared, his voice as cold and hard as ever: "Why is the food so bland today? Do you want to bring shame upon your entire family?"
The bride knelt down, bowed her head, and whispered, "It was my mistake, please forgive me."
"A mistake? How many times have you given this excuse?" The groom waved his hand impatiently, signaling the servants to take her away.
He kicked her in the lower abdomen as if still not satisfied: "I only took advantage of your fertile body, but now everything is going wrong! You really are a wicked fruit that grew out of the soil!"
The bride clutched her stomach but was still dragged away.
The music played for a moment, then all the lanterns above went out.
As they waited, the only beam of light shone on the stage, where the battered bride sat alone.
"Poor woman. Born a peasant woman, she knows neither manners nor loyalty and filial piety. Wearing fine clothes is ultimately unworthy of her, and now she is like a withered branch and fallen leaves in the mud. If it weren't for her husband's charity, how could she be sitting here? Ah, how pitiful and laughable."
The bride's fingers gently touched the hem of her dress in front of her knees, embroidered with precious embroidery from the land of flowers, with teardrops dotting its petals.
The bass of the shamisen gradually rises, spreading like ripples on water.
The bride sang softly: "I am a farmer's daughter, but I was forcibly dragged into this wealthy mansion."
"For whom do we keep our chastity? For whom do we follow the path of loyalty and filial piety? They told me that a woman's fate is to continue the family line and bring children and grandchildren to her husband's family."
"They told me that bowing one's head is a virtue and patience is a blessing."
“They told me that my life was a sacrifice for their family.”
"However...however..."
"Sacrifice? How presumptuous! You are nothing but a fragile fallen leaf, withered and yellow before even touching the ground. Your life is destined to be dominated by others. What use is it if you harbor resentment? Self-destruction, self-annihilation, or weeping bitterly are all inevitable consequences of your predetermined fate."
The bride wiped away her tears, lost and confused: "They want me to toil tirelessly like a laborer in the fields and a hut, yet they also want me to be as beautiful as a courtesan and as graceful as a princess. Am I not gentle and respectful enough?"
The bride took out a piece of white silk from her left sleeve; one corner of the fabric was embroidered with the family crest.
"Is it fate?" The bride hung her slender, fragile neck on it. "To send me off with the silk of the Flower Kingdom is probably the kindness of the master."
As the bride struggled in her dying moments, the rustling trees in the courtyard tore through the silk with their sharp splinters, and the poor bride fell into a pile of fallen leaves.
"If I am destined to be a fallen leaf, why not rise with the wind and become a sharp blade in the gale?"
The bride picked up a leaf.
“If I cannot decide my own destiny, then I will destroy theirs. Since all paths lead to destruction, then at least I should control that destruction.”
The shamisen suddenly rose in pitch and came to an abrupt end.
The bride's expression turned completely cold. She straightened up and, with a flick of her wrist, brushed away the non-existent dust.
Her face, covered in white powder, had long been washed away by her naturally flowing tears, revealing a rosy complexion underneath.
A short knife was hidden in her right sleeve, and the bride's eyes were bloodshot as she showed the front and back of the knife, its cold light shooting out sharply.
"How arrogant! How presumptuous! Trying to defy fate will only lead to your own destruction. A disqualified bride deserves to be severely punished."
"I was free, so why have I become a prisoner? If fate is a cage, then let me light it myself and burn it to ashes."
The music suddenly rose in volume, the drums thundered, and the shamisen melody became extremely rapid.
"Why is this divorced woman still here? You should be thinking of the family's honor..."
The black, white, and purple clothes all turned red.
"How dare you disobey my orders?! What's that in your hand?" The groom threw the bird and flower catalog aside, his face full of sarcasm. "A sword is the honor of a samurai. A mere woman can only wield a wakizashi... Ugh!"
Before he could finish speaking, the dagger had already pierced his chest.
"you--"
Another slash pierced through.
The bride, a farmer's daughter, was already used to wielding a hoe.
The bride's white embroidered gown also turned red.
The bride never stopped; she walked steadily toward the rest of the family.
The music resounded, relentlessly piercing your ears like a haunting ghost. Every cut the bride made was accompanied by the rapid notes of the shamisen, and every move was accompanied by deafening drumbeats.
"So even a nobleman's body is nothing more than a skin and a few lumps of flesh." The bride in red held a candlestick, and as the candle wax dripped onto the ground, a flame rose up.
"You are deeply sinful."
clatter!
The paper door closed and then opened again, and the stage lights suddenly blazed on, making it impossible for you to see anything clearly.
I instinctively took a step back, only to find myself standing on the stage.
"The ghost bride slaughtered her husband's entire family; her crime deserves the most severe punishment."
A voice came from above you. When you looked up, you saw a person dressed in a black robe pointing a boning knife at you.
With a wave of his hand, several masked figures resembling samurai emerged from backstage and slowly approached you.
"!" You wanted to speak up and explain, but found your voice weak and powerless.
Looking down, I saw that you were dressed in white clothes stained with blood, and you held a sharp dagger in your hand, the blade still dripping blood. At your feet lay the fallen "groom" and "family members," and the red mess on the ground seemed to be accusing you of your crimes.
No, it's the bride's fault.
"Execution begins!" At the executioner's command, the samurai drew his long sword, your vision blurred, and the music in your ears suddenly rose, like a death knell.
"Wait!" you shouted, but no one paid any attention. Just before the long sword fell, all the lights went out, the stage turned pitch black, and only the mournful last note of the shamisen remained in your ears.
You have to get out of the way!
The first step is this cumbersome rope on my body.
With a determined heart, you mustered all your strength and lunged forward the instant the long sword was drawn from its sheath! The sword just cut the knot, and the feeling on your back eased. You tumbled and crawled off the execution platform.
You lunge straight off the stage, only to be stopped by a transparent barrier. Damn it!
Gripping the short knife tightly, you know it can't be your reliance at all—on the small stage, several masked men wielding long weapons could easily surround you from afar.
If you can't confront them head-on... you quickly scan the surrounding scenery.
Although I don't know how this happened, it's clear that you've entered a Kabuki performance stage.
The stage designs for different plays are always complex and varied, hiding countless passages and mechanisms. If one could find one of the secret doors leading backstage, there might still be a glimmer of hope.
You tentatively took a step to the left and discovered that the stage lights actually followed your steps.
Whenever you approach a certain edge of the stage, a blinding white light will suddenly illuminate it, exposing you to the center of the stage.
It's as if some invisible force is forcing you to stay in the center of the stage, unable to escape.
"If the lights are tracking me, can't we use them in turn?" you quickly pondered.
You swayed left and right again, making those masked men run around in circles.
here!
Taking a deep breath, he rushed towards a paper door on the right that was not fully opened. Sure enough, the white light quickly followed and illuminated the paper door.
This is exactly the effect you need.
The sudden change in lighting caused the samurai to hesitate briefly. Thinking you were trying to escape, they immediately turned around and followed.
At the same time, you suddenly turned around and darted towards the main screen at the back of the stage.
Screens on stage are usually set up to separate different scenes. If you can find a way around the screens, you might be able to escape this nightmare.
However, just as you approached the screen, a cold laugh reached your ears: "Think you can escape from behind? How laughable." The voice was icy and chilling. You looked up abruptly and found a dark figure wearing a giant mask standing at the top of the screen, holding a long cane in her hand, looking down at you like a stage manager.
You cursed inwardly, but remained outwardly calm, quickly sliding to the other side, intending to create more chaos.
At this moment, red curtains suddenly fell from above the stage. These curtains seemed to fall randomly, but in reality, they cut off every path you could see.
The sound of your footsteps mingled with the rustling of the curtain, and the stage lights seemed to have eyes, revealing every single movement you made.
"Why don't you try going against the grain?" You stop dodging and deliberately stand in the brightest spot, striking a provocative pose.
"You want to kill me? Then come on!"
You shouted those words out loud, and your voice echoed through the several rooms separated by the empty paper doors and on the stage.
The warriors were clearly taken aback by your boldness, and they paused in their tracks, while the stage lights flickered suddenly because of your shout.
Could the change in lighting be related to my emotions? Holding my breath, I called out again, "Hurry up! Don't dawdle!"
Almost instantly, the red curtain overhead began to loosen piece by piece, and some even fell off.
Taking advantage of the moment, you tear off a piece of curtain, drape it over yourself, and quickly circle around to the back of the stage. The samurai cannot see your movements; they can only locate you by sound and light.
Playing hide-and-seek like this isn't working. How do I get out of here...?
—Exit?
Some basic facts about Kabuki performances flash through your mind.
The "naraku" (sunken set passageway) at the bottom of the stage is usually used for actors to enter or exit, and may also serve as a temporary hiding place.
You immediately lay down and crawled quickly, finally finding a slightly raised cover on the side of the stage.
Before you could feel joy, you rushed over, lifted the cover, and jumped down.
The air in the abyss is murky and cold, and there is only faint light around you, but because of this, the samurai who are chasing you cannot find your trail for a while.
You bend down, hold your breath, and hear a flurry of footsteps overhead.
"She escaped? How is that possible!" a samurai muttered a curse.
"Keep searching, we can't let her get away!" another samurai echoed, their footsteps fading into the distance.
You lean against the wall of Naraku, trying to calm your rapid breathing.
Although they have temporarily escaped capture, they will be discovered sooner or later if they just squat here.
Let's look for an exit here. You grope your way deeper into the abyss. There are countless hidden passages connecting different sets. If you find a path leading to the backstage or the exit, you might have a chance to escape.
Along the way, you hear the music overhead becoming more tense and urgent, the notes plucked by the shamisen seeming like a death knell.
And you yourself keep marking the passages you've already explored with the blood on your clothes, one by one.
finally.
Rumble.
The stage shook without warning.
The previously stable Naraku suddenly shook violently, and the surrounding wooden beams and floor began to creak and groan.
As soon as you took a step, you heard a muffled thud above your head, followed by a "crack" as the entire stage panel split open like a sheet of paper.
Countless wood chips fell straight down from the cracks, crashing around you with a howling cracking sound.
"Oh no!" You instinctively raise your arms to protect your head and face, but you still can't completely avoid the flying shards.
The pungent smell of sawdust and dust made you cough uncontrollably, and every inhale felt like being cut by a knife.
You hunch over, trying to regain your bearings between coughs, only to find that the entire Naraku has become a chaotic mess. The place where you were hiding has completely collapsed, and retreating is no longer an option.
"How did I end up in this place..." You felt a surge of anxiety, but you didn't doubt that you were destined to be unable to escape. "Once things stabilize, let's see if we can find a way out—wait?"
A faint light in the distance draws your attention.
The light was not a dim red candlelight, but a softer, colder white.
"What is that?" You took a step forward, and through the drifting dust, you vaguely saw that the source of the light was a pure white garment—a white kimono.
It hung lightly in mid-air not far away, as if it were not attached to any physical body, and emitted a cold hue in the dim light.
You rubbed your eyes, tears mixed with dust blurring your vision, but the white kimono was still clearly visible.
It seems to possess its own consciousness, beckoning you forward. With each step, you can feel the wood chips crunching under your feet, yet this white kimono seems out of place on this dilapidated stage. It is pristine and flawless, yet it exists within the ruins of this scene.
"Finally found it... Could this be the white kimono I need?" You slowly approach the outfit, your steps slow and uncertain, as if afraid it might suddenly disappear.
The dust that filled the abyss was gradually dispelled by its white light, and the surrounding space seemed to become less oppressive.
With each step you take closer, you feel your breathing become easier and the tightness in your chest gradually lessens.
Finally, you stood before the white kimono.
It floated there silently, without a breeze, as if waiting for you to make a decision. You hesitated for a moment, then reached out and gently touched the smooth fabric with your fingertips.
The moment you touched it, the surrounding collapsed wooden structure seemed to freeze; the violent shaking stopped, and the dust ceased to fly. The white kimono began to slowly descend, like a real garment, falling into your hand.
Holding the white kimono, you feel an unprecedented sense of peace.
"Now let me see how you're going to make it seem like you're getting the few of us out in exchange?" you muttered to yourself, looking at the white kimono in your hand with a complicated expression.
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