Chapter 93: The Perfect Dancing Guide

Though he had agreed to help Jun Tao, Luo Gan felt anything but at ease. He had thought he was merely escorting a beauty to Chang’an, bringing the brothers of the Bamboo Grove Guild along to see the world; instead, he had stumbled headlong into such a troublesome affair.

After all, he had come here to clear the trial. There had been no word yet from the mission prompt, and if Jun Tao’s trip to Chang’an were treated as a side quest, that would be far too much time wasted. This was not some role-playing game about cultivating a character from the ground up; it was a race against time. For all he knew, one of the other competitors might already be close to victory.

The more Luo Gan thought about it, the more restless he became. Now and then, in his mind, he saw Jun Tao’s dancing figure sway before him. She was meant to perform before the Emperor himself, in an age where a single misstep could cost a person their head. To place the great burden of choreography on him, a complete outsider with no understanding of music or rhythm, left him turning it over and over in vain, with not a single clear idea.

The night was hazy. Only a few clouds veiled the round moon, which shone with a pale yellow glow, like a fried egg that made Luo Gan’s stomach rumble hungrily.

After struggling like that for quite some time, Luo Gan finally fell asleep.

The next morning, when he opened his eyes, he saw Jun Tao carefully straightening everyone’s clothes and tidying the room until it was spotless.

Luo Gan pushed himself up. From outside, he heard drums sounding in orderly fashion, and people hurried off in all directions to the beat, like busy clerks on their way to work, wound up and moving quickly to their stations.

“You’re awake?” Jun Tao said when she saw him. She sat beside him, holding a cup of boiling hot water.

Luo Gan took it and had a sip, only to find it scalding; he nearly spilled it. Jun Tao used a handkerchief to wipe his mouth.

“What time is it now?”

“Still early morning. The hour of the Tiger has already passed.”

“People in ancient times really do start work early. They’re up at dawn to labor.”

Jun Tao smiled. “That’s how everyone is. When night falls, they rest. At sunrise they work, and at sunset they stop.”

“But there are really so few professions,” Luo Gan said. “In a man’s world, there are merchants, craftsmen, scholars, and farmers, and every so often a soldier or an idle drifter. There’s very little freedom.”

Jun Tao asked in great surprise, “Professions? Is that something used for plowing fields?”

Luo Gan gestured as he spoke. “Professions are careers—farmers, laborers, things like that. Think about it: when a person is born into this world, there’s so little he can do. He has almost no choice over his own life.”

“Choice?” Jun Tao blinked. “You mean there are choices besides those?”

“There are!” Luo Gan said. “Like musicians, who compose pieces specifically for performances. Or financiers, who influence economic life. And photographers, who travel the world to preserve its most beautiful moments. There are so many. Hahaha! Though maybe they all belong to a very distant future.”

Jun Tao laughed. “I don’t know where you heard such things, or whether you simply made them up. You really are strange.”

Luo Gan gave no further explanation. The two of them merely exchanged a smile.

By then the sun had already spilled across the streets. Beneath the crisscrossing buildings, the city was lively and bustling. The chatter of passersby mingled with the sound of footsteps; steam from buns and the fragrance of baked flatbread drifted one after another from every shop. The goose-meat sellers and chicken-meat sellers looked ready to come to blows, each boasting that their own meat was the true delicacy. A few lanes over, one could even see a shop called the Greatest Gourmet House in the Great Tang, and another boasting the Best Food Shop on This Street. Calls of hawking and shouting rose and fell without end.

Yan Shan came running over to Luo Gan and the others with a bag of buns he had taken from a shop. They chose a street in a bustling market district with a little open space. Luo Gan intended to study how to choreograph the dance here.

Liu Bu Wen said, “A beauty like Miss Jun Tao could dance however she pleased and still captivate the realm. Why be so bound by the style of the dance? All those patterns are old clichés and not worth worrying over.”

Xiao Zhi said, “How can you keep tossing out four-character phrases like that? I think the dance ought to be carefully choreographed. That’s the proper attitude!”

Luo Gan said, “Choreography is necessary. If we just make it up as we go and end up accused of deceiving the Emperor, what then? None of us can bear that charge.”

Yan Shan said, “Guild leader, should I go gather intelligence? See how the others are dancing.”

While everyone chattered at once, Jun Tao had begun to feel sleepy.

Luo Gan cut through the disorderly discussion and raised his arm. “Enough! Everyone here will listen to me. First, we choreograph a dance that suits Jun Tao.”

Xiao Zhi said, “Brother Luo, what’s the second step?”

Luo Gan said, “As for the second, I haven’t figured it out yet. Let’s start with this.”

Jun Tao nodded and stood up, ready for Luo Gan’s next instruction.

Luo Gan asked, “What kind of dances are popular in this age?”

Liu Bu Wen said, “I once saw a Yue maiden dance the Great Wind Song. It was grand and mighty enough to shake even the Emperor and move his heart.”

“Then you dance a bit.”

At once, Liu Bu Wen began moving to the rhythm as though he were facing a strong wind. His body bent and stretched, swaying with the breeze. Though the scholar was thin, he had a balanced build, and he truly looked handsome when he danced.

Jun Tao, excited, immediately followed and danced a short section as well. If the scholar was a willow branch swaying in the wind, then Jun Tao’s figure was a branch that would not bend, upright and unshakable, as though even bowing her waist by a little were a difficult thing.

Luo Gan waved a hand. “No, that won’t do. It’s too difficult. Anything else?”

Yan Shan thought hard, then steadied his stance to keep the rhythm, took up a horse stance, and followed with fists and feet in rapid exchange. In a burst of motion he seemed to turn heaven and earth, hands striking the ground, flying kicks slicing through the air—a full display of martial skill.

Jun Tao’s face twisted with discomfort as she forced her body downward. A sharp click sounded from her joints, and she clutched her waist, crying out in pain.

Ignoring everything else, Luo Gan rushed forward first to support Jun Tao and check on her condition. Yan Shan hurried up beside her as well and felt for her pulse.

“How is she?”

“By my years of experience, it doesn’t seem to be anything serious!”

Luo Gan kicked Yan Shan flying. “She’s strained her waist, and you’re feeling her pulse? Maybe you should start by training your brain.”

Xiao Zhi fell into deep thought, and suddenly inspiration struck.

“I’ve got it!” he cried, drawing everyone’s attention. “We could try something more rustic. Isn’t the ceremonial dancing in the countryside pretty good?”

In Luo Gan’s memory, the rites and dances of village festivals were deeply vivid, full of vitality and power. Even people who could not dance would sway and move a little with the rhythm, and that alone could make for a very interesting performance.

“That’s a good idea! But our rituals involve the whole village, so the scale is much larger. My concern is whether a dance by only one person would be too monotonous.”

Luo Gan’s words made sense, and Xiao Zhi lowered his head again in thought. After a while, Jun Tao offered her own idea.

“Then what if we add some props? Would that make the dance more interesting?”