Chapter 739: Chapter 13 Myth in Heaven, Drama on Earth_3

Gongsun Ce rubbed his eyes and saw that the tedious opening song had finally ended; the actors came onstage one by one, starting the main play. The drama told of a few angels under the heavens who argued endlessly because one angel, acting alone, wanted to bring terrible destruction to the mortal world. Each of the angels stood in a corner of the stage, with differing opinions on how to resolve the matter. The most popular angel played the role of a messenger, running back and forth among his colleagues, struggling to deliver messages, until he was drenched in sweat like a clown.

Gongsun Ce pondered for a moment and then laughed, “Your insightful and perceptive leadership, I believe I’ve grasped your drama. This play seems to be about angels in heaven but in reality, it satirizes the politics here on earth. Those angels stubbornly stick to their views, relying on outdated wisdom. They leave the mediator to run about tirelessly, his efforts fruitless as the situation remains unchanged. Isn’t that precisely the current state of Morton’s officialdom?”

Situ Yi clapped his hands together and laughed, “You’ve got it precisely right—above and below, in ancient times and today, there has never been a difference in such foolish and futile matters! Drama is exactly such a marvelous thing. The actors on stage recite the lines they’ve been given, while the audience below sees a different story. Tell me, young man, do you like drama?”

Gongsun Ce thought about it and said, “To me, drama is just ordinary entertainment. It’s no different from other aspects of life.”

The drama in the theater was reaching its climax. The supreme god of goodness, overwhelmed by all the commotion, personally descended on stage to persuade the other angels to cooperate, only to provoke them into taking up swords in rebellion. Suddenly, the distinguished nobles on stage were embroiled in a scuffle, while the impoverished children below laughed and cheered.

Situ Yi, looking at the uproar in the play, said, “I especially love drama, far more than painting, divination, or fighting!

One reason is that what’s performed on stage is different from what’s seen from below, something you’ve already understood. The other reason, which you do not yet know, is that drama is just like the lives of people in this world.

Everyone in a play performs a role, and isn’t it the same in reality? All our words and actions in front of others have the flavor of a performance, just like lines from the internal script in our hearts. Aren’t the layers of concerns arising from one’s identity and circumstances exactly the roles we play? Only when one is completely alone can one speak the truth comfortably. But even then, no matter how truthful the speech, it’s futile… because there’s no one left to listen, and the drama must then come to an end.”

While saying these words, Situ Yi gazed at the children in the audience as if he was another actor on a different stage looking at distant viewers. As if all the laughter and commentary were unrelated noise to him; he was only concerned with performing his own play well. Gongsun Ce thought this man must live a very lonely life—no one would wish to stand by the side of someone so moody and strong, whose horrid character and pessimistic view of the world meant he was doomed to live alone.

Sooner or later, The Dust Troupe would run out of people, right? When that day comes and Situ Yi still wants to perform, he might only be able to manipulate a few puppets behind the curtains.

“Do you also act in plays?” Gongsun Ce asked.

Situ Yi laughed and said, “I am a third-rate playwright, I am a mediocre actor. My acting is so poor that I can only play extras. The advantage is always appearing on stage at the climax of the story; the downside is having to exit after a few brief encounters.”

“Ah, your role isn’t easy.”

Extras are a special kind of role in the Empire’s mythical dramas, meant to act as “dragons.” Dragon-slaying heroes always need a dragon to kill. The Central Spirit Legend also begins with slaying a dragon. Whenever these plays were performed, someone had to don a special suit to act as the evil dragon, only to be beaten by the protagonist and forced off stage.

Nobody liked this job; not only was the suit suffocating and uncomfortable, but it was also a thankless, exhausting role. It was common for a dragon to be “shot” with a bang from the audience before the hero could even raise his sword. Later, as technology improved, robots took on the role of the dragon, and over time, no one played an extra as a dragon.

“There must always be a symbol of evil to defeat for the story of justice to conclude with Perfection.”

Speaking to this point, Situ Yi asked, “Young man, what role are you playing?”

Gongsun Ce thought for a while and said, “I play the clown.”

“A good clown may seem foolish and laughable, yet it brings joy to others by speaking the truth. A bad clown only cares about showing off, spouting a string of grandiose lies, leaving both others and themselves unhappy.”

Situ Yi shook his sleeves dramatically, clasped his hands, and let his eyes slide to the side as if he were a natural predator who had spotted prey. He looked directly into the youth’s eyes and smiled, “Are you good at it?”

“—!”

Gongsun Ce turned pale as if struck by lightning and was for a moment unable to utter a single word. Situ Yi looked away from him and back toward the stage, leisurely saying, “If you have no desire to watch or to act, what is the point of staying? Take care of yourself, and we shall part here.”

Mr. Gongsun Ce stiffly got up to say goodbye and walked out of the tent. Just before he left, he looked back and saw Situ Yi still sitting there like a ghost. As the drama reached its final scene, the endlessly quarreling angels couldn’t accomplish anything. The catastrophe of disillusionment turned into a black sword falling from the sky, smashing the continent where people lived into countless floating islands, with innumerable dead and wounded on the ground.

(Calm down, Mr. Gongsun. Don’t think about what that man said.)

(I’m fine, don’t talk to me.)

Gongsun Ce stood on the green grass outside the tent, leaning on his knees, breathing heavily. He didn’t understand what had come over himself. The man’s words seemed to carry a mysterious power that shattered his mask, leaving his disguise in tatters and causing him a sudden, inexplicable panic.

He gradually realized the reason. His power in dealing with situations came from an image forged by lies and acting, but that man’s acting was far better than his own. He couldn’t tell whether what he heard was true or false, and he couldn’t comprehend that man’s emotions at all. Situ Yi had torn apart his disguise without using any force… and turned him back into a cowardly youth, not the black-clothed jester.

“Ha… Ha…!”

Gongsun Ce struggled to control his breathing and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He looked up and saw the green-haired woman from the earlier drama standing not far away.

“Are you okay?” The green-haired woman asked doubtfully, “The leader told me to guide you, but you look like you need a doctor first.”

“I had too much tea and am a bit hypoglycemic,” Mr. Gongsun managed a smile, “Thanks for your concern, miss. It’s not a big issue, I just need some sugar. May I ask who you are?”

“Kerky Hyde, a Mage apprentice, doing odd jobs at the church when I’m not busy.” Kerky extended her hand, “The lamp you’re looking for was made by a craftsman in the church, but as you should know, around here we follow the custom — local hiring, local dismissal.”

“Ah, so you manage your own mess?”

“Exactly, the leader doesn’t care about that, he just manages the drama.” Kerky turned and shouted, “Philis! Is Douglas around?”

The little boy who sold tickets darted out from behind a tent, clutching his big wooden box, “I just brought him tea, Miss Kerky. He has sent Mr. Buck away and is in his own tent.”

“Thanks, Philis. Off you go and play.”

Little Philis ran off, and Kerky led Mr. Gongsun to a small tent and called out, “Douglas! You’ve got business!”

No one responded. Kerky called out a few more times, then said with impatience, “This old man… just a moment, I’ll take a look.”

She poked half her body into the tent, and after a few seconds, she reemerged with an embarrassed look on her face.

“It’s just… there’s a bit of trouble, Mr. Gongsun.”

Mr. Gongsun sighed, “Has he run off?”

“Not exactly,” Kerky scratched her face, “He’s dead.”