The open square in front of the village assembly hall was encircled by burning pine-torch flames, their light illuminating youthful faces that rose and fell in rhythm like ocean waves.
Young men and women of marriageable age sang and danced together—
the girls formed the inner circle, spinning lightly as their long skirts flared, the tassels of their woven garments swaying like drifting willow fluff with each step;
the boys stood in the outer ring, their movements somewhat clumsy, yet unable to conceal the throbbing excitement and shy anticipation in their hearts.
A small band sat at one corner of the square.
Short flutes played brisk melodies, while gongs and percussion instruments answered in turn, whipping the atmosphere into a boiling frenzy.
Junsheng danced alongside Kaly and Ali.
Though his steps were slightly out of rhythm, he tried hard to imitate the villagers’ movements, occasionally drawing teasing nods and laughter of encouragement from the two boys.
Lalu blended into the group of girls.
Her rosy face bloomed with shy smiles, yet from time to time she stole glances at Junsheng—
her gaze like autumn water brushing past moonlight.
As the music came to a pause, the boys and girls returned to their respective seating areas.
Dabangya and several elders slowly stepped into the center of the square.
Holding a round drum carved with intricate patterns, Dabangya lifted the drumstick solemnly and struck three deep, distant beats.
“The hour has come,” Dabangya’s voice rang out firm and clear.
“May those whose hearts align follow the light of the fireflies into their future.”
The boys, each holding a bamboo tube filled with fireflies, rose from their seats and walked toward the girls they admired.
The woven rattan surfaces of the tubes shimmered in the torchlight—
symbols of feelings long restrained yet burning hot.
Besides Kaly, another boy stood before Shayun.
It was Walumi, a simple and honest young man, the bamboo tube trembling slightly in his hands.
“Shayun, please accept my feelings,”
Walumi knelt on one knee, raising the tube high with both hands, his eyes filled with pleading and timidity.
Shayun froze for a moment, her cheeks flushing as her gaze darted nervously around.
But she quickly steadied herself and accepted the bamboo tube with a gentle smile.
When she opened the lid, several fireflies fluttered out, floating before her eyes like scattered golden sparks.
“I’m sorry, Walumi,” Shayun said softly, her tone tender yet firm.
“I can accept your sincerity—but I cannot give you the response you hope for.”
Walumi’s expression collapsed, as though all strength had drained from his body.
Lowering his head, he trudged away with heavy steps.
Next came Kaly.
He stood before Shayun, trying to appear calm, yet the trembling fingers gripping the bamboo tube betrayed him.
“Shayun, this is for you,”
Kaly forced a smile, extending the tube while daring not to meet her eyes.
“Kaly, I’ve always thought of you as my brother,” Shayun said gently as she pushed the tube away, her voice tinged with apology.
“I’m sorry—I’m not prepared to accept your feelings.”
Kaly’s smile froze instantly.
The loss in his eyes seemed so cold that even the torchlight could not warm it.
“If Junsheng hadn’t appeared—would you still treat me this way?”
His voice was low and hoarse, nearly clenched between his teeth.
Shayun fell silent for a moment, staring at the distant flames.
“Kaly, this has nothing to do with Junsheng.
I’ve never imagined any possibility between us beyond being like siblings.”
Kaly nodded, forcing a crooked smile.
“Yeah… I guess I overthought it.”
He turned back toward the boys’ seating area, his steps like a stream stumbling over stones—uneven and unsteady.
Before Lalu stood Ali.
Though Ali looked earnest, Lalu seemed distracted, her gaze slipping through the crowd to where Junsheng casually sipped millet wine from a bamboo cup.
Ali offered his bamboo tube with trembling hands.
“Lalu, I want to be the one who makes you happy.”
Lalu lowered her head and gently waved her hand.
“I’m sorry, Ali…”
Her voice scattered like wind-blown petals—fragile and faint.
Ali returned with flushed cheeks and lowered head.
Seeing him, Kaly patted his shoulder and forced a smile.
“Ali, don’t be sad.
My sister rejected you because… she probably already has someone she likes.”
Ali stared blankly at Kaly, frowning.
“Someone she likes? Who is it?”
Kaly’s gaze cut through the crowd and landed on Junsheng, who was calmly sipping his wine, his eyes distant and serene.
“I think it’s Doctor Junsheng,” Kaly said with a bitter smile.
Ali’s face paled slightly before he lowered his head in defeat.
“If it’s Junsheng… then I have nothing to say.”
Music rose again at the center of the square.
The boys who had been accepted took the girls’ hands and stepped into a new dance.
Torchlight and moonlight intertwined, bursting into laughter and song beneath the night sky.
Yet Shayun and Lalu were each lost in their own thoughts.
Both girls’ eyes instinctively focused on Junsheng—
while Junsheng remained like an outsider, quietly watching the revelry.
Kaly stared at Shayun, turmoil surging within him like crashing waves.
Should I bless Shayun and Junsheng?
In the living room, a breeze drifted through the windows, stirring the wind chimes hanging from the beams into crisp tones.
Sunlight slanted across wooden walls and woven bamboo floors, while the air carried faint scents of dried grass and lingering smoke from the festival fires.
Lalu sat on a low woven stool, focused on a wooden loom, her hands skillfully crossing hemp threads to weave a delicate mosquito net.
Beside her lay a basket of dried wild cotton and unfinished cloth, their fine patterns reflecting her care and concentration.
By the window, Kaly leaned against the pillar, holding a bamboo cup of millet wine, staring blankly at a blooming bougainvillea in the courtyard.
He took a slow sip, gloom heavy between his brows.
Lalu stopped weaving and looked up.
“Brother, you’ve been drinking since morning.
It must be because Shayun rejected you last night—am I wrong?”
Kaly forced a bitter smile.
“You’re right, Lalu… I still had a little hope.”
Lalu stood and gently patted his arm.
“Try to let it go.
I sensed it long ago—Shayun already has someone in her heart.”
“You mean Junsheng, right?” Kaly asked.
Lalu nodded softly.
“Yes. My intuition says it’s him.
But… you might still have a chance—unless Junsheng truly plans to stay in the village.”
Kaly shook the wine in his cup.
“As long as Junsheng is here, Shayun won’t even look at me.”
Lalu said urgently,
“But you know Junsheng is only a passerby.
He’ll leave Chikan sooner or later.
If Shayun follows him, she gives up the chieftainship—Dabangya will never allow it.”
Her voice lowered as her gaze drifted to trembling shadows outside the window.
Kaly sighed deeply.
“I’m afraid she’d give up everything for him.”
Then he glanced sideways.
“You like Junsheng too, don’t you?”
Lalu blushed, then smiled faintly.
“Yes. But to him I’m just a friend.”
Kaly slammed the window frame.
“We should tell Sama to intervene.”
Moments later, their father Daliguan appeared at the door.
“I heard everything,” he said gravely.
“If Shayun insists on Junsheng, she must understand the price.
I’ll handle it myself.”
The air thickened—
like the calm before a storm.
Afternoon sunlight spilled across the mountain path of Chikan Village as elders walked toward the chieftain’s house, worry shadowing their faces.
They debated tradition, love, and duty.
At last, Dabangya declared firmly:
“I will speak to Shayun myself.”
Wind stirred the bead curtains.
Silence followed—
heavy with unspoken foreboding.
That night, Shayun studied by lamplight when her parents arrived.
Dabangya ordered her to stop visiting the clinic.
Shayun protested fiercely.
“You only care about the title—never what I want!”
Tears trembled in her eyes as moonlight washed over her shoulders.
Later, her younger brother crept in.
“Sister… I’ll help you.”
She embraced him.
“Deliver this letter to Junsheng tomorrow.”
Determination hardened in her heart.
At the clinic, Junsheng read the trembling letter.
“Shayun has been confined,” Dalai whispered.
Junsheng’s eyes filled with regret.
“Do you like my sister?”
Junsheng nodded.
“Then stay,” the boy said firmly.
Junsheng knelt before him.
“You’re right. I will stay—with her.”
That night, he prepared to go meet Shayun.
“It’s time.”
