OBS Chapter 56 The Dragon Raises Its Head Grand Ceremony! Heavenly Dew Falls!
Chapter 56 The Dragon Raises Its Head Grand Ceremony! Heavenly Dew Falls!
February 2nd.
The dragon raises its head.
The third quarter of the Yin hour.
It was dark.
Shixi Village and Shanghe Village were already awake, with the creaking of door hinges, the crackling of firewood in the stove, hushed conversations, and the drowsy mumbling of children as they were woken up.
Early morning of the hour of Mao (5-7 AM).
The sky was just beginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn.
The crowd began to converge on the ancestral hall.
At first, it was groups of two or three old men who got up the earliest. They wore old clothes that had been washed until they were faded, walked slowly with their hands behind their backs, stood at the edge of the square, squinted at the altar that was beginning to take shape, and watched without saying a word.
Next came the women carrying baskets filled with offerings they had prepared themselves—perhaps a handful of freshly roasted melon seeds, or a few dyed red eggs, or a packet of dried persimmons they had sun-dried. They greeted each other in hushed tones, their voices muffled in the morning mist.
Teams of able-bodied young men, led by their captains, entered the designated areas, their footsteps light and quiet. The children, led by adults, some rubbing their eyes, were all well-behaved and dared not cry.
The third quarter of the hour of Mao (5:45 AM).
Five hundred people stood in the square.
A sea of black heads, utterly silent, save for the occasional cough.
The morning mist had not yet dissipated, forming a thin, flowing white veil above the crowd's heads. Sunlight began to penetrate the mist, casting beams of golden light, within which tiny dust particles slowly floated and sank.
Lin Shi stood to the side and behind the altar, his gaze sweeping across the entire area.
Widow Zhao Xiuying stood at the front of the Shixi Village procession with her two sons—Da Hu was already half a head taller than his mother, his back ramrod straight, while Xiao Hu stood on tiptoe, peering out, and was gently patted on the shoulder by his older brother.
Yang Qianchui's family was in the procession in Shanghe Village. His wife, Chen Lian, was holding their one-year-old daughter in her arms. The child was sleeping soundly, her little face rosy and fair.
Xu Zhong, dressed in a nearly new indigo long gown, held a scroll of sacrificial text in his hand. Although he tried his best to remain calm, the knuckles of his fingers gripping the scroll were slightly white. Seeing Sun Ming standing upright in the master of ceremonies' position, his white beard trembling slightly in the morning breeze, the old man took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and seemed to be silently reciting the proceedings.
Lin Shi saw the unfamiliar faces on the periphery of the crowd—about fifty or sixty people—crowded at the edge of the viewing area.
One group came from Wangjiazhuang downstream, the other from Lijiawa upstream, and even from villages further away to watch the spectacle. They whispered among themselves, their eyes filled with complex emotions: pure curiosity, dismissive disdain, and skeptical observation.
Lin Shi smiled.
If they don't come, then so be it!
Once they come, they'll all be my followers—it's only a matter of time!
3:45 AM (卯时三刻)
The auspicious time has arrived!
"Thump!"
The first drumbeat, deep and resonant like muffled thunder, shattered the last vestiges of the morning's tranquility. All sound in the square vanished instantly, and over five hundred gazes turned in unison to the altar.
"Thump! Thump!"
Second tone.
Third tone.
The drumbeats were precisely spaced, each one feeling like it struck a chord in the heart.
Sun Ming took a deep breath, his chest bulging noticeably, and stepped forward. His aged yet resonant voice echoed throughout the hall like an ancient bell:
"The auspicious time has arrived!"
"The Prayer Ceremony for a Good Harvest!"
"start!"
"Welcome the gods!"
The suona was the first to rise, its high-pitched and sharp sound piercing through the morning mist.
The gong followed, its clanging sound deafening.
The flute's clear, melodious sound flowed like a stream, meandering between the suona and the gongs and drums.
The drumbeats are steady, like the heartbeat of the earth, supporting all the sounds.
It is deeply moving.
Lin Shi wore a dark blue robe, without embroidery or patterns, only simple piping of the same color at the collar and cuffs. A plain sash was tied around his waist. He slowly ascended the altar and stood facing east towards the Bibo Pool and the direction where the rising sun was about to burst forth.
Lin Shi slowly raised his hands, palms facing the sky.
The entire audience held their breath.
"We respectfully invite the Dragon God!"
Lin Shi spoke, his voice low, like a clear spring striking a stone, each word distinct and steady, overpowering the music and reaching everyone's ears.
"Descend upon this land. Enjoy the sincerity. Bless with a bountiful harvest."
As soon as Lin Shi finished speaking, he bowed deeply, his robe brushing against the surface of the bluestone altar, making a soft rustling sound.
As if propelled by an invisible wave, all five hundred-plus people in the audience knelt down in unison. The muffled thuds of their knees hitting the ground merged into a chorus, thump thump thump thump, like a dense drumbeat.
The dark mass of heads bowed low.
The sacrificial ceremony begins.
The three sacrificial animals were carried onto the altar.
The fat pig had been slaughtered and cleaned; it was pure white, with a dot of cinnabar on its forehead.
The lamb knelt in the wooden tray, its horns tied with red silk, its eyes closed, as if asleep.
The rooster's feathers were bright as brocade, its comb was deep red, and its feet were bound, yet it still held its head high.
Five grains and bamboo basket.
Golden rice, dark brown millet, light yellow sorghum, plump wheat grains, and round beans gleam with a warm, jade-like luster in the increasingly bright morning light.
The coarse incense was lit, and three wisps of smoke rose straight up, piercing the sky in the windless morning. They rose more than ten feet high before being dispersed by the air currents in the high altitude, and the wisps seemed to merge and converge.
Xu Zhong stepped forward and unrolled the scroll of the eulogy written by Lin Shi; the parchment made a crisp sound.
"On this auspicious day in mid-spring, when the Azure Dragon is in Chen, the believers of the two villages of Shixi and Shanghe respectfully offer this simple feast and drink this pure wine before the Venerable Dragon God."
Xu Zhong read slowly and solemnly, each word as if he had used all his strength, drawing it from his dantian, resonating it in his chest, and then uttering it from his mouth.
Last year, the Qinghe River flooded, but the Dragon God appeared and the water receded, saving three thousand acres of rice.
Reading about the plague that ravaged the land this spring, the Dragon God purified the water source, saving hundreds of lives.
He read the joint ancestral worship rites of the two places, educated the villagers, conducted night patrols to provide free medical care, and resolved disputes peacefully.
Xu Zhong's voice trembled slightly, and his eyes reddened. These were all things he had personally experienced.
that
Some people in the audience began to sob quietly.
At first, there were only a few scattered sounds, but they quickly spread.
Those who lost loved ones in last year's plague but were miraculously saved, and those who were tormented by ghosts and unable to sleep at night.
These usually taciturn villagers shed tears silently, not daring to utter a sound. Their shoulders trembled slightly, and their rough hands wiped their faces, leaving wet, glistening streaks.
After the eulogy was read, Xu Zhong bowed, took three steps back, and then turned and descended from the altar.
"May you pray!"
Sun Ming stepped forward.
The entire audience bowed down once more.
The elderly touched their foreheads to the ground, praying for the health and well-being of their children and grandchildren and for the prosperity of their families.
A middle-aged man spreads out his hands and presses them on the pebbles, praying for favorable weather and abundant harvests.
The women clasped their hands in silent prayer, asking for peace in their homes and good fortune for their children.
The children were forced to kowtow by the adults, their little faces pressed against the cold ground, their eyes darting around curiously.
Lin Shi stood in the center of the altar.
More than five hundred streams of devout faith, like countless trickles of water, rose from the heads of each worshipper, rushing towards the statue of the Dragon God in the Dragon God Temple, converging into a river, and reaching the dragon avatar deep within the Azure Pool.
The power of that faith was so immense, so pure, so intense that even the dragon at the bottom of the pool trembled.
Lin Shi looked up and gazed eastward.
As the sun rose just above the horizon, thousands of golden rays pierced the morning mist like sharp swords, instantly turning the sky golden and red.
Lin Shi raised his right hand, bringing his index and middle fingers together, and pointed towards the direction of Bibo Pool.
"Honorable Dragon God!"
"May sweet dew nourish the fertile soil! May precious fungi herald a bountiful harvest!"
Bless my homeland! May it be bountiful year after year.
As soon as Lin Shi finished speaking, while the echoes were still reverberating in the air, an unusual phenomenon occurred.
A gust of wind.
A gentle, moist breeze, carrying the unique, refreshing scent of the clear pool water, rippled outwards from the altar, caressing everyone's faces.
It started to rain.
There were no dark clouds, no thunder, just a light drizzle under a clear sky.
The sun was still shining brightly, and golden beams of light pierced through countless raindrops, refracting into thousands of sparkling points of light.
The rain was as fine as cow's hair in early spring; it felt cool and comfortable on my face, but didn't wet my clothes.
When it lands on dry, chapped lips, you can taste a hint of sweetness, like the sweetest sip from a mountain spring.
The dew fell on the withered grass blades, which straightened and turned green at a speed visible to the naked eye, with glistening dewdrops condensing at the tips of the blades.
It landed on the freshly turned, still-hardened soil, making a soft hissing sound, and then steamed up a moist, fragrant mist.
"Sweet dew! It's sweet dew bestowed by the Dragon God!"
An old man shouted in a trembling voice from the crowd.
The entire venue erupted in cheers.