Bai? froze for a moment, then stepped forward. A cold glint radiated from her left eye.
Under the illumination of that cold light, the paper-made spectators vanished one after another. The neatly arranged benches began hopping on their own, drawing closer to the stage as if fleeing the reflection of the silver moon in Bai?'s eye.
Bai?'s gaze remained fixed ahead. All the spectators and hawkers in front of the stage had disappeared.
The wooden benches hopped onto the stage. Then the entire stage seemed to fold like paper. The long-robed performers and all the objects on it folded and shrank.
In the end, they folded into a small black box. The box's lid opened, and a hand wearing a white glove reached out from inside.
The hand withdrew into the box, then began tugging at something before suddenly yanking it upward with all its strength.
A figure was hauled out of the box.
It was a man dressed in a long gown. He wore a white Smiling Face Mask, a White Glove on his left hand, and a Black Glove on his right.
He raised one foot and walked out of the box, then bowed to Bai?.
"Please don't blame me, Master. Hundred Plays was only playing a little joke on you."
"A joke?"
Bai? looked at him. The silver moon in her left eye glimmered, and silver moonlight fell upon the man who called himself Hundred Plays.
His figure immediately lost some of its substance, as if it were about to vanish.
With a thump, Hundred Plays dropped to his knees. He raised both hands, then prostrated himself before Bai?.
"Master, I was wrong. I was truly wrong."
"For so long, I could only enter the Mortal World in an incomplete form."
"Now that I can set foot