The rehearsal lasted a long time. To arrange the details of every different scene to perfection, the director and orchestra conductor stood for hours at a time.
Without even taking bathroom breaks, making Jiang Han wonder whether they had all undergone that bladder surgery.
Witches were astonishingly efficient. The promotional photos had just been taken that afternoon, and five hundred copies were immediately rushed into print, delivered to the Squirrel Committee, and swiftly assigned promotional locations throughout several middle-class witch districts in South City.
To European witches, that was terrifying efficiency. European witches usually needed one or two days to get things done, but in this collective-process nation, something like this could be handled in just thirty minutes, showcasing sheer work efficiency and rapid response.
In fact, the parallel world was much the same.
People often envied the efficiency of the free people of the Lighthouse Nation, but in truth, approving whether to build a road took them a year, building it took another two, and wrangling after completion took another half year. If they were unlucky, four years would pass and an election would come along, delaying everything again. Back home, road construction generally took only one to three months. Unless the project was truly massive, projects rarely dragged on for that long.
"The promotional spots have been decided, comrades. We have today and tomorrow for promotion, and the show goes on the day after tomorrow. I want to run through it once more. Do it properly—everything must be perfect!" the director shouted. The moment the witches on set heard "perfect," some rolled their eyes, some blew bubbles, and some Sea Sirens like Jiang Han simply flopped into lounge chairs, putting on a completely boneless act.
Jiang Han was not actually paralyzed, of course. Her butt just hurt a