Wang Miao's eyes instantly welled up with tears when she looked at the red line on her wrist.
She nodded vigorously, forcing back her tears.
Yuanyuan is so kind and gentle.
So the few fans of Qiguan Yuan present all received a red thread tied by him personally.
Every fan received his blessing.
The fans who were watching Qiguan Yuan's live stream were incredibly envious.
[[Spinning around] Ahhh, I'm so desperate I'm crying, I want one too!]
[I want the red thread that Yuanyuan tied herself!]
[Envious, envious, envious, I wish I could be there.]
[I'm already crying. [Biting my handkerchief]]
Qiguan Yuan took care of every fan who came for him.
Although there were only a few, it didn't take long.
Pei Yubai, however, kept a straight face and stared at the fans.
The fans naturally felt Pei Yubai's gaze.
But who cares?
They even have a red thread tied by Yuanyuan herself!
Wang Miao and her friends started showing off the red lines on their wrists online, taking photos of themselves with their wrists and posting them in the super topic with captions.
The hashtag exploded instantly, with fans who couldn't make it to the event crying and expressing their extreme envy.
Wang Miao took several photos from different angles and under different lighting, and chose one where the red thread on her wrist was clearly visible. She posted it with the caption. " Yuanyuan myself, Yuanyuan. May everything go smoothly for my little fan, may all her wishes come true, and may her path be smooth. My tears are worthless." Hehe, Yuanyuan is so beautiful and gentle!
All twenty or so fans drank the welcoming wine.
The village elder tapped the ground three times with his bamboo cane and led them into the village.
Wooden buildings lined both sides of the stone-paved road, one next to the other, with corn and chili peppers hanging under the eaves, some golden and some bright red.
Su He'an walked at the front, dressed in the finest Miao attire, her silver ornaments jingling in the sunlight.
As she walked, she introduced the customs and traditions of the Miao village, explaining the origins of the Miao people, the history of the Sisters' Festival, and the process of batik dyeing.
When they reached the open space in the middle of the village, the village elder stopped and pointed to several large tables in the open space.
On the table were several earthenware jars, several copper pots, several stacks of white cotton cloth, and a pile of copper knives of various shapes.
The copper knife had a very thin blade, and the handle was made of wood, polished to a shine.
"Today we'll learn batik," the village elder said. "The Miao people are most famous for their batik skills, and their history is very long."
"We need to mix the wax first, then draw the patterns with a wax knife, and finally put it into the dye vat. The result is a blue background with white flowers; the patterned areas are where the wax was applied."
Shen Yuzhou walked to the table, picked up a wax knife, held it up to examine it, and waved the blade in his hand. "This knife is so light."
Su He'an walked over, scooped a spoonful of beeswax from the earthenware jar into the copper pot, and placed it on the charcoal stove to heat it.
The beeswax slowly melted, emitting a wisp of smoke, and a sweet, resinous smell filled the air.
The village elder took out a bamboo basket from under the table. The basket was filled with various herbs, some dried and some fresh, in different shades of color.
"The dyes for batik are made from these herbs: indigo root, knotweed, and some other mountain plants."
The old man spoke slowly, and as he spoke, he put the herbs into a stone mortar and crushed them with a pestle.
The juice of the herbs seeped out, a deep blue color, and splashed onto the inner wall of the mortar.
He poured some water into the mortar, stirred it with a stick, and the water turned indigo blue.
Shen Yuzhou squatted down beside him, watching intently without blinking. "This is dye? It smells so strange."
"We need to add something more." The village elder pinched a pinch of grayish-white powder from another jar and sprinkled it in, then added a spoonful of an unknown liquid and stirred it.
"Lime and rice wine. Adding them helps the color stabilize and prevents it from washing off."
Su He'an took the melted beeswax off the charcoal stove and placed it in the middle of the table.
The beeswax was steaming, with a thin film on its surface.
Su He'an picked up a wax knife, dipped the blade into the molten wax, scraped off the excess wax on the rim of the bowl, and then drew a line on a piece of white cotton cloth.
The lines are very fine and smooth, drawn from one end of the cloth to the other, like a stream flowing over stones.
"You guys give it a try." Su He'an handed the wax knife to Shen Yuzhou.
Shen Yuzhou took it and, imitating Su He'an, dipped the blade into the wax. When he took it out, a thick layer of wax was stuck to the blade. He didn't scrape it off; instead, he drew a line on the cloth, leaving a clump of wax on it.
Su He'an smiled beside her.
"You need to scrape some off, there's too much." She helped him scrape off the excess wax and let him try again.
Shen Yuzhou used less ink this time, and the lines he drew were still crooked and twisted, like earthworms crawling across the surface.
Cheng Yanqiu watched from the side and took the wax knife from Shen Yuzhou's hand.
"I'll come. I can draw too. Although I might not be very good at it."
She dipped her brush in wax and drew a flower on the white cloth. The lines of the petals were fairly smooth, but the temperature of the wax wasn't well controlled, and the wax spread, blurring the edges of the petals into a mess.
Su He'an looked at it and told her that the temperature of the beeswax should be lower, and she should wait until the wax solidified slightly before drawing, so that the lines would not smudge.
Cheng Yanqiu tried again, and it was much better than before.
Ji Shiyu stood in front of the table, holding a wax knife, and hesitated for a long time before putting pen to paper.
Jiang Wantang stood beside him, holding a wax knife in her hand. She drew an orchid on the white cloth, its leaves long and graceful, drawn in one stroke without pausing.
Su He'an leaned closer to look. "It's beautiful. Have you studied painting?"
Jiang Wantang nodded. "I've studied a little traditional Chinese painting."
Ji Shiyu looked at that orchid.
He recognized it; Jiang Wantang had drawn orchids in his notebook before, in the exact same pose, with the orchid leaves extending from the left and drooping slightly.
They were still in school then, and his notebooks were full of her drawings of orchids and bamboo.
He turned his gaze away, lowered his head, and drew a stroke on the white cloth—a musical note.
The head of the phonetic symbol is not drawn very round, but the length of the tail is okay.
He drew another one, and this one was better.
Pei Yubai didn't go to get the wax knife. He stood next to Qiguan Yuan and watched Qiguan Yuan pick up a piece of white cotton cloth from the table.
Qiguan Yuan spread the cloth on the table, picked up the wax knife, dipped it in wax, but didn't scrape. A thin layer of wax clung to the blade. He placed the blade on the cloth, flicked his wrist, and drew an arc.
The curve is very smooth, drawn from one side of the fabric to the other, like a rainbow.
He drew another one, two arcs intersecting each other, leaving a diamond-shaped blank space in the middle.
Pei Yubai watched Qiguan Yuan draw lines.
Qiguan Yuan's hands were very steady; the wax knife in his hands didn't feel like a knife, but more like a pen.
Qiguan Yuan finished the last stroke and put down the wax knife.
Pei Yubai picked up the wax knife he had put down, dipped it in wax, and wrote a character in the blank diamond shape he had drawn.
The characters were very small, with tightly packed strokes. Qiguan Yuan leaned over for a glance and recognized the character.
"Edge."
Qiguan Yuan glanced at Pei Yubai.
Pei Yubai didn't look at him, lowered his head, and wrote another word next to the word "Yuan".
"Pei." The two characters are next to each other, one on the left side of the rhombus and one on the right side of the rhombus, with a small distance in between.
Qiguan Yuan looked at the two characters he had written, stared at them for a moment, and then took the wax knife from Pei Yubai's hand.
He added a short arc next to his own name, connecting it to Pei Yubai's name and linking the two characters together.
[Ew~ the stench of love~]
[Zhidou, Zhidou, you two are dating! Stop showing off!]
[ Yuanyuan, don't go for this jerk, okay? I can be someone else too.]
Wang Miao stood across the table, holding a wax knife, and kept stealing glances at Qiguan Yuan.
She lowered her head and drew a crooked heart on her piece of white cloth.
She wasn't a good painter; the heart she drew didn't quite look like the real thing—the left side was bigger than the right—but she was still satisfied.
She held the cloth up to the light to examine it. The blue dye hadn't been applied yet, and the wax on the white cloth was transparent, only visible when held up to the light.
My roommate next to me drew a flower, carefully placing the stamens with a wax knife, dotting them little by little. Another roommate drew a cat, with long, winding whiskers.
Shen Yuzhou drew for a long time but still couldn't draw it well, so he simply gave up and wrote the character "Shen" on the cloth. The strokes were crooked and messy, like a primary school student just learning to write.
He saw the flower painting by Cheng Yanqiu, pointed to the petals, and said, "These petals are painted well."
Cheng Yanqiu glanced at him and said, "Your handwriting looks like a dog's scribbles. Wow, I've never seen such ugly handwriting!"
Shen Yuzhou retorted, "She clearly has a strong personality."
Cheng Yanqiu didn't reply and lowered his head to continue painting.
Lin Yanru some point, turned to a new page, and wrote something on it. It wasn't a note, but looked like a description of a scene.
She wrote the words "batik" and then a line of smaller characters. After finishing, she closed the notebook, walked to the table, picked up a wax knife, and drew a simple pattern on the white cloth.
A few lines crisscross, making it difficult to discern what they represent.
Ji Shiyu drawing a row of musical notes, Ji Shiyu drew several horizontal lines below them.
Su He'an walked over and took a look, saying that the notes together sounded like a song.
Ji Shiyu didn't speak, but said softly, "Yes, it's a song, written a long time ago."
Jiang Wantang was painting a second orchid nearby. When she heard this, her brush paused for a moment.