Zheng Hao Han eyed the sword in her grasp. She held the position effortlessly, the graceful lines of her body belying the strength and discipline in the pose. Her free hand took on a classic lotus shape. The young woman gradually lifted one foot knee curved outward, toes exquisitely pointed. The musicians were situated at the edge of the clearing, blending into the crowd. There was stillness again before the melody swelled. It was as if nature had aligned itself with her for this performance. The long sword poised in her hand captured the sunlight as an intermittent breeze fluttered through the peach-blossom silk of her tunic. A dancer stood, still and patient, at the centre of the circle. It was enough to hush the gathered crowd into silence. Performed by a Disciple of Madam Gongsun’Īlone reed flute sang the opening melody. She moved quickly and spiritedly like the dragon ridden by gods. The sword flashed like Yi’s arrows that shot down the nine suns. Heaven and earth moved in tune with her rhythm.
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