Chapter 1: A Grand Blueprint Unfolds Across the Landscape, The Arch Bridge at the Village Entrance Becomes the Gathering Point

"Impossible! We need the internship certificates, yes, but I didn't bring all these people here just for you to toy with us!"

Green waves swayed the fragrant willows, and white jade walls reflected the elegant architecture. This angry, hushed voice felt entirely out of place with the surroundings.

"Pay me more? Do you think university students are just here to be bullied?" Cheng Heng could no longer suppress his anger. He scanned the surrounding students and plunged into the nearby crowd.

"Careful, students, watch your step... stop looking at your phones; the bridge is narrow."

"It’s only because of this new era that you people can act so arrogant. Otherwise, you’d just be actors—low-lifes, the bottom of the social ladder!" In his agitation, Cheng Heng accidentally triggered the speakerphone. That sentence from the other end of the line drew the attention of everyone nearby.

Naturally, that included Guan Yin. When organizing the group earlier, Guan Yin had already noted Cheng Heng as a potential source of trouble.

The young man’s face flushed a deep crimson at the insult from the phone. Flustered, he turned off the speaker. "So what if we’re artists? So what if we’re actors? At the end of the day, you breached the contract first. We’re just not performing anymore!"

This bridge was a landmark of Hongcun, and the flow of tourists was constant. Guan Yin had no time to be distracted; he and the homeroom teacher simply moved to flank the student group, keeping them safely in the middle.

"Don't bother threatening me with lawyer's letters. Black and white on paper cannot be twisted; the law will only support justice!"

"Watch out!"

An infuriated Cheng Heng, hanging up the phone, collided with Guan Yin, who had nowhere to dodge. They both tipped toward the railings of the stone arch bridge. A nearby tourist grabbed them, and they barely managed to steady themselves.

"Oh... the teacher and..." Seeing Guan Yin and Cheng Heng bracing each other, both blushing and tripping over their words to explain, the students—deep in the throes of puberty and well-versed in romance novels—began to gather in small groups, ready to tease.

The homeroom teacher shot them a sharp look, and the chorus of "Oohs" was quickly replaced by a hurried "Shh, stop it." The helpful tourist came to his senses and began directing traffic again.

"Young man, don't be so hot-headed. You have to watch your step on the bridge..."

"Look, there are students here on a field trip. If anyone falls off, that would be a disaster!"

Green hills framed the scene like a painting, with black-tiled roofs falling at varying heights. The ink-wash aesthetic of the world had not yet flaunted its beauty, yet it had already ensnared the souls of the passing tourists.

The small episode between Guan Yin and Cheng Heng was nothing more than an insignificant seasoning—like a splash of mineral green or azurite pigment accidentally dropped onto the foreground of a painting. It was jarring enough to demand a moment’s attention, before fading back into the harmony of the entire scroll.

In a corner no one noticed, Cheng Heng’s classmates were still rehearsing. If not for the incident where Cheng Heng nearly fell off the bridge, this scroll of Hongcun would have lacked this unusual detail in the corner.

"Actually, if he gives it to you, you should just take it. You’re the busiest one here anyway; you deserve a larger share."

"I think Cheng Heng is right! We university students aren't beasts of burden. We didn't study just to bow down to them for the sake of an internship certificate."

On the other side of the phone call was the organizer of the scenic park's festival. To cut costs, they had scouted students from art colleges who had yet to graduate. By the time Cheng Heng took the job, the students in front of him were already set—most were from his own school.

"I’ll find a way to resolve the internship certificate issue." Behind every script lay a deconstruction of the works of those who came before. Behind every story of scholars, beauties, incorruptible officials, and loyal subjects, was there not a sense of backbone?

"There is an old saying: 'If you're willing to endure a thousand cuts, you dare to pull the emperor from his horse.' I imagine you haven't heard it... but those characters in the scripts are the ones you have been playing on stage all this time."

Shadows fell upon the whitewashed walls and dark tiles; the puddles on the ground acted like mirrors, etching the silhouettes of the people. Cheng Heng said only this: "As for the money, I will find a way to pay you. As for the play, we..."

"Everyone has worked so hard for so long; it would be a shame not to perform."

"What’s the point of performing now? If they don't pay us, let them explain the problems to the park management themselves!"

A dozen students discussed the situation in a chaotic mess. Thinking of the last half-month of intensive preparation going to waste, Cheng Heng’s gaze grew increasingly unfocused.

"Teacher, is this kind of house only found in Huizhou?"

"Teacher Guan, is your hometown in Huizhou?"

"Oh? Is Teacher Guan from Anhui?"

"Teacher, Teacher, are we just going to walk around here all afternoon? Can we break up and have some free time?"

A burst of energetic voices drowned out the chaotic dilemma. It drew Cheng Heng’s gaze toward the field trip group, just before Guan Yin’s figure was obscured by a high wall.

"We are performing!" Cheng Heng declared, silencing the room. A dozen bewildered eyes turned toward him.

"Perform?"

"What's left to perform?"

"Maybe we should just forget it..."

The travel was exhausting, and this sickening turn of events—the term "actor" had long since been tarnished—landed on the ears of these hot-blooded youths like an inescapable, haunting melody. They would remember this for a long, long time.

After all, not everyone chose this path out of pure passion, and certainly not everyone had unwavering support behind them.

"Art without an audience has no soul... we are performing right now!"

"Now? For whom?"

"Don't tell me..."

The dozen students followed the direction of Cheng Heng’s finger and saw the group of children in white and red school uniforms, who stood in perfect harmony with the spring of Hongcun. Cheng Heng’s words rang out at just the right moment: "We are performing for these students, so that when they return from their field trip, they will have seen the most beautiful Huizhou."

The performance hadn't been officially canceled, and they had already filed the proper reports with the Culture and Tourism Bureau. As long as they maintained order, Cheng Heng and his classmates' performance was entirely legitimate!

"Of course, you..."

"Fine!"

"Alright!"

When they were ready to give up, they were disheartened, but when they stood firm for their ideals, they showed the true nature of their age. Cheng Heng knew the rest of the sentence he didn't finish was unnecessary.

As the flute music began, their costumes—not particularly exquisite—seemed to take on an ancient charm.

As the zither music layered in, 85-degree water poured into tea that wasn't exactly top-tier Huangshan Maofeng, yet the orchid fragrance drifted, distant and serene.

"It has been one year since tea culture was inscribed as a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage. Taste the Huangshan Maofeng and appreciate the literary charm of Huizhou." The girl brewing the tea spoke, pouring the tea from the lidded bowl into small paper cups.

This was a planned interactive segment for tourists. If the tourists were too shy, Cheng Heng, playing "Wu Tongke," would have to step up to liven things up.

Guan Yin, pushed to the front by the students, pursed his lips. He had been about to decline the actress's kindness.

"The tea is decent enough, but I hear the most famous thing in your Anhui is the 'Huizhou Merchants.' Isn't it all about money? As a merchant, whose money are you trying to earn?" Cheng Heng stepped forward and took the first cup, which hadn't yet fully steeped. "Furthermore, what does this have to do with literary charm?"

"The white walls and dark tiles are like paper and ink; doing things clearly and with integrity—does this mean you don't believe in it?" Xie Huiyun, played by the actress, smiled without offense. "If you don't believe it, why not come and see for yourself?"

In this four-stage immersive interactive play, Cheng Heng was the one who had to keep leading the tourists. Guan Yin, pushed to the front by the students, had become the focal point of the tourists—he had no choice but to participate in this interaction.