Chapter Forty-Five: The Grand Lantern Dance Festival

The so-called Lantern Dance operates on the same principle as the Dragon Dance, though in a simplified form. The Dragon Dance features segmented dragon bodies or dragon heads and tails; the Lantern Dance is less elaborate, with no head or tail, and each section consists of five identical bamboo lanterns arranged side by side. These lanterns are firmly fixed onto a long pine plank by two thin iron strips, with a large candle inserted at the center of the base—thus forming a lantern bridge for each household. When all the households join their bridges together, they create a long chain, resembling a dragon. Li Village has few residents, only about twenty households; their lantern chain, therefore, has just over twenty sections—not particularly long. Yuan Village, with its greater numbers, once boasted a hundred sections, making for a much grander spectacle.

So, the lantern display in Li Village isn’t especially impressive. Yet, for those born and raised there, it is a memory, a culture, and a symbol of home. The Lantern Dance is not only a humble ritual for blessings but also a feast for family reunion. Thus, the younger generation of Li Village, who may still be in the city on the first day of the new year, often make a special effort to return before the tenth day of the lunar month. The pull of home is hard for anyone to resist, and this has always been one of the ways rural communities foster unity.

People who rarely gather throughout the year all appear at the festivities. Regardless of wealth, everyone contributes the same household dues, and offerings are never compared. It’s a joyful and harmonious time; no one cares who is more successful, only that they share a common ancestor.

Entertainment abounds: poker, mahjong, colored cards, chess, Go, Five-in-a-row, and sometimes even military chess played fiercely. The atmosphere is lively. More people are busy helping with chores, taking initiative in various tasks.

Li Village has a tradition: to have one’s name written on red paper and serve as a Lantern Dance staff member is considered an honor, especially for those who spend most of their lives away from home. This role isn’t determined by status or rank, but by strength and reliability. Among these tasks, carrying the lantern bridge is the most prestigious—entrusted to those who are steadfast and dependable, and being included on the list of lantern carriers is a mark of recognition. Anyone who makes it onto this list is regarded as a pillar of the village.

And so, on the tenth day of the lunar month, all the men of the village join in, creating a lively scene. Some carry sedan chairs, some manage the lanterns, some practice with gongs and drums, others load gunpowder, while some cook and serve dishes, and others pound rice cakes with vigor. At this time, women are noticeably absent—a bit of a pity, since the head chefs are all men; it can’t be helped.

After the welcoming of the gods on the ninth day, the night vigil with chants, the villagers’ wishes and offerings the next day, and the afternoon parade of the ancestral master, finally comes the climax of the folk festival: the Lantern Dance!

By early evening, most staff are already in position, with only a few remaining tasks for the prayer ritual, being hurried along. This overlaps somewhat with the Lantern Dance preparations, making the scene chaotic. Young men often rush about like headless chickens, much to everyone’s amusement.

The younger generation now takes the stage, gathering at a plaza farther from the main hall, laughing and joking. Most are children, ranging from a few years old to teenagers, both boys and girls. They carry homemade lanterns that flicker, their small shoulders bearing red flags fluttering in the wind. There’s laughter and conversation, and while they feel the solemnity, they also savor these most beautiful moments.

Now, all that remains is the crack of the signal gun—for the Lantern Dance to officially begin.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Sixth Uncle Li Qiubin was fussing over his section of the lantern bridge in the corridor.

As the youngest of the six Li brothers, he naturally played a central role in the Lantern Dance. He was a quiet, simple man, rarely seen or mentioned in the story, mostly because he was unremarkable—a true farmer, who, when idle, helped with carpentry, though only as an assistant.

Yet, apart from the eldest, he was the most mature and cautious of the brothers, meticulous in his work.

He had already checked his lantern bridge several times: the lanterns, the poles, the candle bases, the wedges—he inspected each personally, ensuring nothing was amiss. Occasionally, others came by to check, but none were as thorough as he.

The candles hadn't been lit yet, so the lanterns were only half assembled, leaving the wicks exposed.

Seeing everything in order, he took out a cigarette, lighting it and smoking with satisfaction—rare leisure. Though he seldom appeared, his brothers' affairs weighed on him, even if he never spoke of it. He had participated in every aftermath.

The unobtrusive always remain unnoticed, no matter how much they quietly give.

Li Qiubin never minded. He simply wanted to do his work well and find peace in that.

He was just taking a drag when someone gently tapped his shoulder. Surprised, he turned to see his elder brother, Li Qisi. He stood up, and the two stepped aside to talk.

Li Qisi carried a plastic bag, probably containing incense and candles, which he handed to the youngest.

"Take this. Your wife asked me to bring it for you," Li Qisi said softly.

Li Qiubin accepted it, saying nothing.

Li Qisi added, "Later, I’ll need to go to the ancestral hall to start the fire. You’re leading the lanterns—walk carefully. It’s been raining, and the road’s very slippery."

"Alright," Li Qiubin replied, not out of stinginess with words, but because this routine had been unchanged for decades.

"You be careful, too," Li Qiubin unexpectedly said.

Li Qisi was momentarily taken aback but replied nonchalantly, "I am careful. I’ve walked this road so many times I could find the hall with my eyes closed."

Li Qiubin seemed unusually talkative today. "Times are different now—better to stay alert."

"I know," Li Qisi said after a pause, then hurried off without further conversation. Li Qiubin seemed to sigh, leaving the corridor as well.

A cold wind swept through. Li Qiubin instinctively looked back, but Li Qisi was already gone.

About ten minutes later, more lantern carriers appeared, lighting their candles with lighters or matches—ready to depart.

Sure enough, once preparations were complete, the signal gun fired. The children gathered in the plaza set off first, followed by the twenty-odd sections of the lantern chain. After them came the sedan chair bearing the Buddha statue, incense burners, torchbearers lighting the way, the gong and drum troupe, and the logistics team at the rear.

Li Qiubin steadied himself, hoisted the bamboo pole as thick as his forearm, called out calmly, and the others fell into action.

The Lantern Dance had begun!

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Colorful lanterns dotted the procession, winding candles flickering dimly, the signal gun echoing along the route, accompanied by thunderous gongs and drums. The crowd moved slowly along muddy paths, heading straight for the ancestral hall.

Chen Tianyu and Li Yiting mingled among the crowd, trudging forward with the logistics crew.

Chen Tianyu exclaimed, "It’s so magnificent—makes your blood boil!"

Li Yiting was clearly delighted, shouting, "It’s like this every year. After being away for so long, I thought I’d never get to see the Lantern Dance again, but they’re still keeping it alive."

"Exciting, isn’t it?" Chen Tianyu laughed, "I told you, you need to come out more often."

"Of course, of course," Li Yiting tried to conceal his excitement, but his eyes reddened for no reason.

He added, "But in recent years, more people have moved to the city. I noticed some young folks couldn’t make it back today—that used to be rare. Times have truly changed."

Chen Tianyu nodded, "You’re right. Now travel is much easier, but city jobs are tougher. Many don’t stay away by choice—they simply can’t get time off, especially those whose units get busier near the Spring Festival. Every position is tightly held—no one’s allowed to leave."

"If I weren’t relatively free lately, I wouldn’t have had a chance to come home," Li Yiting sighed.

Chen Tianyu patted his shoulder, "Now that Beiting is on track, you don’t need to push yourself so hard. Why not come home each Spring Festival?"

"That’s wishful thinking!" Li Yiting laughed, though he longed for it. His steps unconsciously slowed.

Chen Tianyu called from ahead, "Hey, hurry up—the lanterns are almost out of sight!"

Li Yiting snapped out of it, looked up, and saw the lantern chain turning around a mountain bend, the last section about to disappear. He hurried to catch up.