Chapter Forty-Six: Heavenly Fire Consumes All

The final lantern section had stubbornly failed to pass through; it was only after Li Yiting caught up with the procession that he realized everyone seemed to be stuck. The drums and gongs continued to sound, but the crowd had halted, and there was a commotion ahead.

Chen Tianyu frowned in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Someone probably slipped,” Li Yiting replied, unfazed. “The route’s especially tough this year. One of the lantern carriers must have lost their footing. Don’t be fooled by the mere twenty sections—if the steps aren’t in sync or the balance is off, the whole thing twists up.”

“Oh, I see.” Chen Tianyu craned his neck, trying to see ahead. With the front stopped, the rear naturally grew crowded.

“Boom, chirp, boom, chirp…”

Startled, Chen Tianyu looked up. It was the sound of fireworks erupting one after another. Whenever the procession was forced to stop, people treated it as a break. Some idle villagers began lighting the fireworks and firecrackers they’d brought, both to enliven the atmosphere and to lighten their load—the ancestral hall was still a long way off.

The prescribed route for the lantern dance started from Li Village, traversed a kilometer or two of dirt paths, then another stretch through rice fields before reaching the ancestral hall. From there, another small path led past the Guanyin temple, back to the main road, and finally returned to Li Village. The total distance was only four or five kilometers, but the path deliberately wound through secluded trails—a journey that took over an hour even without the burden of carrying all the equipment.

After about five minutes, the procession began to move again. The long dragon had finally broken free, and the crowd surged forward once more.

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As the leader of the lantern, Li Qiubin was supposed to remain steady at the front. But as luck would have it, the villager in the second position had sunk one foot into the mire and couldn’t pull it out. He called for help, but this year’s team was filled with novices, and the dragon had already been bent into a wave by inertia.

The third carrier was a newcomer, lost and unsure what to do. Li Qiubin had no choice but to step in himself. He leaned the lantern pole against the embankment, then went to help the trapped man. The fellow was wearing boots a size too small, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t free his foot—not even by pulling.

Normally mild-mannered, Li Qiubin couldn’t help cursing under his breath, directing his frustration at the newcomer.

Finally, the third lantern carrier snapped out of it and hurried over to help. Together they managed to extricate the stuck man, but the delay cost them precious time.

Li Qiubin shot the newcomer a glare and noticed he looked unfamiliar. The night was pitch black, illuminated only by the faint glow of candles; just a few steps apart, faces were hard to distinguish.

“Pay attention!” he muttered. “Coming out here without any practice, making a spectacle of yourself.” The newcomer kept his head down, accepting the rebuke in silence—no one dared argue with the lantern leader, least of all when he spoke the truth.

Seeing the other man didn’t talk back, Li Qiubin’s anger subsided, for he was a generous soul at heart. He silently shouldered the head lantern, shouted again, and the dragon regained its graceful curve, inching forward once more.

Over the next stretch, the procession lost control two or three more times—sometimes due to a steep slope, sometimes a rock blocking the way, sometimes a carrier’s inexperience. Yet, thanks to Li Qiubin’s efforts, they gradually approached their destination.

Just one more turn along the embankment and the ancestral hall would be in sight. Tonight, the ancestral hall was brilliantly illuminated—a rare event, symbolizing hope for the year ahead.

Li Qiubin relaxed a little. The embankment was narrow but straight, so he picked up his pace. But as he took a step forward, the lantern bridge in his hands remained motionless. Caught off guard, his foot slipped and his left leg slid off the embankment. Quick to react, Li Qiubin realized he’d lost his footing and thrust the pole into the soft rice field to his right to steady himself.

With a muffled thud, the bamboo pole slid easily into the muddy earth. Gripping it tightly, Li Qiubin tried to pull his leg free.

Suddenly—

A burst of fire exploded overhead. With a thunderous crack, a lantern shade above Li Qiumao’s head shattered, showering him with a torrent of burning fragments.

The fiery debris clung to him, instantly igniting his hair and clothing.

The people nearby stood frozen in shock, watching helplessly as a screaming fireball tumbled off the embankment into a paddy below, where, even submerged, it continued to blaze.

“Someone’s dead! Someone’s dead!” a panicked voice rose, soon echoed by others. The cry quickly reached Chen Tianyu and Li Yiting at the end of the line.

The two men were alarmed. Sensing the gravity of the situation, they leapt into the waterlogged field, stumbling through the muck as fast as they could. By the time they reached the dying glow of the fire a few minutes later, it was nearly extinguished.

Li Yiting’s face contorted with anguish. Without a word, he plunged into the paddy, heedless of the mud streaking his face, frantically beating out the flames on his sixth uncle. When that failed, he tore off his soaked shirt and smothered the fire, finally extinguishing the sudden, wicked blaze. His own skin was scorched and blackened.

Li Qiubin, by then, was already ashen-faced, his body charred like a piece of coal. Li Yiting clutched his uncle, his head thrown back in a howl of grief, raw and unrestrained.

Chen Tianyu turned angrily to the people ahead. “What happened? Tell me! Now!”

The man beside him stared blankly, muttering, “Heaven’s fire! Heaven’s fire! Heaven’s fire!”

“Speak clearly! What happened?” Chen Tianyu’s composure was fraying. He seized the man’s shoulders and shook him hard.

“Heaven’s fire consumes the body, the spirit is destroyed! The wrath of the heavens!” the man suddenly screamed, shoving Chen Tianyu aside. Dropping his lantern bridge, he ran, followed by several others who scattered in terror. The dragon collapsed with a crash, pinning the stunned Li Yiting beneath its weight. Only the children, their faces aglow with excitement as they carried their little lanterns, continued forward, oblivious.

Li Yiting did not move, as if turned to stone.

Chen Tianyu was also stunned. Everything had happened so suddenly—he was at a loss, and there was no one around to help. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow. This might have been the most chaotic day of his life, and regret gnawed at his heart.

“Where did things go wrong?” Chen Tianyu found himself unable to focus, anxiety mounting.

He called down toward the paddy, “Yiting, Yiting, how is your uncle?”

“He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone…” Li Yiting repeated numbly, his eyes vacant.

Seeing Li Yiting on the verge of collapse, Chen Tianyu’s mind raced.

“Yiting, pull yourself together! I’m afraid your eldest uncle is in danger too—we must go!” Chen Tianyu’s reasoning had not completely deserted him.

Li Yiting remained unresponsive, as if he hadn’t heard.

In frustration, Chen Tianyu slapped the muddy water, leapt up, and sprinted toward the brilliantly lit ancestral hall, now so close at hand. This time, he truly feared his words might become reality, desperately hoping that it was not too late.