by SALSAlys » Tue Aug 31, 2004 10:55 am
Less than a quarter hour remained until the hour of the Rat.
In the crowded streets of Peking, men, women, and children sang bright, cheerful songs in musical Chinese. Almost all were decked out with red in at least some form on them, and no white could be seen anywhere.
Vendors hawking chilled drinks, small bowls of jai, tangerines, oranges, lucky sayings, carved rat statues, and all other festive items of interest were crying out, voices shrill and pitched to carry across the noise of thousands of people, competing with the beating of small tin pots carried by some merchants solely for the purpose of attracting customers. All combined to make a truly enormous din.
"HAAAAAOOOO! Bets on Lang Mao!" squalled a bookie, his frogged tunic a truly eye-smarting shade of red, with black trousers that had intricately knotted buttons running up the side.
Two sword dancers were pressed against a wall, in an area cleared just for the purpose. As it was New Year's, neither were carrying real swords, for fear that any blood spilled would influence their luck for the year. Instead, they both used wooden ones, intricately carved and with bright ribbons fluttering from the hilt. The contrasting beats of the drummers created a stirring, bold rhythm, almost drunken in its robustness, like it was carrying the two dancers with it.
Lang Mao, or "Pretty Cat", was living up to her name, moving gracefully and lithely. Her slender form didn't seem muscular enough for this dangerous sport, but her agility more than compensated, making her one of the more famed sword dancers in China. She was wearing loose red trousers, which billowed slightly before tying about her ankles with black ribbon, and her feet were bare. Her wrapped shirt, like the upper portion of a kimono, was also red, although a slightly duller shade, and was held in place with a belt of boiled leather with copper studs. Not much could be seen of her features, as she was moving too quickly, but her hair was upheld in what seemed to be a classical Nesting Lark style, and was remarkably well done, as it wasn't loosening.
Her drummer was a large, brawny man with peasant written all over his flat features, although his hands slapped the drum well enough. His massive shoulders supported almost equally massive arms, and the rest of his body was muscled similarly. His hair was simply cut short, save for a small braid at the nape of his neck, and he bit his lip, shaking his head to keep sweat from running into his eye as he pounded the beat for his companion.
Lang Mao's opponent was a tall man with a lean build, wearing a costume similar to Mao's, but in green with red trim. His hair was long, held back in a tail which swished wildly behind him, and his moustache trailed to just below his chin. His drummer was a frog-faced man with bulging eyes, but with a remarkable facility for the drums.
In the midst of the usual crowd of bystanders was a tall, muscular man with dark skin, though still quite recognizable as being Chinese. His long black hair ended about the middle of his back, tied into place with a thin red cord. He wore padded orange leggings and a thick red shirt which was embroidered with snarling tigers. What made him stand out, other than his height and confident stance, were his eyes— a bright and vivid green, evidence of some foreign blood in him.
"AAAAIYAAAH! Children, come spread ears like elephant, hear story of the great race for the Zodiac!" called wizened women selling candied fruits.
"BET ONE BET TWO MONEY MONEY MONEY!"
Thus is the busy city of Peking on Chinese New Year's.