Outside the performance stall under the Tianqiao, crowds were packed layer upon layer.
Bai Li stood among the crowd, tiptoeing, wanting to see the center of the stage clearly. But she wasn't very tall and there were tall men ahead of her, so she couldn't see well even when tiptoeing.
She turned to Chen Ji, righteously saying, "Carry me."
Chen Ji bent down with a smile, lifting her onto his back, allowing her a clearer view.
Bai Li stared attentionly at the scene, a man in his thirties, dressed in short attire, his face rough red from years of exposure to the elements.
The man held a narrow-finned flying knife in his hand, the blade flashing cold under the setting sun.
At the other end of the stage stood a huge wooden target board, a twelve or thirteen-year-old girl tied to it, with a red ribbon in her hair, her face taut, motionless.
