Chapter Seven: A Trick of the Eye

The young woman didn't hesitate at all; the moment she found her footing, she began to dance.

Wang Erlang held his breath, reminding himself again and again that he had to stay completely focused, that he absolutely could not make the same mistake twice. But before he knew it, he found himself drifting into a daze once more: her sash, for some reason, kept changing before his eyes — one strand, two strands, three... he lost count, his head spinning trying to keep track of how many there truly were. Then suddenly the sash seemed to flow like a serpent gliding through water; then like a vine, lush and alive, swaying freely on the wind; then like a dragon soaring skyward, weaving through the clouds alongside a pair of white cranes, calling to one another in harmony. Wang Erlang stared, eyes wide and mouth agape, hardly able to believe it — what trick performed by the finest illusionists could ever compare to her dancing?

And so, once again, he had no idea when her feet had touched down, or when she had brought the dance to its end.

"Did you understand it this time?" Her voice pulled the dazed Wang Erlang back to reality once more.

Before he could even answer, he looked more closely and saw that her sash had settled obediently back around her shoulders and arms — just the one, and nothing more.

"I understand... and yet... I don't," Wang Erlang answered, faltering.

"How many sashes does the young lady actually have?"

"One," she said, not even lifting her eyes, walking calmly back to her usual "seat" and sitting down.

Though thoroughly stunned, Wang Erlang trusted his own eyes — over these past several days, he had only ever seen her wearing a single blue-green sash. And yet, just moments ago, she had danced out what seemed like countless ribbons, each shimmering with its own color and spirit. Could it be that she, too, had studied the art of illusion?

Wang Erlang tilted his head back and sighed toward "heaven" — though of course, in a cave, there was no heaven to look up to at all. In that instant, a flash of insight struck him: what her dance had shown him was that the sash was never mere decoration — it possessed a rhythm all its own.

The thought seized him, and he hurried to grind his ink and retrace the ribbons anew. A sash had a life of its own; only a living sash could ever avoid becoming a mere accessory to someone else.

And then his brush moved as though guided by some unseen hand, flowing smoothly without a single pause. The ribbons coiled, unfurled, and leapt; their trailing ends curled ever so slightly, tracing one smooth, full arc after another through the air...

And yet — something still felt wrong.

He stepped back several paces to study the newly traced outline of the ribbons on the wall. Varied and lifelike as they now were, something still seemed to be missing. Wang Erlang racked his brain, and a look of anguish settled over his face.

"You still haven't understood," the young woman said at last, after tilting her head and studying him for a long while.

"How could a sash ever hold any charm on its own, without the apsara to wear it?" She rose to her feet once more and walked over to him.

"Watch again."