Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 107 Did the Hero Save the Sun?
Linger gently pushed open the unlocked iron gate and walked into the Central Theater with Saint Xia Liya. In the rusty bronze statues, the moss-covered corners of the walls, and the weed-covered garden courtyard, he saw traces of the years that had lingered.

They should have entered from the back door, but there was no one guarding it, only the carved statues on the fence creaking because they were loose. The plants in the flowerbed had been unattended for a long time, growing wildly like a waterfall of primitive green, drowning the lily of the valley and cornflowers that were originally planted, or even drowning a large number of ants under the leaves, whose bodies rotted at the roots and formed dense spider webs.

The golden thread meandered around the dry fountain pool on the lawn, twisting and turning like a snake. The two followed silently behind it, stepping on the white stone steps that were worn with traces of the past, and walked into the theater.

Behind the dull mahogany door is a dark corridor. A retro-style kerosene lamp is hung on the wall every ten meters. Otherwise, there would be no light at all. But the light from the oil lamp soaks into the faded wall panels and immediately blends into a dark paint color like ink. The uncertain light makes the portraits on the wall and the plaster busts on the wooden display stand look a little eerie. Those pairs of empty eyes are like ghosts from the past, casting deep gazes at the guests from the future. The silent and frozen atmosphere sometimes makes people wonder if it would be better not to light these oil lamps.
Facing this eerie and dark corridor, the lamb that Saint Xia Liya was leading bleated and lingered at the door, hesitating to move forward, until its owner gently pulled the rope and comforted it, "It's okay, little lamb, don't be afraid." Then it followed reluctantly.

Lingge casually said, "You can let it stay outside."

Saint Shalia shook her head: "The lamb is a very important friend of mine, and it can see the line."

"Didn't you say that ordinary people can't see the thread of fate?"

The girl then told him seriously: "The lamb is not a human being."

"..."

Lingge could only remain silent, while the lamb led by Saint Xia Liya seemed to understand the conversation between the two. It raised its head proudly and bleated twice, as if showing off.

In terms of history, the Central Theater is not ranked among the ancient buildings on Square Street, but as Rochelle said, this is a theater with a glorious tradition. The honor it has or carries is something that deserves the proud voice lingering between the half-rotten floors and ceilings.

Linger instantly realized that they had broken into the main hall of the theater where a play was being performed, and were now at the back of the auditorium. Fortunately, they did not make too much noise to attract the attention of the staff - or the audience who were fully engaged in the performance. If so, it would probably be more than just a matter of buying a ticket.

Coincidentally, the line that Lingge and Saint Xia Liya were chasing happened to lead to the stage. After passing through the dark corridor, it was cut off at a corner and then magically lost its trace. The two raised their heads at the same time, and saw a row of dark heads, but it was as quiet as the midnight tide, and only the tide of breathing could be heard; and the lighting scenery set off by candles, crude oil lamps, torches and chandeliers, like the bright glow of jellyfish under the tide, attracted the attention of uninvited visitors.

The history of the Rostinians defending “art” and “urban tradition” in the theater is second only to their history of living in harmony with the land.

The yellow pinewood frames depict famous theatre artists of the past: James Burbage, who pioneered the era here, Sir Roman, a local playwright from Rustin who wrote "March Search Diary", and Shakespeare, the greatest writer after the Renaissance...

As for the busts on the wooden display stand, they are from classic characters in plays that have been performed here: General Macbeth who was corrupted by lust for power in Macbeth, Prince Hamlet who avenged his father in Hamlet, and the brave Roche who defeated the monster in March Search Diary...

Although Lingge didn't know what there was to brag about.

Walking along the corridor in the dim light of the kerosene lamp, I could vaguely hear the actors singing in a rhythmic manner. It seemed that a play was being performed on the stage. No wonder there were so few people along the way. They probably all went to watch the wonderful performance.

The two continued to walk forward, their footsteps echoing in the muffled sound as the portraits and plaster statues on both sides stared at them like shadows.

In the circular theater, only the actor's lyrics echoed. He was dressed as a swordsman, with scars and blood on his body; the stage setting was a dark and depressing black forest, full of death and despair. But the expression on the actor's face was hopeful and bright. He held a sword and pointed at the sun hanging in the sky. Every passionate syllable he uttered matched the high-spirited and impulsive tune played by the orchestra behind the scenes, forming overlapping and empty echoes, pushing the emotions of the audience to surge to the most exciting climax.

So in fact, Lingge didn't have to worry about the noise he made disturbing the audience, because when the play opened, this passionate voice was the only sound left in the theater.

Saint Shallia took two steps closer and asked softly, "What are they performing?" At this moment, the actor on the stage turned around and faced the audience. With rich body movements and profound dialogue skills, he pushed the plot and music to the climax.

"Oh, look at this land, how unfortunate it is? The wet soil in the rain will stain my clothes, the bodies drowned in the flood will rot and stink, the lonely flowers that bloom like this will eventually wither and rot, the green branches and leaves will turn yellow after being beaten by wind and rain... Everything in this world is indeed as tragic and sad as we imagined, but I still love them so much!"

"Because clothes soaked in mud have the weight of living in the world, rotting and smelly corpses are reincarnated into the next life; new flowers bloom on lonely and withered roots, and the falling of yellow leaves means that spring is coming. Fools are always afraid of sinister illusions, and only those with hope can see the future they want."

"Oh, Noctus, you who are as dark as the deep sea, can you see me now? I regret that the light of the sun and the moon cannot reach the bottom of the deep sea, so you cannot hear my voice. You gentle winds, these delicate flowers, tell me like a whisper, am I victorious?"

He pretended to listen attentively, and the orchestra hidden behind the curtain sang in unison, imitating the whispers of the breeze and the whispers of the flowers, telling him: "Yes, my dearest, most just and greatest warrior Rosh, you have won a victory that makes us proud!"

"You defeated the evil monster and found the lost sun for us!"

"Great is the warrior Rochu! Holy is the warrior Rochu!"

"Your fame is known to everyone, and your achievements will last forever!"

"We pay you this high tribute!"

"The glory of the people is praised in this ceremony; the bravery of the world is nothing more than this!"

“I will love all your actions with sincerity!

"I will use the Holy——"

"Praise your name!!!"

The spirited choir members held their heads high and adjusted the emphasis through subtle changes in their lips, teeth and tongues, and enthusiastically spit out poems praising the brave from their throats. The holy, beautiful and solemn harmony made people sit up straight subconsciously, and couldn't help but immerse themselves in it, feeling awe.

Linger knew what play this was when he heard this. It would be better to say that everyone in the entire city of Rostin should know this, including those tourists who came here just to relax. This has nothing to do with knowledge and experience, but is an immutable truth like "everyone in Linville should know Marshal Napoleon."

"'March Search Diary'."

He answered the girl's question: "It's a story about a brave man who defeated a monster and saved the sun."

　Cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough

　　
　
(End of this chapter)