Chapter 773 — The New-Style Theater

In Gao Yang's view, having a "local" write stories for "locals" to watch was far more fitting than digging a few tales of another world out of his own head—the latter he would have to painstakingly rework to fit the local worldview, and even then it might not stir the people's interest.

"To be honest, there's a lot in this story I'm learning for the first time," said Ilven beside Film, with a slightly bashful smile. "Father was right. I ought to get out and see the world, learn a few things."

As he spoke, the heir of the Western Region glanced at his friend on the other side, a flicker of curiosity on his face. "Fendir, what's wrong? Why have you seemed so unsettled since a moment ago?"

"I… it's nothing, probably just my imagination," said Fendir—short silver hair, tall and broad, sunny in temperament—yet at this moment he looked somewhat tense and worried. He smiled and shook his head. "I've had a bad feeling since a while ago, as though trouble's coming."

Film tensed at once. "You mean something will go wrong with today's 'premiere'?"

Powerful transcendents often possessed "intuitive premonitions" that ordinary people could scarcely comprehend. Film did not understand it well and simply assumed such intuition was something like "prophecy," so hearing Fendir's words he could not help but grow tense.

"No, not that sort of thing," Fendir hastily waved a hand at his friend. "Have some confidence, Film. Your work is excellent—look at Miss Amber's expression. She clearly loves this magic-shadow drama."

Beside the monitor, Amber was watching the holographic projection without blinking, seemingly wholly absorbed—yet when Fendir finished speaking, her ear still twitched, and without turning her head she said, "It really is quite good—at least some of the details are true to life. That mercenary who stole the ticket—his moves were crude, but they were proper. Did you have someone coach him?"

"We went to the Public Security Bureau several times for that," Film said, lowering his head a little sheepishly. "The actor playing the mercenary is actually a real thief… I mean, he used to be one."

"Good," Gao Yang laughed. "I mean, that serious attitude of yours is very good."

As he spoke, he turned his head, his gaze seeming to pierce the wall as he looked toward the screening hall next door.

And it was not only Philm and his people who had brought a commendable attitude to the making of the arcane shadow-play.

Fendil's instincts, too... seemed rather good.

...

Throughout the screening, which lasted more than two hours, the hall remained quiet.

For a crowd of common folk entering a theater for the first time, and for the Earl of Ballin and his companions, sitting among so many commoners for the first time, this seemed almost inconceivable.

Halfway through the arcane shadow-play, the Earl of Ballin realized one thing: apart from serving as scenery in the images, castles, manors, palaces, and the like would most likely never appear.

Apart from that mercenary disguised as a knight and the few old-noble knights who were clearly cast as villains, "knights" too would most likely never appear.

Narrative poetry, heroic monologues, priests symbolizing the gods and philosopher-scholars symbolizing wise nobles—none of these would appear either, it seemed.

The story was not complicated, and at least in the Earl of Ballin's eyes, it was not particularly interesting either.

Most of what it contained was impossible for this noble from the royal capital to relate to, to understand, or to feel any resonance with.

Yet he still watched the entire story earnestly, and he noticed that everyone in the hall had become completely immersed in the tale of the "arcane shadow-play."

As the story neared its end, that ship which had weathered every buffeting trial, broken through the wartime blockade, and survived monsters and mechanical failures—the Highlander—at last arrived safely at the southern port city. To the audience's delighted surprise, a figure they knew well appeared on the arcane shadow-play's images as well: that beloved witch had a cameo as a reception clerk responsible for registering immigrants, and even that renowned great merchant, Mr. Codd, owner of the Codd Family Courier Company, played a guide pointing the way on the docks.

The way the whole story ended was even more novel: after the subtitle "Several Years Later" flashed by, the images showed the immigrants who had already settled in the southern lands, recounting in recollection their experiences aboard the ship and their first days of life in their new homeland. The final scene of the arcane shadow-play was dozens of small captured images pieced together, dozens of characters in the projection speaking the last line of dialogue in unison:

"Yes, that is how we began our new lives."

The images gradually dimmed, and the cast list began to surface upon the holographic projection.

The Earl of Ballin let out a soft breath and made to rise, but a quiet voice suddenly came from the seat behind him:

"Yes, that is how we began our new lives..."

The Earl of Ballin froze for a moment, and before he could turn toward the sound, more voices came from nearby:

"Yes, that is how we began our new lives..."

Many people were still gazing toward the crystal array that had already gone dark, and many were still softly repeating that final line.

In Xuanque City, ninety-nine out of a hundred people were immigrants—or rather, displaced persons, refugees.

They had lived through everything in the story: leaving their homes, the long journey, putting down roots in a strange land, working, building houses of their own, tilling fields of their own...

No story could move the people sitting here the way The Immigrants did.

Gradually, applause finally arose, and the applause grew more and more, louder and louder, until it resounded through the entire hall.

Amid the applause coming from all around, the Earl of Ballin suddenly heard the voice of Victoria Wilde reach his ears:

"They come here to watch other people's stories, yet in those stories they see themselves.

"Mr. Ballin, what do you think of this story?"