The clock was ticking. Only two days before their show, an international troupe of performing artists had no idea what would happen on the stage. Eighteen choreographers and musicians from 13 countries across Asia and Europe spent five days visiting remote villages of the Miao minority in Southwest China's Guizhou Province to gather material and inspiration.
The Great Wall, Houhai Lake, Bell and Drum towers, hutong, subway rides, Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven, acrobats, foot massages, cool coffee shops, public street dancing, fine dining and juicy Peking Duck.
For Chen Zicai (pictured right), a young Hong Kong feng shui master, his business is a fashionable one. Recently, some businessmen in Beijing invited him to provide some feng shui consultations. He wore brand-name clothes and had a fashionable haircut, quite different to the usual image of a geomancer.
My niece, Fan Fan, graduated from university a year ago and recently fell in love. For most parents, this would be reason for joy, but her mother has been trying to separate them.
Gao Feng invited a feng shui practitioner to his house after becoming frustrated with his business investments. He had been skeptical about the practice, but decided to give it a try after listening to friends' recommendations.
Early every morning, Xiao Xiaoxue rides to his workshop at the foot of the Wuhan Yangtze River Bridge. He puts on a conspicuous yellow jacket and at 8:30 am leads his team on a routine maintenance examination of the bridge.
All I could see was fear. Technically, the sight of the lake's surface rushing up at me from 100m below was surging through my pupils, whizzing along my optical nerves and registering in my brain as visual information. But it seemed like a remote unreality as I plummeted dozens of meters per second towards what seemed to be certain death. The instant I jumped, primordial terror overwhelmed and short-circuited all ken.
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