 Ruanji opening scene. The hum of cicadas buzzed from all directions as if they were shouting joyful invitations to the water that permeated the damp summer air. The croak of the toads on the riverbed below called out in support. Tribes of fireflies mingled between the breaks in the bamboo laced woods. Some small rodent noisily scurried over the exposed root structures that carpeted the ground like a thousand snakes gathered in orgiastic effervescence. The air was heavy, the temperature hot, nature was a glow. On nights such as this one could often find Ruanji darting about the woods with the quietude and skill of a river bird. Indeed on this night Ruanji was speedily maneuvering through the wooded edge of the river. Leaping skillfully from stone to root to grass he sped through the thick foliage ducking low branches and maneuvering around flora that would threaten the path of anyone else attempting to traverse the area so quickly. A monkey called out as if to praise the oneness of nature exhibited by Ruanji's expedient and traceless journey. There was no path before him and no path left behind. Despite the hiddenness he understood where to go and go he went. It was as if there were two rivers flowing through the woods both headed in the same direction. As the river foliage thinned the sky was a light with the amber glow of a thousand lanterns floating upwards towards the heavens. The cascade of lights illuminated the floodplain of the river outshining even the full moon whose brilliant illumination seemed to bow in deference to the festival in progress below. The people of Henan province had gathered along the Huai River to partake in the lantern festival. It was a time of peace and tranquility of happiness in an otherwise tumultuous world. As Ruanji emerged from the woods along the riverbank his attunement to the flow of the river transitioned from the tranquil contemplation of nature's energies to an absorption of the beautiful lights dancing among and above the festivities. The sounds of celebration penetrated the thick night air not as a violent interruption as is the usual mark of human civilization but in concert with nature. Ruanji's pace slowed but remained steady. He knew where he was going. He had honored the rituals of the lantern festival countless times. Tonight though he was not in attendance due to ritual propriety as his station had previously required of him. Nor was Ruanji attempting to relive the childish zeal for the lantern lighting that was so common in his childhood and that of so many others. Tonight he was attending the festival for one reason rather for one person. On this night Ruanji was chasing after the intoxication of old friendship. On this night he pursued his longtime friend Shikang. No one in attendance would have known that Ruanji had returned from his sojourn into the western province of Guizhou not even his family. Conversely it was common knowledge that the imperial entourage would be respecting the rituals of the festival in Guizhou province this season. The complexities of politics however did not interest him. Instead Ruanji knew that the imperial entourage would include the princess and propriety would in turn demand that her fiance accompany her. As such Shikang was sure to be present. As Ruanji reached the outer ranks of festival participants he was distracted by the laughing of children. You see the lower classes the impoverished the downtrodden the shunned members of society did not have the means nor the knowledge to build impressive lanterns. The lanterns built by the underclass often did not float and more often were less pleasant to behold than the ornamental and highly sophisticated lanterns of the higher classes. However Ruanji saw richness in the lives of these people and had come to respect their undisciplined behaviors as authenticity. When the lower classes got angry they fought. When happy they laughed. When hungry they ate. Ruanji recognized this as animality. Not to be shunned in favor of cultivation but to be appreciated as an expression of nature. Ruanji often wondered if the stifling of such spontaneities were akin to war with nature and no good can come from war. These children laughed and honest laugh. Their delight shone forth the creative power of nature. Thus the mangled inflamed and lopsided lanterns on the outer rim of the festival were the most worthy of his attention. As he contemplated the deeper layers of his appreciation he lost track of the flow of time and with it the quick pace of his pursuit. After a short stay with his reverence Ruanji's attention once again returned to his goal and he pierced deeper into the crowd with confident determination. He took aim at the center of the festival where the crowd was thicker and the lanterns more impressive. The greater the expressions of wealth became the more confident he became that he was drawing nearer to the royal entourage. The density of the crowd became quite thick as Ruanji made his way towards the epicenter of the festival. Whereas most people would bump into those populating the boisterous crowd and need to slow their pace, neither the density of the crowd nor its chaotic movements slowed him. Ruanji's mind was focused on a single point and he wove through the crowd as if dancing with the festival itself. When a child would run underfoot he would step high. When a lantern was released off course he spun. Ruanji's dancing through the crowd was like a sparrow navigating the brambles. He moved unimpeded. A great green dragon made of jade and illuminated with what must have been a thousand candles came into vision ahead. Next to it was a shadowy outline of a particularly imposing figure. Standing over seven feet tall the man towered over all others. It was unmistakably Shikang. Ruanji began to whistle. Ruanji was an expert whistler and drew the gaze of onlookers as he sailed through the crowd with his mind's eye on the prize. However the behavior of the crowd lost its fluidity and quickly became rigid. Ruanji's whistling halted abruptly. Ruanji! A commanding voice boomed forth, flaying the tranquil moment with a consternated authority. Ruanji! The voice sounded again, this time with an air of certainty of purpose. Ruanji halted, stood upright and met the gaze of a heavy set lavishly robed man whose attire commanded more authority than what was beneath it. He was immediately recognized as Prefect Din, the local authority on all public matters. Ruanji and Prefect Din locked eyes for a time in silence. Tensions mounted. The one who would speak next would lose the tactical advantage in the battle of wits that was already well underway. Ruanji! Din grumbled. I heard of more disturbing accounts of your family's gross impropriety. Such affronts to our customs will not be tolerated. Your high station protects you from public reprimand, but I am levying a fine against your family. Your house must pay one thousand Jew for each day. This blight has tarnished the harmony of our community. I trust that you will alter your behavior. Else your family will soon have to bear the shame of abject poverty. Of course your reprimand is warranted and the consequence appropriate, Ruanji replied. Without social protocols regarding where and when one may dry their trousers, the people will be prone to confusion about who their superiors are. The threat of financial ruin, homelessness, and having to beg for one's meals will be sure to prevent community blight. I'm glad you see the wisdom in my decision, said Din. After all, our adherence to community values is the front line in a never-ending struggle to keep the people moral, lawful, and just. Din was clearly satisfied with his perceived correction of a great wrong done to the values that bound society together. Ruanji, under normal circumstances, would have continued to make a mockery of Din right to his face and without him noticing, but this menial distraction had hijacked his mission for too long. As he returned to his course and refixed his gaze, he found no object conforming to his expectations. The imperial escort had retreated to their sanctuary, apart from the common people, and Shikong was no longer observable. Courtly life must operate on a different schedule than was the historical norm for Ruanji and Shikang encounters. A wave of sorrow washed over Ruanji. Shikong's high station meant that only an official summons would liberate him from his palatial duties, and such a bureaucratic maneuver was far beyond his reach. Now Ruanji would have to wait until morning and catch his friend while the imperial escort readied for the journey back to Chengdu. Ruanji would not go home this night, as the sun would surely wake him in time to rendezvous with his friend. Nor would Ruanji drink wine with the other late night festival goers, for the friendship of Shikong was far more intoxicating than anything such a crowd could offer. The best course to fulfill his objective would be a familiar riverside slumber. Sleeping under the stars on a cloudless night was usually a meditative experience for Ruanji. However, this night was a thousand lee from sublimity. Ruanji's usually tranquil mind was troubled this night, as his eyes became heavy and his mind retreated deep into his thoughts. Rest was not to be found, as the flow of his mind was repeatedly interrupted by terrible visions. Ruanji's scene 2, Night One Dream Sequence, the Premonition of Shikong's Execution. Jir's echoed across a dusty pavilion like a rolling thunder. In the quieter moments between bursting passions, one could hear the unmistakable sound of mourners wailing. The faces in the wailing crowd could not be deciphered, but the uniforms of guards holding the crowd back were unmistakably those of the imperial guard. The clouds quickened across the sky and a large figure came into focus as the center of the spectacle. What at first appeared to be a large misshapen boulder quickly took a more familiar form. At first, a man crouched and bound. Now a man broken and slumped. It was a captive man bound in forced subservience to two emerging figures now present and in command of his bindings. Fear struck deep into Ruanji's heart, mind. He awoke to the outcry of an animal, a death whale only made in nature when a creature meets a violent demise. In a haze, the howl was dismissed. Such is the way, he murmured, returning to his slumber. The square took form as the northern pavilion of the emperor's palace. The now unbound man was unmistakably garbed in battle attire. The make was high station. The stature of the wearer quite large. This was a soldier, a large one at that. Ruanji woke once more to a slurry of serpents wiggling on the riverbed as if they had been tied in knots by some mischievous snake handler. Nature sat still in perfect quietude. Ruanji's eyes rolled back into his head and he hit the ground with a notable thud. Like a descent into the depths of the sea, he drifted quickly back into the depths of his trance-like slumber. A thousand lavishly dressed women with faces elongated and venom-toothed bored down on the prisoner. Their eyes were cold like volcanic glass. Their demeanor was stoic and uncaring. Their dress, perfect lavishness, and exact duplicates. This was a ritual killing, the kind encountered in the tales of tradesmen from far away lands. A man's gnarled chuckle rumbles the earth and the prisoner comes into focus. He is Shi Kang and he is weeping an apologetic stare to a beautiful young woman held tightly by a heavy man easily four times her width. The tassels of his hat tap her face one after another. The rope tightens and the sword drops. A dizzy redness becomes the landscape. Ruanji awoke without breath, his head underwater. He had tumbled into the river in his sleep and was being swept downstream by the current. He could not decipher up from down and floundered in the water like a drowning soldier he had once witnessed fall victim to his blade on the battlefield. His mouth breached and he gasped for air. Too late his lungs only found water. Again he breached but focused on the glow of the sun. After a short time coughing he gained his composure and swam to shore. Ruanji seen three the first morning. Exhausted and soaked Ruanji pants and finds his bearing. The sun is three hands high over the horizon Ruanji notices and calls the time at Nine Shi. Disoriented from the traumas of his root awakening and the traumas experienced overnight Ruanji struggles to focus his eyes and his thoughts. Where is the imperial encampment Ruanji slurs aloud coughing up a bit of water. They cannot have left so quickly. Ruanji had drifted a distance down river and had lost his orientation to the encampment. After a lengthy walk up river Ruanji spots the remains of the imperial camp. It is a blight on the otherwise natural landscape. What was once a beautiful grassy riverside plain is now a muddy pit. The stench of refuse and food scraps waft over the river. Dogs and carrion scavenge for edible remains with frantic paranoia. Only a few tents remained but were in a fast process of disassembly. Ruanji counted two ox carts, eight laborers, six soldiers, and an official mounted on horseback. Apparently this is all that remained of the imperial escort. Ruanji had to act fast to discover why the imperial entourage had left so rapidly. More importantly he needed to know their plans. Ruanji set aside his disappointment with himself for not awakening earlier. Tabled his emotional pain from the haunting visions of the night and wobbled to his feet. He gathered his convictions and made a dash for the remnants of the camp. By the time Ruanji made it up river and across one of the flimsy foot bridges that was hastily constructed to enable festival goers to cross the river and having nearly fallen into the water a few more times in his disoriented state and were being loaded into the ox carts. It was as if time itself was moving faster at the locus of his goal. The more he hurried his pace the faster the work appeared to progress. Ruanji began to run. In his frantic state Ruanji slipped and fell into the mud several times in his scurry towards the mounted officer. He was desperate to learn of the imperial entourage's reason for departure at such an early hour and was still dealing with the cognitive trauma from his night visions. Ruanji wondered if he would make it in time and whether he would obtain the information he sought. Luckily the officer's departure had been slowed by someone who appeared from the formality of his dress to be high of status. Unluckily however Ruanji was covered in mud by the time he arrived and appeared before the two officials in a state of disorder so severe that the mounted officer retreated in disgust and ordered the remaining carts and soldiers to depart. Feeling defeated Ruanji collapsed to his knees his eyes swelling with the onset of tears. Ruanji sounded a familiar voice. Is that you? Ruanji scooped the mud from his eyes and stood up straight but his scattered mind could not muster an identification of the man that stood before him. I see that it is you Ruanji. You are a mess. I presume you were up all night with the other drunkards yes? I will take some solace in the fact that some things in this world never change. I simply would prefer that some things do. Ruanji recognized the man's voice as that of Sima Zhao the man who had secured his military appointment as an infantry colonel. Ruanji reputedly sought this position after hearing that in the kitchen of the infantry command there was a large supply of ale made by an excellent brewer. Sima my old friend Ruanji uttered with an increase in poise. I am seeking my friend Shikang. If you will forgive my outward appearance once more I require your wisdom. What is the reason for the hasty departure of the imperial encampment? If it is Shikang you seek my old friend Sima conveyed stoically you should have foregone the wine and attempted to connect with him yesterday. I fear that that encounter would have been your last for Shikang is soon to be accused of treason and as you know the punishment for this crime is death. The antics that you and your friends engage in have always been dangerous Ruanji he continued Emperor Wu does not have the patience for your antiquated and primitive form of living. Quite simply Shikang has run afoul of his courtly duties too many times like any good father the emperor has attempted reconciliation many times however a weed in the garden must be plucked and discarded. If you are not careful this fate will be shared by you and yours. The next scene answers the question how does Ruanji react to such an affront? I am Dr. Sean Butler. I wrote this historically based screenplay. Sorry but this is as far as I got. On the night of July 23rd 2023 I miscalculated an overdose on a mix of cocaine and meth and it killed me. My father provided a copy of my voice and this text to 11 labs they put my voice to the text.