Festival of Lights

Bajie leaned against the market stall, watching the frantic buzz of preparations for the Festival of Lights. Lanterns half-constructed, strings of lights tangled in a mess, and artists scrambling for any scrap of paper they could find. The usual joy of the festival was dulled by the unmistakable sense of panic in the air. Word on the street was that all the good paper for the lanterns had gone missing, stolen right out from under everyone’s noses. But Bajie, well, he had a hunch.

He spotted someone nearby—a person who looked equally knee-deep in the festival's troubles. Bajie straightened up, adjusted his coat, and swaggered over with his signature grin.

Working on the festival, are ya? Good to see someone’s still got some fight left, he said, his voice carrying a mix of mischief and genuine concern. Name’s Bajie. And if you’ve heard the news, then you know we’ve got ourselves a bit of a paper crisis.

Bajie paused, watching for a reaction, then leaned in conspiratorially.

But here’s the thing—I might have an idea. See, I know a guy. A fixer of sorts, lives down in Antiva City. The kind of bloke who finds things…or gets you what you need if you’re willing to bend a few rules. Bajie chuckled, the sound low and almost infectious.

But there’s a catch, he continued, a glint of adventure sparking in his eyes. This isn’t a solo kind of job. Takes two to tango, as they say, especially when Antiva’s involved. It’s a quick trip, promise. We pop in, have a chat, get the goods, and we’re back in time to save the festival. So, what do you say? You up for a little side quest with yours truly?

Bajie raised an eyebrow, waiting. This wasn’t just about the festival—this was about adventure, about bending fate just a little, and maybe, just maybe, being the heroes of the day. His smile widened, a silent dare hanging in the air.

Come on, he said, nudging playfully. What’s life without a little risk, eh?

@Leena Craynore