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Call this The House of Moon In All Her Glory. Or call it, as the villagers do, Nyŭshén's house. Nyŭshén does not actually live in Nyŭshén's House but her servants do; women selected by Nyŭshén's Eldest Daughters from all over the mountain, women selected to tend Nyŭshén's House; to perform Nyŭshén's rituals. For Chu and his fellow villagers, these are honored persons.
Consider a room on the third floor were a group of Nyŭshén's daughters are gathered to prepare their youngest sister, a girl of fifteen years, innocent yet wise, instructed and learned in the ways of Nyŭshén, aware that this day she will represent the goddess, perform Nyŭshén's acts. As her sisters tend her hair, locks not yet civilized, insert the comb and fan, the paired jewel sticks, replace and replace the locks that will not obey, clean her face, present her black trousers, light and airy; her golden blouse with skirts fore and aft, she worries that she will perform imperfectly; debase the rites; be unsuccessful. Let us name her Ming.
Consider the afternoon of the same day as hundreds of villagers make pilgrimage to the House of the Moon In All Her Glory, following paths they have followed every Spring, calling to neighbors, greeting strangers, smiling and laughing, men poking each other's ribs as bawdy comments bounce back and forth. Gradually, unnoticed, the pilgrims segregate themselves, men first, women and children following, so that when they arrive those men will be forward, ready for selection, eager for selection.
Consider Ming and her coterie descending the stairs, solemn where the men arriving are excited; pensive where the men arriving are primal; serious where the men arriving are festive. Listen to Ming wonder to herself if this is a time when Nyŭshén, herself, arrives. It has happened before, not often, but it has happened, the goddess performing her own rites. Why she might do that, the Edlest Sisters do not know though they suspect the goddess must, that she has no more choice than Ming will have. Is it heresy to hope Nyŭshén arrives and Ming is spared? The Eldest and the elder sisters briefed Ming on what she must do, how she must select from among the mountain's men, the room she will take her selection, the acts of the rite they will perform. As she reaches the bottom floor, she thinks herself prepared yet she whispers a little prayer to Nyŭshén that it is perfectly acceptable to Ming if the goddess wants to do this herself.
Consider Chu pushing and jostling himself into a front row position. Listen as he thinks to himself that it is a waste of effort. He is older than most of the men in the front row; his hand and fingers are still dirty from the morning's labor; his clothes are more tattered, his face more wrinkled, his hair has strands of grey, not many but placed as to be noticeable. He will stand in this front row as he had stood before and some other man of this mountain will be selected. But, still, a man can dream.
Consider the women following behind the men; worrying that their man will be selected; wondering what the Sister does that makes the men so keen to be selected; wondering what life will be like afterwards if their man is selected; hoping if their man is selected that he performs his role acceptably, successfully, that he does not bring shame to the family, the village, the mountain; planning how to explain this rite to younger sons and daughters; wondering what it must be like to wear the jewelry, the fine costumes; what it must be like to select the man you bed; giving thanks it is not they who plays the goddess' role.
Consider the older children like Chu's eledest son and daughter and all their peers, standing behind the men, amongst the women, the boys knowing this year is not their time but wishing that it was and envying the men in that front row; the girls knowing that they missed out on selection to the Sisterhood, that happens when girls are very young; that their lot is to become as their mothers and that thoughts engenders all the thoughts their mothers have.
Consider the younger children not yet aware of the great events to transpire, how they wonder why they are here and why they must stand with their mother and why they cannot play with other children and why this is so boring.
Consider Ming as she steps on to the porch, a lone window behind her that her sisters would like to peer through but know they are forbidden to distract from the ceremony's progress.