parentshiftbook Chapter 117 The Rules of the Peking Opera World, the "Master" Inside the Opera Box
Chapter 117 The Rules of the Peking Opera World, the "Master" Inside the Opera Box
Chapter 118 The Rules of the Peking Opera World, the "Master" Inside the Opera Box
In early spring in Beiping, the wind carried a whistling sound, but the backyard of the Lu residence was even more lively than the main street in front of the gate.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, with only a faint glimmer of white appearing in the east.
"Time to warm up my voice!"
Zhou Daikui, wearing a faded but crisply starched blue cloth gown and holding a copper pipe, stood at the base of the wall, shouting his wares.
That shout was like a reveille in a military camp.
The boys and girls of Qingyun Class, rubbing their sleepy eyes, didn't dare to be negligent. They quickly got up from their bunks, carrying chamber pots and washbasins. After a moment of chaos, they stood neatly under the old locust tree that had just sprouted green leaves.
Lu Cheng didn't get up that early.
Last night, I sang "The Empty City Stratagem" with great clarity and understanding. After returning home, I pondered the movements in "The Shengping Prefecture Opera Files" and slept soundly.
He didn't open his eyes until the sun was high in the sky, and the sunlight shone through the window, illuminating the orchid on his desk.
Shunzi had been waiting at the door for a while. Hearing the noise, he came in carrying a copper basin.
"Master, you're awake? The weather's nice today, no wind."
Lu Cheng washed his face, and the warm towel he applied to it chased away the last trace of sleepiness.
"Where are the troupe leader and the others?"
"They're all practicing their skills in the backyard."
Shunzi chuckled as he handed over some salt to rinse his mouth.
"I heard we're getting a spot in the autumn gala performance," and we'll even be performing on stage with Boss Mei. Everyone's really pushing themselves, afraid of embarrassing you on stage."
Lu Cheng smiled, changed into a loose-fitting moon-white silk shirt, slipped on cloth shoes, and strolled leisurely towards the backyard.
As soon as you enter the backyard, the unique aroma of the Peking Opera garden hits you.
It wasn't the scent of cosmetics; it was a mixture of sweat, pine resin, and camphor from an old opera box.
For opera singers, this smell is their lifeblood; it brings them peace of mind.
Beside the stage.
Old Guan was leading two new apprentices in "unboxing".
That's the rule.
The opera troupe's belongings were all stored in these large camphor wood chests.
This isn't where the clothes are stored; it's the star's "face," the rice bowl bestowed upon him by the patriarch.
"Be gentle, be gentle!"
Old Guan, holding a feather duster, smacked his young apprentice on the buttocks; he was truly enraged.
"That's a royal armor," the gold thread on it is real gold, it's Master Lu's battle robe. You dare touch it with your hands that just touched breakfast, they're not even clean yet? Go get some soap and wash your hands three times before you come back!"
The young apprentice shrank back in fright and ran away with tears in his eyes.
In the world of Peking Opera, there are specific rules regarding the use of opera boxes.
Especially the "large trunk," that's absolutely not something you should sit on.
Anyone who dares to sit on the box containing the python robe and jade belt is breaking the taboo of the "founding master" and will be expelled from the opera troupe.
Because that box contains emperors, generals, gods, tigers, and dogs. If you sit on it, you'll be pressing all those gods under your buttocks—how can the show possibly go smoothly?
Lu Cheng walked over without saying a word, just watching quietly.
He stopped abruptly, and the previously noisy surroundings instantly became eight octaves quieter.
"Master Lu."
Old Guan quickly put down the duster, his wrinkled old face beaming with smiles. "You're up? I was just setting rules for these little rascals."
"Yes, the rules cannot be disregarded."
Lu Cheng nodded, his gaze falling on the dark green soft chair that had just been taken out to air.
That's what he wore when he played Guan Yu.
In the sunlight, the golden lines on it shimmered, as if they were surrounded by a flowing halo.
"Uncle Guan, the sun has been shining these past few days, so take those 'pleated' clothes out to air them too."
Lu Cheng casually gave the order.
"Especially that moon-white one, that's the one Wang Jinlong wore in the play 'Yu Tang Chun'. We have to get rid of that musty smell. If it's wrinkled even a little bit when we go on stage, then our Qingyun Troupe is being unruly."
"Okay, don't worry, I'll take care of it right away!"
Old Guan's reply was incredibly loud and clear.
That's what a star is like.
No need to shout or yell, just standing there, without even looking people in the eye, that aura is there.
The entire troupe seemed to have a backbone, and the gears meshed together, turning around incredibly smoothly.
After breakfast, Lu Cheng didn't rush to practice his skills.
He asked Shunzi to prepare a car so they could go to Liulichang.
This "Autumn Grand Performance" is a big event. Not only do you need to be good at martial arts, but the costumes, props, and even the fan you hold in your hand must all be carefully chosen.
We can't let someone as important as Boss Mei laugh at us.
The carriage slowly came to a stop on the bluestone pavement of Liulichang.
Lu Cheng got out of the car, holding a folding fan in his hand. He wasn't in a hurry to go into the store, but just strolled around on the street.
Liulichang was the cultural heart of Beiping (Beijing).
The streets are lined with time-honored brands like Rongbaozhai and Daiyuexuan, and the air is filled with the fragrance of ink and the aroma of books.
Lu Cheng stopped in his tracks as he passed a stall selling used books.
The stall owner was a down-on-his-luck scholar wearing round glasses, who was hunching over and reading a book.
Seeing someone stop, he looked up, paused for a moment, then his eyes widened suddenly as if he had seen some important person. He stood up abruptly, even dropping the book in his hand.
"You—you're Boss Lu?!"
This shout attracted the attention of several people browsing the stalls nearby.
"Oh my, it really is Master Lu."
"Alive! This is the living Martial Saint!"
"Master Lu, I've seen your performance of 'Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles' three times in a row! It was absolutely amazing!"
In no time, the stall was surrounded by people.
But everyone was very considerate; no one dared to push their way in. They all kept a distance of two or three steps, cupped their hands in greeting, and their eyes were full of respect.
Lu Cheng didn't put on airs.
He closed his folding fan and returned the greeting with a smile and a cupped-hand salute.
"Dear neighbors, you flatter me, you flatter me."
"He's just a performer, trying to make a living."
"Mr. Lu, you're too modest!"
The scholar-student stall owner was so excited that his face turned red. He hurriedly picked up a thread-bound book from his stall and handed it over with both hands.
"Master Lu, I'm a fan of your operas. I don't have anything particularly valuable, but I'd like to offer you this copy of 'The Opera Scripts of Yeshiyuan' from the Guangxu era. If you refuse it, you're disrespecting a scholar like me!"
Lu Cheng glanced at the book.
It is indeed a fine item. The paper is yellowed, but it is well preserved. It is a unique copy handwritten by scholars and literati in the past.
He did not refuse, took the book, and casually pulled out two silver dollars from his sleeve, gently placing them on the stall.
"I'll take the book; please use this money to buy writing materials."
"We scholars value reciprocity and cannot break the rules."
The scholar was about to decline when Lu Cheng turned and left.
The man in the moon-white robe moved through the crowd without getting a single leaf on his body, leaving only the scholar holding the silver dollar in a daze.
We entered Rongbaozhai.
Upon seeing that it was Lu Cheng, the shopkeeper personally came out to greet him, leaving all the other guests standing aside.
"Master Lu, you've arrived! Come quickly, please come to the private room on the second floor. The finest Dongding Oolong tea has already been prepared for you."
Lu Cheng went upstairs and sat by the window.
Outside the window is a bustling street, and you can also see the Zhengyangmen gate tower in the distance.
"Shopkeeper, have you found what I asked for?"
"Found it."
The shopkeeper carefully took out a brocade box and opened it.
There was a folding fan lying inside.
The fan ribs are made of Xiangfei bamboo, with naturally formed tear stains on them, resembling the tears of a beautiful woman.
The fan surface is made of gold-flecked Xuan paper. Although it hasn't been painted yet, the texture of the paper clearly indicates that it's old paper that's been stored for many years; it's very smooth and moist.
"This is 'Spotted Bamboo Tears' from the former Qing Dynasty's Imperial Household Department, said to be a cherished possession of Prince Gong."
The shopkeeper lowered his voice, his face full of mystery.
"This bamboo grows on Mount Jiuyi, imbued with divine energy. Holding it on stage will definitely command attention!"
Lu Cheng picked up the fan; it felt cool to the touch and had an excellent feel.
With a gentle shake, the fan unfolds with a "whoosh," the sound crisp and pleasant, neither hurried nor slow.
"A fine fan."
Lu Cheng nodded.
This fan is for when I share the stage with Mr. Mei.
Boss Mei is a female actor, playing the role of Rou.
Lu Cheng is a martial arts actor, and he plays the role of Gang.
But this kind of action must have a touch of refinement and elegance; it cannot be all about shouting for violence.
This fan is the "eye".
With it, this balance of strength and gentleness comes alive.
"How much?"
"Master Lu, you're too kind. It's its good fortune that this fan ended up in your hands. Please feel free to give it a small reward."
Although the shopkeeper was a businessman, he knew that if he sold this fan to Lu Cheng, he would be a deadbeat.
If anyone asks in the future, "Hey, where did Master Lu buy that fan?"
Then the threshold of his Rongbaozhai would be trampled flat.
Lu Cheng smiled and didn't take advantage of him, letting Shunzi pay a full one hundred silver dollars.
That's called being decent.
Business is business, and friendship is friendship.
If you pay them enough, they will genuinely respect you, instead of treating you as a bully who uses his power to oppress others.
Holding his fan, Lu Cheng went out the door in a good mood.
Just as I was about to return home, a commotion suddenly broke out at the street corner.
"Kill him! Kill this petty thief!"
A group of people surrounded the entrance of an alley, punching and kicking each other, raising dust everywhere.
Lu Cheng frowned slightly.
He didn't want to get involved, but he had been cultivating his mind and body these past few days and couldn't stand the noise, so he stopped and glanced over there.
Upon seeing this, his eyes narrowed slightly.
The one being beaten in the middle was a ragged little beggar who looked to be only twelve or thirteen years old and as thin as a monkey.
But he curled up on the ground, his hands tightly protecting something in his arms, enduring the rain of fists falling on him without uttering a sound.
Those eyes peeked out through the gaps in the messy hair.
Like a wolf.
It also resembles a knife that hasn't been sharpened yet.
"That look in his eyes—"
Lu Cheng's heart stirred.
interesting.
The little beggar was surrounded and kicked by seven or eight strong men, but he remained as still as a stone, not uttering a sound.
Lu Cheng stood outside the crowd, gently tapping his palm with the folding fan in his hand.
"stop."
The men were fighting hard when they heard the sound, so they instinctively stopped and turned around.
There stood a young man with an extraordinary bearing, dressed in a moon-white long robe, followed by a towering follower.
These guys are street urchins; they're pretty sharp-eyed.
Just by looking at his posture, you can tell he's no ordinary person.
"Hey, sir, are you trying to meddle in other people's business?"
The leader, a bald man, was carrying a rolling pin and was looking at Lu Cheng with a sidelong glance.
"This kid stole our steamed buns and even bit someone. If we don't break his leg today, how are we supposed to do business?"
Lu Cheng ignored him and just looked at the little beggar on the ground.
"You stole it?"
The little beggar slowly raised his head, his face covered in blood and mud, but his eyes were frighteningly bright.
He didn't speak, but simply loosened his grip on his chest a little.
There were indeed two squashed meat buns inside.
But he didn't eat it himself.
Instead, she carefully handed the bun to the mouth of a stray dog with a broken leg standing nearby.
The dog whimpered and licked his hand.
It turns out, the beating was for this dog.
Lu Cheng's gaze softened slightly.
A person can be poor or lowly, but if they lose this basic kindness, they truly become a walking corpse.
This child, though down on his luck, still has a light burning in his heart.
"I've paid for the steamed buns."
Lu Cheng tilted his head, and Shunzi immediately stepped forward, took out a handful of copper coins from his pocket, and stuffed them into the bald man's hand.
Is that enough?
The bald man weighed the money in his hand; it was enough to buy two baskets of steamed buns.
"Enough, enough!"
The bald man was sensible; he took the money and didn't say much, just waved and left with his men.
The crowd dispersed.
The little beggar was still sitting on the ground, holding the dog, watching Lu Cheng warily.
Lu Cheng walked over and squatted down.
He didn't care at all that the hem of his moon-white robe hung on the dusty ground.
"What's your name?"
The little beggar didn't say anything, he just shrank back a little.
"Dumb?"
Lu Cheng smiled. "Or do you still think I'm a bad person?"
The little beggar finally spoke, his voice hoarse.
"My name is Gou Sheng."
"Gou Sheng?"
Lu Cheng shook his head. "This name doesn't sound good. A humble name may make a child easier to raise, but it can also be oppressive."
He looked at the child's thin yet extremely agile limbs, and his bright, intelligent eyes.
With that physique, he's a natural-born martial arts prodigy.
It's even more lively than a little bean.
Moreover, this fierce determination to take a beating for a dog, if properly trained, could make him a formidable "Monkey King" on stage in the future.
"Do you want to have a full meal?" Lu Cheng asked.
The little beggar's eyes lit up. He glanced at the now-cold bun, then at Lu Cheng.
"think."
"Do you want to stop getting beaten up, learn some skills, and be able to protect what you want to protect in the future?"
The little beggar was stunned.
He looked into Lu Cheng's clear eyes, which held no condescension, no disdain, only an equal inquiry.
"think!"
This shout was very loud.
Lu Cheng smiled, reached out, and patted the dirty head.
"Then come with me."
"From now on, you will no longer be called Gou Sheng."
"Your name is—Lu Ling."
"The spirit of agility is also the spirit of living beings."
The backyard of the Lu residence.
There's another pair of chopsticks in the Lu family compound.
Lu Ling washed her face, changed into a set of old clothes that didn't fit but were clean, and sat at the very end of the dining table.
In front of him was a large bowl of steaming noodles, topped with two poached eggs.
But he didn't dare touch his chopsticks.
He looked at the people in the room.
A dignified master, a kind grandmaster, and all the senior brothers and sisters.
This felt like a dream to him.
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
"Eat up, you're all you can eat here."
Shunzi picked up a piece of braised pork for him and said with a smile.
Lu Ling then picked up her chopsticks and began to eat heartily. Tears fell into her bowl, mingling with the noodle soup as she swallowed them.
Lu Cheng sat in the main seat, watching this scene, and felt a mix of emotions.
The Qingyun Troupe is getting more and more lively.
He was not only supporting the opera troupe, but also nurturing a glimmer of hope in this chaotic world.
Even if these kids don't become masters in the future, as long as they can live upright lives and have a skill to rely on, it's not a waste of his efforts.
"Master."
Lu Feng suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.
"What's wrong?"
"Um—are we really going to share the stage with Boss Mei for this autumn's grand performance?"
Lu Feng's eyes gleamed with the competitive spirit unique to young people, but also with a hint of uncertainty.
Mei Lanfang.
That's the world of Peking Opera these days.
Even a master like Lu Cheng would be scrutinized under a magnifying glass if he were to perform on the same stage with him.
If you're not careful, you'll expose your ignorance and be laughed at by experts for the rest of your life.
"What, scared?"
Lu Cheng put down his chopsticks and looked at his eldest disciple.
"It's not fear."
Lu Feng scratched his head. "Well—that's Boss Mei. Even though our action scenes are tough, that's a national treasure, an art form. Won't we, a bunch of roughnecks, seem a bit too—too much?"
"Too vulgar?"
Lu Cheng smiled.
"Fengzi, remember this."
"There are no high or low in acting, only good or bad."
"Master Mei's plays are gentle, beautiful, and refined. Our plays are strong, fierce, and popular?"
"wrong!"
Lu Cheng stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the spring scenery that filled the courtyard.
"Our play is the backbone."
"It is the indomitable spirit and unwavering will to fight to the bitter end that has characterized the Chinese nation for thousands of years!"
"Boss Mei sang about Yu Ji," that's the tragedy of a beautiful woman.
"We're singing 'The Overlord,' which embodies the hero's fierce spirit."
"When these two opposing forces, one strong and one gentle, one yin and one yang, come together, that's the real show, that's true perfection."
Lu Cheng turned around and glanced at all his disciples present.
"We're not competing with anyone in this grand performance."
"Let's just act in our own show."
"Bring out that spirit and energy, so that the whole world knows that our Qingyun Troupe can not only sing mournful and tragic songs, but also earth-shattering battle songs."
These words stirred the passion of all the disciples.
Yes.
What are we afraid of?
Our master is a grandmaster, and we are wolf cubs.
Once on stage, they'll be a bunch of roaring little tigers.
Days passed by, and the autumn grand performance was drawing ever closer.
At the Lu residence, everyone was so busy they were practically running around.
-
They practiced martial arts during the day and rehearsed plays at night.
Lu Cheng was also busy. He not only had to instruct his apprentices, but also had to figure out the martial arts scenes in "Farewell My Concubine" on his own.
Mei Lanfang's "Farewell My Concubine" is primarily a drama with action scenes as a secondary element.
But now that Lu Cheng has joined, the play has to be changed.
It should be changed to "emphasizing both literary and martial arts", or even "a perfect blend of literary and martial arts".
It must possess both the gentle tenderness of Yu Ji and the unparalleled strength of Xiang Yu.
That evening.
Lu Cheng was painting Peking Opera masks in his study.
He wanted to make some changes to the traditional King of Chu's facial makeup.
Those two eyebrows should be drawn more boldly, conveying a sense of unyielding defiance.
The eye sockets should be drawn deeper, conveying a sense of desolation as if one has seen through life and death.
"Knock knock knock".
1
Someone knocked on the door.
"Enter."
The door opened, and Tong Sanjin walked in.
This fat old man has been extremely busy lately, specializing in "loosening the bones" for those kids, which has made his fat body much firmer.
"Mr. Lu, did I disturb you?"
"You're too kind, Mr. Tong. Please have a seat."
Tong Sanjin sat down and took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
"Mr. Lu, there's something I need to report to you."
"What's wrong?"
"It's about that—the newcomer, Lu Ling."
Tong Sanjin's expression was somewhat strange.
"This kid is a bit strange."
"Something strange?" Lu Cheng put down his paintbrush.
"right."
Tong Sanjin swallowed hard.
"When I was setting his bones today, I discovered that this kid's bones are different from ordinary people's."
"His joints seem—seem to be alive."
"Alive?" Lu Cheng was taken aback.
"It's like—I can't quite put my finger on it," Tong Sanjin gestured, "it's like, I wanted to dislocate his arm, but before I could even apply any force, his bones just snapped and slid off, then snapped back down."
"And the kid wasn't in any pain at all, he even smiled at me."
"Master Lu, this—this couldn't possibly be the legendary 'Tongbi' sword, could it?"
Through-arm?
A golden light flashed in Lu Cheng's eyes.
In the martial arts world, there is a type of naturally gifted extraordinary person called the "Long-Armed Ape".
Such people have extremely long arms and highly flexible joints, making them natural-born talents for practicing Tongbei Quan and Monkey Quan.
If Lu Ling truly has this kind of constitution—
His future achievements in the martial arts clown genre are likely limitless.
They could even perform "Shi Qian Steals the Armor" to a level that is unprecedented and unparalleled.
"Looks like I've really struck gold."
A smile appeared on Lu Cheng's lips.
"Master Tong, starting tomorrow, I'll trouble you and Master Suo to give him special training, specifically in bone shrinking and flexibility."
"
"I'm going to train his thieving nature until he becomes a master."
Tong Sanjin laughed when he heard this.
"Alright, just you wait and see. This piece of fine material, Old Man Su and I are determined to carve it into something beautiful."
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