PLT | Chapter 25

The Eldest Brother Is Like a Father

By now, it was already getting late. After chatting a little more, the group said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

As before, Zhou Chenyu drove Yan Chao home, with Yan Chao in the passenger seat. Even though they had already left the theater, Yan Chao’s mind was still full of Zhou Chenyu’s suddenly serious manner from just now.

Before, whenever he was with Zhou Chenyu, he had only felt that this person was so wild he had no limits, good for nothing except mouthing off, childish like a little kid.

Who would have thought that once it came to his own professional field, especially when facing juniors, he could actually have such a serious and strict side?

But when he thought about it, it was not hard to understand. After all, this man only seemed to act up around him. With other people, he was probably many times more normal.

The moment he thought of that, Yan Chao felt helpless. But after that helplessness, a strange emotion that he could not quite put into words rose up in his heart for no reason at all.

Before he could sort out exactly what that emotion was, Zhou Chenyu started the car and asked him, “What did you think?”

Yan Chao thought about it seriously, then said, “You really don’t have it easy.”

His partner was busy with work, while he himself did not have that many chances to show his face. All of his effort went unseen. He had to manage the theater, had to raise two kids, and had to openly and secretly fight with Dongning Yuan.

And even so, people still questioned his ability, said he was a burden, and mocked him as a “vase penggen.”[1]

Yet not once had he ever defended himself. He had practically fooled everyone with that cynical, carefree front.

Even Yan Chao could not help feeling a little heartache for him.

But Zhou Chenyu suddenly laughed out loud. “I brought you to listen to a xiangsheng performance, and that’s what you got out of it?”

“Please, I’m being very serious.” Yan Chao shot him a helpless glance. “How many people in this world can truly understand how hard things are for you? You should treasure me.”

Whether it was only his imagination or not, for one fleeting instant, Yan Chao seemed to see a shimmering ripple flash through Zhou Chenyu’s beautiful peach blossom eyes.

But Zhou Chenyu quickly turned his head away, and in less than two seconds, he had changed back into his usual laughing, joking expression. “I’ve always treasured you. You’re the one who doesn’t treasure me.”

Yan Chao felt as though something in the look in those eyes just now had poked him right in the heart. Rarely, he did not answer back.

After a long pause, Zhou Chenyu suddenly sighed. “How many people in this world really have it easy?”

Yan Chao’s expression stirred slightly, and then Zhou Chenyu continued, “Take those two kids, for example. Guan Chenfeng’s situation was pretty similar to mine. He’s some relative of my shishu’s hometown family, the kind of connection that twists around eighteen bends. His family was so poor they could barely keep the pot boiling, they couldn’t even afford to send him to school, so that’s why he came to seek refuge with him. You know what my shishu is like, his heart is broader than the sea. He cannot even be bothered to look after his own biological son, so how would he have the energy to raise a little disciple?”

The shishu Zhou Chenyu mentioned was Zhou Maoqin’s partner, He Chenfeng’s father, He Maoqi.

They were both famous master-level figures in the quyi world, and Yan Chao had heard a thing or two about them. He Maoqi was cheerful and broad-minded, like an old imp, but he also took everything too lightly, so he never really put much heart into anything. Expecting him to raise a little disciple hand in hand was basically impossible. After all, even his own biological son, He Chenfeng, had grown up at Zhou Maoqin’s side.

Yan Chao could already guess the ending. “Your shifu couldn’t bear to watch it, so he took him in himself?”

Zhou Chenyu nodded. “My shifu is just a natural-born softhearted good man.”

Yan Chao asked again, “Then what about Jiang Chenchi?”

Zhou Chenyu said, “He wasn’t much better off either. His parents died early, so he and his older sister depended on each other. He followed his sister north to Beijing, lived in a basement, and didn’t even have enough light to do homework by. Guan Chenfeng thought he was pitiful and begged my shifu to take him in, and just like that, there was one more disciple.”

He sighed, then added, “Good thing Jiang Lili is capable too. After our theater got on its feet, life for the two siblings finally got a little better.”

Yan Chao picked up the thread. “But when the two of them came, it just happened to be when Xiaqing Yuan had only just started to take off. Your shifu and shishu were busy performing and had no time to look after kids, so the two of them ended up growing up following behind you.”

Zhou Chenyu turned his head to look at him, and suddenly showed a smile full of interest. “You haven’t secretly been reading exposé posts about me online, have you?”

Yan Chao smiled helplessly. “If exposé posts really had this kind of thing in them, people online wouldn’t be dragging you that badly.”

But Zhou Chenyu looked perfectly unconcerned. “Compared to the hardships of real life, getting trashed online doesn’t amount to shit.”

The car passed through the intersection, and the Xiaqing Yuan signboard disappeared completely behind them in the distance.

Looking out at the prosperous night view of Beijing beyond the window, Yan Chao smiled. “Your Xiaqing Yuan really is an orphanage.”

Zhou Chenyu said, “Isn’t it? If we hadn’t taken in so many orphans, my shifu wouldn’t be getting nagged all day by those people over at Dong Yuan.”

Yan Chao asked, “Because of the matter of giving names?”

Zhou Chenyu nodded. “In their eyes, the generation names were all passed down by the old ancestors, and each generation could only pass on a few of them. If you gave out too many, then those names wouldn’t be worth anything anymore. Back then they looked down on me for not having a proper bloodline, said I wasn’t worthy of receiving one, but shifu still pushed aside all opposition and gave me the ‘Chen’ name, breaking that rule.”

Yan Chao said, “With you as the precedent, you just broke the rule all the way through, so that’s why you had your shifu give the two of them names too?”

“How did you make me sound like Sun Wukong?” Zhou Chenyu could not help laughing. “How would I have that kind of ability? I just think rules are made by people. Even the ancestors’ rules have good ones and bad ones, and you can’t stay stuck in the mud just because of that. It’s already the twenty-first century, who’s still going on about pure bloodlines and other feudal dregs like that? What is this, inheriting an imperial throne? Those two kids really do have potential. If they can keep a little more incense burning for Liao Feng Pavilion, what’s wrong with that?”

Rarely, Yan Chao fell silent for quite a while. After a moment, he said with feeling, “You’re only a few years older than them, but you’ve somehow gone and lived like their dad.”

“An eldest brother is like a father.” Zhou Chenyu smiled, then glanced at Yan Chao. “An eldest brother’s wife is like a mother.”

Yan Chao curled his lip. “You really do just talk nonsense. You aren’t even the eldest brother, and I’m an eldest brother’s wife?”

“That’s the general idea, as long as you get it.” Zhou Chenyu smiled slyly. “You admitted it pretty quickly, didn’t you? Xiao shisao?”

Yan Chao: “…”

That tiny bit of goodwill he had finally developed toward Zhou Chenyu was instantly wiped clean in a matter of seconds. Just as Yan Chao was about to open his mouth and curse him back, Zhou Chenyu’s phone rang.

Zhou Chenyu picked it up. Yan Chao turned his head to look at him. Whoever spoke on the other end seemed to make his whole expression turn much more serious in an instant.

Then Yan Chao heard him answer, “Shiye.”

The other side said something else, and Zhou Chenyu turned to glance at Yan Chao, a trace of surprise flashing through his eyes. “Right now? …Alright, I understand.”

Zhou Chenyu hung up, then said to Yan Chao with a subtle expression, “My shiye asked me to ask on his behalf whether he might have the honor of inviting Xiao Yan-laoshi to his humble home for a chat.”

Receiving this sudden message, Yan Chao could not help freezing all over. “…Your shiye? Old Master Zhou? Inviting me?”

“Yeah.” Zhou Chenyu nodded. “Pretty grand treatment, right?”

Yan Chao still looked somewhat unable to believe it. “Isn’t this way too sudden?”

Zhou Chenyu said, “That’s just how my shiye is, he thinks of one thing and immediately does one thing. If you don’t want to go, then forget it. I’ll tell him you have something to do later.”

“No, no need,” Yan Chao said. “Since Old Master Zhou has spoken, how could I have any reason not to go? It just feels a little…”

Zhou Chenyu turned his head and glanced at him, smiling. “Nervous?”

It was not quite so serious as nervousness. No matter what, Yan Chao was someone who had seen plenty of big occasions. What huge name had he not met before?

But who was Old Master Zhou Yinchun? A highly respected master of quyi.

More importantly, he was Zhou Chenyu’s shiye.

Yan Chao felt he really must have caught something from Zhou Chenyu that had made his brain malfunction, because he discovered that the reason he felt awkward was actually because he had developed a kind of…

new bride meeting the in-laws sort of feeling.

Although he had no idea why he was having such a bizarre thought, Yan Chao was naturally not going to let Zhou Chenyu see through it, so he said, “It’s just that, from the way you usually describe him, Old Master Zhou feels kind of like a… patriarch of a feudal great household.”

Zhou Chenyu, however, was not the least bit surprised, and laughed. “He’s not kind of like one, he just is one.”

As if worried Yan Chao might be concerned, he added, “But don’t be scared. He’s not that kind of weird old man. He won’t make things hard for you.”

Yan Chao settled himself a little, turning over in his mind how he ought to answer if Old Master Zhou later asked him any tricky or strange questions.

The Zhou residence was located in an upscale residential area of the capital, a modern antique-style siheyuan villa. The main house was a three-story building, with east and west side houses surrounding a fairly large theater in the middle, and from a distance you could already see all sorts of flowers, plants, and trees.

It was a perfect fusion of European and Chinese styles, with a trace of modern atmosphere showing through the vintage aesthetic.

The two got out of the car. Seeing Yan Chao unconsciously reveal a smile, Zhou Chenyu asked him, “What are you smiling about?”

Yan Chao said, “Sometimes I get this illusion, like families like yours were transported over whole from a hundred years ago.”

Zhou Chenyu lifted a brow at him. “Don’t I especially have that refined young master of the Republican era kind of aura?”

“A young master?” Yan Chao shot him a look full of disdain. “At most, you’re a little huadan from the opera world, the kind who gets noticed by some big warlord at a private performance and dragged home to be a concubine.”

Zhou Chenyu was not annoyed. Instead, he smoothly raised an orchid-finger gesture, lightly rested it on Yan Chao’s shoulder, and said in an affected high voice, “Master Yan, then you simply must save this humble one.”

Footnotes:

[1] “Keeping incense burning” 续一点儿香火, meaning continuing the lineage and helping it carry on into the future, not a literal reference to incense alone.

[2] “Siheyuan” refers to a traditional Chinese courtyard residence with buildings arranged around a central yard. Here it is a modern antique-style villa designed in that form.

[3] “Huadan” is a Chinese opera role type, usually a lively young woman, often associated with vivacity, flirtation, and brightness.