PLT | Chapter 29

The Jade-Faced Xiao Lingguan

Yan Chao felt that he had to be out of his mind. Only then would he dig three feet into the ground, turn practically every major video site upside down, and, after no small amount of effort, finally dig up a few scattered clips of Zhou Chenyu singing. They were all just a few casual lines he had tossed off while doing xiangsheng, and not a single one was a proper, serious opening of his voice.

Old Master Zhou Yinchun, the troupe leader of Liao Feng Pavilion, was a master who carried both xiangsheng and opera in the same pair of arms, so naturally his disciples and grand-disciples inherited both sides of the tradition. It was just that later, once the opera industry had specialized training schools, this old-fashioned teaching method of theirs was no longer favored, and gradually declined.

On the other hand, the xiangsheng world was flourishing, so over time, everyone shifted their focus to xiangsheng, while opera gradually became more of an “amateur enthusiast” thing. But every time the performers finished their xiangsheng set and came back out for the encore, everyone would still do a bit of it, as a way of not forgetting their roots.

Only Zhou Chenyu never did.

From the few times he had let slip a couple of lines, it was obvious that he absolutely could sing, and sing well. But every time there was an encore, he basically sang pop songs instead. No matter how the fans begged, he had never once seriously opened his voice to sing opera.

That was simply too abnormal.

Thinking of the strange look on Zhou Chenyu’s face every time the subject of singing opera came up, Yan Chao was practically going crazy with curiosity about the story behind it.

He did not know what was wrong with him. He had clearly not been a gossip-loving person before.

But looking at Zhou Chenyu’s guarded, unspoken attitude, there was no way Yan Chao could just directly interrogate him about someone else’s private concerns.

Yan Chao’s mood turned even more inexplicably restless. Bored and distracted, he kept scrolling Bilibili, and the homepage pushed him a recommended video based on his searches: “Liao Feng Pavilion Opera’s Jade-Faced Xiao Lingguan.”

Although the title “Jade-Faced Xiao Lingguan” was indeed quite nice and probably enough to attract straight men, at this very moment it definitely should not have been able to grab Yan Chao’s attention, because there was no way this Jade-Faced Xiao Lingguan could be Zhou Chenyu.

But the thumbnail made it impossible for Yan Chao to look away, for no other reason than that it was just too blurry.

The mosaic was pixel by pixel, and the resolution looked exactly like a recording from more than ten years ago.

Unable to help himself, Yan Chao clicked on it out of curiosity.

After watching for a little over ten seconds and still not seeing the performer appear, he began to feel that something was off.

This little square stage, the crude instruments off to the side, the worn-out stage setup, these old facilities.

This was not merely like something from over ten years ago. It probably was from over ten years ago.

More than ten years ago, Liao Feng Pavilion had not yet become anywhere near as popular as it was now, and yet someone had recorded it back then. That ancient, early-era nostalgia was enough to make one sigh.

A winding, intricate xipi manban prelude sounded, and through the “chujiang” entrance door slowly emerged a graceful, delicate xiao dan role, presumably this legendary “Jade-Faced Xiao Lingguan.”

The camera showed the whole stage in a wide shot, so it was extremely unclear and impossible to make out the performer’s face, but from the figure alone, one could tell the age was not great.

Slim and graceful, dressed in a plain white robe patterned with flowers, with a water-blue embroidered pei shoulder cape draped over the shoulders, and a glittering butterfly-shaped headdress atop the head, sparkling under the lights, the young performer moved with three sways in every step, becoming all the more dazzling, breathtakingly beautiful.

Although still visibly young, the bearing and form were already consummately skilled, every movement elegant and assured.

After the instrumental prelude, the xiao dan turned once onstage, and finally began to sing, steady and composed: “Xi Shi was born in Zhu Luo Village, within—”

Yan Chao did not understand opera all that well, but even so, the moment he heard that opening line, he was startled.

Xipi manban embellishes and extends the melodic line beyond the basic mode, making it much richer and more circuitous, and the singing correspondingly more delicate and refined, which demands much more from one’s breath control.

Leaving aside how lovely and mellifluous this little lingguan’s singing was, for someone so young to already possess such stable breath was no easy thing at all.

“…There are not many cheerful things, so often her brows remain locked. Only because she keeps to a humble, chilly gate near the water, each day she goes to wash silk beside the clear stream. She only fears that youth and beauty will be wasted as she cherishes her own fair face; by the clear stream she looks into her reflection and straightens her silken robes—”

As the name suggests, xipi manban is very slow in rhythm, and by the time those few lines were finished, several minutes had already passed.

Yan Chao was nearly starting to fall asleep when, all at once, the camera, which he had assumed would never move, finally grudgingly gave Xiao Xi Shi a close-up of the face.

The moment he saw that face, Yan Chao jolted all over.

Even though the whole face was covered in heavy stage makeup, and the overall contours were slightly different from now, those charming brows and eyes, almost carved into Yan Chao’s mind, gave him an instant, instinctive certainty.

He could not possibly be mistaken. This was Zhou Chenyu.

Zhou Chenyu from more than ten years ago.

Probably only a little over ten years old, still far shorter than he was now, his voice presumably not yet broken, the pitch high and bright.

Every motion and every gesture was precise and proper, moving and graceful, bringing a young girl’s prettiness and softness to the very limit.

Anyone who did not know better would probably think this was a maiden in her early bloom, and would never imagine it was a little boy.

If not for that unchanged, handsome, charming face, Yan Chao would never have been able to connect the little beauty in the video with the carefree straight man he knew in real life.

He was obviously that sort of broad, unrestrained, unserious young wastrel, full of sweet talk. Although his face was undeniably handsome, his whole aura was that of a living, breathing Beijing young master, nowhere near the word “girlish.”

Who would have thought that once he put on costume and stepped onto the stage, he could embody feminine grace to such a degree that it gave rise to a dazed sense of blurred gender altogether.

That strange, indescribable quality made Yan Chao involuntarily think of the incomparable famous opera stars in Republican-era theaters a century ago, surrounded by crowds and adored like the moon among stars.

All night long, Yan Chao dreamed of every gesture, every glance, every smile of that little Xi Shi onstage.

So the next morning in the dressing room, even the makeup artist complained that his dark circles were too heavy to cover, and went out to find a stronger concealer for him.

After the makeup artist left, Zhou Chenyu, sitting in the makeup chair beside him, raised his brows at him ambiguously. “What good things were you up to last night?”

Yan Chao’s impression of Zhou Chenyu was still in a deeply split state, as if the Zhou Chenyu from his teens and the Zhou Chenyu now were not the same person at all.

He said irritably, “Had a nightmare.”

Zhou Chenyu thought his old problem had flared up again, and instantly lost his joking tone. “You okay?”

Yan Chao said, “I dreamed about you.”

Zhou Chenyu said, “…How did that not scare you to death?”

Yan Chao said, “It did scare me. Jade-Faced Xiao Lingguan.”

The instant he heard that phrase, the color in Zhou Chenyu’s eyes darkened abruptly.

But very quickly, he turned his head and looked Yan Chao over with interest. “And where did you see that?”

Yan Chao answered, “A beauty, even if glimpsed only for an instant, always leaves behind a trace.”

Zhou Chenyu choked on that line for a moment, then failed to hold back a laugh. “You finally succeeded in disgusting me. You win.”

But Yan Chao said, “I’m serious. Why won’t you sing anymore?”

Zhou Chenyu still wore a perfectly unconcerned expression. “If I don’t want to sing, then I don’t sing. Why does everything need a reason?”

Yan Chao of course knew the reason could not be so simple, but since Zhou Chenyu did not want to talk, he did not press further.

He was silent for a while, then asked, “Then why did you sing again yesterday?”

Zhou Chenyu said helplessly, “Why do you think? The hot search was full of people fucking with me, was that supposed to look good?”

Yan Chao had always assumed Zhou Chenyu did not understand all the twists and turns of marketing and PR, and naturally thought the video he posted yesterday had been just a spur-of-the-moment impulse. He had not expected that he actually understood everything.

After Zhou Chenyu posted that video yesterday, it immediately attracted a huge wave of fans coming to lick the screen, and the great war of tearing each other apart died down a great deal very quickly.

Later on, once people clicked into the hot search, it had turned into his Weibo post instead. As for all the unfriendly content, it had already disappeared completely from the square.

But once “Red-Maned Steed” hit the hot search yesterday, Zhou Chenyu posted that video in less than ten minutes. If it had been shot on the spot, that speed would have been way too fast.

As if he knew exactly what Yan Chao was thinking, Zhou Chenyu said, “But that video had actually been filmed a long time ago.”

Yan Chao lifted his eyes to look at him, and saw Zhou Chenyu smile softly. “Didn’t furen say on the show that he wanted to hear me sing?”

Yan Chao’s expression paused slightly, but after a long moment, he still only looked at him quietly, and, unusually, did not refute that cheap opportunistic form of address.

That earnest, clear gaze instead made Zhou Chenyu pause in surprise.

In Yan Chao’s deep eyes was a trace of a different kind of feeling, something sincere yet carrying an almost forceful fervor that made one feel, for no reason, that it could not be refused.

“Next time onstage, can you sing Xi Shi once more?”

Footnotes:

[1] “Jade-Faced Xiao Lingguan” 玉面小伶官. Lingguan is an old opera-related term for a young performer, and the phrase carries a distinctly old-fashioned theatrical flavor.

[2] “Xipi manban” 西皮慢板, a melodic mode and slow rhythmic pattern in traditional opera. The passage emphasizes that it is more winding, ornamented, and breath-demanding than a simpler base pattern.

[3] “Chujiang” 出将, part of the traditional stage entrance layout in Chinese opera. Here it refers to the entrance door from which the performer appears.

[4] “Dan” 旦, the broad category of female roles in Chinese opera. “Xiao dan” here reflects 小旦, a younger female-role type.

[5] “Pei shoulder cape” 帔肩, an opera costume accessory draped over the shoulders.

[6] “Beijing young master” 北京小爷, a colloquial image of a swaggering, street-smart, somewhat spoiled or rakish young man with a very specific local aura.

[7] “The incomparable famous opera stars in Republican-era theaters” expands 民国戏园子里，众星捧月的绝代名伶. The line evokes the glamorous, adored opera stars of the Republican period.