Dan Role

"Ugh... what a loss."

Chen Ling walked along the mountain road home, lowering his head to look at the two holes punched through his padded coat, his eyes full of heartache.

Reserve seats received no pay during the examination period, and naturally there was no compensation for damaged clothing. By that calculation, he had inexplicably lost an entire coat while working... making an already income-less household even worse off.

Of course, he had still gained something today.

[Current Expectation Value: 40%]

Ever since Qian Fan had ordered him to take over Wu Youdong's investigation, Audience Expectation had steadily risen. It had gone up 5% while he was looking for the Enforcers at the teahouse, then jumped 10% in one go after he slaughtered his way through the tavern.

Chen Ling had originally thought the Enforcers' return to the tavern would also earn him Expectation Value, but that was not the case. It seemed Audience Expectation only increased when he was personally present to witness it.

Chen Ling felt that he had vaguely found a way to rapidly obtain Expectation Value.

He walked along the mountain road for more than two hours before finally returning to Frost Street. Before he even entered the house, he heard a clear, melodious opera voice drifting out from within.

"A little nun, just sixteen years of age,

In the bloom of youth, my master shaved my hair.

Each day, I burn incense and change the water in the Buddha hall,

And see young men playing beneath the mountain gate.

He casts his eyes at me,

And I steal glances at him.

He and I, I and he,

Both of us are so preoccupied..."

Chen Ling's brows rose slightly when he heard the aria.

This passage, "Longing for the Mortal World," was a classic opera excerpt. In his previous life, it had become known to the world through the famous film Farewell My Concubine. Chen Ling had heard it many times, but he had never expected this world's opera repertoire to be identical to that of his previous life.

What surprised Chen Ling even more was that Chen Yan's voice was so pleasant, and his singing technique so solid. Even the celebrated performers who had appeared in theaters in Chen Ling's previous life were far inferior to him.

Logically, it should have been almost impossible to reach this level without a famous teacher...

Thinking this, Chen Ling stepped through the door. Chu Muyun was still sitting in the living room in the same posture, seriously studying a book in his hands.

"You didn't stay here all day without moving, did you?" Chen Ling could not help asking.

"I moved. I went out for a walk this morning to get some air."

Chen Ling nodded. "A-Yan didn't disturb you, did he?"

"No."

"That's good." Chen Ling sat down beside the table and looked toward the bedroom, where Chen Yan was practicing drawing his brows before a mirror while opening his mouth to train his voice. His expression was complicated as he spoke.

"A-Yan has been interested in opera since he was little. Unfortunately, the Third District is too small. There's no one who can teach him... and our family can't afford a teacher."

"Opera... not many people understand it these days." Chu Muyun glanced toward the bedroom.

"As far as I know, even in Aurora City, there are only a few people who understand it."

Chen Yan's singing gradually softened. He seemed to have heard Chen Ling return and immediately ran into the living room, asking excitedly,

"Brother, does my makeup look good?"

Chen Yan blinked. His apricot-red eyeshadow spread out at the corners, soft and elegant, while his eyes were drawn upward in thick black lines, making them look especially lively.

Chen Ling recognized it as the makeup of a dan role. Perhaps because Chen Yan had taught himself, it still differed quite a bit from what Chen Ling remembered from his previous life.

Even so, it was still a flawless face—that of a perfectly beautiful young man.

"It looks good." Chen Ling answered sincerely. "But some of the details seem a little off... When I have time, I'll adjust it for you."

"Brother, you understand opera makeup too?"

"A little."

Chen Yan's eyes were filled with admiration as he looked at him.

"Brother, when I go back to school, can I perform at the New Year's gala?"

"Of course you can. You're the only one in the entire Third District who can sing opera. When the time comes, put on a costume, do your makeup, and start singing—your classmates will definitely be shocked." Chen Ling chuckled.

"He still has to go to school?" Chu Muyun asked in surprise.

"Of course." Chen Ling nodded. "He only just started his first year of high school... but he fell ill only a few days after enrolling. Now that he's better, he should be able to enroll with the next class of new students."

"Brother, what should I sing then?"

"If you're singing alone, 'Longing for the Mortal World' would be a good choice..."

"Then I'll go practice some more!"

Chen Yan's eyes lit up. Still wearing that open scarlet opera robe, he ran back to the bedroom, ready to begin practicing again.

In the end, Chen Yan was only fifteen. At that age, he naturally longed for friends and attention... Back when Chen Ling was in school, he too had fantasized countless times about walking onto the stage with a guitar and showing off before countless teachers and students.

Unfortunately... he could not play at all.

But for Chen Yan, being able to combine his interests with performing was an incredibly exciting thing.

"No need to rush." Chen Ling smiled helplessly. "Clean up first. We'll be eating soon."

Seeing this, Chen Yan obediently came over to help Chen Ling wash the vegetables. Just then, his peripheral vision caught the two large holes in the padded coat, and his pupils contracted slightly.

"Brother, what happened to your clothes?" His tone suddenly turned serious.

"It's nothing. They just got snagged."

Chu Muyun, who had been reading, looked over at the sound. His eyes behind the lenses immediately narrowed...

"You were shot?"

Chen Yan abruptly raised his head.

"No, it didn't hit me." Feeling Chen Yan's gaze, Chen Ling immediately explained, "They were too slow to shoot, so I dodged them... I wasn't hurt."

Chu Muyun examined him and nodded slightly. "You really aren't injured."

"Brother, who shot at you?" Chen Yan asked coldly.

"It was..."

Chen Ling had been about to say Ice Spring Street, but when he saw the bone-deep chill flickering in Chen Yan's eyes, he hesitated before saying, "Just two little thugs... The Enforcers have already taken them away."

He knew Chen Yan was a Fusionist, and he knew that Chen Yan had gone on a killing spree on Ice Spring Street that night... If he mentioned Ice Spring Street again, he feared Chen Yan would go and slaughter the entire street overnight.

After all, that street had most likely already been occupied by the Enforcers. If Chen Yan went again, he might very well encounter a Judgment officer.

Only then did Chen Yan's expression ease. He silently picked up the torn padded coat.

"...I'll mend it for you."

Chen Yan had made all of his own opera robes, so mending a piece of clothing was hardly difficult for him.

"They had guns... How did you beat them?" Chu Muyun stared into Chen Ling's eyes, as though trying to see through his heart.

"They had guns, but they didn't know how to use them. Even after firing several shots, they only hit my clothes... Why are you asking?"

Naturally, Chen Ling could not say that he possessed [Slaughter Waltz]. That involved the existence of the Theater and the "Audience."

"...Nothing."

Chu Muyun withdrew his gaze and stared at the book's cover, seemingly lost in thought.

After the three finished dinner, they returned to their respective rooms. Night shrouded the entire sky, with only the azure aurora silently drifting overhead.

As Chen Ling fell asleep, his consciousness had long since drifted into the Theater.

Within the dead-silent, dim room,

A figure slowly approached.

It was Chu Muyun.

The lenses reflected a pale glimmer beneath the aurora. Those cool eyes watched the sleeping Chen Ling, and a trace of killing intent surfaced within them.

His right hand, gripping a short blade like a cold moon, slowly rose...