The next morning, Pei Yubai went to see Meng Xu.
At this moment, Meng Xu was squatting at the entrance of the Zen temple, munching on a piece of naan bread and swallowing a cup of tea that had been brewed countless times, while making a phone call.
She wore a gentle expression.
Without a doubt, it was another call to his Chenbao.
Since adopting Chenchen, Meng Xu has personally overseen everything, spending all his free time with Chenchen, and even when he doesn't have time, he calls him three times a day.
They've assigned about ten nannies to take care of Chenchen.
Not to mention the various nutritionists and private doctors.
They even assigned a professional team to it.
In his spare time, Meng Xu himself immerses himself in various professional parenting knowledge books to catch up on his studies.
Definitely Chenchen fanatic.
After hearing Pei Yubai say that Lu Zhao would be staying with the production crew for a few days, Meng Xu chewed on his naan and thought about it.
He had seen that boy in red from afar yesterday. He had delicate features and a clean-cut demeanor; he should be quite appealing to the audience on camera.
As for the other party's background and why they had traveled all the way to the ancient desert temple to find Qiguan Yuan, Meng Xu didn't ask any further questions.
Asking too many questions is just asking for trouble; just pretend you don't know.
His principle in making this show has always been to film what the guests are willing to say, and not to press them for information they are unwilling to share.
He swallowed the last bite of naan and said, "Okay, one more person means one more pair of chopsticks."
Lu Zhao stayed with the production team for the time being.
He didn't actually have anything to do here. He didn't need to personally oversee the spread of the marriage connections; the children were handling the backlog of red threads in the Heavenly Realm.
Then he can ask Brother Pei or Senior Qiguan for help with his work.
I'm absolutely thrilled.
In the morning, Meng Xu arranged for everyone to go to the cultural street next to the Dunhuang Ancient City.
Despite being called a cultural street, it's actually just a pedestrianized commercial street with antique-style buildings, paved with bluestone slabs, and lined with shops selling calligraphy, paintings, paper-cuts, woodblock prints, and handmade erhu (a two-stringed bowed instrument).
There weren't many tourists on the street, probably because it's quite hot now.
Several elderly gentlemen were playing chess at the entrance of the teahouse, the chess pieces clattering loudly.
An old man selling sugar paintings was using a copper spoon to scoop sugar syrup to draw a camel, surrounded by three or four children.
The guests dispersed. Shen Yuzhou took Cheng Yanqiu to browse the woodblock print stalls, Jiang Wantang and Ji Shiyu went to look at handmade carpets, Lin Yanru and Su He'an were attracted by a shop selling erhu (a two-stringed bowed instrument). The owner was demonstrating the sound of a morin khuur (horsehead fiddle) to them.
The sound of gongs and drums rang out at the end of the street.
First came the sound of cymbals, then the sound of a clapper drum, and then a loud, clear singing voice that carried across half a street, drawing the attention of several tourists who were picking out souvenirs.
At the end of the street, there was a small open space where a makeshift stage had been set up. It was really just a platform made of a few wooden planks, with a dark red curtain stretched behind it, the edges of which were worn white.
A handwritten sign hung on the side of the stage, indicating that today's program was "Farewell My Concubine".
Shen Yuzhou ran over from the woodblock print stall, stood in front of the stage and listened for a moment. He recognized it as Peking Opera and turned to call Cheng Yanqiu over to come and take a look.
The opera troupe members were tidying up their costumes and props on the side of the stage. The leader was a middle-aged man in his fifties, wearing a faded gray cloth jacket, with fine lines on his face from the wind and sand.
Seeing people gathering around, he put down his beard and greeted them with a smile.
Shen Yuzhou, quick to speak, asked first, "Uncle, what are you doing?"
The middle-aged man said, "We are a folk opera troupe that tours the country, performing wherever we go. We just arrived in Dunhuang a few days ago and had an exchange with the local Quzi opera troupe. Today, after our last performance, we're packing up and heading to the next stop."
Jiang Wantang was particularly curious about art-related things and asked, "Where are you going next?"
The middle-aged man said, "There's a small theater in Jiuquan that's willing to let us perform for three days."
Ji Shiyu asked, "How much do you earn per performance?"
The middle-aged man smiled and said, "Enough for us to eat is fine."
After listening for a few minutes and glancing at the gongs and drums being tested on stage, the other guests, having lost their initial excitement, gradually moved on to other areas.
Shen Yuzhou wanted to go to the sugar painting stall at the street corner to buy a camel sugar painting that he hadn't been able to get earlier, but Cheng Yanqiu was dragged away by him.
Jiang Wantang and Ji Shiyu turned into a shop next door that sells handmade bronze mirrors.
Lin Yanru and Su He'an were still haggling with the owner of the erhu shop.
Lu Zhao knew nothing about opera, but he was very interested in the drumsticks used to strike the clapper drum. He squatted by the stage watching the master adjust the drumhead, so engrossed that he forgot to leave.
Qiguan Yuan did not leave.
He sat down at the old, octagonal table directly in front of the stage. The tabletop was pitted and uneven, and someone had written a few words on it with a ballpoint pen, but they were no longer legible.
Pei Yubai sat down next to him, and casually moved the teapot on the table aside to make room for Qiguan Yuan to rest his arm.
The middle-aged man was taken aback when he saw someone sit down, a young man in a red shirt with long silver hair.
These days, not many young people will willingly sit down to listen to a play, let alone sit down quietly like the person in front of me, unhurried and calm, as if they were waiting for a play they had been waiting for a long time.
He walked over and asked, "Young man, we're putting on a show. Would you like to listen?"
Qiguan Yuan raised his hand and poured a glass of water into it. "What kind of opera are you performing?"
The middle-aged man said, "Have you ever heard of Peking Opera, specifically the play 'Farewell My Concubine'?"
Qiguan Yuan smiled and said, "I listen to Kunqu Opera more often, but Peking Opera is also acceptable. I've heard the classic 'Farewell My Concubine.' Feel free to sing it."
Upon hearing this, the middle-aged man perked up, pulled up a chair, sat down at the table, and said, "When I was young, I also studied Kunqu Opera, but later my voice gave out, so I switched to Peking Opera."
The two chatted about everything from the Kunqu Opera's Shuimoqiang style to the Peking Opera's Xipi and Erhuang styles, from "The Peony Pavilion" ("Originally, flowers bloomed in vibrant colors") to "The Palace of Eternal Life" ("Unexpectedly, fish swelled and geese fell from the sky, birds cried out in alarm").
Qiguan Yuan spoke slowly, casually mentioning a few Kunqu opera tunes and their stylistic features, and then discussing the differences between Peking Opera and Kunqu Opera in terms of pronunciation and rhyme.
The middle-aged man became increasingly excited as he listened, slapping his thigh and saying, "You're a real expert, young man! These days, many people can't even distinguish between Kunqu Opera and Peking Opera. It's so rare to meet someone who genuinely loves traditional opera."
Pei Yubai sat to the side without saying a word.
He had some exposure to traditional opera while filming, and even studied Peking Opera movements for three months specifically for a role, so he has some understanding of the rhythmic patterns.
However, he wasn't particularly interested in opera itself; he would just watch whatever Yuanyuan liked.
The drums and gongs on stage paused briefly as the actors prepared.
The actress playing Yu Ji was a young woman in her early twenties. Her face was meticulously painted, and her fish-scale armor shimmered in the sunlight.
The actor playing the Overlord was a bit older, with a heavily painted face and the cuffs of his black python robe were worn and frayed, indicating that he had performed the role many times.
The play began with the sound of the clapper drum.
Yu Ji stepped out from the side of the platform, flicked her water sleeves, and shouted, "Since I followed the King on his eastern and western campaigns," she brought back the attention of several tourists on the street.
The girl's voice wasn't the best, but she was earnest; she put all her effort into every note, and the sorrow in her eyes and brows spread out in layers.
Qiguan Yuan sat quietly in the audience and watched.
He hadn't sat in front of a stage to listen to a play for over a hundred years.
The last time was more than a hundred years ago, when he heard a performance of "The Jade Hairpin".
He went to the Yue Lao Temple to interpret the three fortune sticks, and then suddenly felt like listening to a play, so he went out by himself.
The stage that day was set up by a river. When the young male lead on stage sang "The moon is bright, the clouds are light, and the dew is thick," a thin layer of mist actually rose on the river.
It was probably because of the fortune-telling at that time that I thought of Yun Yin again, and it was really hard to bear, so I went to the opera to try to distract myself.
The stage today has no river, no fog, and the King of Chu on stage sings "My strength can uproot mountains and my spirit can cover the world," his voice rough and hardened by the wind and sand of the northwest.
It wasn't the old play "The Jade Hairpin," nor was it the pair of male and female leads singing so tenderly and affectionately. The scene before me, where Yu Ji and Xiang Yu were parting ways in the tune of a southern opera, unexpectedly resonated with the desolation of a northern opera.
Qiguan Yuan knew that everything changes over time.
The script changes, the singing style changes, and even he himself has changed a lot.
But at this moment, when Yu Ji on stage uttered the words, "The Han army has seized the land, and the songs of Chu are heard on all sides," he still felt a slight ripple in his heart.
Like a cup of tea that has been steeped for too long, most of the bitterness has dissipated, leaving only a mellow aftertaste.
Pei Yubai took his hand under the table.
Qiguan Yuan to look at him. Pei Yubai wasn't looking at the stage; he was looking at Qiguan Yuan.
Qiguan Yuan did not pull his hand away, but let him hold it. The two of them intertwined their fingers under the octagonal table, while on stage, the most tragic part of the play "Farewell My Concubine" was being sung.
During Yu Ji's sword dance, the girl's water sleeves weren't perfectly swung; there was a slight misalignment in the angle of one wrist turn, but the emotion was there.
The sword flashed briefly in the sunlight, and as Yu Ji fell, the tourists watching the spectacle below fell silent.
The Overlord's cry of " Yu Ji " was heart-wrenching, his voice cracking by half a note, making it even more unbearable than a perfect performance.
These people are truly performing with passion.
This is enough.
The play is over.
The actors on stage bowed to take their bows, and the audience responded with scattered applause mixed with a few cheers.
Compared to a century ago, when the stage was packed with spectators, traditional opera today is indeed desolate.
Qiguan Yuan released Pei Yubai's hand and took out several items from his sleeve, placing them on the table.
It wasn't cash, but several exquisitely crafted jade pendants and a pair of gold filigree and gemstone-inlaid bracelets, gleaming warmly in the sunlight.
Qiguan Yuan still retains his old habit when watching plays: he doesn't usually tip with money, but prefers to tip with small trinkets he brings with him.
The middle-aged man was stunned upon seeing it and quickly declined, saying, "Oh dear! This is too valuable! I can't accept it!"
Qiguan Yuan said, "There's no need to refuse. A good performance deserves a reward. These things are just gathering dust here; it's better to give them to someone who can use them."
The middle-aged man declined several times before finally accepting the money, his eyes reddening. "This is enough for the opera troupe's travel expenses for the rest of their lives. Thank you, young man."
Qiguan Yuan stood up and looked at the actors who were removing their makeup.
The actress playing Yu Ji was using a cotton cloth soaked in makeup remover to wipe the makeup off her face. Halfway through wiping, her bare face was revealed, and she looked younger than when she was made up, probably in her early twenties.
The Overlord removed his helmet and sat on the stage trunk, drinking water from an old-fashioned, military-green canteen with a chipped piece of paint on the lid.
"This road isn't easy," Qiguan Yuan said to the middle-aged man, his voice not loud, "But if you keep going, someone will eventually see you."
The middle-aged man nodded, saying he knew.
In recent years, fewer and fewer people have been watching operas, and even fewer young people are willing to learn opera. But their opera troupe has been passed down from their master's generation for three generations. As long as there are still people willing to listen, they will continue to perform.
Qiguan Yuan thought for a moment, then took a booklet from his sleeve and placed it on the table.
The booklet was thin, with a yellow cover, a red label, and the title page.
The middle-aged man took it, turned to the first page, and then stopped.
The paper is yellowed, the calligraphy is exquisite, the layout is spacious, and the book is large in size; it was used exclusively by the imperial court.
It was a complete Kunqu opera that he had only heard his master mention but had never seen the score of.
He turned a few more pages, his fingers beginning to tremble.
The booklet contains many long-lost musical pieces, each with complete musical notation and recitative annotations, written in neat and elegant handwriting, and with annotations marked in red ink on the pages.
"A rare copy!" The middle-aged man's voice was hoarse. When he looked up at Qiguan Yuan, his eyes were already red, his expression filled with shock and excitement. "This is a rare copy! The scores for several plays have been lost for at least several hundred years. My God!"
Qiguan Yuan said, "This stuff is for you who are still performing. Keep it up. One day, I might come back to see it. When that happens, you'll have to perform a few of these plays for me."
The middle-aged man held the booklet in his arms and bowed deeply to Qiguan Yuan.
The viewers in the live stream were initially watching the show quietly. After the show ended, the comments gradually resumed scrolling. Some were discussing Yu Ji's appearance, while others were examining the items that Qiguan Yuan had gifted.
The moment the booklet was opened, the live chat exploded with comments.
Some knowledgeable viewers recognized the cover.
The camera's resolution was high enough that when the lens swept across the first page of musical notation while turning the page, someone took a screenshot and zoomed in to look at it, becoming increasingly alarmed.
The notation of those few lines of gongche notation does not match any known extant version in the academic community, indicating that it is a completely lost piece of music.
Several bloggers specializing in traditional Chinese opera started spamming the chat in the live stream, expressing their shock.
Some people started taking screenshots frame by frame, saving all the few lines of sheet music that were legible.
Some viewers even tagged several official accounts related to traditional Chinese opera research in the live stream comments, urging them to come and watch the broadcast.
The first person to be alarmed was a somewhat well-known opera researcher, who saw the screenshot on Weibo and immediately forwarded it to his fellow student.
His senior colleague, who was on temporary assignment at the Chinese Xiqu Society, immediately stood up from his chair upon seeing the screenshot and called the society's president directly.
The president was an elderly gentleman in his seventies. When the call was connected, he was organizing documents in his study. After listening to the description, he put on his reading glasses and asked someone to send him the link to the live stream.
The scene freezes on the moment Qiguan Yuan hands the booklet to the middle-aged man.
The old man looked at the cover of the booklet and the open pages, then dropped the document in his hand onto the table with a thud.
He adjusted his reading glasses and went directly to the youngest member of the association who knew the most about new media, asking him to immediately find a way to contact the program team and the person who had obtained the booklet.
The official account of the association posted three comments in the live stream chat, each more earnest than the last.
The first question was whether it was possible to contact the gentleman who had acquired the unique copy.
The second request is for the program team to convey that the Chinese Xiqu Society hopes to borrow this booklet for academic research, and all procedures and fees will be handled in accordance with regulations.
The third point directly included the president of the society's real name and contact information, stating that the old gentleman was willing to personally lead his research team to visit him.
The average viewer was completely baffled by the explanation.
What is the significance of a unique copy of the Qing Dynasty gongche notation? What does the rediscovery of a lost piece of music mean? In the world of opera, this is equivalent to unearthing a complete, untouched tomb in the world of archaeology.
The Xiao Yuan Grains reacted more directly on another front; Yuanyuan casually gave away a rare Qing Dynasty opera script that had been lost for hundreds of years.
He previously mentioned owning ten Yue Lao Temple, and now he casually pulls out a priceless rare book to give away. Just how many more surprises does this person have in store for them to discover?
As for the fact that the more they try to deny it, the more it seems true, the Xiao Yuan Grains have given up trying to deny it.
The photographer heard the director's instructions through his earpiece from behind the camera, but he didn't dare to take a close-up shot of the booklet on his own. He could only keep the camera steady on Qiguan Yuan and the middle-aged man in a medium shot.
The middle-aged man was still bowing while holding the booklet Qiguan Yuan reached out and touched his arm.
The other members of the opera troupe also gathered around. The actress playing Yu Ji, whose face was still covered in makeup, leaned over to look at the words in the booklet, opened her mouth, but couldn't say anything.
The actor playing the Overlord put down the kettle, wiped his hands with his costume before daring to touch the cover of the booklet. He touched it very lightly with his fingertips, afraid of soiling it.
Seeing them huddled together flipping through the booklet, Qiguan Yuan took a half step back and stood next to Pei Yubai again.
Pei Yubai put his arm around Qiguan Yuan's shoulder. Qi Guanyuan glanced at him, then turned and walked slowly toward the street corner with Pei Yubai.