nownovels Chapter 156 The Drunken Concubine Without a Musician
Chapter 156 The Drunken Concubine Without a Musician
Chapter 157 The Drunken Concubine Without a Musician
The next day, at dusk.
This is the grand performance in Tianjin, which is also the day that was forcibly named the "Martial Arts and Art Goodwill Exchange Conference".
Outside the Chinese Theatre, traffic was heavy.
Police officers from the French Concession, Japanese military police, and even plainclothes officers from Nanjing surrounded the entire theater.
Consuls from various countries, managers of foreign firms, and reporters from major newspapers arrived early and took their seats in the VIP boxes on the second floor, having already received their invitations.
Today's performance is not just an artistic show, but also a political game and a martial arts contest.
Even before the curtain rose, the atmosphere in the entire theater was already extremely oppressive.
The air was not filled with the usual aroma of melon seeds and tea leaves from watching a play; instead, it was permeated with a somber atmosphere.
"Thump! Thump! Thump!"
Three deafening drumbeats, like a death knell, suddenly rang out above the stage, opening the curtain on this so-called "exchange conference".
The curtain was suddenly pulled open to both sides.
The first to take the stage were not any Chinese opera troupe, but the Japanese Imperial Martial Arts Delegation stationed in Tianjin.
There was no opening remark, nor any polite small talk.
"ha!!!"
Accompanied by a series of uniform, rough roars, like those of wild beasts.
More than thirty Japanese karate masters, shirtless and with black belts around their waists, rushed onto the stage like wolves and tigers.
Their muscles were bulging, veins were popping, and each of them had a morbid fanaticism in their eyes.
In the center of the stage, there were already piles of heavy granite slabs and large logs, as thick as small mountains.
"broken!"
The leading karate master let out a terrifying scream. Without taking any precautions, he leaped high into the air and delivered a hand chop as fiercely as a real iron axe.
"Crack—Boom!"
He actually cleaved a granite slab, half a foot thick, in two with his bare hands! The fragments flew everywhere, slamming into the front row of the audience below.
But this is just the beginning.
More than thirty karate experts launched an attack simultaneously.
They pounded the hard planks and stones with their fists, elbows, foreheads, and even bare feet.
"Bang bang bang bang!"
The dull thuds echoed one after another, and the entire stage floor trembled violently.
Some people's joints even cracked from the self-harming impact, and blood flowed down their fingers and foreheads, dripping onto the white wooden floor, a shocking sight.
But they seemed oblivious to the pain, instead roaring even more frantically, letting blood splatter everywhere.
Immediately afterwards, the karate practitioners stepped down, and the kendo masters took the stage.
The four ronin dressed in black kendo uniforms were not carrying bamboo swords, but rather sharpened real swords.
In the center of the stage, two freshly skinned, bloody halves of pork were hung up at some point.
"kill!"
A cold light gleamed.
The four ronin, as if possessed, drew their swords and began to slash.
The "slurp" sound of a blade slicing through flesh is chilling.
In the blink of an eye, the two pork slabs were brutally sliced into pieces on the ground, and a strong smell of blood instantly filled the air, rushing along the edge of the stage and into the audience.
"ah--!!"
Several foreign female reporters in the front row were terrified, covering their eyes and screaming.
Even the most experienced and knowledgeable managers of foreign firms turned pale and instinctively shrank back in their chairs.
That's too barbaric, too bloody!
This is not a martial arts exchange at all; it is clearly a blatant display of slaughterhouse practices.
The Japanese wanted to use these most primitive and brutal bloody scenes to completely intimidate everyone mentally.
It also wanted to show the Westerners present what a fearless and beast-like war machine the samurai of the Great Japanese Empire were.
"The sick man of East Asia, utterly vulnerable; Japanese martial arts, unparalleled under heaven!"
The leading Japanese ronin, standing amidst the carcasses and blood, raised his still-dripping katana and let out an extremely arrogant laugh at the crowd below.
Throughout the entire Chinese Grand Theatre, more than two thousand Chinese audience members gritted their teeth, their eyes bloodshot, yet they were overwhelmed by the overwhelming atmosphere of bloodshed and violence.
Panic is spreading.
Meanwhile, backstage.
Zhou Daikui was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan, pacing back and forth in the corridor, sweating profusely.
"What a disaster! These beasts have turned the stage into a slaughterhouse. The whole place reeks of blood. How are they supposed to perform the rest of the opera? This isn't just disrupting the performance; they're ruining the elegance of Chinese opera!"
What made Zhou Daikui even more desperate was that the "wenchang" masters who had been hired from Tianjin at great expense were now kneeling in unison at the door of Lu Cheng's dressing room, their faces ashen and their bodies trembling.
"Master Lu, Lord Lu, please have mercy and let us go."
The lead flute player kowtowed repeatedly, shouting with a mournful face.
"The Black Dragon Society just sent someone with a message, and they even put bloodstained bullets in our instrument cases. They said that anyone who dares to accompany the Qingyun Ensemble today will have their entire family killed!"
"We are all artisans making a living with families to support; we dare not go against the Japanese."
"Please, Master Lu, spare our lives! We'll refund double the deposit!"
Several erhu and yueqin players also pleaded, their fear emanating from their very bones.
Shunzi and Lu Feng were furious, and Lu Feng drew his single-edged sword.
"These spineless cowards! They took the money and did nothing. I'll cripple you right now!"
"Fengzi, put the knife away."
In the dressing room, Lu Cheng sat upright in a grand chair, his voice calm.
He wasn't dressed in martial arts attire today, but simply in a plain white robe, gently fiddling with a Xiangfei bamboo folding fan in his hand.
"A play is performed for those who understand it."
"If the heart is timid, the flute you play will sound broken, and the zither you play will have dead strings."
Lu Cheng stood up, walked to the door, looked at the musicians kneeling on the ground, and instead of getting angry, gently waved his hand.
"Masters, you've all had a tough time. Life is more important than any performance, so please go now. The deposit doesn't need to be refunded; consider it a token of my appreciation to calm your nerves."
"this----"
The musicians looked at each other in disbelief, hardly believing that Master Lu had let them off so easily. They felt as if they had been granted a pardon and kowtowed repeatedly.
"Thank you, Master Lu! Thank you for your magnanimity!"
After saying that, the musicians picked up their instrument cases and fled out the back door as if their lives depended on it.
Looking at the empty backstage corridor, Zhou Daikui slumped into his chair.
"It's over, the entire literary competition has been cancelled."
"Chengzi, it's almost time for our 'The Drunken Concubine' to take the stage. How are Qinglian and Hongyu supposed to get on stage?"
"Without the flute to support the melody, and without the moon lute to set the tone, this southern school of Kunqu and Peking opera, sung a cappella, is just dry howling!"
"Besides, the stage outside was just covered in blood by the Japanese, and the audience was terrified. How can you send two little girls up there to sing like that?"
"This—this is making our Qingyun Troupe look foolish in public and be laughed at by the foreigners!"
Qinglian and Hongyu, who had been standing in the corner and were already dressed as imperial concubines, were now pale-faced.
Qinglian wore a heavy phoenix crown on her head and a dazzling yellow python robe. The outfit, which should have been stunning and made her look more helpless as she trembled slightly, made her appear even more beautiful.
"Master—Master—"
Qinglian bit her lip hard, tears welling up in her eyes.
"No piano, no drumbeats—I'm afraid I won't be able to find the right tune and suppress the stench of blood outside."
""
Lu Cheng turned around and looked at the two girls he had personally picked up from the human market.
He didn't sigh, nor did he become anxious.
He simply walked slowly to Qinglian, extended his warm and smooth fingers, and gently straightened the slightly tilted beads on her phoenix crown.
"Qinglian, Hongyu. What do you think our culture is?"
The two girls were stunned and didn't know how to answer.
Lu Cheng opened his folding fan and gently shook it. His gaze swept across the backstage area, where he seemed to see the bloody stage and the arrogant Japanese ronin outside.
"The Japanese believe that breaking a few stones, chopping up a few pounds of raw meat, and causing bloodshed is what makes them strong and conquering."
"That's not strength, that's barbarity. That's the behavior of uncivilized beasts."
Lu Cheng's gaze gradually deepened.
"Our Chinese civilization has a history of five thousand years. True strength has never come from being more brutal."
"It is gentleness."
It is the composure of "water benefiting all things without striving."
"It is the inner strength to remain calm and composed amidst raging storms."
Lu Cheng closed the folding fan and gently tapped Qinglian's heart with the fan rib.
"Today, there are no orchestral instruments, no string and wind instruments."
"But you have a voice, a figure, and the beauty passed down from your ancestors, which is ingrained in your bones and blood."
1
"They use violence and blood to frighten people."
"Master will teach you to use the purest gentleness and beauty of China to effortlessly wash away their foul and barbaric nature!"
Looking into her master's calm, deep eyes, Qinglian's fear miraculously vanished.
She took a deep breath, and her back, which had been slightly hunched due to nervousness, instantly straightened up.
The pearls and jade on the phoenix crown made a crisp "ding-dong" sound.
"Master, I understand."
Qinglian's voice no longer trembled, revealing a tenacity that belonged to a leading lady.
"If there is no accompaniment, I will sing a cappella. I will not bring shame to the Qingyun Troupe, nor will I bring shame to the Chinese people."
"it is good."
A hint of admiration flashed in Lu Cheng's eyes.
"Go. Don't worry about the bloodstains on the ground. You are celestial fairies; just dance in the clouds."
"Master is right here in the side curtain, here to support you!"
Front desk.
The Japanese's bloody performance had just ended, and several Japanese ronin were still standing arrogantly on the stage, enjoying the deathly silence caused by fear in the audience.
"Next, please welcome the Qingyun Troupe from China to perform the Peking Opera 'The Drunken Beauty'!" The traitorous host announced nervously from below the stage.
However, a full minute passed.
-
There was no sound of gongs or drums, nor any sound of musical instruments.
The entire stage was eerily quiet.
In a private room on the second floor, Hashimoto, the head of the Special Higher Police, smiled smugly.
"See? Mr. Funakoshi's plan worked. The Chinese musicians were scared away long ago. Without accompaniment, let's see how they perform."
"Today, this so-called glory of Chinese martial arts is about to become a complete and utter joke!"
The foreign journalists in the front row looked at each other, began to whisper among themselves, and some even prepared to put away their cameras.
In their view, China has completely lost this cultural exchange due to stage fright.
Just when everyone thought that Qingyun Class was going to forfeit.
"Smack."
The sound of folding fans striking wooden pillars came from behind the side curtain on the left side of the stage.
The sound wasn't loud, but it strangely pierced through the stench of blood and clearly reached the ears of the more than two thousand people in the audience.
Followed by.
There is no noisy "Little Opening" tune, and no instrumental accompaniment.
A clear, melodious voice, as if it had fallen from the heavens, suddenly rang out in the deathly silent theater.
"The moon over the island begins its ascent"
The voice showed no sign of panic or stage fright.
It is as clean as snowmelt from the Kunlun Mountains, sweet and refreshing with a penetrating quality.
Without any accompaniment, this pure, unaccompanied singing amplifies the nuanced and captivating charm of Peking Opera female roles to the extreme.
"Whoosh!"
The side curtain was gently lifted by a pair of slender, jade-like hands.
Clad in a bright yellow python robe and wearing a kingfisher feather phoenix crown, Qinglian, supported by Hongyu, moved slowly and gracefully out of the shadows.
For a moment, everyone in the audience held their breath.
nice.
So beautiful.
On this stage, which was just filled with severed limbs and bloody brutality, suddenly emerged a graceful and elegant classical Chinese beauty.
This extreme visual and psychological contrast deeply shocked all the foreign journalists and consuls present.
Qinglian's eyes did not look at the bloodstains on the ground.
Her eyes sparkled, every glance and gesture exuding charm, perfectly capturing the allure, languidness, and innate nobility of Yang Guifei.
"I see the Jade Rabbit, the Jade Rabbit has risen early in the east again—"
As she sang, she stepped on extremely intricate yet light "cloud steps".
Even though there was still blood on the stage, her multi-layered colorful shoes seemed to be walking on clouds, each step like a lotus blossom, untouched by any dust.
Jack, a reporter from Time magazine in the front row, suddenly stood up from his chair, his blue eyes filled with disbelief.
"My God—this is a miracle."
Jack frantically pressed the camera shutter, and the flashbulbs went off incessantly.
"What those Japanese just displayed was merely crude killing and barbaric power. But this—this is true art, the elegance of absolute control over body and mind!"
On the stage.
The most challenging skill in "The Drunken Beauty" is the "Lying Fish" move.
Qinglian held her hands in a delicate, orchid-like gesture, her water sleeves fluttering gently.
Without any drumbeats or rhythm, she relied entirely on the rhythm in her heart and the "gentleness" that Lu Cheng had taught her, and her body began to slowly sink.
Her waist was as supple as a boneless willow branch.
Little by little, I leaned back.
Until its entire body coiled and folded, like a fish sleeping underwater, it gracefully lay on the blood-stained wooden floor.
Her phoenix crown was perfectly straight, not even slightly crooked, and even the beads on it remained miraculously still.
At that moment, the original bloody atmosphere on the stage seemed to be completely purified by her exquisite turn and the way she looked up.
It transformed into the fragrance of peonies belonging to the Tang Dynasty, intoxicating the entire garden.
"Bravo! (That's awesome!)"
The French consul couldn't help but stand up and applaud vigorously.
Immediately afterwards, all the foreign journalists, the heads of the trading companies, and all the Chinese audience members spontaneously stood up.
There were no harsh shouts, only thunderous, enthusiastic, and respectful applause.
This is the power of Chinese culture.
The softest can overcome the hardest.
Using minimal force to achieve maximum effect!
With just a beautiful, unaccompanied dance and a cappella singing, the terror and bloodshed that the Japanese had painstakingly created were easily crushed and rendered invisible, like a speck of dust being brushed away.
In a private room on the second floor, Hashimoto, the head of the Special Higher Police, had a livid face, his nails digging deep into his flesh.
"Baka—how is this possible?"
His meticulously planned move not only prevented the Qingyun Troupe from embarrassing themselves, but instead led to this stunning a cappella performance that amazed the world.
The disdain that foreigners once held has vanished, replaced by a deep admiration and fascination with traditional Chinese art.
At this moment, the swaggering of the Japanese samurai became a crude backdrop that highlighted the elegance of Chinese art.
Behind the side curtain.
As Lu Cheng watched Qinglian and Hongyu gracefully bowing to the audience amidst applause after their perfect performance on stage, a look of satisfaction appeared on his lips.
"well done."
Lu Cheng turned around and casually tossed the folding fan he had been playing with to Shunzi.
His handsome face instantly lost all its gentleness.
The literary performance is over.
The soft has already broken the hard.
Next comes the real bloodshed.
"Chengzi".
Zhou Daikui ran over, his head covered in sweat, his voice trembling.
"Although Qinglian managed to handle the literary aspect, but—but all the martial arts instructors have run away too!"
"There was no drumming, no gong banging."
"Your play, 'Battle of Taiping,' is a major martial arts performance. You need to do somersaults, throw zombies, and have the imposing presence of a thousand troops on stage. Without the rhythmic beat of gongs and drums, this martial arts play simply can't begin!"
Zhou Daikui was so anxious that tears were almost coming out of his eyes.
This is the most insidious trick the Japanese have up their sleeve.
A martial arts opera without gongs and drums is like a gun without bullets—it has the form but can't deliver the awe-inspiring impact it deserves.
The entire backstage area fell into a deathly silence of despair once again.
Just then.
"Master Lu."
A thin, hunched figure slowly stood up from the most inconspicuous corner backstage.
Ah Bing.
The blind musician A Bing.
He took off his sunglasses, revealing his cloudy eyes.
He held tightly to the old, two-stringed erhu that had been with him for half his life.
"Master A Bing, you—" Zhou Dai Kui was stunned.
Ignoring Zhou Daikui, A Bing walked shakily to Lu Cheng and raised his erhu high.
"Master Lu."
Ah Bing's voice was somewhat hoarse.
"These Japanese devils can scare away those musicians who live a comfortable life, but they can't scare away an old blind man like me who would give up his life."
"Tonight, there is no gong, no single-headed drum, and no suona on this stage."
"All I have is this broken erhu (a two-stringed bowed instrument) that I, a blind man, possess."
Ah Bing raised his head, and on his weathered face, a smile appeared that was more painful than crying, yet incredibly bold.
"You're asking me if I'm scared?"
"I only ask you this: my instrument, with only one string—"
"Is this enough to send off your grandmaster?!"
Lu Cheng looked at the thin old man.
He slowly stood up.
That blood-red battle robe with white background and red spots seemed to burst into flames at that moment.
He didn't say anything unnecessary.
He simply reached out and gently plucked the old, worn-out erhu.
"when."
The sound was crisp and clear, like the cracking of gold and jade.
"One zither is enough."
Lu Cheng turned around and took out the broken spear from the weapon rack. The spearhead had been broken off at Guanghe Tower, leaving only a bare white waxwood shaft.
He carried the broken spear upside down and strode toward the heavy curtain leading to the stage.