SWDnovel Chapter 124 The curtain rises, an ancient epic of the Chu overlord!
Chapter 124 The curtain rises, an ancient epic of the Chu overlord!
Chapter 125 The curtain rises, a timeless epic of the Chu overlord!
The foreigners have left.
Lu Cheng and Mei Lanfang arrived at the practice room in the backyard.
All the other people left, leaving only the two of them: Yang Baozhong, who played the zither, and the drummer.
"Mr. Lu, please."
Mei Lanfang took off his long gown and put on a neat set of training clothes, holding two mandarin duck swords in his hand.
Those were the props used by Yu Ji when she danced with her sword.
Lu Cheng also picked up the Overlord Helmet, which he had ordered from Juyuanzhai and weighed twenty pounds, put it on his head, and then picked up the wooden spear.
"Boss Mei, please."
The drums and gongs begin to beat.
"Cang—Cai—"
The melody of "Deep Night" begins to play.
This section depicts Yu Ji dancing with her sword and the Hegemon-King's tragic song.
When Mei Lanfang made a move, it was a display of masterful style.
Her movements were graceful: the swordplay was as beautiful as snow, and the deep affection and farewell in her eyes for the Overlord were portrayed vividly.
Lu Cheng stood aside, watching.
He didn't rush to make a move.
He was "in character".
He thought of that once arrogant hero who ultimately found himself with nowhere to turn on the banks of the Wujiang River.
I am reminded of the line, "My strength could uproot mountains, my spirit could cover the world, but the times are against me, and my steed will not go."
That kind of sorrow, that kind of unwillingness, that kind of pride that refuses to bow down even when faced with a desperate situation.
Gradually.
Lu Cheng's expression changed.
Those gentle eyes regained their sharpness and world-weariness.
A strong sense of tragedy emanated from him.
"Concubine"
This call was low and hoarse, yet it carried boundless tenderness.
He stepped out.
Every step felt as heavy as a mountain.
The 20-pound helmet on his head felt like a real weight of a thousand pounds pressing down on him.
But he straightened his back.
The broadsword in his hand was no longer a weapon for killing, but a pillar supporting this world and the woman's last hope.
On stage, the two were contrasting: one strong, one gentle; one sorrowful, one fierce.
Their eyes met.
At that moment, Mei Lanfang felt a tremor in his heart.
He played Yu Ji his entire life and voiced countless Xiang Yu.
Yang Xiaolou and Shang Heyu—aren't they both renowned martial arts masters?
But there had never been a moment when he felt so "real".
The person in front of me is not playing the role of a tyrant.
He was Xiang Yu, who had just lost his kingdom and was about to lose his lover.
The despair and tenderness in his eyes almost brought tears to Mei Lanfang's eyes.
"good!"
The song ended.
Mei Lanfang sheathed his sword and let out a long sigh of relief.
It's so realistic.
For a fleeting moment, he truly believed he had arrived at Gaixia, and that standing before him was none other than the bewildered and lost Hegemon of Western Chu, who had drawn his sword and looked around in confusion.
"Boss Lu————"
Mei Lanfang took the hot towel handed to him by Steward Qi, gently dabbed it on his forehead, and let out a long sigh. "You, this tyrant, are quite different from Boss Yang Xiaolou."
Lu Cheng casually handed the wooden Guan Dao in his hand to Shunzi, took off the "Overlord Helmet" that he had tried on, which weighed at least 20 pounds, without even breaking a sweat.
"Oh, Mr. Mei, what do you think is different?" Lu Cheng picked up the iced tea on the table and took a sip.
Mei Lanfang walked back to the table and sat down, pondering for a moment.
"Boss Yang's Overlord is fierce," a peerless warrior with overwhelming power, inspiring both fear and awe. But your Overlord—"
Mei Lanfang looked up and stared into Lu Cheng's eyes.
"Your overlord is a god." It's a kind of aloof arrogance, a defiance of fate, a defiance of destiny. There's no panic in those eyes, only a calm acceptance that says, "I don't want this empire anymore, but you can't take away my dignity either."
At this point, Mei Lanfang couldn't help but give a thumbs up: "Just look at that gaze just now, even I, Yu Ji, would die willingly."
Upon hearing this, Lu Cheng smiled faintly.
"If Xiang Yu were just a commoner, he would not be worthy of Yu Ji's devoted love."
Lu Cheng straightened his moon-white long robe. "Things on the stage ultimately have to be done with human touch. Boss Mei, you must be tired from rehearsing today. How about we have a simple meal outside Qianmen?"
"No need to go to a fancy restaurant."
Mei Lanfang, a man of refined taste, waved his hand. "That performance just now left me feeling refreshed and clear-headed. Such rich and heavy food would only spoil that feeling. If you don't mind, Boss Lu, how about we go to that old-established restaurant on the corner and have a bowl of plain noodles?"
"When in Rome, do as the Romans do," Lu Cheng readily agreed.
Outside Qianmen, in a hutong (alleyway).
A noodle shop without a signboard, only a cloth banner yellowed from coal smoke hanging at the entrance.
These days, a bag of good quality foreign flour costs two silver dollars, and small restaurants that can make plain noodles with pure white flour have all sorts of tricks up their sleeves.
Lu Cheng and Mei Lanfang sat at a faded, eight-immortal table in the corner. Yang Baozhong and Steward Qi sat at the next table.
A short while later, two steaming bowls of plain noodles were served.
The soup was as clear as water, the noodles as white as jade, topped with a few scallions and a few drops of sesame oil. A bowl cost only three copper coins, yet it exuded a comforting, down-to-earth charm.
"Slurp."
Lu Cheng picked up a mouthful of noodles and ate them slowly and deliberately, but they tasted delicious.
Mei Lanfang looked at Lu Cheng and couldn't help but ask, "Boss Lu, I heard you're going to Tianjin in a few days?"
This matter is no secret among the upper echelons of the martial arts world in Beiping.
President Liu and several other prominent figures have disappeared in the Japanese concession in Tianjin. Whoever gets involved in this mess will perish.
"Let's go take a look."
Lu Cheng put down his chopsticks, took out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth, and said, "I've accepted the seal of the head instructor of the Xingyi School, so I can't just take things for free and not do any work."
Mei Lanfang sensed the turmoil in those words, and a hint of worry flashed in his eyes.
"Tianjin is not like Beiping. There are nine foreign concessions there, and foreigners' powerful ships and cannons are all positioned on the Haihe River. Since those ronin from the Black Dragon Society dared to set up a trap, they must have laid a net that can catch everyone."
1
Mei Lanfang lowered his voice, "Your departure—"
"Boss Mei."
Lu Cheng raised his eyes and looked at several laborers carrying large bags, their backs bent under the weight, walking through the alley outside the door.
"Why is this plain noodle soup so delicious?"
Mei Lanfang was taken aback.
Lu Cheng smiled.
"Because the broth is made by simmering pork bones for a whole day and night. It looks as clear as water, but it has a rich base. We Chinese also need to simmer the bones. Without simmering them for a while, you can't make a broth that foreigners respect from this clear soup."
Mei Lanfang was deeply shaken. Looking at the young man who was more than ten years younger than himself, he felt an indescribable surge of pride welling up in his chest. He stood up and picked up the rough porcelain teacup.
"Boss Lu, Lanfang uses tea instead of wine."
"May you overcome all obstacles and defeat all rivals. On the day of the grand performance, Lanfang will be on stage, awaiting your triumphant victory!"
Lu Cheng picked up his teacup and gently tapped it against the glass.
It's a deal.
The day of the autumn grand performance is drawing ever closer.
These past few days, Beijing has been like a giant furnace, boiling and bubbling.
In the streets and alleys, in teahouses and taverns, no one talks about which warlords are fighting again, nor does anyone talk about how many copper coins the price of rice has risen.
All the spittle was directed at one thing—Master Lu was going to sing "Farewell My Concubine" on stage with Boss Mei!
As soon as the news came out, the threshold of Tianqiao Theater was almost worn down by the crowds.
Long queues formed at the theater ticket counters three days in advance.
There were laborers who stayed up all night queuing with their bedding, and there were also servants sent by wealthy families to keep watch.
"Don't push, don't push! The first-class stalls are all sold out!"
The ticket seller, his voice hoarse and sweating profusely, shouted through the iron fence.
"Shopkeeper, standing room only! Even a ticket hanging on a pillar will do!" The people outside waved their banknotes wildly.
These days, a silver dollar has real purchasing power.
On weekdays, a good seat at the Tianqiao Theater costs at most one yuan.
But today, scalpers on the black market have driven up ticket prices to an insane level.
At the tea stall opposite the theater.
A local ruffian, dressed in a short blue silk jacket and wearing a gold chain around his neck, was picking his teeth and holding several red-paper movie tickets in his hand.
"Listen up, the extra seats at the back of the private rooms on the second floor are fifty yuan each, no bargaining."
"Fifty dollars?!"
A schoolteacher in a long gown nearby gasped, "You're robbing me! Fifty silver dollars can buy two acres of prime paddy fields!"
"You poor wretch! If you have no money, go back to listening to the radio!"
The local thug glared at him, arrogantly waving the ticket in his hand. "This is to see a live martial arts master! Master Lu's skill in slaying Japanese ronin, and Boss Mei's stunning beauty—you won't catch this in fifty years!"
"Too expensive? I'm not selling it!"
Just then.
"Snapped!"
A large hand slammed heavily onto the thug's shoulder.
The local thug was furious and was about to turn around and yell, "Which blind fool is this?!"
Before he could finish speaking, his voice trailed off like a duck being choked.
Standing behind him was a man as tall and imposing as a black iron tower.
He was wearing a faded training uniform with a red cloth belt around his waist, and his eyes were wide open like copper bells.
A straight.
Beside him stood a boy with the eyes of a lone wolf, holding an unsharpened wooden knife, coldly watching him. Lu Feng.
"Shun--Shun-ye, Feng-ge--"
The thug's legs went weak instantly.
Anyone who hangs out in the South City knows these two scoundrels.
This is a disciple personally taught by Master Lu of the Qingyun Troupe!
These gentlemen earned their reputations through real fighting at Guanghelou and various martial arts schools recently.
"Fifty silver dollars a piece?"
Shunzi's voice was deep and muffled, like a rumble of thunder.
"Misunderstanding, misunderstanding!"
The local thug quickly handed over the ticket with both hands, cold sweat pouring down his face. "Brother Shun, I was just joking. How could we brothers in the South City dare to make money off Master Lu's theater tickets? This ticket is a token of our respect!"
Shunzi didn't accept the ticket.
"My master said that operas are performed for the common people."
Shunzi stared at him, enunciating each word clearly, "Sell tickets at the original theater price. Anyone who dares to use the Qingyun Troupe's name to do anything filthy and exploitative these next few days—"
Shunzi stomped his foot suddenly.
"Snap!"
The thick bluestone slab underfoot had actually cracked into four pieces.
"This stone is his fate."
The local thug was so frightened he almost wet himself, nodding frantically, "Got it, got it, original price, absolutely original price!"
Shunzi and Lu Feng turned and left.
He didn't utter a single harsh word, nor did he draw his knife, but his imposing presence silenced all the scoundrels and ruffians present.
The ninth day of the ninth lunar month is an auspicious day for praying for blessings and meeting friends.
On this day, the backstage area of Tianqiao Theater was even more crowded than Wangfujing Street outside.
Almost all the leading actors from the entire Peking Opera troupe in Beiping came.
The four great female impersonators and the four great male impersonators, people who would never meet in public, are all crowding backstage today.
The air was filled with the strong smell of oil paint, wood shavings, and camphor from old-fashioned opera boxes.
Although the backstage area was chaotic, it was actually quite organized.
This is the rule of the Peking Opera world, it's paramount.
"Be careful, no one is allowed to sit on that 'trunk'!"
The old manager of Juyuanzhai came in person today to oversee the business, holding a feather duster and glaring at the martial arts performers coming and going.
The opera box was filled with the costumes of emperors and generals; sitting on the box was an insult to the patriarch.
In a separate dressing room on the west side, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Mei Lanfang is having his face painted and having makeup applied.
He had already changed into the bright yellow embroidered cloak that Yu Ji wore. His figure was graceful, and even though his makeup wasn't fully applied, he already exuded a tragic and beautiful sorrow.
And opposite him.
Lu Cheng sat imposingly in the armchair.
He didn't let the makeup artist do it; instead, he took a paintbrush and, facing the bronze mirror, slowly sketched out the "Overlord's" face.
His face, black and white, was unparalleled. His eyes were deep-set and his eyebrows were like steel forks, exuding an air of arrogant arrogance and desperate madness.
"Boss Lu, what a face you're wearing—"
The clerk in charge of the wardrobes nearby gasped in shock.
The traditional King of Chu's face, though majestic, often carries a hint of sorrow.
But the face that Lu Cheng drew seemed to be shouting to tear the heavens and the earth apart; it was a "fighting spirit" that came from the very marrow of his bones.
"Even if the Overlord were to draw his sword and commit suicide, he would still be a heroic ghost who died standing."
After Lu Cheng finished the last stroke, he threw down the brush and slowly stood up.
He stretched out his arms.
"Get in!"
Old Guan and Shunzi carefully held the dark green overcoat and gently draped it over Lu Cheng's body, then tied the four flags on the back of the garment tightly.
Then, the main event began.
The sandalwood box wrapped in yellow silk was opened.
A "King's Helmet" with a pure black background, gold dragons, and rubies, weighing a full twenty pounds, was presented to everyone.
Backstage, countless eyes were secretly peeking this way.
Jinbao, who had been terrified by Lu Cheng's kick earlier, was also hiding behind the crowd, his eyes filled with complicated emotions.
"A twenty-pound iron lump, can he really wear it while singing the whole show? His neck must be made of cast iron, right?" someone muttered.
Lu Cheng ignored the stares of those around him.
He grabbed the 20-pound helmet with one hand, and with a flick of his wrist, it landed steadily on his head as if it were just a paper hat.
"Click".
Tie the ribbon on your chin.
That instant.
boom!
Everyone in the dressing room seemed to feel the air suddenly drop.
Lu Cheng didn't move.
But as he straightened his spine slightly, the qi and blood of a master of internal energy surged naturally under the pressure of twenty pounds.
The large veins in his neck coiled like dragons, steadily supporting the weight that felt like Mount Tai pressing down on him.
The blood-red pom-pom trembled slightly on the top of the helmet, like a burning flame.
He turned his head, revealing a masked face with black and white markings, paired with a suit of armor that looked as if he had emerged from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, making one's breath catch in their throat at first glance.
"What a magnificent Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King of Western Chu!"
Mei Lanfang, who had been resting with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them and couldn't help but clap his hands in admiration.
Mei Lanfang stood up and walked gracefully to Lu Cheng's side.
One is strong, the other is gentle; one is black, the other is yellow.
Even before these two stepped onto the stage, their aura as unparalleled geniuses had already intimidated the backstage audience.
"Boss Lu, are you ready?" Mei Lanfang asked softly.
Lu Cheng reached out and grabbed the eighty-pound Overlord Spear next to him.
"when!"
The spear-shaped pillars on the ground were shattered, and the blue bricks were crushed.
"The wind rises—"
'
Lu Cheng didn't reply, but uttered four words in a low voice.
Outside, the sound of gongs and drums could be heard, signaling the start of the performance.
The lobby of the Tianqiao Theater was already bustling with noise.
The three thousand seats were packed to capacity, with people even standing in the aisles.
In the VIP box on the second floor, General Ma was wearing a black sable coat, a cigar in his mouth, and a row of armed guards stood behind him.
On the other side, several foreign reporters in suits were setting up their flashlights, ready to pounce.
The air was so stuffy you could wring water out of it.
-
"Knock knock knock!"
The drums pounded, like a dull heartbeat, striking everyone's chests.
The lights in the stadium suddenly went out.
The entire audience of three thousand people fell silent instantly.
"Cangcai cangcai!"
The urgent melody of "Rapid Wind" is like lightning tearing through the night sky, suddenly exploding.
The red velvet curtain slowly opened to both sides.
On the stage, there was no elaborate scenery, only a tattered Chu army banner fluttering in the wind.
"He killed several generals in the Han camp with his spear."
A voice was uttered, but no one was seen.
But this sound wasn't shouted out.
It was Lu Cheng using the internal energy of a Grandmaster of Transformation Force, combined with the vibration of the [Tiger and Leopard Thunder Sound], to "burst" out from deep within his chest cavity.
The sound, like tangible ripples, instantly swept across the entire venue.
The audience in the front row felt a jolt in their eardrums and their hearts clenched, as if they were truly on the battlefield of Gaixia, where blood and flesh flew everywhere.
"Such a strong foundation!"
Mr. Cheng, who was in the private room, suddenly sat up straight, his eyes full of disbelief. "This back-of-the-head tone, this upright tone, even someone who has practiced old male roles all their life cannot produce it."
"Even the bravest warrior cannot guard against being ambushed from all sides."
Accompanied by the second spoken line.
"Whoosh!"
The side curtain is lifted.
Lu Cheng has made his appearance.
He didn't walk with the light and agile steps typical of martial arts performers.
A twenty-pound helmet weighed down his head, and an eighty-pound spear dragged in his hand.
He took a "sinking" step.
Each step on the solid wood stage produced a dull thud. The sound wasn't loud, but it carried a suffocating sense of oppression.
He walked to the center of the stage.
There was a sudden pause.
"Give it your all!"
This set of opening moves is a basic skill in the Peking Opera world; everyone knows it.
But when Lu Cheng made it, it was on a completely different level.
He had no unnecessary frills.
With arms outstretched, the four flags behind him unfurled with a "whoosh," like a furious tiger opening its claws.
The twenty-pound helmet was placed on his head, and with his violent head-shaking movements, it not only did not shake at all, but the red velvet ball drew a blood-red arc in the air.
"Buzz!"
The spear in his hand suddenly swung in a semi-circle in the air, the tip of the spear cutting through the air with a sharp whistle, before finally crashing heavily onto the stage.
"boom!"
Wood chips flew everywhere.
A striking entrance, with sword drawn.
His eyes were wide open, exuding an imposing aura without anger.
That overwhelming, domineering aura, as if it could uproot mountains and swallow thousands of miles, rushed towards us as if it were a tangible thing.
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