Wandering Gods of Day and Night-Chapter 70 - 67 Mounting the Stage
70: Chapter 67 Mounting the Stage
70 -67 Mounting the Stage
Zhou Family’s Troupe has a long-standing habit of subscribing to newspapers, with seven or eight varieties.
Before dawn breaks, the postman rides his bicycle and delivers the newspapers to the gatehouse.
Zhou Xuan got up early and went to the gatehouse, flipping through the newspapers.
Not finding the coded message of the Blood Well Society, he then went to the courtyard and took out the prepared storyteller’s script, rehearsing as he sought the right feeling.
After breakfast,
Yuan Buyu, having almost finished his tasks, came over to offer guidance, focusing mainly on Zhou Xuan’s “vocal and physical presence.”
“Your voice needs to be powerful, don’t get stage fright, speak boldly.”
“Young man, you truly have a good build, both in appearance and temperament.
But the way you move on stage should differ from ordinary life; don’t slouch, walk slowly, and you will look distinguished.”
“As for the performance and stage presence, they are not something that can be polished quickly.
You should perform in a few shows first…”
“Um, I plan to start performing tonight,” Zhou Xuan discussed his plan to go on stage with Yuan Buyu.
“Go ahead and perform.
Experience comes from performing.
As long as you can speak the lines without getting confused, that’s fine.”
Yuan Buyu was supportive of Zhou Xuan being “pushed into the deep end.”
…
As dusk fell,
a platform had been set up in the outer courtyard of the Zhou Family’s Troupe, with a wooden table on it, neatly set with a folded fan and a gavel.
Masters, apprentices, and senior brothers from the troupe had all shown up.
Normally, in the evening, they would just chat, drink, play chess, or those with a bit of pursuit would read newspapers and books in their rooms.
Now, hearing that the Young Master was going to tell a story, everyone generously came to listen, each bringing their own little stool.
Apart from the troupe members, some neighbors also came over to catch the excitement.
Yu Zhengyuan was happy, carrying a warm water pot, helping out with refilling tea, and even rallied everyone: “Once Xiao Xuan starts telling the story, don’t let your hands rest, give a round of applause after every two segments.”
Zhou Xuan: “…”
The show hadn’t even started yet, and the senior brother had already appointed a “lead applauder”?
“Can these friendly applauses accumulate any incense?” Zhou Xuan asked Yuan Buyu.
“If applause could accumulate incense?
Then the best storytellers wouldn’t be skilled performers, they’d all be high-ranking officials and leaders.”
…
The storytelling was scheduled for eight o’clock in the evening, and it was five minutes before the show started.
Zhou Xuan was already warming up, standing on the stage, clearing his throat, closing his eyes, and recalling the key points of the script,
At that moment, a strange spectator arrived.
The spectator was a middle-aged man, thin in the face, hands, and feet, yet his belly was abnormally large, bigger even than that of a woman ten months pregnant.
Zhou Xuan, with his spiritual face-reading skills, surprisingly could not discern the face of this middle-aged man.
Upon closer inspection, he noticed the man’s face, neck, and hands were covered with a thick layer of powder, with a purple scar exposed behind the ears where the powder had been missed — a corpse mark.
Was this man actually dead?
“This friend, have you come to the wrong place?”
Zhou Xuan stepped off the stage and stopped in front of the man.
“Are you the storyteller?
We had no entertainment this evening, so we came over to watch.”
The man was polite, but his voice came not from his throat but his belly.
Moreover, clearly alone, he still used “we.”
At that moment, Yuan Buyu arrived, playing the peacemaker, saying: “Everyone who comes is a guest, find a place to sit.”
He gestured to please find a seat, and the big-bellied man chose a stool and sat down in a corner.
Zhou Lingyi, who had been resting with closed eyes, also stood up, pulled up a chair, and sat about two meters away from the man.
The big-bellied man paid his respects to Zhou Lingyi with a fist salute, but Zhou Lingyi ignored him, forcing him to awkwardly sit back down.
“Clap”
the gavel struck, bringing order,
Previously still noisy, the audience, hearing the gavel, knew the storytelling was about to begin.
They all stopped talking and listened to Zhou Xuan speak.
“Thank you all for coming, I’ve only recently learned storytelling.
Relying on everyone’s good favor, I boldly present to you a story called ‘The White-Browed Hero.'”
“The weather in March, when everything comes back to life.
Eight hundred miles of Qin River, rows of green willows make a picturesque scene.
Following the main road came a man named Xu Liang…”
“…most notably and uniquely, he had two distinctive white eyebrows…
under his left ribs, he wore a Golden Silk Big Ring Saber and also held a folding paper fan in his hand, walking along while enjoying the scenery of the Qin River…”
It was Zhou Xuan’s first time telling a story, yet he was not at all nervous.
Even when mentioning the “folding paper fan,” with a “snap”, he opened his own fan and walked to the right side of the stage, really as if he was enjoying the scenery of the Qin River.
The book begins with a description of Xu Liang, a rather long one.
Besides what Zhou Xuan just mentioned, there’s also a following section that describes Xu Liang from head to toe, from his real name to his nickname, and even the skills he possesses, all clearly explained.
After Zhou Xuan methodically finished describing Xu Liang, the audience became interested.
Some even wondered curiously: “Has the Young Master really just started telling stories a few days ago?
It sounds great!”
“Even better than the ones at the tea house.
Just like Xu Liang he described, really impressive.
He can wield the saber, is skilled in boxing and palm techniques, can throw and catch darts with both hands, hits targets with arrows during the day, and shoots incense at night…”
“Now that’s what you call a hero.
Just listening to it gives you a heroic vibe.”
People from the acting troupe love to watch exciting events, but Yuan Buyu pays attention to the finer details.
He quietly pondered: “This story is lively written, Xuanzi’s storytelling skills are actually quite lacking, but for his first stage performance, his body wasn’t stiff, and he could even perform along with the story, a typical stage craze, having the vibe…
Acting out a dozen or so scenes, he could improve greatly.”
A pot-bellied man sitting in the corner also enjoyed it tremendously, shaking his head and swaying along, quite entertained.
This session of storytelling, Zhou Xuan has composed four episodes of plots, each taking about half an hour to tell, so it couldn’t be done all at once.
Two hours in a row, who could stand it?
Even the storyteller couldn’t bear it.
Hence, after just finishing the first episode, Zhou Xuan didn’t continue, he banged the gavel: “To know what happens next, please listen to the following decomposition.”
“Is that it?
We were just getting to the interesting part.”
“Young Master, one more segment, you just mentioned that Marquis Changan was about to capture The White-Browed Hero, did he catch him in the end?”
“One more segment, one more segment.”
People from the acting troupe were highly enthusiastic.
Of course, Zhou Xuan was happy to continue; it’s all incense to him.
He rested for five minutes and then started telling the second episode.
But as the performance progressed, Zhou Xuan’s attitude gradually shifted subtly.
After finishing the first episode, people from the acting troupe requested more.
Zhou Xuan excitedly replied: “Sure, this is all incense!”
After the second episode ended, they requested more, still not satisfied.
Zhou Xuan: “Alright, it’s still incense.”
When the third episode ended, people from the acting troupe were still fired up, loudly calling for more.
Zhou Xuan: “Enough, I feel like my throat is smoking…
Alright, alright, for the incense.”
When the fourth episode ended, they still weren’t satisfied.
An exhausted Zhou Xuan, utterly dispirited: “No more, incense?
I don’t want it!”
Storytelling is a tough job, not only can the throat never stop, but the body movements can’t stop either, you must act out the actions of characters in the book.
When Xu Liang used Qinggong, Zhou Xuan also had to jump high, and when Xu Liang used the dart, Zhou Xuan had to wave his hands.
A session of continuous jumping, gesturing, and speaking had already overdrawn Zhou Xuan’s physical strength.
The fatigue made him want to find a place to sleep well.
“Everyone, I’m really sorry, the following plot is still unwritten; if you want to listen more, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
Zhou Xuan bowed in salute, but people from the acting troupe were still eager and surrounded him, not letting him leave.
With no other choice, Zhou Xuan bluntly recited a verse.
“Saber, what kind of saber?
A Golden Silk Big Ring Saber.”
“Sword, what kind of sword?
A moon-shaming sword.”
“Person, what kind of person?
A person who walks on roofs and leaps over walls.”
This verse, looking back now, seems rather rustic, but at the time when ‘The White-Browed Hero’ was popular, these verses were chanted in every street and alley.
After teaching everyone a few times, Zhou Xuan bowed again, and the crowd finally reluctantly made way and let him go back to rest.
“Tomorrow I’ll continue performing, please support more.”
