Main Text

      When Teacher Gou finished applying his makeup for the third time, he was still not satisfied, but time no longer allowed for another attempt. So he drew his eyebrows, wrapped his headpiece, and put on his costume. Anyone who didn't know his gender would never have guessed this was a man playing a woman's role.

      Yi Qing'e knew that to perform these two acts, Teacher Gou had lost dozens of pounds over the past few months. Not only did he rehearse daily, but he also restrained his diet, even using rhubarb to induce diarrhea, slimming down to a waistline of two chi and two cun. Ever since his waist had thinned, his skin had gradually sagged. He kept sighing: this old face of mine, it lets down Li Huiniang, lets down the audience, especially the old audience members who saw my performances back in the day.

      Before the official performance began, a steady stream of elderly men and women came to the backstage dressing room, asking to see Gou Cunzhong, saying that his Li Huiniang back then had moved so many audience members that they would "go three days without a single grain of rice, yet still buy a ticket to see Huiniang." But Teacher Gou had instructed that he would see no one until he had finished performing. After finishing his makeup and donning his costume, Teacher Gou faced the wall alone, fell silent, and spoke not a single word.

      The performance finally began. Yi Qing'e went to the entrance to look. There were so many audience members that even the aisles were packed with people standing, all saying that Gou Cunzhong, who had once performed "Li Huiniang" for three consecutive months at the Wufu Theater, was once again taking the stage tonight. Yi Qing'e felt proud for her master. So many years had passed, and yet these old audience members still remembered her master so deeply.

      With a long, drawn-out sigh of a ghost, her master made his entrance.

      The master, dressed in a white robe and draped in a long white cloak, drifted ethereally into the mortal world. He was grieving, denouncing, recounting, and searching. Suddenly, Yi Qing'e even blurred the line between her master and Li Huiniang, unsure whether it was he or she. A man nearing sixty, through his ethereal, floating movements, completely concealed the barriers of gender and age, portraying a ghost filled with hatred and pity as one who could neither ascend to heaven nor sink into the earth—so tragic and pitiable. Just as Huiniang, facing the bitter cold wind, shivered helplessly and curled her body bit by bit, Teacher Gou executed a "lying fish" movement. This movement required the actor to have excellent control, descending gradually from the legs. Yi Qing'e had practiced this movement for a full three years before she could complete it in three minutes. And ordinary people without such training couldn't hold it for even a few dozen seconds. Teacher Gou could normally descend in two minutes, but today, perhaps due to exhaustion, when Yi Qing'e counted to one hundred and ten in her heart, he finally couldn't hold on any longer and descended all the way, and in the final moment, his legs gave out completely. Fortunately, the lighting was handled promptly and immediately dimmed. Thunderous applause erupted in the theater. "The Ghost's Lament" was finally over.

      "Killing the Living" was an even more difficult act than "The Ghost's Lament." The "Qinqiang fire-blowing" that old audience members all knew was the soul of this act. To master this "special skill," Teacher Gou had burned off his eyebrows and hair at the age of twelve or thirteen. Teacher Gou often told her: "Child, performing opera is hard work, tough work. In this lifetime, the only peaceful years your master had were the dozen or so years spent as a gatekeeper. Once the saddle of the leading role is placed on your back, it means you're there to be worked like an ox or a horse, not to enjoy comfort and ease."

      Yi Qing'e could clearly feel that her master's strength tonight was running short. Tonight, the master had specifically asked her to watch every single one of his movements carefully from the side of the stage. With every breath of fire he spat out, she had to carefully study his breath, his strength, and the rise and fall of his entire body. Yi Qing'e felt she was learning more than at any other time, and it had an effect of sudden enlightenment, of turning stone into gold. Just as her master was gradually pushing the performance to its climax, she seemed to have completed an initiation into acting. She even suddenly felt that she could become a good actor, a great actor.

      Finally, the master began to spit out the last stream of fire—the thirty-six bursts of "continuous fire." The master controlled his strength, one breath, two breaths, three breaths... from slow to fast, from weak to strong, until the "continuous fire" turned Jia Sidao and the entire Jia mansion into a sea of flames! Then, heaven and earth became clear and still, and red plum blossoms bloomed.

      The audience's applause had completely drowned out the orchestra's music. The drummer used every trick in his book, bringing out the big drum, the big gong, the big cymbals, and the suspended cymbals, but the audience's applause still rolled onto the stage like surging waves.

      Just as the people of the Jia mansion on stage were struggling amidst the sea of fire, Teacher Gou was helped down from the stage. Yi Qing'e noticed that her master had used up his last bit of strength and was at death's door. Director Zhu hurried over and helped lay him flat on a row of prop boxes. Teacher Gou, trembling all over, called out:

      Qing'e, Qing'e...

      "Master, Master, I'm here, I'm here." Yi Qing'e gripped her master's hand tightly.

      Teacher Gou, fumbling and trembling, touched her hand and said:

      "Child, child, your master... may not make it. Remember... the rosin for blowing fire... every time... you must grind it yourself... mix it yourself. Remember the proportions..."

      When he mentioned the proportions, Teacher Gou gestured to her. Yi Qing'e understood that he wanted her to lean her ear close, so she pressed her ear against him. Teacher Gou whispered to her:

      "Ten jin of rosin powder... mix... mix in two and a half liang... of sawdust ash. The sawdust ash must be... from cypress wood. Dry-fry it... grind it fine... then mix..."

      After barely managing to say these words, Teacher Gou spat out a mouthful of blood.

      The stage manager shouted: "What do we do? The audience downstairs is calling for Teacher Gou to take a curtain call."

      Director Zhu said: "He can't take a curtain call. Close the curtain now."

      They saw Teacher Gou's body stir slightly, as if he wanted to get up, but he couldn't.

      The director made an urgent decision: "Qing'e, you and the stage manager carry your master up there!"

      Yi Qing'e and the stage manager carried "Li Huiniang" up. Yi Qing'e saw the audience surging like a wave, shouting wildly toward the stage. Teacher Gou, whom they had carried up, lay quietly in the armchair, motionless.

      In that instant, she realized: Teacher Gou might already be gone from this world.

      This article is excerpted and adapted from Chen Yan's novel "The Protagonist"

Reading Notes

      The excerpt is narrated from Yi Qing'e's perspective, but the true protagonist of the excerpt is Teacher Gou Cunzhong. Whether it's the beginning, where he loses weight "by using rhubarb to induce diarrhea" to prepare for the performance, or the end, where "Teacher Gou's body stirred slightly, as if he wanted to get up, but he couldn't," both vividly demonstrate his dedication. If you take the word "dedication" out on its own, it doesn't have the power to move people, but when you compare his spirit to that of most people in today's society, it can even be called a great force. I've bolded the sentence "Once the saddle of the leading role is placed on your back, it means you're there to be worked like an ox or a horse, not to enjoy comfort and ease," which serves a similar purpose to the dedication theme. In fact, it can be seen as a subtle satire—even with regulation, there are still subpar artists who use their connections to secure leading roles in dramas to enjoy comfort and ease. But compared to the power of these inheritors of classical culture, that lofty spiritual force is something no one can match.

      Speaking of classical culture, I personally am very fond of these excellent cultural traditions preserved from ancient times—Peking opera, Qinqiang, Kunqu, ancient Chinese architecture, ancient Western architecture. From these things, you can find the lofty, pure hearts of those sages from long, long ago, from far, far away. Just as in "Free and Easy Wandering," the truly free person is the sage who is free in spirit, a freedom that no amount of money can buy. Such a pure heart is already very, very hard to find in today's society. We can only look back at history and find traces of it in the cultural histories of various nations.

      The phrase "go three days without a single grain of rice, yet still buy a ticket to see Huiniang" carries a rich story. On the surface, it shows the audience's love for the character Li Huiniang, but to perform the role of Li Huiniang well requires great skill. Therefore, from this single phrase, one can see the extremely strong foundation that Teacher Gou Cunzhong, who played Li Huiniang, possessed. And this phrase refers to past events, to the Li Huiniang that Teacher Gou Cunzhong performed in his youth. So what does that mean? It means we can see the powerful artistry of Teacher Gou Cunzhong in his youth, as well as the adoration everyone had for his skills back then. This contrasts with Teacher Gou Cunzhong's lack of strength later in the text—truly, time waits for no one.

      "Teacher Gou could normally descend in two minutes, but today, perhaps due to exhaustion, when Yi Qing'e counted to one hundred and ten in her heart, he finally couldn't hold on any longer and descended all the way, and in the final moment, his legs gave out completely." Time waits for no one. Even if one was powerful in youth, nearing sixty, one's strength is no longer what it was. But thinking about it the other way, even at nearly sixty, Teacher Gou Cunzhong could still hold on for almost two minutes—what extraordinary skill that is!

      If a character were entirely positive, they wouldn't be so three-dimensional, but if you write negative content and don't handle it well, people will dislike the character. So why not write something neutral! Teacher Gou Cunzhong only revealed the rosin powder formula and proportions at the final moment of his life, reflecting the conservative nature of the older generation of artists when passing on their craft. Regarding this conservative trait, it's neutral in the context of teaching; without needing to control the heat, it can also make the character more three-dimensional. But from another angle, conservative teaching was also an unspoken rule in ancient times, a tradition that was not broken.

      "Just as the people of the Jia mansion on stage were struggling amidst the sea of fire, Teacher Gou was helped down from the stage. Yi Qing'e noticed that her master had used up his last bit of strength and was at death's door." "After barely managing to say these words, Teacher Gou spat out a mouthful of blood." When these words appeared, my heart was deeply moved. This was no longer just dedication—this was love! Teacher Gou Cunzhong devoted his entire life to his passion!!! Besides love, what else could give him such spiritual strength to support him through this final performance?

      The phrases "continuous fire" and "heaven and earth became clear and still, and red plum blossoms bloomed" are the climax of the entire excerpt, and at the same time, the ultimate blossoming of Teacher Gou Cunzhong's artistic life. They deeply moved me.

      I admire such a vigorous, sturdy, and tenacious character. Teacher Gou Cunzhong dedicated his life to art, to classical culture. He enjoyed the final glory of his life on stage. The stage was his battlefield, and even if he died there, he would hold onto his costume and stand