The Night is Called Gentle - Chapter 12

Lin Zhixia had two mothers.

Lin Zhixia was a fortunate child, because she had two mothers.

When she returned home, Zhao Jinchu was cooking, the kitchen filled with the bustling atmosphere of a lively meal.

Lin Zhixia’s heart, which had been floating on cloud nine all day, was instantly grounded by the aroma of food wafting toward her. Without even changing her shoes, she dashed into the kitchen, grabbed a pair of chopsticks, and helped herself to a piece of braised pork ribs.

Zhao Jinchu wasn’t particularly strict about minor details and asked cheerfully, “What brings you home today?”

Lin Zhixia finished the rib before answering, “I missed you, of course! Where’s Mom? Isn’t she back yet?”

As soon as she finished speaking, a questioning voice came from the living room: “Did you wash your hands? Change your shoes first. How has your stomach been lately? Any headaches?”

Director Lin’s nagging wasn’t as incessant as that of other mothers, but it always carried the solemn, unquestionable tone of a doctor during a consultation.

“I’ve been eating well and haven’t had a single headache.”

Lin Zhixia obediently put down the chopsticks and hurried to the living room. Like a little puppy, she leaned over Director Lin’s shoulder and nuzzled her, not letting go until she had coaxed a smile from her.

“Oh, you’re still so playful even at this age. Go change your shoes,” Director Lin chided.

“Mom, take a closer look. Don’t you think my complexion has been especially good lately?”

Lin Zhixia preemptively brought up the points Director Lin usually observed about her, even sticking out her tongue and making a funny face.

“If you avoid takeout, don’t stay up late, and don’t stare at a computer screen all day, of course you’ll look better.”

Director Lin examined her tongue briefly, offered a simple reminder, and then went to the kitchen to help.

“My book might be adapted. There’s a licensing fee not much, but enough for each of you to make a wish. The final say is mine, though.”

Without waiting for the meal to be served or offering any preamble, Lin Zhixia leaned against the kitchen doorway and announced what could be considered significant news.

Zhao Jinchu, who was flipping ingredients in a wok, glanced toward the kitchen door. “When did this happen? Which book? What’s it being adapted into? A TV series or a movie?”

“Just today. The rest is a secret.”

Lin Zhixia teased mysteriously and then ran to her bedroom. Before closing the door, she called out toward the kitchen, “I just changed into these clothes. I only wore them for a few minutes on the way home.”

Director Lin was about to say something but was cut off. She shook her head helplessly. Zhao Jinchu, seizing the moment, rested her chin on Director Lin’s shoulder and said, “If you’re going to fuss over her, you can’t fuss over me.”

Lin Zhixia came home to stay every now and then. Her room, kept spotless by Director Lin, now had a new set of begonia-colored bedsheets that looked soft and inviting. She decided on a whim to spend the night at home.

In truth, Lin Zhixia had been molded by her mother’s rules since she was very young: wash your hands as soon as you get home, change into home clothes before staying in the bedroom, change into pajamas after a shower before lying on the bed, no sleeping before meals, no cold tea after meals.

So, even though she desperately wanted to stretch out and roll around on the bed, she obediently curled up on the carpet by the floor-to-ceiling window.

At the edge of the window was a narrow ledge lined with a row of small figurines. Having been away for several days, she noticed a thin layer of dust on them. She grabbed a few wet wipes and began cleaning them one by one, reciting each character’s signature spells as she worked.

In the meantime, Li Meng sent a few more messages, saying the publishing house was already in discussions with the theater to finalize the details of their collaboration.

“Got it,” Lin Zhixia replied to her.

Putting down her phone, she snatched another wand from the doll’s hand, waved it, and recited a spell: “Scourgify.”

“Stop with the Scourgify and calm down a bit. Dinner will be ready soon,” Director Lin called out, knocking on the door and standing at the entrance.

Director Lin was a native of Beijing who had moved to Ancheng for Zhao Jinchu’s sake. Her crisp Beijing accent paired with fluent English gave her a uniquely humorous flair.

“Hey, you know what? In this household, Director Lin’s English is actually the most authentic,” Lin Zhixia said, sticking the wand back into Hermione’s hand and mimicking a Beijing accent as she praised the woman by the door.

Bringing up this topic seemed to stir some regret in Director Lin, who started up again: “Was sending you abroad for studies a bad idea? At your age, you should be focusing on your education. You could even keep writing your novels while studying it wouldn’t interfere. When I was your age, I went for my PhD even after having you.”

“Alright, alright, you’re absolutely right,” Lin Zhixia said, stepping out of the bedroom and placing her hands on Director Lin’s shoulders, gently steering her toward the living room.

“You’re so young, yet you have the lowest education level in this family. Aren’t you embarrassed to let people know?” Director Lin continued, relentless in her nagging.

Lin Zhixia had long since come to terms with her academic standing. Both Director Lin and Zhao Jinchu held PhDs one a chief physician, the other a university professor. Even if she studied her hardest, she could never break through the academic ceiling in this household.

So, she’d learned to take it in stride from a young age. If she’d had a slightly more fragile ego, she would’ve run away from home long ago.

“Mom, how about you have another baby sister for me? A little competition might give me the motivation to go for a PhD or even a postdoc or something.”

Her flippant tone made Director Lin blush with embarrassment.

“Go on, stop talking nonsense. You’re not studying for my sake,” Director Lin retorted before heading to the kitchen to bring out the dishes.

“In this house, you can do whatever you want just no internal competition among women,” Zhao Jinchu chimed in, emerging from the kitchen with a bowl of soup and lightening the mood.

Seeing the food laid out on the table, Lin Zhixia’s eyes lit up. Hugging her bowl, she joked with Zhao Jinchu, “Our esteemed professor really knows how to talk. Auntie, if Mom’s not willing, how about you have a little sister for me? I promise I’ll cherish her.”

“No respect, no filter. Your mom’s right we should send you abroad for a few years to live on bland Western food.”

With three people, six dishes, and a slow-simmered crucian carp and tofu soup, the meal was quite lavish.

Lin Zhixia ladled herself a bowl of soup, took a sip, and exhaled contentedly, steam rising from her mouth.

“This time when you’re back, you’re not leaving until you finish all the leftovers,” Director Lin said, frowning at the spread on the table. Perhaps because of her profession as a doctor, she was always bothered by wasted food.

But after hearing it so many times, Lin Zhixia had grown immune. She kept her head down, sipping her soup and ignoring the remark.

Zhao Jinchu took off her apron, walked over to the dining table, and said to her, “Out with it. No more beating around the bush.”

“It’s a secret,” Lin Zhixia replied, slurping another mouthful of soup and tilting her head up.

Zhao Jinchu didn’t press further. She leisurely pulled out a chair, sat down, served rice for herself and Director Lin, cleared her throat, and began, “Just last month, one of my students in class their eyes were initially only slightly.”

“Class! Students!” Lin Zhixia’s ears perked up this was Zhao Jinchu’s classic way of “setting the stage.”

“They want to adapt ‘Several Layers of Mountains’ into Yue opera. Jiang Provincial Yue Opera Theater just sent a letter of intent for collaboration. Nothing else is confirmed yet.” Lin Zhixia set down her bowl and spilled everything in one go.

This was Zhao Jinchu, after all!

If you didn’t surrender obediently when she was in this mood, she’d first mock you with allegories and allusions, then subtly criticize you with moral implications. In more severe cases, she might even metaphorically nail you to some pillar of shame…

Lin Zhixia chose immediate surrender.

“Yue opera? I thought you didn’t listen to it?” Director Lin asked.

“I’ve developed a taste for it now. Besides, I’m promoting traditional culture my awareness is quite elevated.” Lin Zhixia preened.

“Is it Yan Huaiqing’s theater?” Zhao Jinchu inquired.

“Yeah, what a coincidence right after watching the performance, their theater sent the collaboration intent to the publisher.” Lin Zhixia replied cheerfully.

Zhao Jinchu didn’t rush to respond, taking a few bites of food before speaking slowly: “It won’t be easy to adapt.”

Before Lin Zhixia could react, she continued: “Opera is different from other forms. The licensing fee doesn’t really matter it’s not like our family can’t support you. The real challenge lies in adaptation and preservation. If it’s poorly adapted, the opera fans’ criticism is no joke.”

“So? What do you think? Any suggestions?” Lin Zhixia blinked, seeking guidance humbly.

That was just Zhao Jinchu’s nature she’d pick up a landmine just to see if it would explode.

Now, she chewed her food slowly, lost in thought.

Lin Zhixia waited for a long time without getting a response and obediently lowered her head to eat.

“No suggestions,” Zhao Jinchu suddenly spoke up. “Let professionals handle professional matters. As for me, I’ll just wait and enjoy the show.”

After all that waiting, she had no advice to offer. Lin Zhixia snorted and retorted, “But you understand opera, don’t you?”

“Those who get criticized are always the ones who understand opera. When that day comes, don’t you dare lead chants to overthrow the opera tyrant Zhao Jinchu.”

When cultured people get ruthless, they even dare to mock themselves.

Lin Zhixia pouted.

Still concerned, Zhao Jinchu added: “If you can’t handle the contract details, I know a lawyer?”

“No need. I’ve delegated it to the publishing house,” Lin Zhixia replied.

“Editor in Chief Sun is quite meticulous. Entrusting it to her should be fine.” Zhao Jinchu pondered briefly before speaking again: “Let’s wait and see. If the first troupe takes on this production, I could help you inquire about the situation.”

“Oh? Does the great professor have connections in the opera world too?” Lin Zhixia teased half-jokingly.

“You’ve met Yan Huaiqing, haven’t you? She leads the first troupe. I have her WeChat do you want to add her to understand the specifics?” Zhao Jinchu began searching for her phone.

“No need.” Lin Zhixia wasn’t ready to let Yan Huaiqing know she was the author yet and quickly changed the subject: “Doesn’t the whole theater work together on productions? Are they divided into troupes?”

What she really wanted to know was whether this production would be assigned to Yan Huaiqing’s troupe.

Zhao Jinchu glanced at her and shook her head: “You dare to collaborate without understanding anything?”

“I thought opera adaptation would involve fewer complications than film adaptations, and I wouldn’t need to appear in person.” Lin Zhixia lost her appetite and served herself half a bowl of soup instead.

Zhao Jinchu sighed softly and explained in detail, “The opera world isn’t as simple as you imagine. From the moment every actor steps onto this path, winning the Plum Blossom Award becomes an obsession. But each year, only those who stage new productions are eligible to apply.”

“This isn’t just true for Yue Opera – theater troupes big and small across the country engage in fierce competition both on and off stage for this honor. They possess both genuine skill and cunning tactics, enough for those minor entertainment industry actors to study for a lifetime.”

“A minute on stage takes ten years of practice off stage. These performers dedicate their entire lives to one craft, developing deeper obsessions than those in ordinary professions. Naturally, they crave the spotlight more intensely – how could they possibly be content with mediocrity and obscurity?”

“What about Yan Huaiqing?” Does she have to fight and scramble too? Lin Zhixia set down her chopsticks, growing concerned.

Zhao Jinchu smiled wryly, reflecting, “She achieved fame young, enjoying boundless glory, but no outsider can truly know how much hardship she endured or what pressures she shouldered behind that success.”

“Then do you know what hardships she faced?” Lin Zhixia asked with a furrowed brow.

“Eat your meal.” Director Lin, who had been silent until now, suddenly commanded upon seeing them engrossed in conversation.

Pursing her lips, Zhao Jinchu swallowed her words and served vegetables into the other’s bowl. “Alright, alright, we’ll listen to you. No more talking, let’s eat.”

Lin Zhixia suddenly felt rather superfluous. She wrinkled her nose and asked, “What about wishes? One each – we haven’t shared them yet. Opportunity knocks but once, you know.”

Director Lin, still preoccupied with her study abroad plans, looked up at the mention of wishes. Before she could speak, Lin Zhixia quickly interjected, “Studying abroad doesn’t count as a wish! Let’s not discuss that now.”

Withdrawing her gaze, Director Lin said in her usual tone, “Just staying alive is enough. I don’t ask for anything beyond that.”

Well, educated people are hard to appease – especially those who’ve witnessed life and death as often as she had.

Lin Zhixia blinked, throwing a pleading look toward Zhao Jinchu.

Zhao Jinchu served more greens into Director Lin’s bowl, adding fuel to fire: “See? I’m the better one – considerate and obedient, doing whatever I’m told.”

“You.”

Not only subjected to their affectionate display but now betrayed too! Lin Zhixia gritted her teeth and averted her eyes.

By meal’s end, it was settled: they’d buy Zhao Jinchu a set of traditional calligraphy tools. As for Director Lin – the truly desireless are hardest to please – Lin Zhixia would have to devise her own way to cheer her up.

After dinner, Lin Zhixia found a Yue Opera performance to play on the living room television. The three of them sat on the sofa chatting.

Their conversation inevitably circled back to how beautiful Yan Huaiqing was, how stunning her stage presence remained, how remarkably accomplished she remained at her age.

Normally, parents praising other people’s children in front of their own would be irritating behavior. Yet Lin Zhixia felt utterly delighted.

Recognizing others’ excellence and offering genuine appreciation for it had always been one of her shining qualities since childhood.

Especially when that person was Yan Huaiqing.