The Night is Called Gentle - Chapter 34

Though she had never held a conventional job for long, Lin Zhixia was a diligent and conscientious employee.

She had invited Yan Huaiqing to her study with the intention of showing her boss the adaptation ideas she had been working on for days. Unexpectedly, the scare made her forget all about it.

The next day, coinciding with the first script discussion session held in the theater’s main conference room, she went with little preparation, bringing only a blank notebook.

This meeting was less formal than the previous routine session. Seated beside Yan Huaiqing, she listened as everyone spoke freely.

Refining a script is a meticulous process. The screenwriter had already developed a mature adaptation plan during the topic selection phase. In this meeting, covering everything from thematic conception and structural design to lyrics and dialogue, the screenwriter was thoroughly prepared, offering adaptation directions from various stylistic perspectives her professionalism was beyond doubt.

The lyricist was equally impressive, improvising a few lines of lyrics on the spot based on the screenwriter’s different ideas. Though born of inspiration, they brimmed with undeniable talent.

The stage layout and costume and makeup teams also participated. As the final executors, they were tasked with visualizing the written descriptions and collective imaginations, their pens never leaving the draft papers as they sketched and noted continuously.

As the producer, Yan Huaiqing was responsible for coordinating all aspects of the work. During the meeting, she inquired about numerous details, mostly practical issues related to implementation.

It felt like pouring cold water on the excitement but it was necessary.

Some people only need to do things correctly, while others must do the correct things. No matter how grand or brilliant the vision, it must eventually be grounded in reality. Every impractical idea could become an unfillable pit during execution. With constraints on manpower, resources, finances, and time, there was no room for trial and error only preemptive avoidance.

Lin Zhixia remained silent throughout.

She sat relaxed yet polite, her eyes quietly following whoever was speaking neither intrusive nor offensive. Anyone who glanced at her would instinctively feel respected.

This time, even with Yan Huaiqing seated beside her, she made no attempt to initiate conversation.

She seemed like a natural at meetings, giving off the illusion that she could hold her own even among politicians in a grand assembly hall.

Yan Huaiqing always found herself looking at her with newfound admiration.

After everyone had spoken, Yan Huaiqing turned slightly to observe her.

She wasn’t nervous, nor did she avoid the gaze. She simply sat there quietly, a pen resting on her notebook its cap never removed, like a swordsman’s blade still sheathed.

She did not speak.

As for whether she couldn’t, didn’t want to, didn’t need to, didn’t dare to, or simply didn’t have to it didn’t matter. She made it clear: she would not speak.

Granting her that respect was Yan Huaiqing’s way of trusting and understanding her.

She was waiting waiting for Lin Zhixia to bring a surprise, or perhaps disappointment.

After the meeting ended, everyone exchanged pleasantries before dispersing. Since it was almost lunchtime, most headed toward the cafeteria.

These brief gatherings and partings felt somewhat like being back in school quite amusing.

Spring was the season for bamboo shoots, and the cafeteria’s braised bamboo shoots were highly sought after. Lin Zhixia had tried them before and would salivate at the mere thought.

But having just left the meeting, she showed no outward excitement, quietly following Yan Huaiqing to the cafeteria, occasionally swallowing a mouthful of saliva.

Along the way, whenever they encountered someone, she would smile and greet them.

During the meal, she responded politely to anyone who spoke to her.

To everyone present, she appeared courteous, refined, humble, and well-mannered nothing out of the ordinary.

A mother sitting nearby even repeatedly praised her for being well-behaved, sensible, and having a good personality.

Only Yan Huaiqing had seen the other side of her that she kept hidden. Watching everyone being deceived by her, Yan Huaiqing occasionally smiled faintly.

After the meal, just before getting into the car, Lin Zhixia finally spoke to Yan Huaiqing: “Teacher Yan, do you have any old scripts? Not just Yue Opera, but all types of traditional opera.”

“Printed or digital?” Yan Huaiqing didn’t ask why she needed them or how many she wanted.

“Either is fine, but printed would be better.” Lin Zhixia offered no explanation.

“Alright, let’s head back first. I’ll have Xiao Hua prepare them.” Yan Huaiqing waited until Lin Zhixia got into her car before walking to her own.

The two cars drove back to the theater one after the other.

Knowing that Lin Zhixia wasn’t a skilled driver, Yan Huaiqing deliberately led the way, ensuring a smooth journey.

When they returned to the theater, everyone was on their midday break. Only the printer was busy, noisily swallowing and spitting out paper, with a small stack of its work already piled on the table.

Beside the freshly printed scripts was another stack of slightly yellowed paper, neatly bound in sets of dozens clearly the old scripts Xiao Hua had just gathered from various sources.

Lin Zhixia stacked the new scripts on top of the old ones, holding them tightly in her arms. When Yan Huaiqing stepped forward to help, she declined.

“Teacher Yan, may I keep these scripts?” she asked, half her face peeking out from behind the stack.

“Of course.Yan Huaiqing didn’t know what she intended to do but had a vague premonition that she wouldn’t allow anyone to assist her.

“Then I’ll head back now. If there’s any work, just call me I can be here in ten minutes.” Lin Zhixia spoke naturally.

“Alright. Let me carry half I’ll walk you down?” Yan Huaiqing reached out again, testing the waters.

“No need.” Lin Zhixia smiled at her, turned her petite frame, and walked off on her own.

The theater had four floors with no elevator, and Yan Huaiqing’s office was on the third floor, a long way from the staircase.

Step by step, Lin Zhixia moved forward. Though the weight in her arms made her muscles ache, she didn’t quicken her pace.

When she reached the corner, she didn’t stop or look back. She knew Yan Huaiqing was watching her, so she walked even more resolutely.

It’s often said that scholars tend to disparage one another, but in reality, the opposite is true scholars are the ones who most understand mutual appreciation and respect.

Compared to Zhao Jinchu, Lin Zhixia wasn’t exactly a scholar, but she had cultivated an unyielding pride deep within her bones. She was dissatisfied with the current approach to script adaptation, yet she was also deeply impressed by the playwrights and lyricists’ expertise and talent.

What dissatisfied her most, in truth, was herself.

Zhao Jinchu talked a lot, but every word he said came true.

The facts proved that, having attended only a few operas, written one suggestion, and done minimal preparation, she had been somewhat overconfident to think she could work as a playwright for them.

These scripts were the culmination of centuries of effort by countless predecessors, treasures of traditional opera culture. Only by holding them in her arms and feeling their weight could she truly grasp the ineffable gravity of cultural heritage.

She carried them all the way to her car, placed them in the passenger seat, fastened the seatbelt, and drove home with a press of the accelerator.

Yesterday, Yan Huaiqing had given her a scare.

Today, her team had startled her as well.

But Lin Zhixia never allowed anyone to corner her in a tight space.

So, she vanished.

For a full ten days.

Yan Huaiqing didn’t call her, nor did she send her any private messages. Even during the second script discussion meeting, no one tagged her in the group chat.

On the morning of the eleventh day, clutching a thick notebook, she returned to the institute to attend the third script discussion meeting.

Though no one had tagged her, she went with high spirits.

As she approached the building, she spotted Yan Huaiqing from afar.

Yan was wearing a dark blue shirt tucked into crisp black trousers, layered over a soft, glowing white half-collar cashmere sweater. Standing in the spring sunlight, she looked as refreshing as a breeze over a mountain stream.

She seemed to have anticipated her arrival, yet also appeared surprised that she had actually come. The moment she saw her, something flickered in her eyes before a faint smile touched her lips.

“Good morning, Teacher Yan.” Lin Zhixia walked toward her against the wind, revealing a row of white teeth as she smiled.

“Good morning.” Yan Huaiqing blinked, as if hiding something, then asked with a smile, “Teacher Lin, have you emerged from seclusion?”

“I’ve emerged.” Lin Zhixia showed no embarrassment, squinting as she smiled back, still gripping her notebook tightly.

In that instant, Yan Huaiqing noticed the change in her,

A simple yet stylish office outfit, paired with flat, narrow-edged leather shoes, giving her a crisp, youthful aura.

Her expression was natural, her emotions steady, but there was a light in her eyes the same light she’d had when offering suggestions last time.

She never carried a bag, but now she held an even thicker notebook. Upon closer look, every page showed signs of being flipped through and written on.

Her pen had changed too replaced with a fountain pen that, while not brand new, looked expensive.

She had come prepared.

It seemed the sword was about to be drawn.

Only.

Yan Huaiqing seemed to hesitate, as if she didn’t want her to come, pressing her lips together and glancing upstairs.

“Aren’t we going up, Teacher Yan?” Lin Zhixia met her gaze.

“Let’s go.” Yan Huaiqing turned her eyes back to her. “Xiaxia, after the last meeting.”

“I’ve read the documents from your last meeting. I can keep up.” Lin Zhixia thought she was worried she’d fallen behind after being away for so long.

“Let’s go, then.” Yan Huaiqing smiled and led her upstairs.

For some reason, Lin Zhixia felt an inexplicable sense of resolve, as if heading into battle something she sensed from Yan Huaiqing.

Was she afraid that her assistant would embarrass her?

This meeting was attended by the institute’s leadership, so it wasn’t an open discussion but began with a speech from the leaders.

Vice Dean Han was an authoritative and efficiency-driven leader who didn’t waste time on empty words.

After briefly analyzing the market situation, target audience, audience preferences, and the institute’s dilemma of having more male actors than female leads, he made it clear.

“Everyone here has surely read the original work more than once. You understand the story and know how challenging it is to adapt a novel into an opera. The institute understands this and fully supports you. Overcome the difficulties, and don’t lose heart.”

“At present, there’s a core issue that urgently needs to be addressed.”

“As we all know, the key roles in the original work are almost all female. Based on the scripts you’ve discussed so far, it’s impossible to accommodate all the actors in our institute. It also doesn’t align with the current market preference for young male leads.”

“Our leadership team has also held meetings to discuss this, and our suggestion is for the scriptwriting team to replace the swordsman and teacher roles from the original book with young male leads.”

“Firstly, these two characters in the original work are portrayed with a balance of strength and gentleness, possessing both courage and wisdom they embody a charm that transcends gender. Adapting them wouldn’t be difficult and aligns with current market preferences.”

“Secondly, these roles represent contrasting archetypes: one literary and the other martial, one old and one young. If we recast them as young male leads, we could diversify the casting across different role types while alleviating the pressure from our troupe’s surplus of male actors and shortage of female ones.”

“This would kill multiple birds with one stone.”

“Everyone is encouraged to actively discuss the feasibility of this proposal.”