The Night is Called Gentle - Chapter 35

No need to look. No need to yield.

“Did the author consent?”

After Dean Han spoke, the conference room fell into silence. Everyone lowered their gaze to the pens in their hands.

Only Yan Huaiqing looked toward the end of the table.

Lin Zhixia sat at the last seat.

Her eyes calmly fixed on Dean Han as she asked in a clear, steady voice, “Did the author consent?”

No one looked at the dean; instead, all eyes turned to Lin Zhixia, as if the one raising the question had become the problem itself.

Dean Han swept a casual glance over everyone before finally settling her gaze on Lin Zhixia. Her tone was indifferent. “Has the institute hired new staff? Which department are you from?”

After asking, she withdrew her gaze, waiting for someone to explain.

Indeed, no leader would explain anything to an unnamed person sitting at the far end of the table the one who hired her should be the one to explain.

Just as Yan Huaiqing was about to intervene, Lin Zhixia spoke first: “If the author doesn’t consent, then this isn’t feasible.”

Her voice remained steady. Under the collective stare of the room, she didn’t flinch; ignored by leadership, she didn’t back down.

Compared to Lin Zhixia’s earnestness, Dean Han appeared much more composed perhaps out of indifference. A vague smile lingered at the corners of her lips, yet she still didn’t speak.

Leaders at her level naturally had others to argue on their behalf.

The person seated beside her spoke up: “Since it’s an adaptation, it obviously isn’t about copying the original work onto the stage. The author has already signed the copyright contract, granting the institute full adaptation rights. Your question falls outside the scope of today’s discussion.”

“Changing the character’s gender exceeds the bounds of adaptation rights,” Lin Zhixia reminded again.

The person replied, “Actually, there’s no need to rush to dismiss this from the author’s perspective. I heard the author never showed up from start to finish and didn’t impose any constraints regarding the adaptation. Maybe after receiving the copyright fee, they simply don’t care how we adapt it.”

Any story, regardless of whether it’s celebrated and loved by the world, is infused with the author’s very essence in every word and punctuation mark during its creation how could they not care? Not showing up certainly doesn’t mean they don’t value it.

It was true there were no restrictive clauses in the contract, but that was the freedom and trust Lin Zhixia had left for Yan Huaiqing intended to support her artistic vision and ambition, not to be exploited.

Lin Zhixia retorted, “Everyone here actors, screenwriters, composers are, in a sense, creators. Any creator who has invested even a shred of sincerity into their work would care.”

“Moreover, most of us here are women. Women in this world have had their time stolen, their freedom taken, countless resources, rights, and voices silenced. Must we now steal even their gender?”

The air froze for a second, and an indescribable tension filled the room.

But soon, someone stepped in to smooth things over.

“There’s no need to escalate this. Besides, in our production, whether it’s the male or female roles, they’re all played by actresses. Essentially, nothing fundamental has changed, right?”

Though the concept was twisted, everyone was amused by her remark.

Someone else chimed in to support her.

“The opera market is in a slump these days. Making these changes is all about catering to the audience’s preferences. The author surely wants their work to be loved by more people too.”

Gradually, everyone began sharing their opinions.

“Even if we take a step back and assume the author truly cares, approaching them with a mature and compelling adaptation plan shows more respect than just asking outright with empty words.”

“Exactly. A well-adapted script speaks for itself. It’s not a reckless rewrite she wouldn’t breach the contract over this, would she?”

“Definitely not a breach,” someone else chimed in to smooth things over. “There are many directions for character development. Even without changing the gender, designing more androgynous costumes and makeup, or having a female role played by a male actor, isn’t out of the question. Our opera tradition has always included cross-gender performances, after all.”

A few light laughs of agreement followed, and the tension in the room seemed to ease.

Dean Han didn’t look at Lin Zhixia but glanced at the two who had spoken first, adding, “Legal and script teams, coordinate closely and communicate with the copyright holders as soon as possible. Ensure all preliminary work is thorough to avoid any disputes.”

“Don’t worry, leadership.”

The meeting continued.

Lin Zhixia finally understood: this meeting wasn’t about discussing the script or exploring feasibility it was about setting the tone.

And dissent was not allowed.

She glanced at Yan Huaiqing, who seemed to have been waiting for her gaze. Yan shook her head slightly at once, then gave her a smile.

It was the first time Lin Zhixia had seen her smile like that lips sealed, corners of the mouth barely lifting, only her eyes conveying a shallow yet reassuring warmth.

But Lin Zhixia’s sense of security didn’t come from her. She returned a guarded smile and said nothing more.

That was also the first time Yan Huaiqing felt the true guardedness in Lin Zhixia. In the blink of an eye, she had isolated herself, wary of everyone in the meeting room.

The notebook in front of her remained closed, the fountain pen resting atop it like a sword sheathed.

She was guarding against her, too.

After the meeting, everyone dispersed. Almost all cast an unintentional, unfamiliar, and complicated glance toward the end of the table.

Having been in such an environment for so long, they had grown too mature, long forgetting that resistance, stubbornness, and courage still existed in people.

Su Wangyue was the first to approach Lin Zhixia. Usually talkative, she had been unusually quiet lately. She merely pressed her lips together, patted Lin’s shoulder, and walked away with a sigh.

Regarding He Zhe’s competition, the institute had issued a statement: “He Zhe is both an actor and a trainee. To show our commitment, the institute has always arranged for professional instructors to provide careful guidance, and there is no issue of mistreatment.” This shifted all attention onto Su Wangyue.

#SuWangyueIncompetentTeaching trended for three days, drawing even fiercer criticism from netizens.

So now, she had toned down considerably.

He Zhe followed Su Wangyue over to Lin Zhixia. Not only did she pat her shoulder, but she also leaned in and whispered, “If they really change it, I won’t perform.”

Su Wangyue grabbed her by the collar and dragged her away, scolding as they went, “With that wrecked voice of yours, you think you have a choice? Even if you wanted to perform, could you?”

Only after everyone had left did Yan Huaiqing stand up. Lin Zhixia rose as well, and they converged at the meeting room door.

They exchanged a knowing, wry smile, neither speaking.

After all, it was a bitter smile.

The meeting didn’t last long, and there were still two hours left until lunchtime. The two of them walked together toward the parking lot.

Lin Zhixia still held her notebook tightly, but unlike her confident demeanor earlier, she now seemed defensive.

Under a loquat tree, Yan Huaiqing turned around and looked into her eyes, saying, “Xiaxia, I’ll handle it.”

“When did Teacher Yan find out?” Lin Zhixia didn’t ask how she planned to handle it.

“Five days ago, after the second script discussion meeting,” Yan Huaiqing answered truthfully.

So she had known all along. That explained why she had seemed surprised and hesitant when she saw Lin Zhixia arrive that morning.

Lin Zhixia felt a little angry upset that Yan Huaiqing hadn’t told her. She lowered her gaze, avoiding eye contact.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to disrupt your thoughts and rhythm. It wasn’t intentional,” Yan Huaiqing explained, glancing at the notebook Lin Zhixia clutched tightly.

“Is this the consensus among the institute’s leadership?” Lin Zhixia suddenly looked up at her.

Yan Huaiqing was one of the leaders herself.

“Dean Han is in charge of operations. It was her idea initially,” Yan Huaiqing said, unable to reveal more.

But for Lin Zhixia, this was enough.

She turned her face away, avoiding the sunlight, and stated her position clearly,

“I don’t accept any of the proposals from today’s meeting. Whether it’s directly changing the character’s gender or visually blurring it, I disagree with both.”

“An imbalance in male and female roles isn’t my concern. I only do one thing: protect my people even if they’re characters in a book, I won’t allow them to be disrespected.”

“I know,” Yan Huaiqing replied, unsurprised and even somewhat admiring of her frankness and fearlessness.

She didn’t think Lin Zhixia’s behavior in the meeting had been reckless. Just like now, standing under the dappled shade of the tree, she calmly took half a step forward, her shoe tip pressing against a crack in the pavement. She raised her head slowly, her gaze firm as she negotiated.

“Not even half a step back even if it’s Director Yan, even if it means breaching the contract.”

“Not a single concession.”

Her expression was devoid of excess emotion, her calmness almost unsettling.

“No need to concede,” Yan Huaiqing lowered her gaze, once again looking at the notebook in Lin Zhixia’s hand.

She was still angry.

Though she faced everyone calmly, with courage and confidence to stand her ground, she was still only in her early twenties.

Her sincerity and expectations had not only been met with a lack of respect but had also been treated lightly and ignored.

She didn’t say it, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t furious.

The veins on the back of her hand were proof enough. The storm of emotions raging inside her was channeled through her veins to her fingertips, pressing indents into the notebook.

“May I take a look at the script you’ve written?” Yan Huaiqing asked softly.

“No need,” Lin Zhixia replied, pulling the notebook back half an inch, still defensive.

No need? For now? Or forever?

Yan Huaiqing couldn’t quite figure her out.

She didn’t ask about Yan Huaiqing’s stance, nor how she planned to handle the situation.

She was angry but not panicked. She was dissatisfied but didn’t express it. She seemed to have made some decision, but she wouldn’t tell you.

People like her were the most intimidating, even if you weren’t her enemy.

Yan Huaiqing felt troubled.

But then Lin Zhixia suddenly looked up at the sky, smiled at her, and said, “The rainy season is about to start. I heard the sunlight in Spring City is especially beautiful. Would Teacher Yan be interested in going to see it?”

An invitation?

But now, with both the lead and deputy troupe leaders being criticized on trending searches one after another, the rising star temporarily unable to perform due to vocal issues, and such a sudden incident occurring with the script adaptation.

The troupe is truly on the verge of falling apart.

Yan Huaiqing naturally had no interest in anything else.

“It might do you good to go out and clear your mind,” she said, tactfully declining.

“Then, Teacher Yan, please call me if anything comes up,” Lin Zhixia smiled at her again.

“Nothing will happen. I’ll handle it,” Yan Huaiqing promised softly.

“Teacher Yan, don’t push yourself too hard. I’ll handle things too,” Lin Zhixia said to her before leaving.