The Night is Called Gentle - Chapter 4

So soon, seeing her again?

Lin Zhixia saw Yan Huaiqing again after just one day.

When she arrived at the theater with Jiang Jing, the rehearsal hadn’t started yet.

The theater was vast, with only the stage and the first few rows illuminated. As the two stepped into the darkness, they were greeted by the crisp sound of drums and clappers and the dazzling stage lights.

According to Jiang Jing, this was the final rehearsal period. The actors were to be fully dressed in costumes and makeup, rehearsing exactly as they would for the actual performance.

Jiang Jing’s task was to capture the iconic moments on stage. These photos, along with the actors’ official costume shots, would be used as promotional material for the new play.

“The restroom is just through that door. There’s bottled water on the table in front of the stage. If you want to check out the wings, just tell the staff you’re the photographer’s assistant. If you need anything else, just message me. I’ll be busy taking photos later, so feel free to make yourself at home.”

Jiang Jing gave a long list of instructions, carefully placing his equipment on the seats in the front row before taking out his camera and lenses.

If she couldn’t be of help, the best way to assist was not to interfere.

“Okay,” Lin Zhixia nodded. She found a spot further back, shrouded in darkness, and stood quietly to watch. Standing gave her a better view.

Everyone around her was busy at their posts.

In the orchestra pit, musicians were tuning their instruments.

On stage, actors were practicing their positions and movements.

Spotlights swept across the stage again and again.

People of all kinds were focused on their tasks, each immersed in their work.

While everyone else seemed to be in the midst of a battle, Lin Zhixia felt like a tourist visiting a battlefield.

“You’re here too?” A voice came from behind her. It was her, that voice.

Lin Zhixia turned around.

Yan Huaiqing, dressed in a pink opera costume, approached from behind. Her dark hair cascaded like ink, and her movements were graceful, as if she had stepped out of history or descended from a classical painting.

Though she was radiant and elegant, one hesitated to describe her as “peerlessly stunning,” for such words felt too intense.

She was refined and serene, reserved and introverted, like light dipped in a few drops of ink, painting a delicate, understated Jiangnan watercolor around her.

To look at her was to behold the misty rain of the southern mountains and the hazy beauty of the northern waters.

“Teacher Yan, it’s you.”

“Yes, Xiao Man?” Yan Huaiqing walked up to her.

She still remembered her! Lin Zhixia suddenly realized this and quickly turned to face her.

“Did I startle you?” Yan Huaiqing asked with a smile.

The ambient noise was a bit chaotic, but her voice carried a soft, almost unreal gentleness, like a breeze whispering past one’s ear. And with that faint smile, anyone who saw it would inwardly exclaim, “Wow.”

“No, not at all,” Lin Zhixia waved her hands dismissively.

“Why aren’t you sitting?” Yan Huaiqing gestured toward the nearby seats with her eyes.

Lin Zhixia shifted slightly to make room and sat down. She had originally intended to stand and observe the scene.

However, judging by the preparations, the rehearsal was about to begin, and it wasn’t the right time for a chat. Lin Zhixia assumed Yan Huaiqing would head straight to the stage, so she had made room out of courtesy.

Just as she was feeling rather pleased with her thoughtfulness, she turned back and saw Yan Huaiqing still standing in the same spot.

And she herself was sitting!

This…

Lin Zhixia began to panic, unsure whether to stay seated or stand up.

Yan Huaiqing glanced at the spot she had offered, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips. After hesitating for half a second, he turned and sat down.

Her figure was slender yet graceful, her brows and eyes like a painting. She sat with impeccable poise, the hairpin swaying gently with her movements, making her stand out even more starkly from her surroundings.

Lin Zhixia placed her hands obediently on her knees, clenching them into fists, her heart pounding with disbelief.

Just like that, she had met her?

“Did you come with Jiang Jing? Are you two friends?” Yan Huaiqing glanced at Jiang Jing, who was adjusting his camera nearby.

“Sort of.”

“Mm, we met backstage last time while taking photos. I was curious about what your rehearsals are like, so I tagged along. I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Lin Zhixia added politely.

This was just like her whenever someone she admired asked her a question, her answers were always candid and thorough.

“Not at all, you’re welcome to come often.” Yan Huaiqing looked at her, a smile gracing her red lips, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

Lin Zhixia grew even more nervous, her palms damp with sweat.

“Jiang Jing mentioned that this rehearsal is particularly important for you,” she said, her thumb pressing against the knuckle of her index finger as she searched for a topic.

“Yes, this is our most formal and complete rehearsal to date. You could say you’re the first audience for this play. If you have any suggestions, I’d be more than happy to hear them,” Yan Huaiqing said, her gaze fixed on Lin Zhixia’s eyes.

From her words and expression, Lin Zhixia sensed sincerity, but she knew nothing about theater how could she possibly offer suggestions?

“Teacher Yan, I don’t understand theater. I’m afraid I can’t give any meaningful advice,” she admitted, rubbing the fabric of her trousers nervously, feeling the same flustered guilt as when she couldn’t answer a teacher’s question.

“It’s fine if you don’t understand theater,” Yan Huaiqing turned to her again. “In a way, what we lack most are young audiences who are unfamiliar with theater. Their intuitive reactions and opinions well, it’s like survivor bias. Have you heard of it?”

“Yes,” Lin Zhixia nodded.

Yan Huaiqing gave a slow nod, encouraging her to continue.

“Survivor bias refers to how, during World War II, most of the planes that returned from combat had bullet holes in their wings. A professor suggested reinforcing the wings for better protection. But military experts advised reinforcing other areas instead. The reasoning was that if the planes made it back, the bullet holes in the wings weren’t fatal. The unseen damage the ones that prevented the planes from returning were the ones that truly needed reinforcement.” Lin Zhixia slowly explained her understanding.

As she finished speaking, she realized why Yan Huaiqing had so sincerely hoped for suggestions from someone like her, who knew nothing about theater.

Yan Huaiqing smiled and nodded.

Perhaps sensing that Lin Zhixia was a good listener, she continued, “The opinions of theater enthusiasts are important, of course. But the perspectives of young people who don’t watch or enjoy theater are something we’re missing, because we rarely have the chance to engage in deep conversations with them about it.”

“Yet, they represent a huge demographic. We want them to notice us, so even if just one of them steps into the theater, we’re eager to hear what they have to say.”

She spoke unhurriedly, her eyes smiling, her back straight, her gaze fixed on the stage.

And Lin Zhixia watched her, mesmerized.

Her cloud-like hair added to her charm, the swaying hairpin whispering of elegance and grace.

Her eyes seemed to absorb all the stage lights, as if through them, she could bring the world of Yue opera to the entire world.

Yet she was merely sitting there, doing nothing, showing no particular emotion. Still, you couldn’t help but feel moved by her presence, thinking that whatever she wanted, she should have it.

Noticing Lin Zhixia’s gaze, Yan Huaiqing turned her eyes toward her. “Are you getting tired of hearing all this?”

“No, not at all, Teacher Yan.” Lin Zhixia blinked and looked away.

After a brief silence, she lifted her head softly but resolutely. “Teacher Yan, I’m sure you can do it.”

“Do you know what I want to do?” Yan Huaiqing’s eyes flickered with surprise.

Lin Zhixia thought for a moment, then met her gaze with a wide, bright smile.

Yan Huaiqing paused briefly before returning the smile a faint curve of her lips, but with a deeper warmth in her eyes.

Then she walked toward her stage.

Dressed in her costume, about to step into the spotlight would her every move now reflect her character? What kind of person was she in real life?

Rehearsal was about to begin. Lin Zhixia remained seated in the second seat from the aisle, waiting for her own scene, still thinking of her.

A crisp beat of the drum, the gradual rise of strings and flutes the curtain lifted, and the play began.

Though she hadn’t seen many operas, Lin Zhixia could tell this one was quite different from the traditional Yue operas she had heard before.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly how, but one thing was clear: the story was unusual, far from the typical tale of gifted scholars and beautiful ladies.

It told of a forbidden love between a master and a servant two people breaking off parts of themselves to fit together, a love both distorted and pure, shattered yet beautiful.

She didn’t dwell on it further, letting her emotions flow freely into the raw, poignant story.

A half-shadowy figure quietly drifted over along the corridor steps, stopping on the step beside Lin Zhixia’s seat.

Wrapped in a halo of light, the figure lowered her voice and said, “This shot I just took is absolutely stunning definitely in the top 250 of my career.”

That afternoon, the same shadowy figure, in the same spot, with the same mouth, had uttered the same “250.”

Six times.

And the rehearsal wasn’t even halfway through.

Who else could this shadow be but Lin Zhixia’s dear friend of three whole days Jiang Jing.

When Lin Zhixia first met Jiang Jing three days ago, one word came to mind: sister.

Three days later, she wanted to replace it with two words: big hero.

She truly admired Jiang Jing. Carrying a camera and lens weighing nearly ten pounds, Jiang Jing had been leaping and darting around the theater all afternoon, yet she still had the energy to rush over and exclaim six times!

Hadn’t she said earlier that she might not have time to pay attention to her?

Before Lin Zhixia could respond, Jiang Jing nudged her with an elbow. “Look at this shot the lighting, the composition isn’t it just perfect?”

As the curtain fell and the actors moved offstage, Lin Zhixia snapped back to reality and glanced at the camera screen. The image showed Yan Huaiqing with a delicate hand partially covering her face, her eyes shimmering with sorrow and grace.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she whispered, “It’s beautiful.”

“Pfft!” Jiang Jing swiped to the next photo, then the next, mimicking in a high-pitched voice, “Everyone else says, ‘Oh my god, this is amazing! Teacher Yan looks so gorgeous!’ You fake fan.”

Lin Zhixia couldn’t help but laugh. Not only had she come to show off to her, but she’d also gone to others what a true heroine.

“Geniuses only need applause from God, and you are a genius,” Lin Zhixia praised her.

“Hehehe…” Jiang Jing was quite pleased with the compliment, letting out a rustling laugh. “If you’re good at praising, praise me more.”

How could one person be like this? With the height and presence of a model, carrying an elegant yet stern face, but the moment she opened her mouth.

It wasn’t polite to speak ill of others behind their backs, and even thinking it wasn’t right. Lin Zhixia quickly stopped herself.

“Hey, did you really come here just to watch the show? Aren’t you going to check out the side stage? Watching the actors from there is a whole different experience.”

Jiang Jing sat down beside her. “But you’re quite thoughtful, you know, saving me a seat.”

Well,

Lin Zhixia didn’t explain about the seat. After sitting quietly for a while, she asked, “Is your arm sore?”

“Nope.” Jiang Jing answered and then stood up, camera in hand. After a few steps, she turned back. “Just kidding!” Then she left her with a retreating figure and continued her photography.

Lin Zhixia watched her for a little while.

Farewell, heroine.