The Night is Called Gentle - Chapter 43

“Sister Lin, hurry and go cheer her up.”

Su Wangyue turned to look at Lin Zhixia, poking her own cheek with a fingertip while wearing an expression of having been slapped.

Lin Zhixia was still immersed with Jiang Jing in the lingering sensation of Yan Huaiqing’s palm when her name was suddenly called. She was quite surprised, her eyes slowly turning toward Su Wangyue, a question mark hovering over her head.

Su Wangyue’s makeup was exquisite, especially her eyes, which were elegantly defined. At this moment, she deliberately put on a pitiful expression, resembling an adorable little opera figurine.

The little figurine raised an eyebrow, threatening her, “If you can’t make her happy, you won’t be able to save my face. And if my face isn’t saved, I’ll post a nine-grid collage on Weibo to expose you two.”

Another question mark appeared over Lin Zhixia’s head.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Su Wangyue spread her hands, her tone tinged with resignation. “She has double standards. She treats you differently from how she treats us, wearing two faces. So of course, you’re the one who has to cheer her up.”

Jiang Jing nodded in agreement, pressing further, “Exactly, how on earth did you manage it?”

Yet another question mark joined the others above Lin Zhixia’s head.

“Xiaxia, come here.”

Yan Huaiqing had returned at some point and was standing at the door, calling her.

In an instant, it became clear that each of the question marks above her head had its own justification.

“Xiaxia, come here,” Su Wangyue mimicked in a high-pitched voice, and Jiang Jing chimed in, “No justice in this world.”

Embarrassed yet delighted, Lin Zhixia skipped out the door with light, cheerful steps to catch up with Yan Huaiqing.

“Dressing Room.”

The nameplate suggested an ambiguous setting.

Only after stepping inside did she realize it was a chaotic battlefield.

Boxes of various sizes were stacked in the corners, open ones stuffed with props, costumes, and accessories. Hats, crowns, and embroidered shoes were sorted and placed on tabletops. The entire room felt cluttered due to the crowding, and several staff members occasionally weaved through, checking each outfit about to be worn on stage.

In such an environment, no matter how improper one’s thoughts, a single glance would quiet them.

Lin Zhixia stood at the doorway, unable to take a step inside.

“You’ve never been in the costume room before?” Yan Huaiqing asked.

“Not really,” Lin Zhixia replied, scanning the room.

“Didn’t expect it to be this messy, did you?” Yan Huaiqing chuckled softly, casually pushing aside a box.

“Indeed it’s a bit beyond imagination,” Lin Zhixia answered truthfully.

“We tour all year round, moving these boxes back and forth. It’s inevitable that things get messy.”

Yan Huaiqing turned to look at her. “But you might not see the method in the madness. They handle these items daily and can find any costume or prop without a second thought. It’s organized chaos.”

Following her words, Lin Zhixia glanced at the workers moving about and felt a sense of reverence.

“Come in,” Yan Huaiqing said, moving a rack filled with opera costumes to clear a path.

After Lin Zhixia stepped closer, Yan Huaiqing turned to look at her again, smiling as she asked, “Does this shatter the sacred image you had in mind?”

“Not at all,” Lin Zhixia replied softly, carefully standing where she wouldn’t be in the way. “On the contrary, I believe authenticity is always the most sacred.”

“Mm, come here.” Yan Huaiqing led her deeper into the room, toward the racks of clothing.

From childhood to adulthood, Lin Zhixia had never been taught to be quick-witted or diligent with her hands and feet. So, if she couldn’t be of help, she would never rashly interfere.

In such an environment, this trait of hers was something to be admired.

So far, she was the only outsider who had entered the backstage without surprise, questions, or unnecessary touching only observing and accepting everything with her eyes.

She even suppressed the curiosity in her gaze, knowing that for those busy at work, unfamiliarity and curiosity could be a disturbance.

Before this, Yan Huaiqing had always been reluctant to bring relatives’ or friends’ children backstage, especially before a performance.

Now, her perspective had shifted.

She liked the feeling of Lin Zhixia being involved in her work and life.

Perhaps it was because Lin Zhixia had a good sense of boundaries, or perhaps because she always offered entirely different reactions.

Take, for example, the way she had helped with the eyebrow makeup. Previous makeup artists would adjust her face and compliment her features.

But Lin Zhixia didn’t. She didn’t touch her excessively or praise her. Instead, she quietly searched for any moles between her eyebrows.

It was a strange yet fascinating feeling.

Or like now she was like a shadow by her side, seamlessly blending into her every movement.

But she wasn’t a shadow. She had her own observations, carefully examining a blue costume, a barely suppressed smile playing on her lips.

She didn’t explain why she was smiling, and Yan Huaiqing didn’t ask.

“Help me hold these,” Yan Huaiqing said, pulling over a rack labeled with character names and selecting a few undergarments to hand to her.

Lin Zhixia took them naturally, then stood quietly like a human clothes hanger, waiting as Yan Huaiqing spoke with the staff.

Yan Huaiqing continued searching through the rack, picking out a few more pieces before leading her out.

“Is that blue costume strange?” Yan Huaiqing asked, turning back.

“That’s the one you wear during the slapping scene,” Lin Zhixia replied softly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And in that scene, Teacher Yan, the front of your costume often gets torn open by Teacher Su. Fans even made a compilation with the caption, ‘Tearing someone’s clothes the slaps were still too light.'”

Yan Huaiqing couldn’t help but laugh. “Where did you see that?”

“On Bilibili.”

Suddenly animated, Lin Zhixia leaned in, her eyes sparkling with gossip. “The comments also said that in that scene, when you’re genuinely angry, you slap for real and your clothes get torn open. When you’re pretending to be angry, you fake the slap and your clothes stay intact. Is that true?”

“Probably just a coincidence,” Yan Huaiqing replied, seeming to hear this for the first time. She furrowed her brows thoughtfully before adding, “That scene involves a lot of physical movement. She has to grab my sleeve and slide into a kneeling position, so it’s easy for the clothes to get tugged.”

“Oh.” Lin Zhixia didn’t believe her.

Suppressing a smile, she leaned forward again and asked, “So it’s like opening a mystery box? Some fans get to see it in one performance, while others attend several shows and never witness it. They even complain online, saying the slaps are unfair to them.”

Yan Huaiqing burst out laughing. Seeing Lin Zhixia’s interest, she raised an eyebrow and lowered her voice. “But when I’m really angry, I do hit harder, and the costume is more likely to tear.”

“Really angry?” Lin Zhixia’s eyes lit up. “So, Teacher Yan, do you really slap based on your mood?”

“Mhm.” Yan Huaiqing gave her a meaningful look and nodded.

She’s so cheeky, Lin Zhixia thought, stifling a laugh.

Yan Huaiqing pondered for a moment before adding mysteriously, “There are three situations where I hit harder.”

Lin Zhixia stared in astonishment, waiting for her to continue.

“You know this play, the character Teacher Su plays is inherently unlikable. Sometimes I get too immersed in the emotions, and when the resentment builds up, it becomes hard to suppress I end up hitting her harder.”

“And she loves improvising on stage, especially when the audience applauds and cheers. Her exaggerated expressions and that smug look make me unable to resist the urge to slap her.”

Yan Huaiqing paused as if reminiscing.

“And the third reason?” Lin Zhixia almost didn’t want to hear it.

“The more she dodges, the more I want to slap her.”

A faint smile flickered in Yan Huaiqing’s eyes.

Does she have some sadistic tendencies or something?

Lin Zhixia’s mind raced with too many imagined scenes, leaving her unable to react for a long moment.

“What’s wrong?” Yan Huaiqing turned to look at her.

“Teacher Su is so pitiful,” Lin Zhixia said, touching her own left cheek as if speaking on Su’s behalf.

“Pitiful?” Yan Huaiqing’s tone softened, and she gave Lin Zhixia a knowing look. “Xia Xia, you’re my assistant. You only need to be responsible to me.”

When it came to taking sides, Lin Zhixia didn’t hesitate. She grinned, her eyes curving into little crescents. “I won’t tell her.”

At 7:30 p.m., the curtain rose, and the play officially began.

Lin Zhixia didn’t take a seat in the audience. Instead, she stood by the wings, observing everyone.

The backstage lighting was much dimmer than on stage. Dozens of people bustled quietly in that cramped space, maintaining a strange yet tacit understanding among themselves.

Lin Zhixia stood discreetly behind the side curtain, careful not to block anyone’s path.

Stagehands hurried past her carrying massive set pieces, makeup artists stood ready with powder puffs, and costume handlers waited with outfits in hand, prepared for quick changes between scenes…

Stage lights seeped through the gaps in the curtains, casting alternating stripes of light and shadow across the wings. Yan Huaiqing’s figure stood out vividly under the illumination,

She had fully immersed herself in her role, every turn and every note of her singing as precise as a pre-recorded performance.

Lin Zhixia watched her quietly, not listening to the story or the lyrics, not paying attention to the singing or the choreography.

She was simply watching her.

“Costume change! Quick!”

A sharp command snapped her attention away.

Yan Huaiqing spun around and exited the stage. Immediately, a group of people swarmed around her fingers flying as they untied sashes, swapped headpieces, and adjusted makeup, all in one seamless motion.

In the blink of an eye, she was fully dressed in a new costume and headdress.

Here, there was no leisure, no decorum, no grace or composure.

And yet, you couldn’t help but feel that they were more sacred, more awe-inspiring, more shocking here than under the dazzling stage lights.

The huqin strings suddenly quickened, the drumbeats falling like rain, making hearts race along.

She saw Yan Huaiqing hurry to the other side to wait for her cue, her expression utterly different from usual a nearly solemn focus, her gaze sharp enough to pierce through the curtains.

“On stage in ten seconds!” someone called out.

Yan Huaiqing took a deep breath. Lin Zhixia saw her shoulders sink slightly before she swung her flowing water sleeves and strode onto the stage with practiced steps.

In an instant, she became someone else entirely.

Her melodious, exquisite voice filled the theater, drawing applause from the audience.

Unconsciously, Lin Zhixia tilted her head, following her figure through the gaps in the curtain.

The flurry of activity in the wings never ceased.

A set of hurried footsteps approached from behind Su Wangyue was changing scenes.

Surrounded by three or four staff members, she was stripped of her official robe and hat, her makeup hastily redone. Amidst the solemnity, there was an air of desolation.

Lin Zhixia watched as she closed her eyes and touched her face. There was no need to guess—what was coming would come.

“Five, four, three.”

Su Wangyue’s eyes snapped open.

For the first time, Lin Zhixia realized that a person’s eyes could truly gleam with light.

The staff retreated like a receding tide. Su Wang adjusted her sleeves and, at the very moment “one” was uttered, executed a graceful turn, stepping back into the spotlight on stage.

Thunderous applause erupted.

A shiver crept up Lin Zhixia’s spine. Finally, she understood what Yan Huaiqing had meant by “order within chaos.”

In the seemingly chaotic wings, everyone was guarding the flawless performance on stage in their own way.

As the crescendo of strings and drums intensified, Su Wangyue let out a sharp cry, abruptly dropped to her knees, and reached out to tug at Yan Huaiqing’s sleeve.

From her angle, Lin Zhixia couldn’t tell if Su Wangyue was improvising again. All she saw was Yan Huaiqing’s stern expression as she raised her water sleeve, spinning it sharply in the air before forming an elegant orchid-shaped hand gesture, striking toward Su Wangyue’s face.

From her vantage point, Lin Zhixia could see Su Wangyue flinch backward.

But there was no escape.

The slap landed right on cue.

Smack!

From the audience came roaring applause, laughter, cheers, and acclaim.

It was an unprecedented, resounding triumph.

Rising on her tiptoes for a better look, Lin Zhixia noticed that Yan Huaiqing’s collar had indeed been torn open again.

Backstage, a wave of commotion followed, everyone swept up in the audience’s exhilaration, laughter rising and falling.

It was only fitting after all, a share of that applause and admiration belonged to them.

Lin Zhixia wanted to laugh too, but a more complex, overwhelming emotion surged in her chest.

And from her perspective, Yan Huaiqing’s slapping motion was utterly captivating.