When Spring Burns - Chapter 1

At the age of 27, just after an unpleasant birthday, He Jianxue sat in her wheelchair and smashed everything breakable in her room.

The next day, her adopted sister wrote her a letter, saying that spring had arrived and urging her to look forward with hope. She also arranged for a troupe to perform Kunqu opera, their late mother’s favorite.

On that spring day, He Jianxue dozed off under the stage until a voice, ethereal and melodious as a nightingale’s song, jolted her awake. Slightly opening her eyes, she saw a charming, pink-clad general gracefully adjusting her pheasant-feather headdress, making a grand entrance in full makeup. Her eyes sparkled with life, and her entire presence was as delicate and vibrant as an autumn parrot.

The aria being sung was none other than “Liangzhou Seventh.”

…

Just after the Spring Equinox, the He family of Yan City had just concluded the birthday banquet for their eldest daughter.

Guests departed one after another under the cover of night, whispering among themselves with pity in their voices.

He Xiu also turned to look back at the sprawling He family estate. She had lived here for over a decade, but a few months ago, she had been married off as a tool for an alliance.

She was the last to leave. Before departing, her elder sister asked her, “How are things over there?”

If this question had been asked half a year earlier, before her sister became paralyzed, He Xiu would have burst into tears like a child, pleading for her sister to stand up for her.

She did not like that man, nor did she enjoy the oppressive life after marriage.

But… the moment she saw her sister’s paralyzed legs, the words stuck in her throat. With their adoptive mother gone and her sister paralyzed, the two people who could have protected her were no longer there, one forever lost, the other stripped of power.

Even if her sister had the will, she no longer had the means. Voicing her troubles would only burden her further, adding to her worries.

Only their adoptive father, who had married into the family, remained. She had once held high hopes for him. On the day she returned after her marriage, she sought him out, hoping he would rescue her from her plight. Yet, his response was, “I’m swamped with work. Be more understanding.” From that day on, she gave up on him entirely.

She brushed off the question with, “Sister, I’m doing just fine,” not daring to meet her sister’s eyes.

For someone who had once been the pride of heaven, losing the use of her legs was no different from becoming useless. Compounded by the death of her birth mother and the loss of her authority, her sister had endured more pain than anyone. It was no wonder her emotions had been so unstable these past six months.

Servants often remarked how her temper had grown increasingly unpredictable.

Although He Xiu was an adopted daughter, she had lived carefree in the He household for over a decade, cherished and protected by her sister as if she were her own.

It was time she grew up.

With a heavy heart, He Xiu took one last look at the He residence, then turned and stepped into the Lin family’s car, leaving it all behind.

Not long after she left, the sound of shattering objects erupted from the bedroom of the He residence.

Servants stood by the door, afraid to approach. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a birthday, yet the guest of honor was consumed by rage.

After what felt like an eternity, the room fell silent, but the scene inside was one of utter chaos.

The servants entered on their knees to clean, not daring to breathe loudly or lift their heads. They stole only furtive glances at the cold, gleaming wheelchair.

A pair of pale, slender hands rested lifelessly on the armrests, exuding an air of desolation.

The only hint of vitality came from the unique ruby ring adorning the woman’s middle finger, a one-of-a-kind piece in the world.

Who could have imagined that just minutes before, these same hands had been hurling expensive objects in a fit of fury?

Since her paralysis, Miss He’s temper had grown increasingly peculiar, her emotions difficult to restrain, making the servants more cautious than ever in attending to her.

…

The next day, under clear skies, a letter arrived at the He residence.

The butler glanced at the sender, then turned and walked through the covered corridor to the courtyard.

The He family garden had been commissioned by the late patriarch, He Gulan, who hired a master to blend Chinese landscaping with Western architecture. The design harmoniously integrated both styles, boasting excellent feng shui while preserving the unique poetic essence of Chinese gardens, all without compromising the comfort of a luxurious villa.

Yet, who could have foreseen so many misfortunes striking within a single year?

The patriarch passed away, the eldest daughter He Jianxue was paralyzed in both legs, and the adopted daughter He Xiu was forced into a marriage alliance.

This once-influential family, which countless powerful figures in Yanshi had sought to curry favor with, seemed on the verge of collapse overnight.

The butler approached the figure seated in a wheelchair, her back to him. “Miss He, Miss Xiu has written you a letter.”

An assistant stepped forward, gripping the handles of the wheelchair and turning it slightly to reveal a dignified and elegant face.

The woman cast a faint glance at him before her gaze settled on the envelope in his hand.

Her slender wrist, resting on the armrest, slowly turned palm-up without lifting from its place.

Recognizing the cue, the butler bowed respectfully and placed the letter in her open palm, then withdrew with an apologetic nod before she began to open it.

The spring sunlight outside the courtyard gradually spread across the wooden floor.

In her letter, He Xiu wrote that she was doing well with the Lin family and urged her sister not to worry. Her neat handwriting expressed hope that her elder sister would shake off her despondency, regain her spirits, and focus on recovering her health. With spring arrived, she encouraged her to look forward and move on. Unable to offer much else, after much thought, she decided to arrange for an opera troupe to perform at home, hoping her sister might find solace in the music.

Opera?

He Jianxue lifted her gaze, staring distantly at the long-unused stage in the garden, lost in thought for a moment.

…

A gentle breeze occasionally filtered through the gaps in the trees.

On the stage of Changyuan Theater, the classic Peking opera Mu Guiying Takes Command was underway.

Center stage, a young and spirited figure donned a golden crown, fish-scale armor, and four red command flags on her back. As she deftly twirled a spear, the pheasant feathers on her headdress fluttered through the air.

Unfortunately, the audience consisted of only one or two solitary spectators.

By the curtain call, not only were there no generous tips, but even those who stayed for the entire performance were pitifully few.

Sheng Tingmian exited the stage, removed her costume and headdress, and wiped off her makeup, revealing a rounded nape and eyes bright as stars. Her delicate, oval face radiated innocence and youthful vitality.

In the dressing room, other actors playing female and male roles were also removing their makeup, preparing to leave.

After packing her belongings, Sheng Tingmian hurried to the doorway. “Auntie, let’s go home.”

Sheng Xiaojun, who had been leaning against the door waiting for over half an hour, shot her a sharp look. “So slow. Be quicker next time.”

“I was as fast as I could be,” Sheng Tingmian murmured with a slight smile, joining her aunt as they left the theater.

Walking side by side on the street, her aunt spoke up.

“Mian, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Auntie?”

“I might have to change careers.”

“Huh? You’re not going to be the troupe leader anymore?”

“How can I? The theater is about to shut down.”

Sheng Xiaojun sighed. Two hours earlier, the director of Changyuan Theater had informed her of his decision to close the venue, advising her to start making plans soon.

For others, it wasn’t so bad, they had relatives and elders to fall back on, who could help them find jobs and ensure they wouldn’t starve anytime soon.

Only the two of them relied entirely on the meager wages earned from performing at the theater.

Recalling the scene from earlier, where only one or two audience members sat in the seats, Sheng Tingmian could guess why the theater director had decided to shut it down.

As times changed, most people no longer enjoyed listening to opera. With almost no audience and no way to secure funding, the director couldn’t afford to pay the performers and had no choice but to close the theater.

“Auntie, if you change careers, what will happen to our Liqing Troupe?”

“What can we do? It’ll disband.”

Sheng Tingmian stopped abruptly, staring intently at her aunt’s back. “But… didn’t you personally assemble all those performers? Don’t you still love it?”

She had grown up following her aunt in the world of opera, witnessing how her aunt rose from playing a female role to becoming the troupe leader. Her aunt had formed a highly skilled opera troupe, traveling far and wide, full of ambition and spirit. Wherever they performed, the audience never failed to applaud.

Her aunt knew every performer’s strengths and weaknesses and was adept at helping them play to their advantages.

Sheng Tingmian had aspired to join them since childhood, but before she had even been part of the troupe for long, they were talking about disbanding.

Sheng Xiaojun looked calmly at her graceful and slender niece and suddenly smiled. “Of course I love it.”

The Liqing Troupe, which she had built with her own hands, had been with her for so many years, how could she not have feelings for it?

But the truth was, no one came to watch. No matter how beautifully they sang or how dazzling their spear techniques, they couldn’t compete with the allure of mobile phones, computers, games, and movies.

If she starved, it would be one thing, but she couldn’t let Tingmian go hungry. She wouldn’t be able to face Tingmian’s mother, who had passed away long ago.

If she had known opera had so little future, she would have sent Tingmian to school years earlier to learn other skills. At least then, the two of them wouldn’t be left with no marketable abilities.

Sheng Xiaojun sighed at her own shortsightedness.

The two returned to their community compound, where the old elevator slowly ascended to the sixth floor, the top level.

In recent years, as opera audiences had dwindled significantly, Sheng Xiaojun had moved several times with Sheng Tingmian to cut costs. They had finally settled here. Though it was the top floor, at least it had a rooftop terrace, which she thought would be convenient for Tingmian to practice.

The only thing was, with fewer theatergoers, they spent most of their time at the theater, which had better facilities and space. Tingmian usually practiced her singing and spear techniques there, while the little girl had planted two heads of lettuce in a corner of the rooftop.

Sheng Xiaojun planned to cook them for dinner that night.

“Auntie, what are we having tonight?”

As soon as she entered, Sheng Xiaojun changed her shoes and tied on an apron. “Go pick those two lettuces you planted. I’ll prepare some cured sausage, and we’ll keep it simple tonight.”

“Okay.” At her age, Sheng Tingmian was sensible enough. She turned and went to the rooftop to gather the vegetables.

During dinner, Sheng Tingmian asked, “Are we going to the theater tomorrow?”

Sheng Xiaojun placed a few slices of cured meat in her bowl. “No, we’re not. Stay home and read. I’ll go out to look for a job. Once I find something stable, I’ll send you back to school.”

Hearing this, Sheng Tingmian felt a heaviness in her heart. She hadn’t even prepared herself to give up opera, yet her aunt seemed to have already moved on.

After washing up, Sheng Tingmian returned to her room and tossed and turned on her small bed, unable to fall asleep for a long time.

The next day, while her aunt went out job-hunting, she had no desire to read at home. Instead, she put on her practice attire and began practicing her singing while twirling her water sleeves.

Suddenly, the door was knocked upon. Sheng Tingmian paused and saw Uncle Guan standing outside. She opened the door and asked, “Uncle Guan, what brings you here?”

“I heard Changyuan Theater is about to close down. What are your aunt’s plans?”

Uncle Guan was an old friend of her aunt’s. Sheng Tingmian knew he was also in opera, serving as the troupe leader of Tianxing Theater Troupe.

“Aunt plans to change careers. She’s been job hunting these past few days.”

Guan Leyou handed over a bag of fruit. “I bought these for you and your aunt. Please take them.”

Sheng Tingmian placed the bag on the table. Before she could turn around, Uncle Guan continued, “There’s a wealthy family named He in Yan City who’ve recently taken a liking to opera. They’ve invited my troupe to perform at their residence every day. If you really can’t find work, why not join my Tianxing Troupe and perform for the He family?”