When Spring Burns - Chapter 34

Was it the technique?

Unlike when Du Jingya applied the medicine for her during the day, having her sister rub the ointment on her made her face inexplicably heat up.

Sheng Tingmian recalled the trip to Thailand, where she had been too shy to appear in her bikini, and her sister had personally tied a sarong around her. At that time, her waist had also been occasionally touched by her sister.

“Done.”

He Jianxue stopped and glanced at her palm, which carried the strong scent of medicated wine. She then looked at her sister’s slender waist on the sofa, where the area around the bruise had turned red from her rubbing.

But her gaze was quickly drawn to the taut abdomen faintly visible beneath the hem of the shirt, with its small, delicate navel.

Sheng Tingmian didn’t realize she was being watched. As soon as she heard “done,” she immediately sat up, not daring to meet her sister’s eyes. Instead, she lowered her gaze to her sister’s collarbone and softly thanked her.

He Jianxue snapped out of her thoughts, calmly set down the white bottle, and said, “Go to sleep. I’m going to wash up.”

Sheng Tingmian nodded.

…

The Yan City Television Dragon Boat Festival program selection competition quietly arrived.

Sheng Tingmian rode over early in the morning. By the time they reached the television station, Sheng Xiaoyun, as the troupe leader, went to handle the arrangements, while Sheng Tingmian and Du Jingya got their makeup done backstage.

Both of them had their makeup applied and changed into their opera costumes, one as a scholar and the other as a celestial nun. Because of the importance of this competition, their sister had commissioned a newly designed set of costumes for them.

From the fabric to the design tailored to their roles, everything had been completely revamped. The fabric was of the highest quality, and the celestial nun’s headdress was exquisitely crafted and elegant, yet perfectly balanced so as not to overshadow the wearer. It was entirely different from the costumes used by other troupes for the same play, or even from the ones they had worn in previous performances of The Tale of the Jade Hairpin.

As a result, the moment they put on their costumes, the celestial nun’s lively charm and the scholar’s refined elegance created such a perfect pairing of talent and beauty that even before they stepped onto the stage, their backstage interactions alone were enough to captivate everyone.

All eyes instinctively turned toward them, and whispers filled the air.

The two walked down the corridor.

Sheng Tingmian remarked, “I think I just saw costumes from The Peony Pavilion.”

Du Jingya replied, “The Peony Pavilion? That’s also a love story. Seems like it overlaps with our theme.”

The play also featured a scholar and a daughter of an official, with costumes similar to theirs, the scholar in blue tones and the female lead in pink.

However, the plot of The Peony Pavilion was bolder and more fantastical. It told the story of Du Liniang and Liu Mengmei defying feudal ethics to secretly meet by the Peony Pavilion. After they parted, Du Liniang pined away and died of lovesickness, only to reunite with the scholar in her dreams. Their love moved heaven and earth, and in the end, the King of Hell allowed them to be together.

In contrast, The Tale of the Jade Hairpin was much simpler. It followed Chen Jiaolian, the daughter of an official, who became separated from her mother while fleeing from disaster and became a Taoist nun at a convent, taking the religious name Miaochang. There, she met Pan Bizheng, the nephew of the abbess, who had failed the imperial exams. The two developed feelings for each other at the convent. Later, Pan Bizheng was sent away by the abbess to retake the exams. After achieving success, he returned to marry Chen Miaochang. At the Pan residence, Chen Miaochang was reunited with her long-lost mother, leading to a joyful family reunion.

Although The Peony Pavilion ended happily, it was tinged with a sense of sorrow, while The Tale of the Jade Hairpin was a love story of destined lovers from beginning to end.

After the two walked away, a male and a female opera actor appeared behind them, the two leads of The Peony Pavilion, along with two understudies serving as their backups.

“They’re performing The Tale of the Jade Hairpin?”

“It seems so. The troupe leader found out they’re dressed as Pan Bizheng and Chen Miaochang. They’re quite skilled, the recently popular troupe is their Liqing Troupe.”

“Their costumes look unfamiliar. Were they custom-made?”

“Probably. By the way, do you think we might get eliminated?”

Some remark seemed to provoke someone, who sneered disdainfully, “Any random opera group can call itself a troupe now. From established theaters to these fly-by-night troupes, they’re all just makeshift outfits. How do they even qualify to compete on stage? Has Yanshi TV been bribed? Letting these amateur groups perform, aren’t they afraid something might go wrong?”

“Exactly. At best, they’re just makeshift troupes propped up by capital. In the past, people like them wouldn’t even meet the entry requirements for competitions.”

Someone else whispered, “I heard the boundaries aren’t so strict anymore. Traditional culture is under pressure, and if grassroots groups make a breakthrough, the authorities might make exceptions to include them.”

In the past, opera troupes were state-run institutions, secure iron rice bowls. But as times changed, fewer people paid attention to traditional opera. Although the state still supports it, most performing arts schools now focus on the lucrative performance majors.

Acting well in the entertainment industry can bring in fortunes; even a minor celebrity can earn ten times more in a month than an opera student making two or three thousand. As a result, fewer talented individuals pursue opera, and those who do often seek the stability of a state job.

Someone scoffed, “What grassroots breakthrough? They’re just capital-backed trends that flare up and fade quickly.”

“But they still have to perform well to be promoted. Even if they’re a makeshift troupe, their skills are solid. We shouldn’t underestimate them. The troupe leader said our biggest competitors are the Liqing Troupe.”

Unintentionally, the words struck a chord.

“Liu Mengmei” and “Du Liniang” paused, their expressions serious as they glanced toward the dressing room where “Pan Bizheng” and “Chen Miaochang” were.

“If they’re backed by capital, what suspense is left in this competition?”

“Are we really going to let them take this opportunity?”

“What else can we do?”

“I’m familiar with Yan City TV. I have a plan…”

Sheng Tingmian and Du Jingya sat in their chairs, pulling out their scripts to memorize lines. The more nervous they felt, the more they needed to stay calm and keep busy.

Besides, they still had over an hour before their performance.

Suddenly, someone approached them. They looked up and recognized the leads from “The Peony Pavilion,” whom they had just been discussing.

“Hi! Are you Sheng Tingmian and Du Jingya from the Liqing Troupe?”

Sheng Tingmian and Du Jingya exchanged a glance and nodded.

“I’m Wu Jiale from the Jinyuan Troupe, and this is my partner, Yao Lianghui.”

“We saw your opera performances online recently, you were amazing! I never thought we’d run into you at the TV station today. What a coincidence!”

Sheng Tingmian and Du Jingya stood up. It was unexpected that fellow performers would admire them and even want to get acquainted. “Nice to meet you.”

The four of them hit it off immediately, chatting happily as if they’d known each other for years.

They left the dressing room together and began wandering through the vast TV station, chatting as they explored.

“Have you ever been to a TV studio before?”

“A TV studio?”

“Right, my cousin used to work at this TV station. I’ve seen her workplace before, it’s really fun. I’ll take you to have a look.” Sheng Tingmian and Du Jingya were led by the two to the front of a studio. Before entering, they hesitated, “Is this really okay? This is someone else’s workplace. What if we accidentally break something?”

“Don’t worry, this studio hasn’t been used for a long time. Important documents and equipment aren’t kept here. We’re just going in to take a look.”

As they spoke, Wu Jiale and Yao Lianghui stepped inside first, while Sheng Tingmian and Du Jingya followed curiously behind.

Upon seeing the scene inside the studio, they were greatly impressed. There was another room inside, which was the actual studio. In front of a green screen stood a table, very similar to the ones used by news anchors on television programs.

On both sides were equipment like boom microphones and lighting fixtures, all covered in a thin layer of dust.

Wu Jiale walked up to the table and pretended to be a news anchor: “Hello, everyone. Welcome to today’s news report. I’m your host, Wu Jiale.”

Yao Lianghui stood beside her and announced in a deep voice, “I’m your host, Yao Lianghui.”

Their serious demeanor made them look just like the real deal, and their anchor-like tone was spot-on. Sheng Tingmian couldn’t help but exclaim, “Wow, you two really look like hosts…”

The two exchanged a glance, stepped out from behind the table, and suggested, “Do you want to give it a try too?”

Sheng Tingmian pulled Du Jingya over to experience what it felt like to be a news anchor.

When the lights shone on them and the boom microphones on both sides created a solemn atmosphere, for a moment, it felt as if they were truly TV anchors.

First, they pretended to glance at a script, then enunciated the anchor’s opening lines clearly and precisely. Sheng Tingmian wanted to ask someone to take a photo as a memento but suddenly realized they hadn’t brought their phones.

The two looked at Wu Jiale and Yao Lianghui, only to find that, at some point, the pair had already moved outside the studio. They stood behind the large glass window, looking at them with a triumphant expression.

“Why did they go over there?”

Du Jingya belatedly realized something was wrong. The door to the studio’s small hall had been closed. She rushed over, trying to open it, shaking it with all her might, only to realize in horror that they had been locked inside the studio!

“Let us out!” Du Jingya ran to the glass window, pounding on it and shouting at the two outside.

At this point, Sheng Tingmian also understood what was happening. A cold sweat broke out on her skin, they had fallen into someone else’s trap! She rushed to the large glass window and shouted angrily at the people outside, “You can’t do this! Let us out right now!”

Unfortunately, Wu Jiale and Yao Lianghui outside the studio showed no mercy and simply turned and walked away.

After leaving the studio, they closed the main door, securing it with two locks. Combined with the studio’s soundproofing, escape was now impossible. Even if they screamed their lungs out, no one would know they were trapped inside.

“They don’t have any backup candidates, do they?”

“A ragtag team like theirs doesn’t have alternates. Only the two of them came for the competition.”

“It looks like the competition results will be ours again this time.”

Inside the studio, Sheng Tingmian and Du Jingya shouted until their voices were hoarse, but no one answered. Gradually, their hearts sank into despair.

Sheng Tingmian gazed at the reflections of “Chen Miaochang” and “Pan Bizheng” in the glass. They had prepared for so long, her sister had even custom-made new costumes for them, and her aunt had placed high hopes on them, eagerly anticipating the moment when the Liqing Opera Troupe would finally step onto the television stage.

Her fingertips brushed against the reflection in the glass, and the dangling beads on her headpiece swayed inexplicably in the air. In that instant, an overwhelming sense of injustice surged through her limbs.

“Du Jingya, what do we do? The competition is about to start…”

Du Jingya had already shouted herself hoarse and even tried to smash the large glass panel. But as if cursed by misfortune, the glass stubbornly refused to break. After exhausting themselves, they slumped to the floor.

“I don’t know either… It seems we’re fated to miss this television opportunity.”

Who would have thought someone would stoop so low as to use such underhanded tricks to trip them up?

They had even mistaken those people for good souls, after all, they were around the same age.

Time ticked away, and they had no idea how long they had been trapped.

“My aunt will probably come looking for us once she realizes we’re missing.”

“But even if she finds us, the competition will likely be over by then.”

Sheng Tingmian fell silent, tears silently streaming down her face, blurring her vision.

Unaware, Du Jingya leaned the back of her head against the corner of the wall, fiddling with the strap of her scholar’s hat, her gaze distant. They knew better than anyone how crucial this opportunity was for their fledgling troupe. Every chance to perform in front of an audience increased their visibility, and formal performance opportunities like this were rare.

Moreover, this was a chance to perform on television for the Dragon Boat Festival program, in front of a national audience. Such opportunities had always been monopolized by established, state-affiliated troupes. They had worked so hard to finally earn a shot at competing with them, only for this to happen…

Du Jingya closed her eyes. Why was it so difficult for their grassroots troupe to gain legitimacy?

…

On the other side, with the competition fast approaching, Sheng Xiaoyun searched frantically for the two girls. The program crew was pressing her relentlessly, if they didn’t take the stage soon, they would be disqualified for forfeiting. Sheng Xiaoyun felt utterly overwhelmed.

Anxious as an ant on a hot pan, she kept making calls, but no one answered.

She even called the theater to ask if the girls had returned, but was told they hadn’t been seen.

Sheng Xiaoyun couldn’t help but fear the worst. She approached the television station’s supervisor, hoping to review the surveillance footage. However, the supervisor, looking down on her as the leader of an amateur troupe, brushed her off with empty excuses, claiming he was too busy.

Standing alone in the empty corridor, Sheng Xiaoyun closed her eyes, feeling powerless. Not long after, a member of the percussion team came to inform her that the program crew had already declared their forfeit, there was no way to reverse the decision.

The evening glow faded, and night fell.

Inside the studio, the two girls had endured hours of waiting, their hearts heavy with the realization of the outcome, they had missed the competition.

It was a done deal.

“Forget it, we’ll have other chances,” Du Jingya tried to console herself. “Let’s treat this as a lesson, next time, we won’t be so quick to trust others.”

Sheng Tingmian turned away sadly. “I can’t bear to imagine how disappointed my sister will be…”

She had previously insisted that her sister not pull strings for her, vowing to earn this unique opportunity through her own abilities. But reality had slapped her in the face, they had lost without even setting foot on the stage.

Du Jingya pulled Sheng Tingmian’s head onto her shoulder, letting her lean there. The moment she did, with a sharp click, the lights in the studio went out, plunging them into utter darkness.

Amidst the rustling sounds, they received even more disheartening news.

“The TV station staff have clocked out. Those two people didn’t come to open the door.”

Du Jingya rubbed her growling stomach, she had been shouting and pounding all day, and her energy was long depleted. She turned to the slimmer Sheng Tingmian beside her, “Are you hungry?”

“Hungry…”

Du Jingya didn’t notice the fear in her companion’s voice, preoccupied instead with whether they would remain trapped here all night. “Will your sister come looking for you?”

If she remembered correctly, Sheng Tingmian lived with Miss He. If Sheng Tingmian didn’t return home tonight, Miss He would surely notice something amiss and send someone over, right?

“She went on a business trip yesterday…”

Du Jingya fell silent for a long moment. Their last hope had been extinguished. Clutching her hat strings in the darkness, she smiled bitterly, “Well, after ‘Seeking Refuge in the Nunnery,’ ‘Flirting with the Zither,’ ‘Feigning Illness,’ ‘Stealing the Poem,’ ‘Urging the Exam,’ and ‘Autumn River,’ we could add another scene to The Jade Hairpin, call it ‘Hanging by a Thread,’ set right here in the studio.”

Who would have thought that over five hundred years later, “Pan Bizheng” and “Chen Miaochang” would still face such a calamity.

After a while, Du Jingya noticed her companion hadn’t responded to her dark humor and grew puzzled, “Sheng Tingmian, why aren’t you saying anything?”

A long time passed before she received a faint reply, “I’m scared…”

Only then did Du Jingya realize something was wrong. Placing a hand on Sheng Tingmian’s shoulder, she felt it trembling violently, clearly from fear. Du Jingya glanced around the pitch-black studio, uncertain what might lurk in the dark corners. It was indeed rather terrifying.

“Do you have claustrophobia?” she asked.

“I don’t know… I’m just scared…” In the darkness, Sheng Tingmian’s face was pale, her lips colorless, as unsettling images flashed through her mind.

Du Jingya pulled her into an embrace, “I’m here. Nothing will happen. Sheng Tingmian, don’t be afraid. Your aunt will definitely come looking for us.”

A faint, mosquito-like “Mm” came from within the embrace, but it did little to ease her terror.

Thinking she was merely afraid of ghosts or similar things, Du Jingya comforted her, “Right now, you’re Chen Miaochang, the Taoist nun. The immortal nuns will protect you.”

No sooner had she spoken than a clap of thunder roared outside, accompanied by a flash of lightning that nearly startled Du Jingya out of her skin.

Soon after, the air grew damp with the scent of rain.

It was actually raining.