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"A beautiful woman carries the sorrow of a fallen nation; when will she ever see the one before her again?"
The date July 7, 1937, with its three consecutive "7, 7, 7"s, seemed like a deliberate coincidence.
However, this was not a good day, as Japan began its full-scale invasion of China.
The three northeastern provinces had been occupied for a long time, and public anger was rising. Yet Lan Kang remained as if he were dead. Businesses were struggling to open, and people were constantly crying out for a living. But the theaters were thriving. Some loyalists refused to comply, but with bullets pointed at their heads, they finally feared losing their lives and dressed up, singing and acting on stage.
Life's many flavors are depicted in the play.
This person's love, hate, anger, and delusion all depend on this one life to sustain them; once life is gone, nothing is allowed anymore.
During this time, the most famous restaurant in Lankang, Manxianglou, was always bustling with customers. The Japanese army, having been stationed there for some time, had been showering them with praise.
The most popular one today is Xun Zhizhu from Manxianglou. He originally trained in martial arts. Because of his delicate and pretty appearance, he couldn't impress people as a martial arts actor, so at the age of thirteen or fourteen, he switched to learning female roles and became a disciple of Cao Fuxi, the most popular female role actor at the time.
The martial arts practitioner suddenly turned around, and his posture became strangely different.
When it is gentle, it is as soft as a feather or silk, and its melodiousness is said to be able to make even the most stubborn stone weep.
But this skill is not just about strength; it's about resilience and tenacity. Like a dragon crouching, it's incredibly exhilarating to watch.
The song that made him an instant star was "Jin Yu Nu". He was only sixteen or seventeen years old when he went on stage and he was completely wiped out.
When Yu Nu finally saw through Mo Ji's true nature and vowed never to rekindle their past relationship, her water sleeves flowed gracefully, and her movements were perfectly controlled and controlled.
Turning around, singing, glaring, freezing in place—it all flowed naturally, leaving the audience stunned. Even the other troupes who had been sent to cause trouble ended up getting drunk along with them.
He lifted his crimson costume and sang: "He is a heartless man who has lost all conscience. How can I bow my head and obey, like a moth drawn to a flame, burning myself?"
"Girls, prepare to unleash the merciless blows. When they come, strike hard and show no mercy."
Pointing his finger, the person sitting nearby felt their head throb and their cheeks flush.
From then on, the fame of Xun Zhizhu, a renowned actor from Lankang, resounded throughout the north and south.
But what you may not know is that the play he originally booked was not "Jin Yu Nu", but his master's most famous play, "The Drunken Concubine".
There's a reason why he chose "The Drunken Beauty." Firstly, his teacher could pass on his unique skills to him; secondly, he had been practicing this play diligently for two years, and he could even recite a few excerpts in his dreams.
Everything was fine until half a month later, when the kid suddenly wanted to change the play. His master was so angry that he was about to ask the rules to give him a good beating. Fortunately, his fellow disciples stopped him, otherwise he wouldn't have had the energy to sing "The Drunken Concubine".
So they put him in solitary confinement for a week. But for three days in a row, the tea and food they brought him were all spoiled, just as they were.
On the third day at noon, several of his close friends sensed something was wrong and kicked the door open. They found him unconscious by the bedside, with an open opera book on the bed—the very play "Jin Yu Nu".
He was taken to the hospital and lay there until noon the next day. The first thing he asked his master when he woke up was, with pleading eyes, "Did you give me permission to change the script?"
Cao Fuxi, deeply fond of her student, looked at his pale lips and lost all temper, immediately replying, "Sigh, I agree, I agree..."
Upon hearing this, Xun Zhizhu managed a gleeful sigh, but then fainted again the next moment.
He had only prepared for the play "Jin Yu Nu" for a total of ten days. As the performance was about to begin, everyone was nervous for him. He simply smiled at the crowd and gracefully stepped onto the stage.
With the curtain lifted, the show begins.
On the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, the Japanese soldiers in Lankang held a joint meeting and invited the opera troupe from Manxianglou to perform for them.
At first, Xun Zhizhu absolutely refused to go, but knowing that he was not afraid of death, he held a gun to his master's head.
He gritted his teeth and said angrily, "Go! Let go of my master!"
After the war began, the entire city of Lankang was gloomy and gray, but on this day, the garrison was filled with singing and dancing. The walls were fresh, and the women were painted white and wore flowery kimonos that looked like snakes wrapped around their bodies. When they saw people, they would only smile softly.
The guide led him a few steps forward, opened a paper door, and called him inside.
Inside were all high-ranking Japanese officials and a few lackeys. He squinted and smiled as soon as he went in, intending to use their heads as bricks.
Hey! One kick, one kill, that felt great.
A short man sitting in the front had been staring at him intently ever since he entered. Huan Zhizhu glanced at him but ignored him, walking confidently to the middle and bowing, saying, "Today I will perform 'The Peach Blossom Fan' for you all. Please give me your feedback."
Having said that, he rolled up his sleeves and truly adopted that demeanor. With a flick of his finger, his eyes sparkled, his lips parted slightly, and he spoke eloquently:
"I once saw the orioles singing at dawn in the jade palace of Nanjing, and the flowers blooming early on the pavilions of the Qinhuai River, but who knew they would so easily melt away like ice!"
"I watched him build a magnificent mansion, I watched him host lavish banquets, and I watched his mansion collapse!"
"On this pile of green moss and blue tiles, I once slept a carefree sleep and witnessed fifty years of rise and fall."
...
"The dream of the ruined mountains is the truest, the old scenery is hard to let go of, I don't believe this map has been redrawn!"
I'll compose a set of "Lament for Jiangnan," and sing its mournful tune until I'm old.
The words were not earth-shattering, the tune not of passionate love.
His brows were not furrowed, but his eyes seemed to hold tears.
Everyone in the room quietly savored the faint taste.
He didn't seem to care, said goodbye, and left through the door. Rain was falling outside, breaking up and then gently settling on his face.
He may not have received enough acclaim in his life; he always yearned for a wider world, more extraordinary skills, and a more resounding reputation. But for now, he was content, needing no praise from the enemy who had killed his own people.
After Xun Zhizhu left, the short man who had been staring intently at him all night slowly stood up. He kept replaying the moment Xun Zhizhu first entered, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep...
To love someone is to desire all of them.
Sometimes, taking an unconventional approach can make things spiral out of control.
Make him hate you even more, turning love into hatred.
Unable to obtain love, one might sing "Lament for Jiangnan," a lament that lasts until old age.
"The interactions between people are essentially just two different things."
Xun Zhizhu glanced at the person in front of her, slowly stood up from the chair, and moved behind him with delicate, flowery steps.
"Same here, neither of us owes the other anything."
"The other thing is that we owe each other something."
He placed his hand on the shoulder of the man in his military uniform, gently stroking it, while making all sorts of playful remarks.
"This is the first time we've encountered something familiar. Otherwise, if we cross the line, even good friends will turn into enemies."
"As for those who are complete strangers and have no prior knowledge of each other, that is the second thing."
"Mr. Ishio, which category do you fall into with me?"
Ishio looked up at him, his fingertips brushing against his lips, his gaze falling on the buttons on his robe.
He fantasized about the skin beneath his buttoned-up shirt. He murmured, calling him "Anhe..."
Before becoming famous, Xun Zhizhu had a stage name called Xun Anhe. Later, she disliked the name as being too feminine and reverted to her real name.
From then on, few people called him that.
He frowned slightly and smiled, "You want to sleep with me?"
When his inner desires were directly and clearly pointed out, Ishio was stunned for a moment, forgetting to continue the conversation.
Xun Zhizhu chuckled and turned away without a second thought, leaving him alone to silently reflect on his agonizing emotions.
After that, every time he went to look for him, hoping to see his performance, he could not succeed.
Having exhausted all other options but refusing to back down, he resorted to kidnapping his master once again to blackmail him.
Xun Zhizhu stood there, quietly looking at him, and said, "Shiwei, let go of my master, and I will go with you."
With his eyes lowered and a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, he was undeniably alluring. He was not the aloof and upright Li Xiangjun at all; he was Bao Si, a bewitching demon. The moment he was near him, he couldn't help but act recklessly.
But he was willing to act recklessly. So we had no choice but to keep him by our side. He refused to sing or perform, and when we stroked his eyebrows and lips on the bed, he was like a colorless wooden puppet.
When his master passed away, he finally went mad, crying and begging to be allowed to go back.
He was afraid that if he left, he would never come back to him, so he hardened his heart and locked him up.
He went to see him that night. Xun Zhizhu handed him a severed finger; his right little finger was now missing, and his entire hand was blood red.
Ishio was once again so shocked that he couldn't utter a single word.
He felt sorry for him and, despite his own pain, let him go back.
So he stood in front of the house and watched him stagger toward the gate, but he could only let him stagger; how could he dare to help him up?
Xun Zhizhu's clothes were stained with blood, but he disregarded everything. In the end, there was no trace of him.
But he stayed there.
The lotus leaves on the bank still smelled sweet, the bed where I slept was still warm, and the bloodied fingers were still even and white, but the person in front of me was gone.
I know from afar it's not snow, for a faint fragrance wafts by...
He murmured to himself, lost in thought, but he didn't know who he was showing his sorrow to.
...
The July 7th Incident, the July 7th Incident, everything changed, and it was like spilled water that could never be recovered.
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