Director of Photography Department of Huayu

Chapter 90 Wu Chen, you still haven’t realized it, even after six hundred years of bleeding!

At the end of January 2005, it was a very cold winter day. The sky of Shanghai was covered with a light layer of mist, but the air was mixed with a hint of the moist scent unique to the south of the Yangtze River.

Wu Chen stood in front of the Magic City Kunqu Opera Theater, looking up slightly at the theater that carries the hard work and dreams of countless opera people.

The theater's main gate is simple and elegant. The vermilion lacquered wooden door is carved with patterns of classic Kunqu opera repertoires. The frame is inlaid with a gold-plated plaque with opera scripts, inscribed with powerful seal characters: "Kunyun Qianqiu".

In the lobby, glazed palace lanterns illuminate the green bricks and tiles. In the center of the stage hangs an old hand-painted poster of "The Peony Pavilion." Du Liniang is wearing a long flowing sleeve dress, and her eyes are gentle and mournful.

Wu Chen stepped in and was met by a middle-aged man in a dark-colored gown, with an elegant demeanor. "Mr. Wu? Teacher Cai is waiting for you."

He nodded slightly and followed the man through the corridor at the back of the theater. He walked all the way backstage and saw several young opera actors practicing.

Some people were waving their sleeves, some were standing in front of a bronze mirror practicing the art of expressing their facial features, and some were holding a folding fan and repeatedly looking at their posture.

A line from The Peony Pavilion rang in my ears: "You are as beautiful as a flower, and time flows like flowing water."

Wu Chen paused and looked at the young actress on the stage. She was wearing a light pink costume, her sleeves dancing lightly, and her figure was graceful, like a person in a painting.

"Mr. Wu, please."

He came to his senses and followed the middle-aged man into a study.

The furnishings in the study are extremely simple. There is an old mahogany desk with a yellowed copy of the gongche notation of "The Peony Pavilion" spread out on it, and old records and opera books are placed on the shelf next to it.

In front of the window, an old man with gray hair and beard was standing with his hands behind his back, wearing a plain robe. Although he was over sixty years old, he was still vigorous and energetic.

Wu Chen recognized him; it was the Kunqu opera performer Cai Zhengren.

Elder Cai turned slowly, his eyes gentle and filled with the kindness of an elder: "Wu Chen?"

Wu Chen hurried forward and bowed respectfully, "Mr. Cai, I've long heard of your great name."

Cai Zhengren nodded slightly, looked at the young director in front of him, and said with a smile, "I heard that you want to make a movie related to Kunqu Opera?"

Wu Chen nodded, sorted out his thoughts, and said:
"Yes, Mr. Cai. This time, I came to ask you about the essence of Kunqu Opera.

I'm a filmmaker myself, and although I've studied opera, the breadth and depth of Kunqu Opera is far beyond my ability to grasp, so I've come to you to seek your advice."

Cai Zhengren smiled slightly and casually opened the script of "The Peony Pavilion" on the table:
"Please tell me your story.

I've been singing opera for half my life, so I'm curious about how you incorporate "The Peony Pavilion" into your performance."

Wu Chen took a deep breath and recounted his script in general terms.

In the quaint Jinghua Kunqu Opera Troupe, the young female role actress Xu Wei received strict family education from a young age. Her mother used the motto of "purity as pure as jade" to restrain her body and mind.

She has superb skills and a well-regulated singing voice, but in the casting of the new version of "The Peony Pavilion", her performance was considered to lack the madness of "the utmost passion and nature".

The director of the troupe told her that Du Liniang's love was not formulaic, but rather that she wanted to burn everything and never regret it until her death.

Meanwhile, her rival Liu Qing is a flamboyant and charming actress, and her performance is full of wild vitality, which makes Xu Wei gradually lose herself in the illusion of jealousy and self-denial.

Wu Chen slowly tells the story of the setting.

As soon as the words fell, the study fell into a brief silence.

After a moment, Cai Zhengren gently closed the script of "The Peony Pavilion", looked up at Wu Chen, his eyes full of deep thought, and said slowly:

"So, when she performed the final scene of 'The Resurrection of Du Liniang' on stage, she went completely mad and collapsed to the audience's applause, becoming the ultimate artistic sacrifice?"

Wu Chen nodded: "Yes."

Cai Zhengren chuckled and shook his head, saying, "Wu Chen, you are indeed a film genius, but you haven't understood Kunqu Opera."

Wu Chen was slightly stunned, frowned and asked, "Mr. Cai, why do you say that?"

Cai Zhengren sighed, his tone gentle but firm: "The madness of Xu Wei in your book seems to be driven by Western Freudian theory. It lacks the determination of 'using emotion to defy courtesy' that is innate in us Orientals!"

"Well, just follow me." Cai Zhengren stood up, flicked his sleeves, and walked out with his hands behind his back.

Wu Chen was stunned, then followed.

The two of them walked through the backstage corridor, and the wooden floor creaked.

The lights on the stage in the main hall of the theater have been turned on. There are a few old rattan chairs empty below the stage, but the stage is bustling with activity.

Cai Zhengren walked to the front of the stage, his eyes swept across the crowd, and landed on the elegant middle-aged man who had brought Wu Chen in. His voice was low but majestic:

"Fu Wen, lead everyone in performing a segment of 'The Peony Pavilion' for Director Wu, the 'Soul Separation' scene."

Wang Fuwen was slightly stunned, then bowed and said respectfully: "Okay, teacher!" He turned around and greeted a few actors.

Du Liniang was played by the actress in the light pink costume that Wu Chen saw when he arrived. Only then did Wu Chen know her name: Luo Chenxue.

The curtain on the stage slowly opened, and the wooden stage surface glowed dark red under the lights. The sound of gongs and drums was like spring raindrops on tiles, delicate but alluring.

A young woman, seemingly only eighteen, stepped out in response. She was dressed in a pale pink costume, her waist slender, her features picturesque, yet her eyes held a touch of sorrow. The sound of gongs and drums gradually rose, a rhythm as slow as the first melting of spring water. Luo Chenxue stepped onto the stage, her sleeves flickering lightly, like a cloud of mist swirling around her.

She lowered her eyebrows, her eyes seemed to be filled with resentment and infatuation, and her singing voice began to rise:

"What in the world is as strong as love? It's a heartbreaking pain."

"The value of a thousand gold coins that have been cherished since childhood is so great that an unfilial daughter will never be able to show filial piety. Father and mother, if you can only give me a red flower in this life, I hope you will give me a cypress in the next life."

The voice was as gentle as crying, with a long tail tone, like blood flowing from the bottom of the heart, which made Wu Chen's heart tremble.

Her steps were light and gentle, her skirt swayed slightly, and her sleeves flicked, like a spring breeze blowing through willows, so soft and enchanting.
He swung it again, but with a sense of determination, as if he wanted to throw his life away.

The audience was completely silent. Wu Chen stared at her, his eyes gradually darkening, as if he had been dragged into a dream by the spirit of the play.

At the last moment, she slowly knelt on the ground, her sleeves hanging down like blood flowing on the stage. The play ended and the gongs and drums fell silent.

Wu Chen's heart was beating like a drum.

Cai Zhengren looked at him and smiled faintly: "Do you understand? Follow me."

He turned and walked towards the study, and Wu Chen hurriedly followed.

Back in the study, Cai Zhengren sat back down at his mahogany desk, tapping his fingers on the yellowed gongche notation of The Peony Pavilion, his eyes filled with deep thought:
"Let me ask you, if Xu Wei were to practice 'Soul Separation', should the sleeves swing seven inches to the left or three inches to the right?"

Wu Chen was stunned, his mind frantically recalling the scene just now, and opened his mouth: "It should be a three-inch swing to the right."

"wrong!"

Cai Zhengren snorted and replied, "Wu Chen, you still haven't understood.

Although I am not a director, you should know that you are a film director, not a Kunqu opera artist. What's the point of you replying to me by swinging it seven inches to the left or three inches to the right?
Whether it's Kunqu Opera or Peking Opera, opera art is ultimately the 'skin' of your film, not its soul."

Wu Chen's eyes lit up slightly after hearing this. He seemed to understand, and seemed to understand too well.

He understood, and he finally knew what Xu Wei was dumping.

He understood it too well because he cared too much about "The Peony Pavilion" and forgot that he was a film director.

"Xu Wei wants to get rid of the silk rope her mother tied around her neck with the 'Guimendian Discipline'!"

Cai Zhengren nodded with satisfaction, "You are just as Dean Zhang said, your understanding is amazing."

"Tang Xianzu wrote about 'love that comes from nowhere, yet runs deep and unwavering.' But Xu Wei's hallucinations in your script sound more like Hollywood-style split personality!"

At this moment, Cai Zhengren's tone suddenly darkened again:
"Let me ask you again - when Du Liniang died for love, was that a willow branch or her own life in her hand?"

Wu Chen's breathing stopped.

Cai Zhengren pressed on, "What did Xu Wei see in the mirror? Was it her darkened self, or were they millions of Du Liniangs crushed to pieces by millennia of Confucian ethics?"

Wu Chen clenched his fists, and the story line that was originally vague in his mind suddenly became clear.

Suddenly, Cai Zhengren grabbed Wu Chen's hand and pressed it on the script of "The Peony Pavilion".

"The soul of Kunqu Opera is to make the audience willingly shed real tears even though they know everything on stage is fake."

His eyes were blazing like a torch:

"Your film needs to make Westerners understand that when Xu Wei ripped her costume, the wailing sound she let out wasn't just about the madness of an actress, but the six-hundred-year-old blood of love in Eastern civilization!"

Wu Chen's forehead was covered with sweat, and his heart beat faster as he thought about the fragmented passage in Xu Wei's mirror.

The mirror, originally filled with psychoanalytic symbols, suddenly twisted into the carved window lattice of "The Peony Pavilion"—

The reflection in the mirror is no longer a Nina-like black swan, but layers of Du Liniang's ghost:

Countless "Xu Wei"s from the Ming and Qing Dynasties, the Republic of China, and modern times who were strangled by ethical codes smiled sadly at him in the mirror.

"Mr. Cai, could you lend me a piece of paper and a pen? I want to write something."

Wu Chen's eyes were sharp as a torch. He stood up and bowed slightly.

"Just take it!"

Wu Chen picked up the pen on the table and wrote frantically on the blank space of his notebook:
"Final scene: Xu Wei kneels in the snow in her bloodstained costume, the stage behind her collapses, and the falling snow turns into peony petals—

This is not madness, but Du Liniang using her body to ask the world to return the tear that was not shed six hundred years ago.

Cai Zhengren glanced at the words and finally smiled.

"Ruzi is teachable! Remember, the soul of Kunqu Opera is not in the museum, but in the fire burning in the hearts of the living—"

"You, this fire, should transform Hollywood's psychological thriller 'art' into the 'Tao' of Eastern aesthetics!"

(End of this chapter)