He turned his head and saw his grandfather’s expression was off, staring intently downwards. Just as he was about to speak again, his grandfather slapped his face with his hand and said, “Shut up!” Until Qi Shejiang finished those four lines of singing, Liu Quanhai finally let out a long-held breath, closing his eyes with an exceedingly complicated expression. The young man tentatively said, “Grandpa…?” Liu Quanhai slowly opened his eyes and glanced at him. “Can’t really blame you; even I can hardly believe that this act could still be performed. If I’m not mistaken, the style Qi Shejiang is singing isn’t from any known genre of big drum but is rather zidi shu.” The young man looked as though he had seen a ghost: “Zi, zidi shu? You must be joking; hasn’t zidi shu been lost for over a hundred years?!”
Chapter Five Zidi shu is an art that has already died; only a few texts remain, and its performance style and singing technique have long been lost. However, how fortunate it is that Liu Quanhai had once heard a few segments sung by the highest-ranking elder in the current xiangsheng world, the old Meng.
