Liu Quanhai told Boss Wu about this and asked him to introduce him, which he naturally obliged, bringing Liu Quanhai and his grandson to the exit stage. After a song finished, as the audience was exceptionally enthusiastic, Xia Yiwei even stayed to interact with them. Qi Shejiang went offstage first, and as soon as he stepped out of the exit, he ran into Boss Wu bringing Liu Quanhai. Liu Quanhai hadn’t been on television for a long time, so Qi Shejiang didn’t recognize him. Fortunately, Boss Wu introduced him, “Jesse, this is Liu Lao; he wants to have a chat with you, let’s go this way.” Liu Quanhai didn’t beat around the bush and smiled, saying, “Young friend, what you sang on stage just now was zidi shu, wasn’t it?” Even eighty years ago, not many could recognize zidi shu, and upon realizing someone understood it, Qi Shejiang was delighted and immediately admitted, “Yes.” Liu Quanhai confirmed his thoughts and, relieved, felt even more excited. “Zidi shu has been lost for many years; no one has performed it for a long time. At your young age, where did you learn it from—is it a family secret? How much has been passed down?” Qi Shejiang could not reveal the true identity of his teacher; otherwise, people would likely think he was crazy. This isn’t like the past where information could be checked easily; a single slip could expose him. He pondered for a moment and then said, “When I was living in Country Y, I learned from a Chinese elder I met by chance.”
My teacher had lived in Country Y for several generations, had no children, and has now passed away. He taught me most of the Western City Tunes, and I can sing about a hundred segments.
Liu Quanhai truly sighed, “So that’s how it is; everyone believes that zidi shu has been lost, but who would have thought there are still hidden gems overseas!”
They had just chatted a little, and Xia Yiwei came offstage as well. Unlike Qi Shejiang, Liu Quanhai’s face was well-known backstage at various evening parties, and upon seeing her, he immediately recognized her.
