Teacher Wang was indeed a good talker, and as a junior disciple of Lin Yang, he knew how to play the crowd. Teacher Wang showed a hint of pride and looked at Zhang Yue with a cheerful expression, almost seeking sympathy. Recently, Lin Yang had been having a tough time; Teacher Wang wanted to stand with his senior but didn’t want to repeat past mistakes, so he chose an angle he felt was good.
Who knew that the next moment, Zhang Yue would change his demeanor, “What’s it to you? Did I throw shade at you? If he brings it on stage, it’s a roast, and you all are poking at him; why don’t you think about how to improve your own artistic skills instead of causing drama? Did you memorize your lines this morning??”
Teacher Wang: “…??? The venue was in an uproar, and the audience was reaching a climax. What was going on?! Zhang Yue was defending Qi Shejiang!
Had they missed some plot twist? Was it love or hate, or did Zhang Yue’s explosive temper just rage against crosstalk feuds, or… Or had Lin Yang’s antics truly been so captivating that even the junior disciples were caught up and overshadowed by his aura?! The host was momentarily shocked, then quickly thought, this could be a highlight moment. Quickly, he handed the microphone to Teacher Wang, trying to smooth things over: “I believe Teacher Wang definitely memorized his lines this morning?” Teacher Wang: “……………………” Memorized? Memorized what at all?! At almost the same time, Qi Shejiang was also at the performing arts stage, preparing for the recording of the small new year’s eve show.
The performing arts show lasted about five to six hours when aired, and there had been rehearsals before; however, with so many people, it dragged on too long, and some guests might have even rescheduled their rehearsals. Qi Shejiang didn’t get to see all the guests every time. For example, Mo Gan, he was only meeting with him for the first time tonight.
The two had long shared a spiritual connection; Qi Shejiang had learned Mo Gan’s singing segments, and Mo Gan had also seen Qi Shejiang’s imitations and praised him. This praise was not just ordinary praise; for Qi Shejiang at that time, given his situation, it was quite beneficial.
“Teacher Mo,” Qi Shejiang greeted respectfully, “I should have visited you long ago.
“Qi Shejiang, your performance will attract not just enthusiasts but also a broader audience eager to see what you bring to the stage.” Mo Gan continued, encouragingly.
Qi Shejiang felt a wave of reassurance wash over him from Mo Gan’s words, boosting his enthusiasm for the performance ahead.
Zeng Wen and Meng Jingyuan also arrived, both having crosstalk programs to perform. They were acquainted with Mo Gan since they were all part of the folk arts community, albeit in different disciplines.
As the audience began to enter the venue, the slots for the folk arts stage gala included family members, longtime viewers, and those gathered through online recruitment. This year’s online recruitment was particularly coveted as everyone wanted to see Qi Shejiang. Due to the news surrounding him, the attention for this gala had significantly increased.
However, most attendees were still folk art enthusiasts. They were curious about Qi Shejiang’s performance featuring the zidi shu (the disciple’s book). Over the thousands of years of Huaxia culture, countless types of folk arts have been passed down, many of which have been lost. When an art form becomes extinct, it means it has reached the end of its development, suggesting that the people have lost interest.
Zidi shu has depth and connotation; formally speaking, it is too difficult to learn, hence it has gradually evolved and faded away.
From the singing segment of “He Bi Xi Xiang,” it can indeed be called melodious, but does it possess enough charm, like Jingyun Dagu, Peking Opera, or Kunqu Opera, that endures over time and continues to captivate people today?
That, I suppose, everyone should judge for themselves.
In theory, tonight, Qi Shejiang would present the essence of zidi shu, and they awaited it with anticipation.
…
For his performance costume, Qi Shejiang was wearing a bright red embroidered bird-patterned changshan, creating a festive atmosphere suitable for the Spring Festival. It also highlighted his rosy lips and white teeth. When he stood backstage, people passing by often turned their heads to look.
The outfit was similar to what one would wear for crosstalk. After all, both zidi shu and crosstalk historically haven’t had fixed performance costumes, unlike traditional operas. As long as the performer dressed formally, it was fine. According to his own habits, he chose the changshan over a suit.
“Qunying Huicui” (Gathering of Heroes) was in the second act, and when it came to Qi Shejiang’s segment, the director signaled, and dozens of people, including dancers, took the stage.
The stage setting was as festive as always, and when the music started, a renowned Jingyun Dagu artist wearing a red-embroidered qipao stepped forward to play the large drum while singing the famous section “Feng Yu Tong Zhou.”
Then, a teacher who sang Pingtan came to the center of the stage, singing delicately with pipa accompaniment, showcasing southern charm that was completely different from the large drum.
The big names took turns singing; unlike other galas, there was absolutely no lip-syncing at the folk arts stage.
The applause from the audience was incessant. For folk art enthusiasts, this was genuinely a feast for the senses.
The final performer was Qi Shejiang.
—It wasn’t considered a serious major act; he was simply the last to perform in the group singing.
As the last to start singing, the folk arts stage likely wanted to promote the newly recognized intangible cultural heritage of zidi shu, but many were concerned whether Qi Shejiang and his zidi shu could stand up to the performances of so many esteemed masters before him.
Qi Shejiang stood center stage with a sanxian in hand, and the audience clapped in his direction.
He nodded slightly, composed in demeanor, his left hand pressing the strings while his right hand played in a fluid, rapid picking motion, the rhythm produced resembling rolling pearls, occasionally employing three-finger or five-finger techniques.
Even in this introduction, before the lyrics emerged, those experienced in the art were already nodding in approval.
Good strings, good finger picking.
Finger picking was rare with sanxian accompaniment; it was originally a technique of the pipa, and mastering such finger picking ability required both hard work and talent.
In Qi Shejiang’s performance today, the technique would be applied multiple times. He managed a style that featured the attractive characteristics of the pipa while entirely retaining the essence of the sanxian, his fingers alternating quickly over the strings in a smooth, continuous motion—truly enjoyable to hear.
In preparation for today’s performance, Qi Shejiang had deliberated for a long time before selecting the segment “Ten Questions and Answers” from the zidi shu.
“Ten Questions and Answers” spans twenty-two chapters, telling the story of familiar characters from the Three Kingdoms—the very reason Qi Shejiang chose it.
It was said that when Guan Yu was detained by Cao Cao, he sent Diao Chan to him. If Diao Chan failed to answer well, he would seize the opportunity to kill her. These questions ranged from astronomy to geography, containing many difficult inquiries, all with a regular pattern, from one to ten. In the end, Diao Chan responded fluently to the difficult problems posed by Guan Yu.
