When Qi Shejiang opened his mouth, he vividly portrayed three to five roles, including a male character playing a female role, which he brought to life exceptionally well.
The story unfolded with humor intertwined, and the absurd yet comedic details tightened the audience’s emotions, leading to a continuous half-hour of storytelling without them realizing it.
And this wasn’t even the end! This was a medium-length monologue divided into three sections.
Today, he certainly wouldn’t finish the entire piece, and just as the story reached the part where the county official insisted on sharing the bed with his wife, the scoundrel disguised as the wife panicked, shouting while peeling off her clothes: ‘If you have the skills, come on!’
I’m going to make sure you don’t survive today!’
“Smack!” Qi Shejiang clapped a wooden board, signaling the end.
The audience, immersed in the story, burst into hearty laughter, realizing it had abruptly ended, leaving them somewhat unsatisfied—this story wasn’t finished!
The crowd erupted into enthusiastic applause, and Qi Shejiang humbly bowed before stepping off the stage.
… Inside the private booth.
Liu Quanhai listened with a smile; he had never heard this text before, and it seemed to be the unique craft of that teacher Qi Shejiang. He guessed that it must be an old artist who had traveled far overseas. He wondered how many more “lost” segments Qi Shejiang might know. If that were the case, even if his lineage were unclear, these skills would greatly benefit the inheritance of crosstalk, and he certainly had to befriend him. Moreover, regarding Qi Shejiang’s abilities, Liu Quanhai was even more amazed; his skills were solid and his style was proper!
As for Qi Shejiang, his solo performance was entirely of an old style, with almost no popular segments. He relied solely on his own skills to capture the audience’s attention, control the rhythm, and make people laugh.
Every word and sentence seemed random, but in fact, they were filled with skill.
Solo crosstalk especially emphasizes an actor’s ability to tell stories and shape characters; if the story isn’t good, the punchlines won’t land. The story has to be funny while also being acceptable to the audience.
Of course, because of the old style, he couldn’t quite discern its lineage; he only felt it resembled that of a few senior predecessors.
Beside him, Xia Yiwei was silent. She had laughed along just now, immersed in the story, but after laughing, she fell into thought.
“Ms. Xia, you don’t quite agree with the child performing crosstalk?” Liu Quanhai asked.
Xia Yiwei woke up from her daze and nodded blankly, “It’s not that; it’s just…” Liu Quanhai smiled lightly, “It’s just that you feel it seems unambitious compared to acting and singing. Am I right?” “I didn’t mean that,” Xia Yiwei quickly replied, “Teacher Liu, I just want what’s best for my child. I didn’t mean to offend, but your profession is indeed tough. I brought him here today just to let him see backstage.” “I know, the hearts of parents are always pitiful,” Liu Quanhai sighed, “but Jesse is indeed cut out for this. He clearly shows potential. Still, as the last descendant from a traditional background, this isn’t solely our crosstalk business, but I genuinely care. I hope you can give him a chance; at the very least, let him try. If worst comes to worst, he could do something like a trifecta—being a tri-form artist in film, song, and crosstalk. What do you think?” Xia Yiwei couldn’t help but chuckle, “What Teacher Liu says makes sense.” In the end, she was persuaded by Qi Shejiang’s performance and was reluctant to give up on her child. That night, Liu Quanhai exchanged contact information with Qi Shejiang. He greatly admired Qi Shejiang, and having a guide like him was also very important for Qi Shejiang.
Xia Yiwei and Qi Shejiang received an enthusiastic response when they took the stage; there was no stopping it. Some audience members even took photos and short videos, which circulated online. However, when Qi Shejiang performed his solo, the venue fell silent. Once drawn in by him, the audience was too enraptured to think about secretly filming. The audience members present that night complained. Qi Shejiang only performed a segment but didn’t finish the story; where were they supposed to find the ending? Even the all-powerful internet couldn’t dig it up. Yet to say this outright, given Qi Shejiang’s previous reputation, who would believe he could captivate people with storytelling? Saying he was simply too good-looking and drew in fans would sound more credible! Ultimately, it didn’t stir much of a reaction. In fact, this time Qi Shejiang also played the sanxian; many people didn’t understand its level. —Seeing this scenario, could it be that Qi Shejiang was going to be a singer next? Would he be using his face to sing? Some tagged Zhang Yue, urging him to come and evaluate, since the earliest brilliant quotes about Qi Shejiang had come from him. Zhang Yue, feeling bored, saw the tag while scrolling through Weibo and immediately remembered meeting Qi Shejiang at Pineapple Media.
At that time, he had been quite surprised that the person he mocked had actually come to talk to him. Zhang Yue felt hesitant inside; however, Qi Shejiang had smiled at him sincerely, and it was quite charming, enough to make him embarrassed to maintain his aloof, acerbic persona. Who would have guessed that after he finally decided to engage with Qi Shejiang, Qi Shejiang ended up putting him on the spot! Zhang Yue, being petty, first retweeted on Weibo, saying, “Haven’t heard it yet. Looks really good.” The comments were filled with laughter: they knew Zhang Yue wouldn’t let them down.
Zhang Yue hadn’t heard the concert version beforehand, but this time, he casually clicked the video. The performance began with a segment on the sanxian, and Zhang Yue was taken aback. Although he didn’t understand the sanxian, music was universal, and he could tell good from bad. Moreover, halfway through, Qi Shejiang even mimicked the sound of geese using the strings! With that level, it was far superior to his own piano skills! Following that, Qi Shejiang also sang a piece of folk arts; the resonance, the breath… Zhang Yue: “???” No, this wasn’t the Qi Shejiang he knew! Zhang Yue rewound the video, listening to “No Need for the West Chamber” again, twice, three times…
There was no faking in his playing or singing at this live performance; Xia Yiwei might have made a mistake, but Qi Shejiang certainly hadn’t! Damn, he actually sang really well. This Qi Shejiang must be something else; how could there be such a big difference between singing and performing folk artistically? With that ability, why wasn’t he performing on shows? Now, he would surely feel awkward about his Weibo! Speaking of Weibo, Zhang Yue found a user certified as a string artist from a certain provincial folk art troupe named “Old Bai Not White” passionately commenting: “Words can’t describe my feelings! Great strings! The adaptions are wonderful! The clever variations in the chorus section’s string technique are superb, conveying emotions through sound!” Zhang Yue: “…………”
He hasn’t heard the original version, so he adapted it? “Old Zhang, it’s time to eat.” The band’s drummer poked his head in, urging Zhang Yue to eat. Forget it, let’s eat first. Zhang Yue put down his tablet and lazily walked to the living room, humming a tune as he opened the takeout. …X, Qi Shejiang is really annoying!
Chapter Seven That day after Liu Quan Hai went back, the next day he called the Meng family, wanting to tell Old Mr.
Meng that he had discovered the heir to the Zi Di Shu. The old man was also very concerned about the inheritance of arts culture, not just cross talk.
