Now, seeing his master filled with worry over the vacant actor, Wang Shiyun only wanted to help. But Hei Lao dared not entrust Wang Shiyun with such an important task—this poor pupil who could not even remember the line “It’s a real pity.” Neither could he forget that die-hard tiger. He knew that this boy with the big, black eyes was full of courage and generosity, but he could not accept Wang Shiyun’s offer.
Seeing Wang Shiyun thus rejected, Liang Xiangqian thought to himself, this guy has plenty of guts! He remembered that once Wang Shiyun had caught a dead fish from a cistern and secretly put it between the pages of a classmate’s textbook. When the little girl had opened the book with delight, she’d screamed in surprise and then fainted. By the time she came to, she found her crotch wet all over. Her parents wouldn’t let Wang Shiyun off easily, and his own father gave him a sound beating with the club.
Liang Xiangqian was immersed in his memories as he painted his face and put on his costume. So lost in thought was he that he didn’t notice his master scrutinizing his face. Like a drowning man who suddenly found a straw to clutch at, Hei Lao cried with delight, “You act the part!”
“Me?” Young Xiangqian was astonished and excited.
“Yes, you play Ma Hong,” ordered Hei Lao, looking at the innocent little boy.
“But I haven’t learned to play Ma Hong,” replied Xiangqian hesitantly.
“I’ll teach you right away.”
“Will that do?” asked Xiangqian, agreeably surprised.
“Sure,” Hei Lao replied decisively. “There’s little time left. Quick, put on your makeup and costume. Sing the lines after me.” He began applying greasepaint to Xiangqian’s face to make the base, then picked up a brush to paint his eyebrows, added a bit of white powder on the ridge of his nose, and then created a white beard of three linked sections with a part down the middle. Finally the master put a yellow robe on the boy. Thus Liang Xiangqian was quickly transformed into a queer old squire.
With that accomplished, Hei Lao sat down at the dressing table, took out his costume and supplies, and made himself up as the beautiful country girl Du Xiuying.
Meanwhile, Wang Shiyun, who had tried to relieve his master of worries, had been ridiculed and humiliated right to his face. He sat on the costume trunk feeling sad, sniffling and fixing his round eyes in envy on Liang Xiangqian, who was being prepared for the role. Wang Shiyun was filled with remorse and self-reproach: he was worthless, unable to lend a hand at a critical moment.
In contrast, Liang Xiangqian now felt rather pleased with himself, for the master not only thought highly of him and entrusted him with an important task, but, more importantly, he would take part in a complete series. Step by step he would play an increasingly important role and get to observe up close how master actors performed. Proud of himself, he laughed up his sleeve at Wang Shiyun, who was several years his elder.
Liang Xiangqian knew that his smirk was covered up by his white face paint and the white beard of three linked sections. Instead, Wang Shiyun might think he was showing sincere pity and consolation. As expected, Wang Shiyun rose to his feet from the trunk, came over to his friend, and said encouragingly, “Don’t feel sorry for me. You’ll do a great kindness to our master if you can play the role well.”
The drum sounded three times, and the noisy audience below the stage grew quiet; it was as if the wind had stopped blowing and the rain had ceased to fall. And then the complete series of Eight Garments formally began. Liang Xiangqian, hiding behind the back curtain, watched the performance intently, although he didn’t fully understand what was going on. Not until many years later would Liang Xiangqian, then an adult, really grasp the plot of the play.
Eight Garments tells the story of Zhang Chengyu, a young scholar. Zhang wants to go to the capital to sit for an imperial examination, but he is penniless and has no traveling expenses, so he goes to his uncle, his mother’s brother, to borrow some money. His uncle, who’s also hard up for money at the moment, tells his daughter Du Xiuying to pack up a parcel of garments for his nephew to pawn. As Du Xiuying feels love for her older cousin, she does him an additional favor: she puts ten silver coins from her private savings between the eight garments. Then, for fear that her cousin might not understand her secret gesture, she adds one embroidered shoe as a token of love.
Zhang Chengyu is so absorbed with his books that he doesn’t bother to look into the valuable parcel of eight garments. He goes straight to the pawnshop and willingly exchanges the parcel for only five silver coins.
Just then Bai Shigang, a burglar, sneaks into the house of Ma Hong, a rich and powerful person, and kills Ma Cheng, a servant, and steals some clothing. The family retainer yells to the squire for help.
Liang Xiangqian was still watching, entranced with the performance, when Hei Lao nudged him to be ready for his appearance. As if by magic, Master Hei Lao had transformed himself into Du Xiuying and looked as pretty as a fairy, with hairpin rings swaying on his head, large eyes, upwardly slanting eyebrows, and cherry lips. He was dressed in a blue satin coat with tassels and a red silk skirt with ribbons floating on both sides. Liang Xiangqian marveled at the transformation.
But although Hei Lao was dressed as a beautiful maiden, he remained himself, a stern teacher. He pulled up his long skirt and gave Liang Xiangqian earnest instructions, directing him in how to speak and act on the stage, seeing to it that the boy had learned all of his lines by heart. Satisfied, Hei Lao raised the back curtain and pushed the fully equipped Liang Xiangqian onto the stage. Liang Xiangqian, with his long robe and long beard, instantly became the character Ma Hong.
Appearing on the stage, Ma Hong gave his opening speech. “I wear a fur-lined jacket and boots; they all call me a fat turtle,” he said. He then demanded, “Why did you people call for me?”
“A burglar killed your servant Ma Cheng,” his retainer answered.
“Where was he killed?” Liang Xiangqian as Ma Hong inquired. When the squire arrived at the scene, he poured out endless grievances. “People, stay at home; disaster comes like a bolt from the blue,” said Ma Hong. Then he wrote an urgent report and asked the retainer to present it immediately to the county magistrate, Yang Lian.
While Liang Xiangqian was acting onstage, Hei Lao had his heart in his mouth. Having been an actor for twenty years, Hei Lao had experienced endless dangers, but he had never run a risk like letting a child act a completely new role on the spur of the moment. What if the novice failed? If he forgot a line, took a wrong step, or missed a cue, the performance would be ruined.
But as luck would have it, the pupil did not let his master down. He was so smart that he instantly learned by heart everything his master taught, and he acted perfectly on the stage. Hei Lao was thrilled; as the boy withdrew from the stage, the master hugged him closely in his arms.
Liang Xiangqian was then only seven years old and had just started school. The Taoist robe was far too large for him, and he was nothing like a bearded old squire—but he could remember everything as it was taught to him, and he acted perfectly. Even the master actors were amazed at his remarkable performance. They kept saying to Hei Lao, “That kid is really talented and quick-witted. He has the makings of a good actor. And you are a brilliant master. It is just as the saying goes: a great master brings up brilliant disciples.” Hearing their affirmations, Hei Lao was so wild with joy that he burst out laughing boisterously, forgetting that he was dressed as Du Xiuying, a delicate and pretty girl with a hapless fate.
Liang Xiangqian was as pleased with himself as his master was. Not because the other actors spoke highly of his intelligence; he was well aware of his own brightness and cleverness and had heard as much many times from the adult villagers and his schoolmates.
What’s more, Hei Lao, his master, had already affirmed the boy’s emerging talents. When Hei Lao played the young female, he often needed a supporting actor, so he had taught the boy to take on these minor roles. When he played Hu Fenglian in Hiding in the Boat, he taught the b
oy to act as Tian Yuchuan. In one scene of that play, Hu Fenglian has to awaken Tian Yuchuan, who’s sound asleep, but she’s embarrassed to pull him because, according to the rules of etiquette at that time, a man and a woman should not touch each other when giving or receiving something. So the woman makes the boat toss a little by rocking it gently in order to awaken him. Later, in class, when Liang Xiangqian’s desk mate was dozing off and he was afraid that the teacher would catch her napping, he rocked the desk a little to wake her up.
When Hei Lao played Bai Yunxian in The Broken Bridge, he taught the boy to act the part of Xu Xian. To incite the audience’s emotions, Hei Lao would add “my dear husband” to the end of every line he sang, dragging out the three words dramatically. Hei Lao asked Liang Xiangqian to do the same, adding “my dear wife” to every line and extending the three words as he sang in the character of Xu Xian.
Every time The Broken Bridge was performed, Hei Lao sang the line, “Since you went to the Golden Mountain Temple to burn incense, my dear husband . . .”
Then young Xiangqian would sing the next line: “Not a single night have I failed to wait for you till the moon rose over the western tower, my dear wife.”
Such antiphonal singing, the characters responding to each other, was filled with emotion and sounded sweet to the ear; the performance was always a great success.
Hei Lao often spoke highly of the boy and firmly believed that he would have a bright future. Whenever a play was put on in a nearby village, he would take the boy with him to act a small role in it.
So the praise from his master and the other actors now was not what thrilled the boy. What made him most happy about playing Ma Hong was that he could stay on the stage throughout the performance, watching the whole play at close range. He seemed to be a born theater fan. For as long as he could remember, whenever a play was put on in a neighboring village, he would eagerly go to watch, no matter how far away it was. And he never once missed a performance in his own village.
If a village was too poor to put on a full-length drama, a playlet was performed. The playlet of his hometown was a unique marionette show, locally known as The Monkey on Thread Show. He could even be entranced with this simple kind of show, taking the puppets for humans.
Once, watching The Return of Zhou Ren to His Master’s Mansion, he was completely absorbed in the plot although only puppet shadows appeared on the screen. The boy took it all in: Zhou Ren’s anguish and regret; the tragic sight of his wife’s suicide after her failure to kill the evil prime minister; Zhou Ren being grievously wronged, beaten brutally; and then the character kneeling before his wife’s grave, crying piteously and digging at the earth in order to join his dear wife in the same grave. It all so moved the young boy that he cried bitter tears, and his eyes remained red and swollen till the next day.
Later, a Pu opera troupe of Shaanxi Province came to Liang Xiangqian’s hometown, but he had no money to buy a ticket. He got glazed printing paper, cut it to the size of a ticket, drew lines on it, and copied the words from a real ticket. Then, every day while the audiences were busy entering the theater, he joined the crowd, held the fake ticket in his palm, and waved it in front of the ticket collector before sneaking into the theater.
When Liang Xiangqian watched the play about a cowherd and a girl weaver, he was so moved by the wonderful story that his eyes secretly welled up. And when he saw the play Song Jiang’s Third Attack on the Zhu Family Manor, he leapt for joy when the father and sons of the Zhu family were badly defeated by the greenwood heroes.
One day, however, Liang Xiangqian was late for the theater, arriving after the theatergoers had all entered. He repeated his usual trick of waving a fake ticket—but this time he was caught on the spot and driven away by the ticket collector. Since he couldn’t enter the theater to watch the play Cutting through the Hill to Save His Mother, the boy sat under a tree to listen to the aria and the melody from the musical instruments, picturing the plays he had seen over the past two days.
Where had the girl weaver come from when she took a bath by the Dragonhead Spring? And where did the clamorous springwater come from? The five warriors of the Zhu family had been either pierced through with a sword or hacked to death in the face with a chopper; how did the blade enter into the chest, and then how did the blade emerge from the back? And again, how did the chopper stick to the face and not fall down? He remained perplexed about these intriguing questions.
But now Liang Xiangqian was playing the squire, and he was overjoyed that he could stay on the stage to see through all the secrets and know how the make-believe suicide was committed.
The evolution of the play’s story continued. It turns out that Bai Shigang, the burglar and murderer, is an office attendant from the county headquarters who likes to indulge in excessive drinking and gambling in his spare time. When he grows short of money, he commits the heinous crime. Then he takes advantage of the fact that Zhang Chengyu, the young scholar, has pawned his valuable parcel for less money than it was worth. Bai Shigang brings a false charge against the scholar and incites Ma Hong to take the stand. Then Du Xiuying, the scholar’s cousin, together with her father and aunt, come to the county headquarters, beating the drum in an appeal to redress the wrong. Yang Lian, the county magistrate, has to pass judgment on the case again.
Backstage, Liang Xiangqian was busily reviewing the spoken parts and librettos Hei Lao had just taught him. This time there was much more to memorize. Some lines were to be spoken, and others sung. For fear of forgetting any and thus spoiling the whole thing, the boy sat on the costume trunk repeatedly reciting the words to himself. Suddenly, the supervisor called for the appearance of Ma Hong onstage. Hearing the call, Liang Xiangqian jumped off the trunk, donned the squire’s cap and the long white beard, picked up the yellow robe, and ran to the stage in fear and trepidation.
Transformed into Ma Hong, the boy sang to the county magistrate, “I come up to make a deep bow. I’m summoned to Your Honor’s presence, but why?”
There appeared here a long section of responsive singing as each character present in the courtroom was interrogated by the county magistrate. Each character gave his or her account of the case, raised questions, explained, and bore witness. They sang one after another in a quick tempo, closely linked together. Liang Xiangqian, as Ma Hong, was among the antiphonal singers. Finally, Hei Lao, playing Du Xiuying, interrogated in anger.
“Who sewed the eight garments? And who made the embroidered shoe?”
Liang Xiangqian responded at once by singing, “The eight garments my daughter sewed, and the embroidered shoe my daughter made.”
Yang Lian, the county magistrate, continued to inquire. “Tell me your daughter’s name.”
“My daughter is Ma Qunying,” Liang Xiangqian responded in song.
An urgent order was issued by the magistrate to bring Ma Qunying there at once. Acting on the instructions of her father to give false evidence, Ma Qunying said, “The eight garments were sewn by me, and so was the embroidered shoe.”
Du Xiuying, who had in fact made the garments and the shoe, was finding it hard to defend herself. Faced with the uproarious mocking laughter of the official runners and the despotic power of the county magistrate, she looked up to heaven resignedly and sighed heavily, singing, “Peals of laughter from the runners make my face turn red with embarrassment. With a kitchen knife in my hand, I’ll kill myself to relieve my misery.” Then, overcome with shame and grief, Du Xiuying cut her own throat.
Liang Xiangqian was fascinated by the tricks of performance. Hei Lao, as Du Xiuying, flapped the ground with the shining kitchen knife in his right hand; at the same time, with his left hand, he suddenly removed his white shawl and tossed it into the air. The audience thought it was the knife, not the shawl, that was tossed into the air, so the audience’s attention was diverted to the movement in the air. Hei Lao seized the chance to put the knife in his right hand on his neck, and at that very moment, Wang Shiyun, who played a county runner, spurte
d a mouthful of red water onto Hei Lao’s neck. Thus blood sprayed out, the charming young maiden was covered in blood, and all the audience cried out in alarm at once.
Liang Xiangqian saw with his own eyes, close-up, the ins and outs of all the tricks; he was impressed and dismayed at the same time. As an insider, he admired the perfect performance of the tricks and the cleverness of turning sleight of hand into reality. And as a spectator, he was dismayed at the result of the tricks and the sudden ruin of an innocent girl by a falsehood. Thinking of himself as the squire who’d told lies and caused the maiden’s death, he was guilt stricken and not quite himself, both in his heart and in his body.
Seeing Wang Shiyun standing by in a black mandarin jacket, playing a county runner, Liang Xiangqian envied that role. The runner’s act of spurting a mouthful of red water on Du Xiuying seemed to show his sympathy for the poor girl. Moreover, Liang Xiangqian felt empathy for his friend’s frustration at being denied the speaking part; the older boy had suffered an unjust grievance, just like Du Xiuying.
Liang Xiangqian began to feel jealous of Wang Shiyun. How lucky he was to play a county runner, just standing by as Du Xiuying cut her own throat, even spurting a mouthful of red water on her neck, and still getting to see the ins and outs of the theater tricks. How enjoyable! Wang Shiyun had gained the upper hand after all. Liang Xiangqian felt a strong sense of loss.
The story of the play continued. Because of Ma Hong’s false testimony, the scholar was beaten to death by Bai Shigang, and the girl committed suicide, which startled the judge in the Palace of Hell. Determined to review and redress all unjust, false, and mishandled cases for the ghosts of wronged persons, the wise judge in the netherworld requested that the King of Hell conduct a new trial. The master actor who played the King of Hell was said to be at his best when displaying his tusks; this stunt was protected by patent, to be performed only on the stage but never revealed elsewhere.
Old Land, New Tales: Twenty Short Stories by Writers of the Shaanxi Region in China Page 23