Chapter 6 – The Farewell My Concubine

Don’t disparage me like this.

A third of desperation seeped from his calm tone with barely contained tremors that conveyed the anguish behind every word. The renowned actor sitting in front of the mirror was radiant; his melancholy whispers as he moved gently evoked heartache, eliciting a profound sympathy from the onlookers.

The entire room was in silence.

For a moment, they forgot that Shen Fubai was a top celebrity. Watching his and Jiang Heng’s scenes, they felt as if they were thrown back in time; this dressing room felt like the backstage of an ancient theater. Actors—Yu Tang, a legendary performer, and Chu Yu, a military officer—were portrayed, entangled in a secretive love. The audience members, merely observers, witnessed the dramatized passion, grief, and zeal, unable to respond beyond shared agony and ecstasy.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

Three consecutive claps startled most of those lost in reverie. They were indeed dreaming—a lavish dream of a bygone era unleashed by the direction. It wasn’t until Director Xu’s applause that everyone returned to reality.

A startling truth dawned on them—they had been fully absorbed in the play.

Indeed, this was remarkable.

Without sets or lighting, armed solely with their lines and physical movements, these two actors transported their audience into their world—their infectious enthusiasm was boundless!

Especially since Jiang, the award-winning actor, no one was surprised that he could slip into a role instantly, but in the previous scenes, it was Shen Fubai who led the performance. Jiang Heng merely complemented him.

What did this signify? Shen Fubai was undeniably an impressive actor. His performance just now dragged everyone into the play, a sign of his success.

Though it could potentially have been because he was acting alongside Jiang, an exceptional actor who can guide the scene and inspire the co-star’s potential. Still, that was testament enough to the fact that Shen Fubai was no mere pretty face.

This trial was genuinely remarkable, stunning even demanding Director Xu into applause. He regretted why it was an impromptu scene and not officially filmed—for if Shen Fubai maintained this performance level… the series’ ratings and word-of-mouth would undoubtedly soar!

“Director Xu,” Shen Fubai, breaking out of character instantly, stood up and nodded a greeting to Director Xu.

“Sit, sit down, your makeup is smudged.” Director Xu was always kind to talented individuals, only stern during rehearsals, “Your earlier performance was fantastic. Have you never acted before?”

Shen Fubai’s eye makeup had faded slightly due to the dampness in his eyes from acting, as a makeup artist was reapplying it.

“No, this is my first attempt,” Shen Fubai confessed, “I apologize for this.” He glanced at Jiang Heng secretly, “And thank you for your support, Mr. Jiang. I would not have been able to act like this if it weren’t for you…”

“This can’t be mocked, you’ve opened my eyes,” Director Xu remarked joyfully, “Alright, we will take some dressed photos right away. Let’s start with some solo ones, then take a few together with Little Jiang. When we select the best two to release, one will be individual; one will be together.”

“Pyracantha (a type of dogwood)” was filmed in reverse chronology, with Shen Fubai and Jiang Heng’s earlier improvisation being the first scene. The renowned actor, after a long career, and the victorious general returning from war, were where the current script left off. Misguidedly, the actor presumed the general was to be married, and intended to cut ties with him.

But when the real shooting began, the timeline started years earlier-

Jinling, the ancient capital, remained a hub for elaborate pleasures during the Republic of China era. In the society of history’s elite, two categories of people enjoyed the most attention from literati and writers: courtesans, and actors. They were considered part of a despised profession, yet always admired and revered by the upper echelons of society.

Regardless, be it courtesans or actors, they often entered these professions due to humble or desperate circumstances. Yu Tang possessed a striking face and an enchanting voice from a young age, but he was born into poverty, sold to an opera troupe by his parents. Fortunately, he was a male; if he was female, he would have been taken to a brothel.

After every performance Yu Tang commenced, there was no available seat, as thousands clamored to watch his exceptional talent. No one would have imagined that he was once sold for a few copper coins, not worth two taels of silver, now earning high praise.

Yu Tang grappled with immense challenges in his troupe, practicing singing from dawn, walking on stilts. One moment of laziness meant a heavy beating. Even his talent for performing classics was considered merely a monetization tool by the troupe leader. For the rest of his life, he would be bound to the constellation of southeastern drama.

He wasn’t passionate about performing, but the mask he wore produced a face forever in play. His dulcet eyes gazed in wistful sentiment whenever he encountered his audience, then abruptly fell into silence.

Caught within the carnival, his spirit hovered beyond the world’s borders. That was until he met Chu Yu, the second young master of the illustrious Chu family, performing “The Farewell My Concubine,” when he deeply internalized the role.

The elder on a high shelf regarded Yu Tang finishing the play “The Farewell My Concubine.” The finale featured Yu Tang’s character, Consort Yu, committing suicide with her sword. The indistinct layers of clothing elegantly twirled, while the lacquered eyes sparkled with glistening tears. An insatiable itch from within Chu Yu drove him, prompting him to strip away the masquerading, hunting the decontaminated persona underneath the elaborately decorated faceplate.

Chu Yu and Yu Tang met during their youth. Chu Yu was the force behind his success, propelling him to become Jinling’s celebrated actor. The city was left empty whenever Yu Tang performed. Chu Yu had envisioned rescuing Yu Tang from his troupe, but it sparked tremendous opposition from the Chu clan.

Father had said, “You’ve abandoned your privileges as Chu’s heir, showering a mere actor with fortune. Being Chu’s heir, you throwing extravagant amounts of gold is understandable, but taking him outside the walls? My family’s honor is at stake! I pledge that if you do, I’ll execute him!”

Eldest brother had said, “Second brother, courtesans are as frigid as statues, don’t fall in love! Moreover, being two men, you can’t make this normal, in the end, you’ll have to find a woman of same status as your wife.”

With huge sway to protect Yu Tang, Chu Yu decided to embark on a military career.

The day Chu Yu departed, Yu Tang meticulously buttoned his shirt, smiling gently, “The young master, I’ll wait for your return. By the time you return, you will be a general.”

Chu Yu chuckled softly, “I shall marry you, my despairing Consort Yu.”

Chu Yu to Yu Tang, was a profound friend, a gracious benefactor. It was an overwhelming immersion beyond reality—never forgetting a met chance in impersonations, this was his first genuine experience of feelings emerging from backstage colors.

For Chu Yu, Yu Tang, was his true purpose.

Ducking into the studio, Shen Fubai was surrounded by many spectators.

Ordinarily, with so many eyes on him, Shen Fubai remained unaffected, spontaneously striking poses without hesitation. Despite being part of idol industry, he had adorned the covers of several leading magazines, with exquisitely enchanting photographs; he was the kind of face relishing in photographers’ delight.

The fashion industry had repeatedly requested Shen Fubai relinquish his popularity to model. The 180 cm height, the perfect body proportion, the exotically beautiful face, the incomparable artistic sense, and the capability to reignite a trend with any clothes choice… It seemed absurd that he wasn’t a model already!

However, Shen Fubai persistently refused, stating lack of interest as primary reason.

Shen Fubai’s public persona seemed aloof, blind to the fact, products of his company’s marketing.

Initially, the team had envisioned him as a disciplined young man, considering he was merely sixteen back then. Even with his graces, they couldn’t depict him as a seductive figure, disregarding core socialist values—cultivating the thriving spirit of teens.

Post-Shen Fubai throwing a shoulder break to a perverted male who sneered at him three meters away and his blunt tongue disabling media’s public speaking… best to remain aloof, as talking would only complicate matters.

The presently ice-cold Shen Fubai was a bit anxious.

Because Heng Heng was watching him closely.

Moreover, they would soon take photos together.

This was incredibly thrilling!!

Despite Shen Fubai’s singing and dancing being catastrophically disastrous within the industry, he had true class in posing for still art photography, which explains fashion’s persistent attempts to recruit him.

The cameraman chipped in, and Xiaobai’s concentrated on Jiang Heng’s influence diminished instantly. His eyes changed with a riveting shift.

Shooting Yu Tang’s dressed photograph was unlike his previous fashion magazine covers. For one, their temperament had to vary. Movements couldn’t involve excessive fancy tricks, like hands over waist, blowing a kiss, and crossing the legs. All of which were worthless.

The photography equipment was minimalistic, including a paper fan and a sword—a cameraman providing direction, or Shen Fubai concocting actions at will.

The cameraman didn’t need to direct, as Shen Fubai’s expressions, grimaces, every frame was a work of art. Every gesture he made, whether with a charming smile while plucking petals, or turning his gaze looking downward, embraced a myriad of gracefulness. The cameraman frantically clicked, instantly snapping several photos in delight, eventually feeling very satisfied within.

One out of many had to be chosen for a single snaps photo, what a shame. The quality of each snapshot far exceeded his past efforts.

Director Xu murmured in the view screen, “How do I select…”

It was vexing indeed.

Jiang Heng proposed suddenly, “Uncle Xu, since Chu Yu’s introduction to Yu Tang was “The Farewell My Concubine,” and Consort Yu’s fate is etched in the final scene, Yu Tang’s grim end involves a sword… let’s use that scene for the pre-designed portrait.”

Director Xu’s eyes sparkled, “That’s correct! Old Hu—” Director Xu planned on calling the cameraman to make Shen Fubai position. The moment he just took a shot, he grabbed the prop sword, “Teacher, I believe the suicide scene by Consort Yu fits well, might as well pose for another photograph?”

Turned out to be the same vision Jiang Heng proceeded to invite.

The final output shocked the cameraman as he exclaimed, “Exquisite!”

A cameraman’s ultimate joy was capturing a work surpassing own satisfaction. And the one shot earlier was indeed amongst the best creations spanning his extensive career.

Director Xu examined a snippet and froze, slamming his decision, “It’s this one!” No editing needed, it was ingeniously astonishing. He envisioned netizens holding apprehensions about Shen Fubai acting as Yu Tang instantly turning sides once the photo was released.

It was none other than Consort Yu, the intended vision of Yu Tang!

Contrary to other’s surprise, Jiang Heng’s reaction was less pronounced, merely smiling softly at the photograph he glanced earlier, as a descent of drooping eyelashes concealed the warmth within his gaze.

Naturally, he wasn’t surprised.

Shen Fubai’s greatness was always known to him.