6kv Chapter 150: The Curtain Rises
Chapter 150: The Curtain Rises
Chapter 151: The Curtain Rises
The sky in Tianjin is like frozen pork hanging under the eaves in the dead of winter—cold and hard, with an unyielding bluish-gray hue.
The wind on the Haihe River, carrying the smoke from burning coal in the concessions and the muddy smell of the docks, blew wildly along the wide asphalt roads of the French Concession.
The plane trees along the roadside hadn't even had a chance to sprout a few new leaves before the sudden cold snap made them shiver.
The back door of the Chinese Theatre was ten times colder than the wind.
"Clang!"
A heavy iron lock was roughly hung on the large red lacquered wooden door that was decorated with door gods.
"It's sealed off by the Public Works Department. This theater doesn't meet safety standards, has hidden dangers in its fire-fighting facilities, and poses a significant fire risk."
""
A Chinese patrolman, dressed in a black uniform from the French Concession and carrying a baton, with a large belly, was shouting at Manager Zhao on the steps, spitting as he spoke.
"Starting today, the business will be suspended for rectification. It will only reopen when the rectification is completed and the business is deemed acceptable."
Manager Zhao's round face was as white as a sheet of Xuan paper, and beads of sweat dripped down his forehead and down his eyebrows, soaking the back of his expensive Hangzhou silk robe.
"Chief Zhang, Master Zhang! Please have mercy! Tomorrow is the day of the Autumn Grand Performance, and tickets are being sold for ten silver dollars each on the black market. All eyes in Tianjin are on this!"
Manager Zhao scrambled forward, skillfully slipping two small, golden croakers from his sleeve, intending to stuff them into the patrolman's hand.
"Please be lenient. This theater was just inspected for fire safety last month. They even sealed up a mouse hole. What fire hazard could there be?"
"Go! Go! Go."
The patrol chief, who was usually greedy for money, acted as if he had seen a ghost today. He pushed away Manager Zhao's hand as if he were avoiding a plague god, lowered his voice, and gritted his teeth.
"Old Zhao, don't burn my hand with this thing."
"This seal was personally issued by the higher-ups, and the Japanese consulate also sent a message. To put it bluntly, they're keeping that living god from Beiping hanging inside."
"The deadline is five days."
"For these five days, not even a fly is allowed to get in. Your grand performance is to be postponed obediently. Dare to tear off the seal? The French Concession's foreign gun corps is parked right around the corner!"
With that, the patrol chief waved his hand and led several constables away, leaving behind only a white seal with black characters, which rattled in the Haihe River wind.
The seal, bearing the bright red stamp of the Municipal Council, was like a resounding slap across the face of the Qingyun Class.
National Hotel, third floor.
This should have been a crucial time for intense preparations for the grand performance, but the entire corridor was filled with a deathly silence.
"Bang."
Lu Feng slammed his fist into the carved wall panel in the corridor, causing the Western-style wall lamps on the wall to shake violently. Blood instantly seeped from his knuckles, but he seemed not to feel any pain.
"This is outrageous! These foreign devils and traitors are clearly afraid of our master. They don't dare to fight on stage with real swords and spears, so they resort to these despicable and underhanded tricks."
The wolf cub's eyes were bloodshot, like a wild beast trapped in a cage, ready to devour anyone it could.
Shunzi squatted in the corner, his hands tightly covering his head. The towering man was now breathing heavily with suppressed urges.
"Five days—a five-day delay. They're going to leave us to rot on the Tianjin stage!"
Zhou Daikui sat on the sofa, his pipe long since extinguished. His hands trembled as he unfolded the newspapers he had just bought from the street. The bold, black characters were like dull knives cutting into the old man's flesh.
-
Ta Kung Pao, Yong Pao, and the Chinese edition of The Times —
The major newspapers, which usually don't get along, all seemed to have agreed to do the same thing today, with their front pages and headlines all sharing the same theme.
[A shocking scam? The "shining light of Chinese martial arts" turns out to be a paper tiger; the Qingyun Troupe backs out at the last minute during the grand performance!]
[Exclusive Reveal: Lu Cheng's nighttime intrusion into the foreign concession was actually due to severe injuries, with internal organs ruptured; he delayed for five days merely to prolong his life!]
[A Humorous Look at Chinese Martial Arts: A mere actor attempting to fight against modern firearms? How laughable and pathetic!]
There was also a long column article published by someone named "Song, Special Commissioner of Jinling Customs and Overseas Scholar," which used extremely sarcastic and biting semi-classical Chinese to ridicule them.
"—I heard that the Qingyun Troupe is so poor that they can't even afford stage costumes. They cut white cloth into robes, splashed cheap colors on them, and filled them with blood, hoping to use their filthy and ragged appearance, which resembles that of beggars, to enter the hall of high culture."
"This is utterly ridiculous and an insult to all culture! In our view, so-called martial arts are nothing more than folk acrobatics; the so-called martial arts saints are merely the last gasp of a spent arrow. Faced with the powerful ships and cannons of modern civilization, martial arts are dead. Burn paper money if you need anything—"
"Damn it, that's bullshit!"
Enraged, Zhou Daikui tore the newspaper to shreds, sending scraps of paper flying everywhere.
"These ruthless literati, their pens are more poisonous than knives. Our white robes are battle robes painted on by our master with his own blood and qi, and they actually say they are just rags that they can't afford."
"Now all the people in Tianjin think we're scared, and that Chengzi is really finished."
"If we endure these five days, the backbone of our Qingyun troupe will be broken by the spittle of these people."
As the old man spoke, tears welled up in his eyes.
To kill someone is to destroy their spirit.
The Japanese and Westerners' tactic of stalling is incredibly ruthless.
Their goal was to use these five days, through newspapers and rumors, to gradually undermine Lu Cheng's rising prestige and to forcefully knock down the idol that the martial arts world of Beiping had painstakingly built up.
Just as the entire third-floor suite was enraged.
"Squeak"
The door to the innermost master bedroom was gently pushed open.
There were no heavy footsteps, nor any suppressed anger.
Lu Cheng came out of the house.
Today, instead of wearing his usual pale white long gown for receiving guests, he wore an extremely plain, even somewhat worn, blue coarse cloth overcoat. On his feet were a pair of faded black cloth shoes with thick soles.
Her hair was casually tied back with a wooden hairpin.
On that handsome face, there was not a trace of anger or frustration, nor any sign of the rumored "serious injury and critical condition".
Instead, it exudes a sense of leisure and languor, as if one has just had a good sleep in an ancient temple deep in the mountains and listened to the morning bells and evening drums.
With the blessing of the "Exquisite Heart", he seemed to merge with the energy of heaven and earth, and even the rhythm of his breathing was in harmony with the rustling of leaves in the wind outside the window.
A master of internal energy transformation, whose divine light is contained within.
If someone were to bump into him on the street, they would only think he was a poor, failed schoolteacher. They would never imagine that he was a living Yama who had crushed the throat of a Japanese sword saint with his bare hands.
"Master."
"Chengzi".
Everyone in the room swarmed around it.
"Master, look at this newspaper—" Lu Feng eagerly held up a tattered newspaper and stepped forward.
Lu Cheng did not answer.
He merely glanced at the scraps of paper on the ground, his gaze calm and unfathomable.
"Is the sky falling down?"
Lu Cheng walked to the octagonal table, picked up the teapot, and poured himself a cup of leftover cold tea.
"Gulp."
Drink it down in one gulp.
"But Master, they've closed the theater and are going to leave us hanging for five days! Those people outside are saying such awful things, saying we can't afford costumes, saying you—" Shunzi stamped his feet anxiously, and the burly man's eyes were red.
"You're saying I'm dying?"
Lu Cheng put down his teacup and let out a soft chuckle.
He walked to the window, pushed it open, and let the cold wind, carrying the fishy smell of the Haihe River, blow on his face.
"Tanker."
Lu Cheng stood with his hands behind his back, watching the hurried crowds on the street below.
"We are opera singers."
"What's important in opera singing? It's about the four-beat rhythm and the timing of the beat."
"If the drumbeat isn't right on time, and the lead actor rushes out with a bang, he's not a star actor, he's just a monkey trying to steal food."
Lu Cheng turned around and glanced at his disciples, who were so anxious they were on the verge of exploding.
"They want to use these five days to wear us down and throw us into disarray."
"If we were to jump up and down now to curse them, cause trouble at the government offices, or even smash their newspaper offices, that would truly be fulfilling their wishes and a low-class act."
"So—so we're just going to sit here and wait, putting up with this humiliation?" Lu Feng gritted his teeth.
"Who said we're just going to sit here and wait?"
Lu Cheng walked to the clothes rack, casually took off a half-worn felt hat and put it on his head, covering most of his meticulously styled hair, making him look more like a commoner.
"Wrap all the knives and spears on the weapon rack in cloth and lock them in boxes. For the next five days, no one is allowed to practice martial arts in the yard."
When Lu Cheng gave this order, everyone in the room was stunned.
With a formidable enemy at hand, should we stop practicing our skills?
"Master, if we're not practicing, what are we going to do?" Little Bean asked, his eyes wide.
Lu Cheng stretched out a finger and gently tapped Xiaodouzi's forehead, a smile appearing on his lips.
"Although the spring weather is a bit chilly, Tianjin is a wonderful place. Located at the confluence of nine rivers, there are plenty of delicious foods and fun activities to enjoy."
""
"Put away your equipment."
"Master will take you fishing, listening to crosstalk, and going to a restaurant."
This not only stunned the apprentices, but also the various spies who had been secretly watching the National Hotel.
That morning.
A long line of rickshaws quietly drove out of the back door of the National Hotel.
They didn't protest at the French Ministry of Public Works, nor did they try to fight at the Japanese consulate.
The team, swaying and staggering, ended up on a wild mudflat by the Haihe River.
Here, reeds grow in abundance, the water flows gently, and on the opposite bank is a dock where warships from various countries are moored, their dark cannon muzzles appearing particularly menacing under the overcast sky.
But Lu Cheng simply swaggered down and sat down on a blue stone on the opposite bank, less than a few hundred meters from the warship.
He wasn't wearing that eye-catching moon-white long gown; instead, he wore a gray cloth jacket and a felt hat.
What he held in his hand was not the mighty white wax spear that shook the world, but a crooked willow branch that he had casually broken off from the roadside.
There was no fishing line or hook.
Lu Cheng casually pulled out a piece of ordinary cotton thread used for sewing shoe soles from his pocket, tied one end to a willow branch, and casually tied a small stone to the other end. Without even baiting it, he threw it directly into the murky Haihe River with a "plop".
Jiang Taigong was fishing, and those willing to take the bait.
But he doesn't even have a hook, so what kind of fish is he trying to catch?
"Master—Master, will you be able to catch any fish?"
Shunzi and Xiaodouzi squatted behind, holding the real fishing rods that Lu Cheng had asked them to buy, with earthworms on them, but they just couldn't calm down.
Just by looking up, you can see the foreign sailors on the warship across the river, staring intently at us through binoculars.
The feeling of having guns pointed at their backs made them extremely uncomfortable.
"Impatient and restless."
Lu Cheng closed his eyes, sat cross-legged on the bluestone, and looked like an old monk in deep meditation.
"Look at the water."
Lu Cheng uttered two words calmly.
"The water is alive, the fish are alive. How can you see the life beneath the water when your eyes are only fixed on the cannons on the opposite bank?"
Under the [Exquisite Heart] realm, although Lu Cheng's eyes were closed, his perception had already extended along that ordinary cotton thread to the bottom of the turbid river.
A master of neutralizing force, with keen insight into the subtle nuances of listening to force.
The resistance of the water flow, the churning of the silt, and even the frequency of the swaying of the aquatic plants all created a clear three-dimensional picture in his mind.
He wasn't fishing.
He was "listening to the water".
In this dead end surrounded by foreign guns and cannons, he used this ultimate "stillness" to fight against the overwhelming "movement" from the outside world.
In the distance, a black sedan with Japanese consulate license plates was parked on the side of the dirt road on the embankment.
The car window rolled down.
The treacherous Special Higher Police Chief, Nakamura, was intently observing the gray figure on the Haihe River bank through high-powered binoculars.
"Section Chief, what exactly is that guy surnamed Lu doing? Has he realized the trap we've laid and is planning to escape by water?" the adjutant next to him asked nervously.
"idiot."
Nakamura put down his binoculars, his brows furrowed, his eyes filled with doubt and deep apprehension.
"He's fishing."
"He wasn't even fishing, he wasn't even using a hook."
Nakamura gritted his teeth, the words of Funakoshi Kazuo replaying in his mind, and the unease in his heart grew stronger and stronger.
"He's provoking us; he's demonstrating against the Great Japanese Empire!"
"He's telling us that even when facing our guns and cannons, he's as calm as a fisherman. He clearly doesn't take us seriously."
"Baka! Get the snipers ready. If he makes any unusual moves, shoot him immediately."
Nakamura had barely finished speaking.
On the bluestone along the Haihe River.
Lu Cheng, who had been resting with his eyes closed, suddenly twitched his wrist slightly.
The movement was as gentle as brushing dust off a sleeve.
But in that instant.
A surge of extremely pure internal energy traveled along the ordinary willow branch and was transmitted like lightning to the soft cotton thread.
The cotton thread that had been drifting in the water suddenly became taut and straight at that moment.
It's like a steel wire.
"rise."
Lu Cheng uttered a single word.
The willow branch sways upwards.
"Splash—!!!"
The water surface suddenly burst open.
Under the horrified gazes of Shunzi, Lu Feng, and Nakamura in the distance.
A large black carp weighing five or six pounds was actually pulled up from the bottom of the water by a cotton line without a hook.
The cotton thread did not get tangled in the fish's body.
Instead, the small stone at the end of the cotton thread, driven by Lu Cheng's hidden strength, formed a whirlpool in the water. The suction force directly grabbed the carp's gill cover and brought it to the surface.
"Clatter".
The big carp landed on the bluestone slab, jumping and splashing water all over Shunzi's face.
Lu Cheng slowly opened his eyes, retracted the cotton thread that was completely dry, and casually threw the bare willow branch on the ground.
He didn't look at the fish on the ground, nor at his dumbfounded apprentice.
Instead, from a distance of several hundred meters, across the vast Haihe River, those eyes seemed to pierce through the void, looking directly at the black sedan on the embankment.
He looked towards Nakamura, who was hiding in the car, holding binoculars.
A cold smile appeared on Lu Cheng's lips.
He extended his long, slender, and fair index finger, raised it in mid-air, and gently tapped it in the direction of the car.
The meaning couldn't be clearer.
I'm fishing.
You are that fish.
Clang!
The high-powered binoculars in Nakamura's hand slammed directly into the floor of the carriage.
His face instantly lost all color, as if he had seen some kind of monster beyond human comprehension.
"He—he saw me?"
"Without a fishing hook, using internal energy to draw in fish—this is divine, this is divine indeed."
"Drive! Drive! Get out of here!" Nakamura yelled hysterically at the driver, his voice filled with panic.
The car, like a frightened mouse, roared its engine, kicked up a cloud of yellow smoke on the dirt road, and fled in panic.
Watching the car disappear into the distance.
Lu Cheng stood up and patted the hem of his long robe.
"The fish are startled."
"Let's pack up our fishing and go listen to a crosstalk performance."
If fishing by the Haihe River was Lu Cheng's way of giving the Japanese a warning, then...
Then the next few days.
This renowned Master Lu from Beiping completely baffled the people of Tianjin and the spies from all walks of life.
No matter how fiercely the newspapers criticize him, saying he's seriously injured and about to die, or that he's a fraud.
Lu Cheng turned a deaf ear.
The next afternoon, he led his apprentices and swaggered into the "Yanle Shengping" tea garden in Nanshi.
This isn't a Peking Opera venue; it's the most authentic crosstalk theater in Tianjin.
Lu Cheng requested a private room on the second floor directly opposite the table, brewed a pot of baijiu (a type of Chinese liquor), and ordered several plates of melon seeds and peanuts.
On stage, two crosstalk performers dressed in traditional Chinese robes are delivering punchlines.
-
Tianjin's crosstalk is famous for being outspoken, daring to criticize, and down-to-earth.
Right now, they're really getting into the conversation.
The funny guy tapped the table with his folding fan.
"Look at the world these days! All sorts of monsters and demons are posing as big shots. The other day the newspaper was hyping up some kind of living martial arts saint from Beiping," saying he could dodge bullets. Good heavens, I thought he was the reincarnation of Sun Wukong!
The straight man continues the joke.
"That's right. If you could really dodge bullets, what would be the point of having foreign guns? When the Eight-Nation Alliance invaded Beijing, why didn't he just stand on the city wall and stare all the foreigners to death?"
"Exactly! In my opinion, these are just actors that theater owners have paid money to promote. When they actually get to Tianjin and see the real foreigners, won't they just have to pretend to be sick and hide under the covers like cowards?"
"Ha ha ha ha----"
The tea drinkers below the stage burst into laughter.
In the common people's simple understanding, firearms are superior to the human body; this is an ironclad rule.
This kind of banter, with its down-to-earth and colloquial tone, best resonates with the public's psychology.
In the private room.
"Master."
Lu Feng's face flushed red, his fists clenched tightly, and he suddenly stood up.
"These two bastards dare to insult you like this on stage, I'll go down and cut their tongues out."
Shunzi was so angry that he was grinding his teeth.
"They're such scumbags! We saved so many people, and not only are they ungrateful, they're making sarcastic remarks!"
"sit down."
Lu Cheng peeled a peanut in its shell, blew off the red skin, and slowly tossed the peanut into his mouth, chewing it with relish.
He wasn't angry at all.
Instead, he smiled as he looked at the two comedians on stage, who were spitting everywhere.
"Why cut off my tongue?"
Lu Cheng patted the crumbs off his hands and picked up the teacup.
"Is what they said wrong?"
"A mortal body is no match for machine guns and cannons. On the battlefield, how many shells could my flesh and blood withstand?"
'
Lu Cheng looked at the ordinary people who were laughing so hard they were doubled over because of the jokes in the crosstalk.
These ordinary people wore patched clothes and held the cheapest teacups in their hands.
They lived on the edge of this humiliating concession, struggling every day for half a steamed bun.
This laughter was the only joy and solace they had left in this suffering world.
"They don't understand martial arts or the art of neutralizing force; they just stick to their own rigid beliefs, so it's not their fault."
Lu Cheng's eyes became extremely deep.
The exquisite mind sees that the five aggregates are all empty.
At that moment, he saw not only the insults before him, but the tragedy of the entire era.
"The weaker a person is, the more they need a blind strength to deceive themselves, and the more easily they envy those who try to break the rules."
"Look how happy they are right now."
Lu Cheng gently put down his teacup, the smile on his lips fading into a detached indifference that suggested he had seen through the ways of the world.
"The stage for the grand performance will be set up the night after tomorrow."
When I stood on that stage, wearing that white, blood-stained robe—
"They will cry as bitterly as they do."
"The greatest sound is silent, the greatest form is formless. If we don't completely shatter their so-called 'clear-headedness' and 'worldliness,' how can they understand what true integrity is?"
'
Lu Cheng reached into his sleeve and pulled out a gleaming silver dollar.
"Shunyi".
"exist."
"Go and give those two gentlemen on stage a tip."
"I'll tell you—this punchline was delivered with great force, and the laughs were plentiful."
"I, Lu, am thoroughly delighted to hear this."
Shun stared wide-eyed at the silver dollar, as if it were a burning hot coal.
"Master, what's wrong? What's this?"
Not only will they not fight, but they'll also give you money?
I was called a coward and I still have to pay money?
But Shunyi dared not disobey his master's orders. He could only grit his teeth and go downstairs with a belly full of grievances, and slam the silver dollar heavily into the reward plate at the edge of the stage.
"Boss Lu of the Qingyun Opera Troupe in Beiping is offering a silver dollar!"
He shouted loudly.
The entire tea garden instantly resembled a duck whose neck had been choked.
A deathly silence.
The smiles on the faces of the two comedians on stage, who had been talking animatedly just moments before, instantly froze.
Following the bustling traffic, they looked up at the private room on the second floor.
There stood Master Lu, the legendary figure who was "terminally ill" and a "cowardly turtle."
Zheng Fu sat there, dressed in a moon-white long robe, his expression gentle and refined.
He even raised his teacup and offered a distant toast to the two people on the stage.
"hiss""
The two comedians were so frightened that their legs went weak and they almost knelt down.
You talk badly about someone behind their back, and the person in question is listening right there and even giving you a tip?
What kind of demeanor is that? What kind of cunning is that?
The common people who had initially joined the commotion all fell silent. Looking at the composed young man on the second floor, they suddenly felt a strange sense of shame and awe.
That's the magnanimity of that person.
This isn't a coward hiding in the mud! This is clearly a dragon lurking in the abyss, disdaining to compete with sparrows for glory!
Day three. Day four.
The rumors and gossip about Lu Cheng, after reaching their peak, subsided as Lu Cheng, the Beggar Heaven, indulged in eating, drinking, and merrymaking with his disciples.
His habit of wandering around has gradually become somewhat distorted.
"This Boss Lu doesn't seem sick at all. Yesterday at Goubuli Baozi shop, I personally saw him eat five baskets of baozi by himself!"
"Exactly! He was insulted to his face by a crosstalk performer, and not only did he not get angry, he even gave him money. Could he have done something like that without real self-control?"
"Could it be—he's really preparing some amazing move?"
The Japanese consulate was even more on edge because of Lu Cheng's "contrast between action and silence".
As Funakoshi Kazuo sat on the tatami mats, listening to his subordinates' report, his blind white eyes trembled slightly.
"He neither practices martial arts nor prepares for battle, spending his days traveling and enjoying nature, even enduring humiliation without anger—"
This old monster from the Japanese shonen world gripped his prayer beads tightly, veins bulging on the back of his hands.
"This is — the law."
"This is the most terrifying realm in the pure study of Chinese Taoism—refining the spirit to return to emptiness, attaining the state of mind and form."
Funakoshi Kazuo took a deep breath, his tone carrying for the first time an uncontrollable sense of apprehension.
"He no longer cares about any external interference."
"His heart has become one with the stage where the performance is about to begin."
"The moment he draws his sword—it will be earth-shattering."
"Nakamura."
"Hai."
"Wu, all our spies and assassins in Tianjin have been withdrawn."
When Funakoshi Kazuo stood up, his hunched body seemed to instantly become as heavy as a mountain.
"Before the grand performance, no one is allowed to test him, and no one is allowed to get even a step closer to the National Hotel."
"He was planning to take advantage of the situation."
"Then I, this old man, will personally face his earth-shattering blow on that stage."
"I want to shatter their last god in front of all the Chinese people."
Day .
It was also the day before the grand performance, not.
Inside Lu Cheng's suite at the National Hotel.
Tomorrow is the grand performance that was forcibly postponed and is highly anticipated.
The room was quiet.
Shunyi, Lu Feng, and the others have been sent to rest and recharge for tomorrow's fierce battle.
Lu Cheng stood alone by the window.
Outside the window, the night sky over Tianjin was unusually clear, with a full moon hanging high, casting its gentle light upon this land that had endured so much hardship.
On the table lay the white cotton garment, splattered with blood by him with cinnabar paint in a shocking manner.
And then there's that—the broken ash wood shaft that's lost its spearhead.
He had already sealed that Green Dragon Crescent Blade in his opera box.
Tomorrow night, he will not sing about Zhao Yun or Guan Yu.
He would wear this most shabby, tattered, blood-stained garment and carry this broken wooden stick.
Go and perform in the most tragic play, "Battle of Taiping".
"call----"
Lu Cheng closed his eyes and placed his hands in a mudra over his dantian.
These five days were spent traveling, observing, and even being humiliated.
The everyday life of ordinary people, their apathy and simplicity, the arrogance of foreigners and the ugliness of traitors.
All of it was transformed into fuel within his exquisite heart.
It transformed into the scene in that play where Hua Yun was trapped in a lonely city, watching the city fall and her family perish, and the indelible sorrow and fierce emotion in her heart.
"Thump."
It seemed as if a muffled drum was beating inside Lu Cheng's body.
His body had undergone marrow cleansing, resulting in a perfect and flawless transformation of internal energy and blood.
In this Wu region, all was completely silent.
Like dead ashes, like withered wood.
But beneath this dead ashes, a golden karmic fire, capable of igniting a wildfire, was brewing.
Let's wait patiently for tomorrow, when the curtain will rise.
The city falls, the battle is won, and rebirth is achieved.