Shanxi Provincial Dramatists Association, an unofficial organization independently established by dramatists in Shanxi Province, has a history of more than 60 years.
Decades of changing times have made the system of the Dramatists Association more complete, but many of the older generation of dramatists who single-handedly promoted the establishment of the association have retired.
There is a staff member on duty in the association, but unfortunately she is a young woman. She can be said to be clueless when it comes to Jiang Xin's problems.
As for those old artists, Jiang Xin didn't see any of them anyway. They were either recuperating at home or going there to listen to plays.
"It's a bad start, it's a bad start." Standing on the street, Jiang Xin, who rarely encountered such a situation, was a little confused for a moment.
Whether it is the previous generation or this life, Jiang Xin can always find a goal for herself: study, experiment, practice or practice, acquire abilities, and participate in the Luotian Festival...
These goals either have a clear path to completion or can be achieved in the short term. Jiang Xin rarely sets a goal that he doesn't know how to accomplish.
But now, he has a goal, but this goal is a bit too elusive and far away.
This felt like putting an extremely advanced math problem in front of Jiang Xin. Jiang Xin knew that he had to study and solve the problem, but the key problem was that he didn't even know the name of the type of the problem, and he didn't know clearly what he wanted to do from it.
Where to start studying.
The problem is here, the goal is here.
However, there are some things that I don’t know where to start.
"Sure enough, I still need some external help." Jiang Xin looked at the billboards on tall buildings in the distance and had some new ideas in her mind.
At the theater, Jiang Xin looked at the sign: "May I ask, are there any performances by masters recently?"
"Recently..." The person inside thought for a moment and rummaged through a roster: "Yes! There will be a performance by Master Zhang in three days."
"Master Zhang?" Jiang Xin didn't understand drama. She didn't know the meaning of this name, but thinking about being called master by the staff, she took out her money and said, "Okay, can you give me a ticket?"
"no problem."
Three days later, with the crowded flow of people, Jiang Xin entered the venue and found her seat.
After a moment, the stage lights came on and the actor came on stage.
"In the ~palace~"
"I~receive~Long Live the Will..."
"..."
Off the field, looking at the people around him who were mesmerized, Jiang Xin's eyes were full of confusion, and he couldn't understand the essence of this drama at all: "This... can't you hear anything good about it?"
Looking at the actor on the stage who was not a stranger but had a glint in his eyes, Jiang Xin was moved in her heart: But this time, she should be able to ask for information about the ghost singing opera, right?
Master Zhang was also an old man and would not appear on stage after the performance. Seeing this, Jiang Xin walked into the toilet and when he came out, he had become a staff member who could go backstage.
In a separate room backstage, Jiang Xin saw Master Zhang, who had just performed on stage. Although he was already in his fifties or sixties, his spirit was no weaker than that of ordinary young people.
Looking at his skeletal eyes, Jiang Xin could tell at a glance that this old man was not an ordinary person. Even if he was not an alien, he should be an extraordinary person who was aware of Qi's existence.
There are qi refiners in the world, but not all qi refiners can be called aliens. Only the qi refiners who realize strange abilities from qi are aliens. The rest of the qi refiners are just to help the body become stronger.
In ancient times, singing requires energy and energy. It is not surprising that these old opera actors know how to refine Qi. If they don't, it would be a bit strange to be able to sing a big opera smoothly with a mortal body.
"Master Zhang, I have finally met you." In Zhang Anshi's confused eyes, Jiang Xin pulled up a stool and sat next to him.
"Who are you?" Zhang Anshi looked at Jiang Xin's pupils and body, but did not find Jiang Xin's identity, and suspected a fanatic in his heart.
"My surname is Jiang. I am looking for you this time because I want to ask you about some drama matters." Jiang Xin smiled: "I am also helpless. I can't find it outside, so I can only think about looking for you.
An old artist understands the situation."
"Asking about drama?" Zhang Anshi pondered for a moment, then raised his head and smiled: "Okay, you can tell me."
Seeing that Zhang Anshi agreed, Jiang Xin didn't waste any time and went straight to the point: "Do you know there is such a drama, which is not sung for living people to enjoy, but only for ghosts and gods to listen to. Folks seem to call it a ghost play."
"Singing ghost opera?" Zhang Anshi frowned immediately: "Those are all folk legends. I have been listening to operas and singing since I was a child, and I have never seen even a ghost opera troupe."
"Have you heard of it?" Jiang Xin's eyes suddenly lit up, and she immediately took out the photo on her phone: "Look at this Facebook."
"Facial makeup?" Zhang Anshi turned to the phone. The next moment, his eyes were fascinated by the deep lines on the ghost's facial makeup. It took a long time to break free.
He breathed a heavy sigh, and the look on Zhang Anshi's face became extremely solemn: "Now, I believe the rumor you told about the ghost show."
Jiang Xin took back her phone and was a little curious: "Master Zhang, what did you see?"
"It's just some rumors from the elderly in the family." Zhang Anshi shook his head, and then sighed: "If you want to know, it doesn't hurt to tell you."
"You say."
"This facial makeup is actually divided into parts. It is not just a random drawing." Zhang Anshi looked far away and fell into memories: "That... was a long time ago..."
Decades ago, there was an ordinary lane in Taiyuan.
The sun was gradually setting, and an upright-looking old man was holding an ink pen, basking in the glow, and carefully leaving streaks of color on the blank mask.
At this time, a clear child's voice came from outside.
"Grandpa, grandpa, what are you doing?"
After a day of playing games with his friends, a boy who looked to be only eight or nine years old ran back from outside in a hurry and hugged the old man who was sketching lines.
Being hugged by the boy, the ink pen in the old man's hand trembled, and in an instant, a discordant pen mark was left on the mask.
Looking at the ruined work, the old man sighed inwardly, but did not blame the boy. Instead, he touched the boy's head, pulled him to his side with a smile, and pointed to the mask: "Do you know what this is?
"
"I don't know." The boy looked at the mask and shook his head honestly: "But it's so beautiful!"
"Beautiful?" The craftsman laughed after hearing this: "Yes, it is beautiful, just beautiful. Grandpa painted this himself."
"Grandpa, did you draw it?" The boy looked at the abstract facial makeup with an innocent look on his face: "Grandpa, did you draw Guan Gong?"
"Yes, grandpa painted Guan Gong." Putting the ruined mask into the boy's hand, the craftsman pointed at the mask and said, "Come, tell grandpa, how do you know that grandpa painted Guan Gong?"
Holding the mask, the boy was silent for a while, and finally shook his head: "I don't know, I just knew it was Guan Gong as soon as I saw it."