Chapter 23 - 23 20 Liu Jiaotian

Words : 1650 Updated : Sep 12th, 2025

23: Chapter 20 Liu Jiaotian 23: Chapter 20 Liu Jiaotian “Liu Jiaotian is taking the stage!” The Netherworld Play reached its finale, and the overall atmosphere felt a bit chilly. The true opera fans at Corridor River were few, and the opera wasn’t lively enough for them to enjoy it. But Liu Jiaotian, just by pacing and concealing his eyebrows with the water sleeves, burned his way into the icy abyss, igniting hundreds of despondent spectators. “No wonder she’s the top actress of the Zhou Family’s Troupe.” Zhou Xuan felt the shock of the dramatic star’s entrance up close, and only then did he realize that the stories told by the old radio gentlemen about “tipping performers” weren’t made up. It was said that in the past, when people tipped performers, they were quite generous. Some affluent families would throw cash onto the stage when they were pleased, but this kind of action was seen as crude and competitive, looked down upon by those in the know. Cultured ladies and gentlemen would discreetly wrap bracelets or small goldfish in silk handkerchiefs and send a servant to crouch quietly beside the stage, gently tossing them at the corner of the stage. This wouldn’t disturb the performance, nor would it reveal their level of generosity to the audience, preventing unnecessary attention and trouble for the performer. This custom of tipping performers was closely linked to the deep-seated affection of the common folk for the performers. The affection was mutual, For without the ability to “call to the skies,” one couldn’t live up to such esteemed adoration. Liu Jiaotian possessed the ability to “call to the skies.” She had three unique qualities. Her looks, her steps, and her voice were all exceptional. Speaking of looks, Liu Jiaotian was a young woman, which was rare in traditional theaters. In traditional troupes, women were exceedingly rare, and those playing female roles were almost exclusively male dan performers. The reason most performers were male dan was mainly because the training period for opera actors was too long, requiring childhood skills. Entering the troupe to learn skills at three or four years old, practicing singing, speaking, acting, and martial arts relentlessly every day, with the master giving special attention frequently, teaching from singing techniques to stage postures in extreme detail. Correcting mistakes character by character, scrutinizing every movement meticulously. The time, resources, and effort invested in cultivating a star performer were immeasurable. The troupe was not a Charitable Hall; they put in such efforts to make money. However, the female dan performers cultivated at great expense often didn’t bring in enough profit. Because once a female performer became famous, she would easily be noticed by wealthy and influential patrons, who would invite her to social gatherings with just one ticket. After only a few such gatherings, the female performer would often rise to become a mistress. If a female performer became a mistress, she had to pay a fee to the troupe for her release. This fee might seem considerable, but compared to the benefits an acclaimed performer could bring to the troupe over a decade of fame, it was negligible. Moreover, if a performer truly became famous, with hard work and dedication, their fame could last far beyond ten years. Such occurrences became frequent, and troupes stopped recruiting female dan performers. Even when encountering extremely talented seedlings, they would salivate at most before turning away. However, The Netherworld Play Troupe did not fear these troubles much. It’s simply because it was considered unlucky. Who would marry a top actress from a troupe that performed for the dead, bringing her home as a mistress? Wasn’t it inauspicious? Even if someone was unconcerned with propriety and coveted the beauty of a Netherworld Play Troupe actress, they wouldn’t take her as a mistress. At most, they would have a fleeting romance, a brief affair. Ultimately unable to gain status, the female performer of the Netherworld Play Troupe would never let go of the stage. With those few prime years, the man supporting her wasn’t long-lasting, so she would earn more herself to avoid a destitute and lonely old age. For these reasons, the Zhou Family’s Troupe dared to cultivate a beauty like Liu Jiaotian. Her allure was so captivating, unmatched in any theater in Ping Shui Prefecture. At this moment, a man in front of the stage saw Liu Jiaotian and his eyes were so fixated they seemed to draw threads. His wife couldn’t stand it, and slapped him hard across the face. He held his swollen cheek, yet his gaze couldn’t move away from Liu Jiaotian’s face. Apart from her exceptional looks, her steps were also unmatched. On stage, there was a type of step called “ghost steps.” The actor, dressed in a long gown and made up as a “ghostly appearance,” would walk forward without swaying, taking extremely quick, fine steps. When the audience watched, it seemed as if the actor was not walking, but as if a ghost was gliding forward. These steps required tremendous foot strength. Throughout Ping Shui Prefecture, Liu Jiaotian performed the ghost steps with unparalleled brilliance. The third senior brother of the troupe, Li Shuangyi, specialized in martial roles and was full of strength. Yet, whenever he talked about Liu Jiaotian’s foot strength, he became so envious that he stuttered, mumbling incoherently. It took listening all night to hear the praise—two words—clearly: “Incredible!” However, it must be said, her exceptional looks and steps were merely spice for a renowned performer, as theater relied on singing, and what truly made Liu Jiaotian a household name in Ping Shui Prefecture was her vocals, which also gave rise to her stage name. “Call to the skies,” indeed. Liu Jiaotian’s high-pitched note soared, a bright sound rising from her brow and piercing the heavens. Even when performing outside, if it were inside a roofed theater, the high note could make the green tiles on the roof ring. Armed with three unique talents, Liu Jiaotian became the formidable performer she was known for. At the beginning of the performance, the audience would whistle and cheer, fueled with excitement. But once Liu Jiaotian began to sing, the audience quieted, listening intently. It was incredibly pleasant to hear. Zhou Xuan was also captivated while listening. Liu Jiaotian was performing a selection called “Roaming the Garden, Surprised by a Dream,” from the famous Kunshan opera “Peony Pavilion.” Zhou Xuan had loved this opera for years. Not to mention the plot of “Liu Mengmei meeting Du Liniang in a dream,” he even recalled the lyrics of some famous sections clearly. This opera didn’t have many high-pitched segments, focusing more on soft whispers over several sections. Moreover, because of elements like “resurrection” and “surprising dreams,” it required a sense of melancholy mixed with somberness, posing a greater challenge for female performers. Liu Jiaotian executed it exceptionally well. When she whispered, her voice seemed not to emanate from her mouth but to arise behind each audience member, climbing up their backs to the base of their skulls, finally seeping into their ears. In a word, it was exhilarating! Her singing made the audience forget they were at Corridor River; they truly believed they were sitting in Du Liniang’s enchanted dream garden. The song was sung with emotion, the audience listened with immersion, but Zhou Xuan became increasingly perplexed. It wasn’t that Liu Jiaotian sang poorly, but rather that the lyrics seemed to be wrong. At first, he felt just a touch of oddness, but as someone who wasn’t even an amateur opera enthusiast, he naturally wouldn’t suspect a professional right away. But as the aria became more familiar, he noted more and more incorrect words, leading him to ponder, “Could she actually be singing it wrong?” He continued listening until the line, “Fate emerges unknowingly, deeply continued. seaʀᴄh thё nôᴠel Fire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The living can die, the dead can live. If life cannot accompany death, and death cannot revive life, then it is not the ultimate fate.” The words “fate” at the beginning and end of the sentence were originally “love” in the original segment. “Roaming the Garden, Surprised by a Dream” originally told of Liu Mengmei and Du Liniang’s love story, so the word “love” was certainly correct, whereas “fate” seemed quite nonsensical. Aside from the mistake, whenever Liu Jiaotian sang the word “fate,” it was no longer a whisper but a “ghostly” voice, akin to a woman’s weeping in the mountains at night, sending a chill down one’s spine. Even the singing technique was altered. Singing incorrect lyrics and using the wrong technique… that wasn’t a mistake. “Did Liu Jiaotian intentionally change it?!” Changing the lyrics and melody of a famous section was a major taboo. Although the Netherworld Play Troupe was not as meticulous as the traditional pear garden, such random changes should not have been made. “Oh no, didn’t the audience notice it?” In Ping Shui Prefecture, listening to opera was mainstream entertainment. You might not be a fan, but you couldn’t possibly be unaware of the lyrics and melody of famous opera sections. Zhou Xuan’s gaze turned towards the audience, and to his astonishment, he realized… over half of the audience had wide, vacant eyes, as if they were possessed. Whereas the minority, originally with lowered heads and no shadows under their feet, had now raised their heads high… Zhou Xuan finally noticed that these people all had only one eye. Their left eyeballs were blood-red, fearsome and terrifying, while their right eye sockets were empty. They used their single remaining eye to stare intently at Liu Jiaotian. Zhou Xuan suddenly conceived a thought, *Was Liu Jiaotian changing the performance to sing for these one-eyed ‘people’…?*

Chapter 23 - 23 20 Liu Jiaotian

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