Director of Photography Department of Huayu

Chapter 254 "Black Peony" (10,000 words, purely plot-driven chapter; please do not subscribe if you do not enjoy this genre)
Inside the Lumière Hall of the Palais des Festivals, the entire room was eerily quiet.

The film opens directly at night, with the camera zooming in on the moonlit night, and the plaque of the Jinghua Kunqu Opera Troupe seems to sway slightly in the wind.

The long corridor was quiet and still, with red palace lanterns hanging low, their light flickering and reflecting on the mottled wooden walls.

In the courtyard of the corridor, old theatrical costumes hang on the racks, occasionally a night breeze blows by, gently rustling the flowing sleeves.
"The atmosphere has been captured, and most of the background has been explained clearly; there's no ambiguity."

Zhang Yi stared intently at the screen. This composition created the entire environment in one go, and it even directly named Kunqu Opera.

What is Kunqu Opera?

"An ancient art form in the East"

How old is it?

"About 600 years ago"

"Fuck, was the United States even established by then?"

"Still in the Native American era."

"."

At this moment, the name "Black Peony" slowly appeared on the screen.

The scene shifts, the camera slowly zooms in, and arrives at a room in a house, which looks like a dressing room.

At this moment, Xu Wei (played by Liu Yifei) sat upright in front of the dressing table. The old copper makeup lamp in front of the mirror cast a soft light, reflecting her fair and jade-like face.

She was dressed in a plain-colored practice uniform, her long hair loosely draped over her shoulders, her fingertips gently caressing a yellowed old photograph.

In the photo, a Kunqu Opera female role dressed in a gorgeous costume has smooth phoenix eyeliner drawn at the corners of her eyes, a dot of vermilion on her forehead, and a gentle yet enigmatic smile.

Her expression was strikingly similar to Xu Wei's.

Xu Wei frowned slightly, her gaze shifting.

On the back of the photograph, faintly visible are aged inscriptions in ink:

"We pledged our lives to each other, and our dream has finally come true."

She softly uttered those eight words, her lips slightly parted, but her breath seemed to be blocked by something, and she inexplicably felt a chill creep up her spine.

A barely perceptible ripple suddenly appeared in the mirror behind him.

Xu Wei's gaze was drawn to the mirror, and she slowly raised her eyes to look at herself: it was a familiar face, with slightly upturned phoenix eyes and exquisite makeup; it was herself.

But the next second, she suddenly smiled in the mirror.

That smile didn't belong to her.

Xu Wei's pupils constricted slightly, and she instinctively wanted to back away, but her body seemed nailed to the chair, unable to move. Her reflection in the mirror tilted her head slightly, slowly opened her mouth, and let out a soft chant:

"The vibrant colors of spring have faded, leaving only broken wells and crumbling walls."

The cool and melancholic Kunqu opera singing echoed in the quiet dressing room, as if it had drifted from a stage six hundred years ago, carrying a distant and ethereal sorrow.

Xu Wei's breathing became rapid, her heart pounded wildly, and she tried to close her eyes, but an invisible force pulled her back, making her continue staring at the mirror.

The reflection in the mirror slowly raised its hand, extending it little by little towards the mirror surface.

Her fingertips ripped through the edge of the mirror, as if penetrating a film of water, protruding inch by inch.

Just as that hand was about to touch reality—bang!

A loud bang came from outside the door, as if something had slammed against it.

Xu Wei suddenly woke up with a start, her eyes wide open, and found herself still sitting in front of the vanity mirror, everything was fine.

The reflection in the mirror hadn't changed; it was still the same familiar image she knew.

Her forehead was covered in cold sweat, and her fingers gripped the photo tightly, her knuckles turning white.

She took a deep breath, came to her senses, and slowly turned her head to look at the doorway. The corridor outside was pitch black, with only a palace lantern flickering. In the swaying light and shadow, she seemed to see a blurry white figure flash by.

Her throat tightened slightly, her chest heaved, and after a moment's hesitation, she slowly stood up and walked towards the door...

At the same time, the yellowed photograph in front of the makeup mirror quietly slipped and fell to the ground.

On the back of the photo, the old, faded ink seemed to have absorbed new color, becoming even more vivid.

"We pledged our lives to each other, and our dream has finally come true."

"Holy crap, that startled me. This makeup, combined with the evening atmosphere, is a bit scary."

Who is the person in the mirror? Is it a dream? Or...?

The audience members couldn't help but touch their chests, as if trying to calm themselves down.

At this moment, Chen Kaige frowned deeply.

Destiny or reincarnation?

He felt that things weren't as simple as they seemed.

"It's quite unique and interesting. The actress looks very pretty, but with the opera makeup, she looks different."

At this moment, the chairman of the judging panel, Stephen Frears, was communicating with Zhang Manyu, since Zhang Manyu was the only Chinese member of the judging panel.

“Well, the performance in opera should not be judged by appearance,” Zhang Manyu replied with a light laugh, then sighed as she looked at Xu Wei in front of her.

This kind of role is so good for actresses, because actresses are too easily influenced by their appearance. In fact, being too beautiful is not a particularly good thing.

The scene then shifts to daytime.

On the stage, the water sleeves fluttered.

The traditional Kunqu Opera performance came to life before everyone's eyes.

In the rehearsal hall of the Jinghua Kunqu Opera Troupe, a casting call for a trial performance of "The Peony Pavilion: A Dream Interrupted" is underway.

The hall was filled with the scent of incense, and light gauze curtains hung low. In the center of the stage, a young actress was dancing gracefully, her movements fluid, her fingertips lightly touching the jade ornament on her forehead, her eyes sparkling.

She is Liu Qing (played by Li Qin), Xu Wei's rival, a flamboyant and daring female lead.

Her portrayal of Du Liniang is as beautiful as a peach blossom, with hidden emotions surging within her, as if she were truly in a secluded garden, secretly pledging her life to the scholar in her dreams. Her singing carries a hint of restrained fervor, and her trembling voice reveals a touch of reckless madness.

"That voice is amazing!"

"Why can these sleeves move like that? It's so beautiful."

"."

The audience was amazed, and the performance on screen aroused great interest among them, especially the professional movements of the Kunqu Opera actors, which were like an artistic performance.

The camera slowly zoomed in on a corner, where Xu Wei sat upright, her hands clasped tightly in her sleeves, her fingertips slightly white.

The troupe leader, Xu Lan, sat in front of the audience, her eyes fixed on Liu Qing on the stage, and nodded slightly.

"Okay." Xu Lan commented softly, then turned to look at Xu Wei, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Xu Wei, it's your turn."

Xu Wei took a deep breath, stood up, and walked onto the stage.

Her makeup was impeccable, and the pearl hairpins on her head swayed slightly with her steps. Her gait was as steady as that of a finely sculpted jade figure.

Music begins.

She slowly raised her hand, her water sleeves fluttering gently, her steps as graceful as a lotus, her dance elegant and graceful. Her voice was soft and clear, her singing extremely proper, like a model from a book: "The flowers are in full bloom."

Her voice was clean and pure, her singing was precise, and her figure was elegant and flawless, just like the example in the Kunqu Opera textbook, but something was missing.

Xu Lanyin frowned slightly.

Xu Wei was immersed in her singing and didn't notice the silence below the stage. The audience had subtle expressions. Xu Lan didn't nod, but Liu Qing's lips curled up slightly.
After a moment, Xu Lanyin sighed softly, her tone flat: "That's enough."

Xu Wei was stunned. Before she could finish speaking, the music was abruptly cut off, and the entire rehearsal hall fell into a deathly silence.

She stood in the center of the stage, her water sleeves trembling slightly, her throat feeling as if something was blocking it.

“Your portrayal of Du Liniang is dignified and proper,” Xu Lanyin said calmly and steadily. “But Kunqu Opera emphasizes that life imitates art. Where is Du Liniang’s emotion?”

Xu Lanyin was very disappointed.

The audience was noisy. Xu Wei stared at the crowd and froze, her face pale. Her fingers clenched her water sleeves tightly, and her lips trembled slightly, but she couldn't utter a single word.

On her way back, Xu Lanyin's words to her still echoed in her mind: "Du Liniang was a woman who died for love. Her love was unwavering until death, not based on rules and standards. You should practice well."

Nighttime, the Xu family's old house.

The carved wooden door opened and closed silently, and the house was quiet.

The living room is covered with light gray floor tiles, each one polished to a shine;

The sofa cushions were neatly folded into symmetrical diamond shapes, without a single sliver out of place.

On the coffee table sat a set of blue and white porcelain tea utensils, with a thin blue and white checkered cloth covering the tea tray, the four corners aligned.
A celadon lamp is lit, and in the old black and white photograph on the wall, a graceful woman sits in front of the stage, her eyebrows dignified and her eyes cold and aloof.

Xu Wei took off her heavy costume, changed into a plain-colored home dress, and gently walked into her mother's room.

The door opened at exactly forty-five degrees, and the hinges didn't make a sound, as if they had been specially oiled.

The room was sparsely furnished, yet remarkably symmetrical: a woven cushion lay beneath each of the wooden armchairs on either side, and the curtains, made of plain cotton, were never fully drawn, never fully opened, and always half-closed.
"This part?" Jia Zhangke murmured to himself upon seeing this.

Clearly, these decorations are all designed to portray the image of the lady of the house; all of them can be described in two words: "orderly."

The home seemed to have become a stage set up by the woman of the house.
The visuals alone convey an invisible sense of oppression.

"I feel like I'd go crazy if I were in that kind of environment."

Does she have obsessive-compulsive disorder?

"."

Foreign viewers felt uncomfortable because it seemed as if someone was restricting their freedom in the scene.

At this moment, there was an antique-style dressing table in the room. Xu Wei's mother, Xu Jing, was sitting in front of the mirror, holding a cinnabar brush, slowly drawing her eyebrows, just like she used to draw them on the Kunqu Opera stage.

Hearing footsteps, Xu Jing didn't turn around, but simply asked, "You were eliminated?"

Xu Wei responded softly, "Mm."

The room fell into dead silence.

Without questioning, without scolding, and without even a sigh, she still carefully finished drawing her eyebrows stroke by stroke before slowly putting down the vermilion brush.

"You made the bed too quickly today; there are wrinkles at the corners. I've told you before, someone who's so careless about making their bed is bound to be a phony performer."

Xu Wei opened her mouth, but couldn't say anything.

The lights inside the room flowed quietly, but her mother, Xu Jing, stood before her like a jade sculpture, showing neither joy nor sorrow.

"I tested the water temperature for you tonight. Soak for fifteen minutes, then practice your movements. Don't shrink back," Xu Jing said calmly, but her tone left no room for argument.

Xu Wei lowered her head, like a flower bud with its branches pruned, and said in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible: "I understand."

Xu Jing nodded, as if examining a piece of porcelain, her gaze calm yet with a hint of gentleness hidden deep within her eyes.

"You must remember, rules aren't just for acting."

"When you stand on the stage in the future, the audience wants to see your perfect performance."

"I don't like girls like Liu Qing. She's favored now, but do you think anyone would dare to marry her?"

"."

"Get some rest. Tomorrow, iron that 'Green Plum' costume again, and the day after, I'll see you sing 'The Stroll in the Garden' again."

Xu Wei slowly retreated, the door closed gently, and then she stood stiffly under the corridor light, her fingertips trembling as she clenched her sleeves, her nails digging deep into her palms.

At this moment, the audience watching the movie seemed to be filled with a suffocating sense of oppression, as if an invisible hand was tightly gripping their throats.

At this point, the camera gradually dimmed.

The "Garden Tour" was performed again in front of the audience the next day, but the performance was still a little worse than the rehearsal, which made Xu Jing very dissatisfied.

Xu Wei, who had arrived at the Jinghua Kunqu Opera Theatre as usual, sat quietly in a corner, watching the actors on stage, seemingly lost in thought.

As evening fell and the crowd dispersed, silence gradually descended, and the last rays of the setting sun shone through the door.

As Liu Qing left, she glanced back at Xu Wei, who was still planning to rehearse: "Xu Wei, aren't you leaving?"

"I'm not leaving, you go first."

"Why don't you practice according to Commander Xu's instructions?" A smile appeared on Liu Qing's slightly charming face, but at this moment the sunlight seemed to have completely disappeared. With Liu Qing's departure, the empty stage was left with the curtains hanging low.

Xu Wei hurriedly turned on the stage lights and stood alone in the center of the stage, her shadow cast on the dark wooden floor.

She slowly raised her hand, her sleeves hanging low, her palm trembling stiffly.

She tried to follow Xu Lanyin's instructions to "release her emotions" and become Du Liniang, who burned herself out and never regretted it until death.
Her body seemed to be firmly bound by some kind of restraint, and every movement was as rigid as a standard template in a textbook.

She has no feelings.

She was taught to be dignified, proper, and reserved, rather than indulging in that kind of love and hate that seeps into her bones.

She tried to imagine the "deepest feelings," but no matter what she tried, her heart remained cold.

She wasn't "mad"; she didn't even know what madness was. From birth, her mother, who practiced Kunqu Opera, taught her the importance of rules and etiquette.

At this moment, Xu Lanyin's words echoed in her mind: "Du Liniang was a woman who died for love; her love was unwavering until death."

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to immerse herself in the situation.

After an unknown amount of time, a slight sound suddenly came from a corner of the theater.

She suddenly opened her eyes and looked in the direction of the sound. In the darkness, a beautiful figure slowly emerged. At this moment, Liu Qing was wearing casual clothes, leaning against the door frame of the backstage, holding a pot of wine in her hand, and lazily looking at her.

"Why are you still practicing here so late?" Liu Qing's voice was slightly weary, yet it held a hint of a smile.

Xu Wei was taken aback for a moment, then regained her composure and said softly, "I want to practice more."

Liu Qing raised her eyebrows and slowly walked forward, her footsteps echoing on the stage, her gaze falling on Xu Wei's stiff water sleeves.

"Practice? Practice what?"

A faint smile played on her lips as she suddenly reached out and grabbed Xu Wei's wrist.

Xu Wei was startled and tried to break free, but Liu Qing's fingertips were icy cold and carried a slight smell of alcohol, yet they made her unconsciously want to indulge in them.

"Du Liniang wasn't made through practice." Liu Qing's voice was soft and gentle, close to her ear like a whisper, with a hint of seduction, "Have you ever loved anyone?"

Xu Wei's fingertips suddenly trembled.

Her heart felt as if it had been struck hard by something; her whole body stiffened, and her breathing became erratic.

“You don’t understand love, and you don’t understand affection.” Liu Qing looked at Xu Wei’s expression, her voice tinged with regret. She shook her head slightly, then suddenly chuckled, her tone becoming light and playful. “Xu Wei, do you know what you lack most?”

Do you want me to tell you how I got here?

Xu Wei raised her eyes and shook her head violently.

"Boring." Liu Qing took two steps back. "If this is all you're capable of, you might as well be dreaming."

The oppressive, disciplined, and Kunqu opera-like atmosphere.
The movie has left viewers with a feeling of suppressed emotions, a feeling that is both difficult to release and difficult to shake off.

"They should be here by now."

Seeing this, Chen Kaige was also a little unsettled, but according to his understanding, theoretically, the movie should have reached this point and gradually guided the audience.

Nighttime, Xu Wei's bedroom in the Xu family's old house.

Moonlight streamed into the room through the carved window lattice. Xu Wei was already lying quietly on the bed, her eyes closed and her brows slightly furrowed.

She seemed to be dreaming; she inexplicably walked into an ancient garden.

The lake is deep and secluded, with weeping willows swaying gently. A faint fragrance of flowers permeates the air, mixed with a subtle scent of incense, making one's heart flutter.

Ahead, a small stone bridge winds its way into the heart of the lake, and from the pavilion in the middle of the lake, a soft, murmuring chant drifts out: "The flowers are in full bloom, a riot of colors."

"Damn, that voice is so beautiful!"

"Who sang this? It feels different! The same lyrics, but the performance is so different!"

"."

Even the audience was stunned. Everyone stared intently at the screen as Xu Wei walked step by step across the stone bridge.

Suddenly, the lake became as smooth as a mirror, reflecting her figure. But when she looked down, she was shocked to find another face floating on the surface of the lake.

A woman dressed in a crimson theatrical costume, with a touch of vermilion between her brows, had a strange smile on her pale face and stared at her with a chilling gaze.

Her heart suddenly raced, and she took a step back, causing ripples to spread across the lake, as if someone was slowly emerging from the depths.

Suddenly, the woman's face contorted into a ferocious expression, and a hand burst forth from the water, gripping her wrist tightly: "Are you willing to die for love?"

Xu Wei suddenly opened her eyes, her whole body covered in cold sweat.

She was panting heavily, staring blankly into the dark room, her chest heaving violently.

Outside the window, the night was deep, and the distant Jinghua Kunqu Opera Troupe theater was pitch black, with only the words "Peony Pavilion" written on the high-hanging signboard.

Her fingertips trembled slightly as she slowly touched her cheek—it was cold and damp, as if she had truly struggled out of the water.

She slowly closed her eyes, the eerie voice from her dream echoing in her mind.

Would you be willing to die for love?

She couldn't answer.

But she had a vague feeling that the dream wasn't over yet.

"I was almost startled!"

"Why are there no scary scenes, but I'm still sweating a little?"

"."

Some reporters couldn't help but wipe their temples with their hands, but there was nothing there; it felt more like the cold.

Some film critics are already writing film reviews.

"An immersive experience of Eastern poetic horror within the world of Kunqu Opera, and the suffocating feeling of women under feudal shackles."

"."

The Jinghua Kunqu Opera Troupe, rehearsal hall, as dawn breaks.

A sliver of light shone through the window, dust motes floated in the beam of light, and a faint scent of incense filled the practice hall.

Xu Wei stood in front of the mirror, slowly adjusting her water sleeves.

In the bronze mirror, her face was pale, and there were faint dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept all night.

Last night's dream was still vivid; she could feel the warmth of that voice against her ear, and the damp chill of the lake water seemed to linger in her palm.

She raised her hand and gently touched her wrist—there were still faint bruises there, as if someone had really held her in her dream.

"Xu Wei!"

The door to the training hall was pushed open, and Liu Qing walked in, dressed in a dark training uniform, her gaze falling on Xu Wei.

"what happened to you?"

Xu Wei snapped out of her daze and forced a smile: "It's nothing, I just went to bed a little late last night."

Liu Qing took a step closer, her eyes scrutinizing him, then raised an eyebrow noncommittally and gave a slight smile.

"Commander Xu said we'd be rehearsing 'The Peony Pavilion' together. We'll see how things go overall. You should also prepare for your 'A Dream in the Garden'."

Upon hearing this, Xu Wei's heart skipped a beat, and she clenched her water sleeves tightly.

On the stage, the elaborate courtyard scenery was outlined by lights to create a tranquil atmosphere.

Everyone else's parts went smoothly, but Du Liniang (Xu Wei) on the stage walked slowly, dressed in a light blue costume, as light as smoke.

She slowly raised her eyes, and as she acted, her gaze involuntarily turned to the depths of the courtyard, flickering with doubt and longing. For a moment, it was as if she were truly in a dreamland she had never set foot in in her previous life.

Xu Lanyin sat in the audience, her fingers tapping lightly on the armrest, her brows furrowed: "Stop!"

She suddenly called for a stop, and Xu Wei's body stiffened, the melody on the stage abruptly stopped.

"Xu Wei, what are you doing? Your eyes are wandering, and what are you afraid of?" Xu Lanyin asked in a deep voice.

Xu Wei was taken aback.

Xu Lanyin's tone carried a hint of dissatisfaction, "You give me the impression of a girl bound by rules, not Du Liniang at all."

"What are you afraid of? Sink in, sink in."

Xu Wei's fingers trembled slightly.

She didn't know why, but she was genuinely "afraid".

What are you afraid of?
I'm afraid the dream will come true, afraid that person's hand will reach out from the bottom of the lake again, afraid that I will drown in that dream and never wake up again.

Xu Lanyin looked at her, sighed deeply, rubbed her temples, and signaled for the rehearsal to stop.

Liu Qing chuckled softly from below the stage, stepped forward, approached Xu Wei, and whispered in her ear, "You looked like you were dreaming just now."

Xu Wei suddenly looked at her.

A faint smile played on Liu Qing's lips as she whispered, "What exactly are you afraid of?" Late at night, in Xu Wei's bedroom.

She lay on the bed, the room filled with a faint sandalwood scent, like the lingering fragrance of a theater.

The moonlight outside the window was dim, and she closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep.

But as her consciousness gradually faded, she returned to the dream once again.

It was still that old garden, with deep lake water, drooping willow branches, and a faint fragrance in the air.

She stood on the bridge in the middle of the lake, surrounded by silence.

Suddenly, a soft opera melody drifted from beneath the lake: "The vibrant colors of spring have faded, leaving only broken wells and crumbling walls."

She turned around abruptly, and a figure slowly emerged from the lake.

She was a woman dressed in a crimson theatrical costume, with vermilion dots on her face and deep, unfathomable eyes.

She stood on the water's surface, quietly watching Xu Wei, a slow smile curving her lips.

She raised her hand, her flowing sleeves fluttering gracefully, and slowly extended it towards Xu Wei: "Would you like to be me?"

Xu Wei's heart suddenly raced, and her breath felt as if it were being choked by something invisible.

She wanted to back away, but her feet were stiff and she couldn't move.

The woman slowly approached and touched Xu Wei's forehead with her fingers.

In an instant, countless images flooded Xu Wei's mind: she saw herself standing on the stage, wearing a blood-red costume, with bloodshot eyes, like a ghost;
She saw herself standing in the snow, with the stage behind her collapsing and the snow falling heavily, turning into a sky full of peonies;
She saw herself kneeling by the lake, her hands stained with blood, and the reflection in the lake was Du Liniang's face.

No, her face!
Xu Wei suddenly opened her eyes, screamed, and jumped off the bed.

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, her hands trembled, and the damp, cold touch of water from her dream lingered on her fingertips.

Her breathing quickened, and she slowly raised her hand, trembling as she touched her face.

Her face was still her face.

But suddenly, an indescribable fear rose in her heart.

She began to lose the ability to distinguish whether she was Xu Wei or Du Liniang.

"Is Xu Wei going crazy? Or is it a twin destiny?"

Chen Kaige had been pondering the scene, which had left him somewhat uncertain.

As of now, he roughly knows that this is a Kunqu Opera actress struggling under the pressure of art and reality, and the ending will definitely be a tragedy, but he doesn't know what the process will be like.

"It's a bit like the Western concept of dual consciousness. Is it being swallowed up, or is the mind starting to go mad?" Judge Stephen Frears leaned back in his chair, chuckling as he murmured to himself.

The following day, at the Kunqu Opera Theatre in Beijing, in the backstage dressing room, the reflection in the mirror was deep and dim.

The dim light illuminated the dressing table, and the old bronze mirrors reflected blurry images. The room was filled with the scent of cosmetics, along with a hint of dampness from the costumes.

Xu Wei sat in front of the mirror, slowly raising her hand to draw a red flower on her forehead.

Her fingers trembled slightly, and the vermilion spread across her fingertips like flowing blood.

Her face was still her face.

But when she looked up at herself in the mirror, she instantly saw a pair of unfamiliar eyes.

Not hers.

Those eyes were calm and deep, with a hint of mockery, a half-smile.

In that instant, Xu Wei seemed to see herself in the mirror leaning slightly forward, the corners of her mouth slowly turning up, and a hint of pity appearing in her eyes.
"Who are you?" she murmured to herself.

The "she" in the mirror slowly tilted her head and spoke softly:

"I am you."

A chill ran down her spine, and she abruptly took a step back, knocking over the dressing table. The rouge box shattered on the ground.

The costume master, startled, turned around and looked at her, frowning as he asked, "Xu Wei? What's going on?"

Xu Wei stared blankly at the mirror. When she looked again, the person in the mirror was only herself, with a panicked look in her eyes and a pale face.

She shook her head, her voice hoarse: "It's nothing. I must have misread it."

At this moment, the sound of traditional opera echoed quietly from deep backstage.

Xu Wei changed into her costume and was about to step onto the stage when she heard slow footsteps behind her.

She turned around and saw Liu Qing leaning against the door, a faint smile on her lips.

"You haven't been acting quite right lately," Liu Qing said casually, his gaze lingering on her face.

Xu Wei's expression froze slightly.

Liu Qing chuckled softly, slowly approached, and whispered in her ear:

"Xu Wei, you don't actually believe you're Du Liniang anymore, do you?"

Her voice was extremely soft, like a breeze, yet it sent chills down Xu Wei's spine.

Xu Wei's fingers tightened suddenly. She forced herself to calm down and managed a smile: "What are you talking about?"

Liu Qing stared at her, slowly raising the corners of his lips, his eyes carrying a hint of provocation.

"Can you perform in tonight's 'Peony Pavilion's Secret Encounter'?"

Xu Wei's heart sank suddenly.

"The Secret Encounter" is the most crucial scene in "The Peony Pavilion," in which Du Liniang meets her lover Liu Mengmei in a dream, their emotions ignite completely, until the dream shatters and she dies.

"You still have dreams?"

"How many layers are there? Two layers of dreams or three? One layer of reality, one layer of virtuality, and one layer of the mind?"

Wong Kar-wai, Jia Zhangke, and the others took a deep breath. They hadn't expected Wu Chen to arrange a scene from "The Peony Pavilion: The Ghostly Encounter" here, which was originally a dream scene.

The scene has moved to the stage. The boundaries of the dream are blurred and intertwined, the lights are dim, and there seems to be a little moisture.

This was clearly a dream stage deliberately created by Wu Chen.

Du Liniang (Xu Wei), dressed in thin gauze with flowing sleeves, slowly walked into the garden.

Flowers bloom on the trees, the lake ripples gently, and a faint fragrance floats in the air.

She sang softly, her voice carrying a touch of ethereal sorrow:
"Beyond the setting sun, a crescent moon first appears amidst fragrant grasses and blooming flowers. A young woman, sixteen years old, is filled with the stirrings of love for spring's return, and then she catches a glimpse of you."

"What happens in dreams may not necessarily be untrue."

"."

After this line of lyrics, Zhang Yi suddenly realized something, and his gaze involuntarily turned to Wu Chen in the first row, sighing:

"That's truly ingenious! The lyrics and the storyline are perfectly integrated. Now, what's next?"

Not only Zhang Yimou, but some directors in the room had already realized what was happening and were staring intently at the screen.

The singing echoed on the stage. Xu Wei slowly closed her eyes, letting herself sink into this dream.

Suddenly, a whisper came from beside my ear: "You've finally stopped resisting."

She opened her eyes, her gaze unfocused, but Liu Mengmei had vanished without her noticing.

Ripples spread across the lake, and a familiar figure slowly emerged: it was "her".

She was wearing the exact same costume, her eyes were deep and her lips were curved in a gentle smile.

Xu Wei held her breath.

The man approached her, slowly reached out his hand, and gently stroked her cheek with his fingertips.

"Xu Wei, you are no longer yourself."

In an instant, countless fragmented images flashed through her mind again:
She knelt in the snow, her costume stained with blood, the stage behind her collapsing with a deafening roar; she stood by the lake, her fingertips stained with blood, the lake reflecting Du Liniang's face.
No, her face!
Xu Wei suddenly opened her eyes wide, screamed, and staggered backward.

Reality and dreams completely collapsed, and the stage lights suddenly went out!
When the lights came back on, Xu Wei was lying in the center of the stage, her face pale and her chest heaving violently.

The audience below the stage held their breath. Xu Lan's face was extremely solemn, and everyone was shocked by her emotions just now.

Liu Qing stood to the side, her eyes slightly narrowed, a meaningful smile playing on her lips.

She sensed that Xu Wei seemed to have completely lost control.

Xu Wei slowly stood up, staring blankly ahead.

She didn't know who she was.

Is it Xu Wei? Or Du Liniang?
She slowly lowered her head, looking at her hands, her fingertips still slightly damp, as if she had just touched the lake water.

Which world is the real one?

However, Xu Wei seemed to be very satisfactory at this time. Whether it was the performance rehearsal or her role as a daughter, Xu Wei seemed to be impeccable.
Everything started to move in a positive direction.

Rehearsal before the official performance.

Backstage dressing room of the Jinghua Kunqu Opera Troupe, early morning.

The image in the bronze mirror was blurry and swaying, and the night was so thick it was suffocating.

Xu Wei sat in front of her dressing table, her fingers stiffly gripping a vermilion brush. She hadn't slept in a long time, and a dark shadow hung over her eyes.

A stack of opera scripts lay on the table, all lines from "The Peony Pavilion." But she no longer needed to read them, because the words were already deeply ingrained in her mind.

She couldn't even tell whether she remembered them herself or if they were given to her by some being.

"Xu Wei."

A whisper came from the mirror.

She looked up abruptly, her heart pounding violently.

The reflection in the mirror showed her in a different costume—not the sky-blue one she was supposed to wear tonight, but a dark red wedding gown embroidered with peonies.

The red color seemed to be soaked in blood, both beautiful and eerie.

In the mirror, she slowly raised her hand and gently touched her cheek, her eyes tender yet filled with indescribable sorrow.

"The show has already gone this far, do you still want to back down?"

Xu Wei felt as if her throat was being choked. She tried to shake her head, but found that she couldn't move at all.

The "she" in the mirror smiled slightly and said softly, "You are me, and I am you."

In an instant, the bronze mirror trembled violently, and a deep crack appeared on its surface, slicing "her" face in half.

Xu Wei suddenly woke up and found herself still sitting in front of the dressing table.

Was everything that just happened a dream or reality?

She looked down at the vermilion brush in her hand, her fingertips trembling slightly.

She could no longer tell the difference.

Time quickly came to the official performance.

Outside the theater, heavy snow was falling in Beijing.

A cold wind blew past the large red lanterns in front of the theater, causing the candlelight to flicker and cast blurry shadows.

Bright red couplets were pasted on both sides of the door, the ink slightly blurred, and a faint smell of damp paper filled the air.

The theater was packed with people, a bustling atmosphere.

Tonight is the last performance of the Jinghua Kunqu Opera Troupe on New Year's Eve, and also the official premiere of the new version of "The Peony Pavilion".

Backstage, Xu Wei sat quietly in front of the makeup mirror.

She had already put on makeup; her face was covered in white powder, and a dot of vermilion between her brows resembled a blooming flower stamen.

The performances went smoothly, the stage was brightly lit, and the audience applauded and cheered, creating a joyful atmosphere.

The performance has reached the final scene of "The Peony Pavilion".

The stage was brightly lit, and the stage was decorated as a ghostly garden with a deep black background. A few withered plum blossoms cast mottled shadows under the lights.

Xu Wei slowly walked onto the stage, dressed in a snow-white costume, the hem of her dress fluttering slightly.

Her eyes were ethereal
The audience held their breath, and even Xu Lanyin, unusually, did not give any instructions, her eyes fixed on her on the stage.

"I believe in following you through life and death."

Xu Wei sang softly, her voice gentle and melodious, like a distant murmur from a dream.

She stepped forward, her gaze falling on the lake's reflection in the center of the stage, her hands slightly raised, as if sensing some unspeakable call.

suddenly.

Ripples spread across the lake, and a figure quietly emerged.

She was a woman dressed in a crimson wedding gown, with vermilion dots on her face and deep, unfathomable eyes.

She slowly raised her hand and softly called out, "Xu Wei."

Xu Wei's pupils contracted sharply.

Her heartbeat instantly went off track, as if all the blood in her body had been drained, and a chill crept up from the soles of her feet to her scalp.

Impossible. This is just a stage, an illusion, a projection of lights.
But she could clearly see that the woman's clothes were swaying slightly; it wasn't a projection, but a real presence.

She slowly moved forward, stepping out of the lake, each step splashing up invisible shimmering water.

She slowly reached out her hand, her fingertips slightly cool, and gently touched Xu Wei's face.

In an instant, countless images flashed through Xu Wei's mind. The images were still the same, but this time, what was reflected in the lake was not her face, but Du Liniang's face!
But the current situation has changed.

The audience below the stage was no longer modern people, but a dark mass of ancient figures.

They were dressed in Ming Dynasty official robes, their faces blurred, their eyes deep and unfathomable, silently watching her.

Xu Wei's heart suddenly raced.

This is not reality.

This is the Ming Dynasty.

This is the Imperial Garden Stage.

In an instant, the stage shook violently, the floor cracked, and dust flew everywhere.

Suddenly she seemed to be standing in the snowy night, wearing a blood-red wedding dress, surrounded by a collapsed stage;

She saw the stage ablaze, the flames engulfing everything on it, and she stood in the center of the fire, gazing unfocusedly into the darkness.

She tried to escape, but was firmly stopped by others, while the dignitaries were being helped away quickly.

She could no longer distinguish who she was.

Du Liniang? Xu Wei?

Or is there no such person as "Xu Wei" at all?

Her consciousness began to crumble, and she staggered backward, only to miss her footing.

"Xu Wei."

Someone screamed, but it was too late.

She fell from the edge of the stage and crashed heavily onto the ground below. Her costume trailed behind her, and the crimson skirt was stained with blood, like dewdrops blooming on peony petals.

Chaos erupted around them as the audience gasped and the crew rushed forward from backstage.

Xu Lan's face turned deathly pale, Liu Qing's pupils contracted slightly, and everyone rushed off the stage.

"Xu Wei!!"

The world spun before her eyes, excruciating pain spread from her spine, the sounds around her became indistinct, and the surrounding scenery gradually distorted, as if the whole world was swallowing her up.

Only the singing in my ears became distant and ethereal, like the whispers of a ghost drifting from six hundred years ago.

A slow, dreamlike smile crept onto her lips.

She spoke softly, her voice low and husky, yet incredibly clear: "I'm awake?"

Outside the theater, the snow continued to fall heavily.

In the distance, the midnight bells rang, and the capital city was immersed in the sound of the New Year.

Yet, in that silence, one could still seem to hear the last echo of the opera stage: "What joy is there in life, what sorrow in death!"

The screen slowly disappeared, and then new lights began to flash.

Outside the window of the Jinghua Kunqu Opera Troupe, a gentle summer breeze blew, lifting a corner of the curtain.

The stage, which was renovated six months ago, has been completely refurbished, and the red paint on the stage has been repainted, as if nothing had ever happened.

A new generation of Kunqu Opera actors are rehearsing a new version of "The Peony Pavilion" here.

Backstage, in front of a familiar makeup mirror, rising actress Shen Yin sat in a chair.

She gently cupped her cheeks with her hands, looking somewhat uneasy.

She will make her stage debut tonight, playing the role of Du Liniang.

The dim light in front of the mirror illuminated her slightly immature face.

"Keep your head down and don't move." A gentle voice came from beside her ear.

Shen Yin was slightly startled, and behind her, the makeup artist was standing there, holding a vermilion pen in her hand, quietly watching her.

The makeup artist smiled gently, handed the vermilion brush to her forehead, and whispered, "Raise your head."

Shen Yin subconsciously raised her head and looked at herself in the mirror.

However, the next second, her pupils suddenly contracted, and her fingertips involuntarily gripped the armrests of the chair.

The person standing in the mirror is not her.

She saw a woman in theatrical costume standing quietly in the mirror.

Her face was pale, with a dot of vermilion between her brows, her lips slightly pursed, and her eyes deep and distant.

She just looked at Shen Yin quietly, as if through a dream.

Shen Yin's breathing became rapid, her chest heaving, and it felt as if something was blocking her throat, preventing her from making a sound.

Her hand slowly reached towards the mirror, her fingertips almost touching the familiar face in the mirror: Xu Wei.

Shen Yin suddenly stood up, and the powder box on the dressing table rolled to the ground with a crisp sound.

She turned around abruptly, wanting to confirm if there really was someone standing behind her.

however.

No one is empty.

In the dressing room, only the swaying gauze curtains were gently moved by the wind.

Shen Yin suddenly turned around and looked in the mirror again. Her reflection had returned to normal.

Her face was pale, and fear still lingered in her eyes, as if the hallucination from just moments before had not yet dissipated.

She slowly raised her hand and gently touched her brow.

That dot of cinnabar seemed even more crimson than before, like a blood-red peony quietly blooming.

Her hand slowly moved down and landed on the dressing table.

The next second, her fingertips touched something.

Shen Yin lowered her head, her pupils slightly contracting, and a black peony lay quietly on the table.

It had withered, its petals slightly curled, yet it still emitted an eerie, ghostly glow.

Shen Yin's breath hitched slightly.

"Shen Yin, it's time to go on stage!"

The staff outside urged her on.

Her body trembled slightly, her fingers tightly gripping the black peony. Finally, she took a deep breath, slowly stood up, and walked towards the stage.

The camera slowly zooms out.

Backstage at the Jinghua Kunqu Opera Troupe, the lights were still dim, and the old costumes swayed slightly in the wind, as if nothing had changed.

In the distance, the stage curtain slowly opened, gongs and drums sounded, and melodious singing filled the air.

"The vibrant colors of spring have faded, leaving only broken wells and crumbling walls."

The sound was like weeping and lamenting, drifting into the void.

However, in the dimly lit corner backstage, the surface of the makeup mirror seemed to ripple slightly.
"As expected! Is this a denunciation of the unchanging fate of women for hundreds of years, or a cry for justice?" Chen Kaige remained silent, then sighed deeply as he came to his senses.

Everyone was still reeling, because the ending of the story remained as oppressive as ever, as if it had never changed in the last few centuries.
(End of this chapter)