The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Wang Zhonghua knew the time was right. He said nothing more, only quietly watching the flame in her eyes grow ever brighter.

Finally, Li Jingniang snapped out of her artistic reverie and met Wang Zhonghua's gaze. This time, there was no hesitation in her eyes, only a resigned calm that also shone with a strange brilliance.

She paused, gazing at the deep night outside the window, her voice fleeting like smoke: "But, young master, you must understand. This may be a play with no end. No one can predict when it will be interrupted, when it will be banned. Between you and me…" She turned her gaze back to Wang Zhonghua, her eyes seeming to hold a thousand words, but ultimately condensed into a very soft, very faint sentence, "It's only a matter of fate in this play. Is that alright?"

These words were a demarcation, and also a form of entrustment. She was tying the next blossoming of her artistic life, and perhaps her last adventure, to this play, and to the man before her who was bringing the storm. She asked for nothing more than to share a journey together in the flames of art.

Wang Zhonghua looked deeply into her eyes and saw the resolve, weariness, and pride in them, as well as an unmistakable appreciation for a kindred spirit. He nodded slowly and solemnly said, "Alright. Let's just talk about this play."

Outside the window, the night wind rustled through the bamboo leaves, as if playing a subtle yet resolute prelude to this peculiar covenant that began in Chenzhou, continued in Bianjing, and concerned art and justice.

The maid Lian'er remained standing quietly in the shadows of the corridor, like a lifeless jade sculpture. Only her slightly trembling eyelashes betrayed that she had not missed a single whisper from inside the room.

A strange light shone in Wang Zhonghua's eyes—a light that blended memory, wisdom, and a do-or-die determination. "This new kind of play, I call it—drama. It's not simple storytelling or singing and dancing. It's about living people playing roles on a specific stage, using dialogue, singing, movement, and music to vividly present a complete story to the audience. Joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, separation, reunion, loyalty, treachery, good, and evil—all can be brought to life on stage, striking directly at the heart!"

Li Jingniang's hand, holding the teacup, froze in mid-air. She was a top-tier performer, proficient in music and dance, and experienced in all forms of performance. The scene Wang Zhonghua sketched in just a few words had a sudden, overwhelming effect on her, as if a door she had never imagined had been opened! Role-playing? A complete story? Presented on stage? This… this completely transcended her knowledge of "zaju" (a type of Chinese opera), "puppet theater," "shadow play," or "zhugongdiao" (a type of Chinese opera)!

"How...how is this possible?" she murmured, her eyes already gleaming with intense interest and a spirit of inquiry.

"I'll say it again—try it and see!" Wang Zhonghua said decisively. "We can start by trying a relatively mature form. I call it—Henan Opera." He borrowed the name of a local opera genre from his memory, taking the character "Yu" (豫), which not only implies "rehearsal" and "joy," but also resonates with the Central Plains. "Its singing style can incorporate popular folk songs and Bangzi operas from the Central Plains, high-pitched and passionate, especially good at expressing grief and indignation; the recitation uses the Central Plains rhyme, which is easy to understand; the performance needs to integrate singing and dancing, body movements, and even simple martial arts."

He spoke faster and faster, his thoughts flowing like a spring: "The first play I'll mention is 'The Tragedy of Liu E,' which is in the possession of Master Li!"

"The Tragedy of Liu E?" Li Jingniang repeated softly.

"Exactly!" Wang Zhonghua's eyes shone brightly. "Let's weave the grievances of Miss Liu and Miss Qin into a more classic, more empathetic framework. The core of the story could be this: A kind-hearted female doctor named Liu E offends the local powerful figure Chen Shimei in order to save her sworn sister Qin Lian and her family. Chen Shimei, coveting Liu E's beauty and medical skills but unable to obtain them, colludes with corrupt officials to frame Liu E for poisoning and murder, throwing her into a death row cell. Liu E endures brutal torture in prison, remaining steadfast and unyielding. Before her execution, she makes three vows to the heavens—blood staining the white silk, snow falling in June, and a three-year drought! Her grievances move heaven and earth, and her vows are fulfilled one by one! Finally, a righteous official, pleaded upon by Qin Xianglian and traveling incognito to investigate, appears, reopens the case, and with unparalleled wisdom and courage, exposes Chen Shimei's hypocritical facade, clearing the names of Liu E and Qin Xianglian, and bringing the wicked to justice!"

"Painted skin? What's that?"

Li Jingniang stared at Wang Zhonghua's lips, which resembled Louis Koo's, and was completely mesmerized.

This story not only echoes the unjust accusations against Liu Xinyi and the arduous journey of Qin Tiehua, but also incorporates the core of the widely circulated legend of "Dou E," and directly targets "Chen Shimei," the "heartless man who killed his wife and destroyed his words." The dramatic conflict is extremely intense, and the emotional impact is unparalleled! In particular, the "three vows" are simply the explosive point that ignites the audience's emotions!

"This...if this play were to succeed, it would be more than just a passing fad!" Li Jingniang's voice trembled slightly with excitement. "It would be...like a wildfire thrown on dry tinder! On stage, they would depict ancient tales of injustice, but in the hearts of the audience, they would be thinking of the living Chenzhou case, Miss Qin, and Miss Liu! What a brilliant move to use the past to satirize the present, to imbue the play with truth! Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

But she immediately frowned: "However...Young Master, this play is too complicated. Tianxiang Tower is a big name that attracts a lot of attention. If we stage it directly, I'm afraid that within three days, people from Kaifeng Prefecture or the Prince of Xiangyang's Mansion will come knocking on our door. At best, they'll ban the performance and arrest people; at worst..."

"Therefore, we cannot perform directly." Wang Zhonghua had already thought it through. "Master Li, you have a high reputation and extensive connections in the arts circles of Beijing. Could you gather a group of trustworthy, ambitious, and responsible musicians, singers, and dancers under the guise of 'developing new music' and 'exchanging ideas on ancient plays', and preferably some unsuccessful but skilled zaju (a type of Chinese opera) performers, so that we can rehearse in secret first?"

A calculating glint flashed in his eyes: "The location can be a relatively secluded villa or private residence that is closely related to Tianxiang Tower. To the outside world, we'll only say that we're rehearsing a new version of the legendary play 'The Filial Daughter of the Eastern Sea' from the previous dynasty. Once the rehearsals are complete, we won't sell tickets for the performance yet; instead, we'll... 'give away' the play."

"Sending a performance?"

"Yes!" Wang Zhonghua nodded. "Invite groups that are not easily suppressed by the government to watch the 'New Art Trial Performance' under the name of Tianxianglou or Li Dajia personally. For example: poor students from the Imperial Academy, merchants and artisans from various guilds in Bianjing, lay monks and Taoist priests from popular temples and monasteries outside the city, and even... the women of the Tianbo Mansion, and the families of upright officials who are on good terms with the Yang family! The first time, the scope should be small, the target audience should be 'safe' and have the potential to spread the word. Let this play ignite a spark in the hearts of these people first!"

As Li Jingniang listened, the light in her eyes grew stronger. Wang Zhonghua's plan was bold yet meticulous, proceeding step by step. He used art as a pretext to control public opinion; he used the past to comment on the present, subtly maneuvering for his own purposes. This was no longer a simple appeal for justice, but a carefully planned battle for public support!

"The script, the singing style, the musical pieces, the movements... how should these be done specifically?" She was completely absorbed in the task and began to think about the technical details.

"I'll provide the basic structure and core lyrics," Wang Zhonghua said. "Master Li, you have plenty of musicians and performers here. With your unparalleled talent, flesh it out, compose moving melodies, and transform it into a heart-wrenching drama! I believe that the power of art, once it finds the right form, will far surpass a thousand words of accusation! I also believe that the success of the new play will bring you immense wealth! I, Wang Zhonghua, may not have any other skills, but I have stories and new plays!"

He stood up and bowed deeply to Li Jingniang: "Master Li, this is not a personal vendetta of Zhonghua alone, but a plea for justice for the innocent, a call for fairness, and a fight for a breath of fresh air in this corrupt world! Zhonghua implores, Master Li, to help me!"

Li Jingniang also stood up. She didn't immediately agree, but walked to the window, gazing at the dazzling lights of Bianjing, remaining silent for a long time. Faintly, the sounds of laughter and song from the front hall drifted in from outside, a scene of decadent luxury; while in this quiet courtyard, they were plotting a storm that could potentially backfire.

Finally, she turned around, her face no longer showing hesitation or melancholy, but a resolute and spirited determination.

"My lord," her voice was clear and firm, "in my life, I have witnessed too much flattery and sung too many empty words. How exhilarating it would be to use my skills and talents to do something truly 'meaningful,' something that might even 'stir up trouble'!"

She walked to the violin, her fingers gently brushing across the strings, producing a series of clear and melodious harmonics.

"The Tragedy of Liu E... What a fine title. This injustice must not only be sung, but also performed, so that everyone in Bianjing can see it, remember it, and feel indignation!"

She looked at Wang Zhonghua, smiled sweetly, a smile that held a touch of dashing heroism: "Young Master Wang, this 'grand show'—I accept!"