Returning to the county opera troupe in 77

When there are no performances, the theater is usually idle. Apart from Old Man Fang, who is responsible for looking after and cleaning the theater, the huge theater is usually as deserted as a graveyard.

Chen Xiangdong, carrying an aluminum lunchbox, entered through a side door and headed straight for the small backstage room. Just as he reached the door of Old Fang's dormitory, he heard a commotion coming from inside:

"Look at you now, so pathetic! Where did that top-tier martial arts actor who was famous throughout northern Shaanxi go? Are you really willing to just give up like this?"

"My affairs are none of your business!"

"You think I want to bother with this piece of rotten dog shit? I don't want to see the martial arts skills our master passed down to you go to the grave with you, completely severing our sect's lineage!"

Chen Xiangdong stopped in his tracks, looking at the closed door with surprise and uncertainty. Inside, he could hear the voices of Old Man Fang and Feng Zhengxiao. He wondered why the two old men were arguing.

Just then, a loud crash came from inside the room, like an enamel mug smashing on the muddy floor, followed by Old Man Fang's furious cursing:

"What kind of bullshit inheritance is this! I'm just an old cripple, an old drunkard, what the hell does the sect's inheritance have to do with me!"

"you!"

Chen Xiangdong, who was outside the door, sensed something was wrong and was afraid that the two old men would start fighting again, so he hurriedly pushed the door open and went inside.

The old wooden door creaked open, and when Old Man Feng and Old Man Fang saw someone come in, they both turned their heads away.

Seeing that neither of the two old men paid any attention to him, Chen Xiangdong's eyes darted around. He walked to the table, placed the aluminum lunchbox on it, lifted the lid and used it as a fan to disperse the steam rising from the braised pork. He then pretended to sniff the air.

"Putting everything else aside, Master Qin's braised pork skills are truly impeccable. Look at these pieces of meat, four parts fat and six parts lean, jiggling and juicy, it's absolutely delicious."

The aroma of meat gradually filled the small room, and the two old men, one on each side facing the wall in contemplation, subconsciously glanced at the table.

Chen Xiangdong grinned at Feng Zhengxiao: "Brother Hei, we've got some good food, shouldn't we have some wine to go with it and have a couple of drinks?"

Feng Zhengxiao snorted and glared at Old Man Fang again: "Drink, drink, drink! You'll drink yourself into a coward sooner or later!"

Although he wasn't being insulted, Chen Xiangdong still felt a little embarrassed and could only manage an awkward laugh.

Old Fang's appetite was whetted. He picked up the enamel mug from the ground, limped over to the small bed against the wall, bent down, and magically pulled a small plastic bucket from under the bed.

It swayed near my ear; there was at least half a bucket left.

"It doesn't matter if he doesn't drink. Come on, kid, let's have a couple of drinks."

As he spoke, he first filled the enamel mug, then poured a small half-bowl into the white porcelain bowl on the table.

The liquor was bulk sorghum liquor, with fine bubbles rising around the rim of the bowl. The smell was somewhat pungent, and the whole room was filled with the aroma of alcohol as soon as it was poured.

"Why shouldn't I drink it? Even this dish was a gift from my nephew!"

Feng Zhengxiao cursed and then sat down next to him.

Old Fang didn't even glance at Chen Xiangdong's dark face, but instead, contrary to his usual behavior, he took the initiative to chat with him:

"Are you Dongwazi, the one who rushed into the fire to save people the other day?"

As he spoke, he didn't pick up any food, but instead raised the jar and gestured to Chen Xiangdong.

When the senior colleague offered a toast, Chen Xiangdong dared not presume to sit and clink glasses. He quickly stood up, pressing the rim of his bowl low, much lower than the mouth of the jar.

He touched it respectfully and said, "You have a good memory, sir. My name is Chen Xiangdong, and I am currently learning to play the drum from Master Liu."

Old Fang grunted in agreement, tilted his head back, and gulped down half a jar of wine.

Chen Xiangdong blinked. Old Fang's drink was at least two ounces. He was hesitating whether to join him for a big sip when Feng Zhengxiao snatched the bowl away and righteously reprimanded him:

"You're just a little brat, what are you drinking for! If you ruin your brain, you won't even be able to find a wife later."

As soon as he finished speaking, the wine in the bowl was gone.

Feng Zhengxiao wiped his mouth, glared at Old Man Fang, and said, "What are you standing there for? Pour it on!"

Old Fang simply hugged the plastic bucket to his chest, burped, and because he hadn't brushed his teeth for years, the smell almost knocked Feng Zhengxiao and Chen Xiangdong over.

Chen Xiangdong frowned and remained silent, while Feng Zhengxiao opened his mouth with a look of disgust and scolded, "Hey Lao Fang, can't you brush your teeth? It's like you've fallen into a latrine as soon as you open your mouth."

Old Fang patted the plastic bucket, already somewhat drunk: "Liquor is... the best mouthwash!"

Feng Zhengxiao looked at him, remained silent for two seconds, and then sighed, "Old Fang, are you really willing to... bury all your skills in the yellow earth? To just waste your master's teachings like this, can you really bear it?"

Chen Xiangdong saw it clearly: Old Fang's hand holding the wine barrel suddenly trembled. He lowered his head, so his facial expression was not visible; only his gray hair was somewhat glaring.

He gave a wry smile: "My leg's already crippled, what's the point of performing... What's there to regret..."

The room fell silent instantly.

Feng Zhengxiao took a deep breath and turned to Chen Xiangdong: "Kid, do you know how to play the rhythm of 'The Great Return to the Court'?"

Chen Xiangdong nodded subconsciously, but he regretted it afterward and cursed himself as an idiot.

The old plays are still banned, so where did this 14-year-old learn "The Great Return to the Court" from?

You can't exactly say that you heard this play while dreaming of the Duke of Zhou, can you?

Feng Zhengxiao slammed the white porcelain bowl upside down on the table, stood up, and pointed at it: "Let's do the 'Dragon Ridge' section. You tap it, and I'll sing it!"

Then, he saw him scratch hard on the mottled, damp wall with his fingers, and then smear the white plaster on his fingertips onto his forehead.

In an instant, Chen Xiangdong felt a blur before his eyes, as if the person standing in front of him was not Feng Laohei, but the old Grand Tutor who had been devoted to the court and public service countless years ago!

"knock!"

Feng Zhengxiao let out a loud shout, and his entire aura suddenly changed!

His short, gray hair seemed to stand on end, and his old eyes flashed with a sharp light that pierced people's hearts like a dagger.

A surge of heat rushed to his head, and Chen Xiangdong subconsciously picked up two chopsticks and smashed them down with a "thud" as if holding drumsticks!

"Thump thump thump! Clang clang—"

Feng Zhengxiao raised one hand to stroke his non-existent long beard, and with his other hand he suddenly grabbed as if he had seized Grand Tutor Wen's golden whip. He lowered his body, shifted his stance, and in that instant, his posture became as imposing as a deep pool and a towering mountain, awe-inspiring and unapproachable!

With each step, the sound of his footsteps hitting the ground mingled with the drumbeats, as if stepping on Chen Xiangdong's heart.

After taking three steps, he suddenly turned around, his eyes reddening, and began to sing: "Gazing at Chaoge from afar, tears stream down my face—"

This is not just singing, it's shouting!

The song expresses the resentment and questioning of an old general facing the collapse of the court, looking back at the old capital.

In that instant, Chen Xiangdong was stunned by Feng Zhengxiao's, or rather, by Grand Tutor Wen's gaze, and almost forgot to bring down the gavel.

The desolate echo reverberated in the cramped room. The drumsticks fell again, and Feng Zhengxiao's voice suddenly rose: "Decades of achievements turned to dust—"

The drumbeats pounded on the bottom of the bowl and the table like rain. Chen Xiangdong was completely immersed in the play. At this moment, he forgot everything around him, forgot his past and present lives, and his heart and eyes were filled with the eyes, figure and gait of Grand Tutor Wen.

Feng Zhengxiao clenched his fists tightly, his eyes so red they looked like they could bleed. He had truly put himself in Grand Tutor Wen's shoes, like an old pine tree standing tall and unyielding in a desperate situation.

As the final line, "With a heart full of passion, I will protect the tyrant," was sung, Chen Xiangdong's hands, which had been waving drumsticks, suddenly hovered in mid-air.

A profound and mysterious realization welled up in his mind, and he felt as if his drumming skills had been elevated at this moment.

The system panel pops up at this moment:

[Instrument Proficiency (Banggu/Cymbals): 60/100 (Proficiency reaches the passing grade for a third-level drummer)]

Chen Xiangdong was taken aback: No wonder he always felt that it was harder to increase proficiency as he progressed. It turned out that between fifty and sixty, it was no longer a simple accumulation of proficiency, but a watershed between apprentice and drum master.

Even if you reach a proficiency level of 59, an apprentice is still an apprentice. Without breaking through the threshold of 60, you will never become a drum master.

Now, he has officially broken through the bottleneck and successfully entered the ranks of third-class drummers!

However, before he could even feel happy, Feng Zhengxiao poured cold water on his head:

"The drumbeats are out of control."

Chen Xiangdong looked over and saw a smile on his dark face: "However, to be able to play like this in less than a month of learning drums, you're more talented than your master. I've lived for decades and never seen such a prodigy."

"Kid, now you've truly entered the field." Old Fang rarely smiled at Chen Xiangdong. "Drumming is like opera; as long as you have talent and are diligent enough, you'll eventually master it and make a name for yourself."