Ji Shuangyu first went to cancel the doctor's appointment, then to the pharmacy to get the medicine. Fortunately, he had nothing much to do in the morning; theaters usually started their shows after ten a.m. These days, because they were staging the serial play Temple of the Spiritual Official, the Changle Theater always started in the afternoon.

After buying the medicine, Ji Shuangyu went to a shop on the same street and bought a ready-made cotton-padded outfit and new shoes for each child. Because his fifth brother was too young, he held him in his arms the whole time. It was only when they reached the clothing store that he belatedly realized something and looked down, searching around. "Huh, third sister didn't come??"

His third sister had been just one step behind when they left, but he had completely failed to notice and walked off.

After all, his third sister was usually as elusive as a ghost, and she was thin, small, and dark. Without looking down, he had just assumed she was there...

Fortunately, third sister and second brother were about the same size, so having second brother try on the clothes would work. At the price point they were buying at, there wasn't much choice in patterns anyway.

Perhaps the original Ji Shuangyu had lived a few good days as a child, but these younger siblings of his had truly never worn new clothes.

They either wore adult clothes altered to be smaller or bought second-hand clothes from the flea market.

Second brother started to stutter when he realized his older brother intended to buy a set for each of them.

He felt his brother was being too extravagant. The new year was still almost a month away... no, even if it were the new year, they shouldn't be buying new clothes. The family was in such dire straits. "Brother, we... we can just buy some cotton wool!"

They could just stuff their old clothes. A jin of new cotton wool cost thirty or forty cents, much cheaper than buying new cotton-padded clothes.

"Money is a bastard, if you spend it, you can earn it back. Earning that damn Xu Xinyue's money..." Ji Shuangyu firmly wrapped second brother up and buttoned his new coat.

Clothing, food, housing, and transportation—clothing came even before food. It was essential to dress warmly. With the time it would take him to stuff cotton, wouldn't it be better to earn more money? More importantly, he, who came from a parallel universe, had absolutely no skill in tailoring clothes. Doing it himself would expose him.

Second brother sniffled. He had never been this warm during a Jingcheng winter. His purplish-red face broke into a sincere smile at Ji Shuangyu.

......

"This is my business card," Zhou Siyin said after a moment of thought.

By the time Ji Shuangyu returned and decocted the medicine, it was almost noon. After drinking a bowl of the medicine, Zhou Siyin felt much better. It was hard to say whether it was because his diagnosis was accurate—a fright—or if it was mostly psychological.

Before leaving, he left Ji Shuangyu a business card. Although he had... taken a tumble here, so to speak, Ji Shuangyu's penmanship had made him want to form an acquaintance. "You can come find me if you need anything, but you can't tell anyone—"

"I know, I can't tell anyone you fainted from being scared by me!" Ji Shuangyu said.

"Who fainted from being scared by you??" Zhou Siyin snatched his business card back and headed for the door, muttering curses. On the way, he carefully skirted around third sister. "I'm leaving!!"

'Quite a temper!'

Ji Shuangyu watched his aggressive back and chuckled speechlessly.

Just as Zhou Siyin reached the door, several voices came from outside the courtyard. "Which room does Shu Wangyan live in, anyway? What did the general manager say last night?"

With extreme speed, Zhou Siyin dodged back and stood pressed against the side of the door.

The few people outside walked past leisurely, glancing inside and meeting Ji Shuangyu's eyes. Huh, not Mr. Shu Wangyan, but he was quite handsome. They slowed their pace to take a few more looks.

Separated by a wall, Zhou Siyin stood holding his breath, also meeting Ji Shuangyu's eyes.

Zhou Siyin: "..."

Ji Shuangyu: "..."

Zhou Siyin: "..."

Two minutes later, Zhou Siyin said with a dark face, "I'm leaving!"

Ji Shuangyu: "Oh, leaving again?"

Zhou Siyin: "..."

After Zhou Siyin left, Ji Shuangyu clapped his hands and steamed a few buns for the children's dinner.

The neighbors saw this and were quite envious. He must have earned some money to be eating white flour steamed buns. Living in the same courtyard, it was basically impossible for families to hide their situations from each other. But everyone knew how miserable and poor his family was, so their envy was mixed with happiness for them, all with good intentions.

As Ji Shuangyu was tidying up, second brother ran over, stroking his new clothes, and said excitedly, "Brother, this fabric is so nice. When summer comes, let's take the outer layer off and make you a summer shirt. If we piece them together, it'll be enough for a whole set, and we all have the same color."

Originally, their winter and summer clothes were made by taking apart and reassembling the same garments. When someone's clothes needed washing, there were no replacements, so they had to temporarily wear a family member's. The average clothing ownership was 1.2 items per person. Ji Shuangyu's set of flannel pajamas had instantly and greatly increased their per capita ownership rate.

Hearing this, Ji Shuangyu's heart ached a little. No wonder second brother and the others had all chosen the same blue color when picking out their clothes. In his entire life, he had never personally witnessed such misery. Besides, in his world, due to different times and policies, he had no siblings.

Taking care of the children these past few days had been truly difficult.

He worked during the day, and when he came back at night, he wished he didn't have to see them—he was raising them out of compassion, but deep down, he still wished he would wake up and be transported back, thinking it would be great if this were all a dream.

Now, seeing them so excited yet anxious over a single piece of clothing, smiling like that, made Ji Shuangyu's "dream" much clearer.

Things he had intentionally or unintentionally ignored before now came to the surface. Second brother wasn't just "second brother"; he had his own name, Ji Leizong. The invisible third sister was called Ji Feifei. The fourth sister, Lulu, and the fifth brother, Baozi, were too young when their parents died, so they had only been given nicknames.

"It's alright, Lei-zi, when summer comes, you'll have new clothes too," Ji Shuangyu said, patting Ji Leizong's head.

He would still ask the great god of physics to continue blessing him with a return trip, but before that, he was willing to save up more money for these children.

For now, Ji Shuangyu was heading out to work.

As he reached the gate, Ji Shuangyu noticed a piece of paper stuck in the door latch. He plucked it out and saw it was a finely and simply printed business card. In the center was a single line of text: Kunlun Bookstore, Zhou Siyin.

Huh, he had heard that name before and had even gone to the Kunlun Library to look up materials.

So that man was Zhou Siyin of Kunlun Bookstore?

Recalling the rumors about this Mr. Zhou's personality and what he had seen today... there were some discrepancies in the details. Ji Shuangyu chuckled and casually put the card away.

......

.

"Off to work, off to earn Xu Xinyue's money." Ji Shuangyu walked into the theater's backstage area and ran right into Xu Xinyue himself.

"Come here! Quick!" Xu Xinyue grabbed Ji Shuangyu, fuming. "The set! How can we make it more Xieyi Style? Keep revising it for me!"

Ji Shuangyu was bewildered. "What's going on, CEO Xu?"

Xu Xinyue said angrily, "Today I went to the Pear Garden Charity Association to discuss the year-end charity performance, to decide which theater to hold it in and which actors to invite, and what do you think happened..."

The Pear Garden Charity Association was the industry guild of the time. At the end of the year, they would usually organize some charity performances to aid poor colleagues. These were called joint-table performances.

Thinking back on the meeting, Xu Xinyue was still fuming.

A few sour grapes, seeing his theater's box office booming these last few days—the three-day tickets had sold out, and they had added today's tickets, looking like they could extend the run for several more days, bringing the theater back from the brink of death, and even earning praise from several famous critics and patrons—were green with envy.

They made some snide remarks, the gist of which was that this so-called Xieyi Style was inferior to the Western realistic painting style, and the audience was just temporarily swayed by the newspapers (which were probably paid reviews and advertisements).

Moreover, they said it was a regression, a return to the old, decadent school, and that Xu Xinyue shouldn't be fooled by some unknown set designer and should quickly return to the proper path.

This kind of talk had existed since Temple of the Spiritual Official first premiered, but the opposition was getting louder now because its box office was soaring, its influence was growing, and some troupes were even thinking of imitating it.

With more attention came more scrutiny. They were now criticizing Xu Xinyue to his face.

"Is that so," Ji Shuangyu said after listening, not particularly agitated.

It was actually easy to understand. Some people might genuinely be mindless followers of Western sets; there were plenty of such people everywhere.

But others probably knew better but couldn't stand to see Temple of the Spiritual Official become a hit, as that would devalue their own Western-style sets. They hadn't recouped their investment yet, so naturally, they had to praise the Western style and promote their own.

Neither of these was anything new.

If Ying Xiaonong weren't a painted-face role actor, but a famous female impersonator who often stirred up drama, the patrons would probably be at each other's throats by now, just like modern-day fans praising their own idols' works while belittling their rivals'.

"I think ours is great! Haven't you seen how the newspapers are praising us? Who says progress must mean using a Western painting style? Are foreigners his daddy?" Xu Xinyue hadn't thought that deeply about it, nor did he have a high level of artistic appreciation. He had even been a little doubtful whether this set design would be popular before.

Now that he was angry, it was about fighting for his pride, and he started insisting that the Xieyi Style was great.

"I'm going to extend the run of this play for several more days, and we're going to keep revising it. You, go and make this play even more Xieyi Style!"

Ji Shuangyu: "..."

Ji Shuangyu: 'Please calm down. The people think it looks good, so who are they to judge? But this, making it more Xieyi Style...' How the hell was he supposed to make it more Xieyi Style? Xu Xinyue wasn't even giving him any money. What he had achieved so far was already on a tight budget.

However, this was an opportunity.

An idea sparked in Ji Shuangyu's mind, and he put on the expression he reserved for seducing investors. "Hey, actually, the boss's goal is just to extend the run for a few more days, right? How about this: as long as you give me the authority to direct, we can move in that direction."

In the future, whenever Xu Xinyue saw this expression, he would feel a reflexive pang of pain in his wallet.

But at this moment, Xu Xinyue was still relatively naive. He thought, 'That's right. Those people are partly just worshipping foreign things, but mostly they're just jealous. So it doesn't matter how we change it, as long as the box office is a hit!'

"Fine, you can direct!" Xu Xinyue said decisively.

Ji Shuangyu rejoiced inwardly. He could finally give orders with official sanction. He had actually been secretly sorting out the plot in his mind for a while now.

Holy cow, according to the current timeline, the Huaxia opera world had truly never had a "director." He was about to become the very first director in the history of opera!

......

When Xu Xinyue announced the news internally, the entire Hanxi Troupe fell silent.

The troupe leader's mouth twitched. "Have you lost your mind? A director? You can't just copy everything." He held back his anger, refraining from saying anything harsher.

Yes, Ji Shuangyu's set design had brought them back from the dead, but directing and rehearsing, were they the same thing?

Xu Xinyue had already rejected Ji Shuangyu twice before, for the very reason that there had never been a director in the opera world. If they really rehearsed, they would be criticized. The prevailing custom was to "meet on stage"; "drilling the pot" was considered very shameful.

Learning a play at the last minute, or "drilling the pot," was usually for understudies filling in or for actors who had to take on a role they didn't know. If it happened often, it meant you weren't a capable actor, didn't know many plays, and your skills were subpar.

Take Ying Xiaonong, for example. He was the one who had revived this play. To make him go back and rehearse it, could he keep his dignity?

At this point, Xu Xinyue felt a little regretful. He was a fickle person. A moment ago he was full of fighting spirit, but now, after what the troupe leader said, he hesitated. He usually didn't manage this kind of technical matter anyway. "Uh, well..."

Seeing things were about to go south, Ji Shuangyu immediately said, "I see that our troupe doesn't have any actors with close ties to literary men, especially those who can write plays. I myself can write and direct. I've already thought about how to change the plot!"

There were no professional playwrights at this time; rather, there were literary patrons who would write tailor-made scripts for the actors they supported.

But the Hanxi Troupe hadn't been particularly popular before, and Ying Xiaonong was past his prime. Moreover, patrons at the time preferred to support female-role actors and female performers. The troupe truly lacked the ability to adapt and create, and the scripts they performed were ones passed down through the ages.

When Ji Shuangyu said this, they looked at each other and began to hesitate.

However, while the plot could be changed, as for this rehearsing...

Did writing and directing have to be bundled together?

Ying Xiaonong quite admired Ji Shuangyu; one could even say he had made his comeback thanks to Ji Shuangyu's efforts. He was also the biggest star in the theater at the moment, so everyone else looked to him, waiting for him to speak first.

Ying Xiaonong's face was serious as he looked at Ji Shuangyu. "A person can't be like this. Everyone has their own duties. If you're good-looking, you should just do your own thing."

Everyone: "..."

Ji Shuangyu: "Thanks...?"

Ying Xiaonong stated diplomatically, "Actually, I support you in organizing the plot. Many troupes and famous actors revise plays; otherwise, they can't keep up with the times. But as for directing, you can go direct the others. Don't worry about me, I'll definitely do what you ask on stage. You can rest assured about my performance."

—What a joke. If word got out that he was being directed, where would he put his face? It would be one thing if it were a famous master or a renowned actor from the same profession, but this was a young, inexperienced kid, a complete outsider.

Everyone knew that Ji Shuangyu's prior relationship with their profession was as a freelance extra, playing a spirit, someone who didn't even open his mouth.

With his gentle refusal, the other actors didn't dare to reject Ji Shuangyu directly either. After all, his position as set designer was still very secure. They could only say aggrievedly, "Please let us go, we really don't need you to teach us!"

It was as if they were being bullied, a truly ridiculous situation.

Ji Shuangyu said loudly, "I will insist on it!!"

Everyone: "..."

How could there be such a stubborn person?? They had "a forced melon is not sweet" practically written on their faces.

Ji Shuangyu turned to one of the actresses playing a supporting female role. "Just now, I heard you practicing your voice, singing a line: ‘The sweet osmanthus hears the cicada, the overturned brew deepens my feelings, this body cannot bear the autumn air.’ Do you know what this sentence means?"

The actress looked completely blank. "...I don't know."

She was illiterate, so how could she know what it meant?

At this time, only in the major opera schools did promising actors have the chance to take cultural classes to better understand the lyrics and practice calligraphy.

But she wasn't from a famous opera school, and even actors who had taken cultural classes didn't necessarily master that many classical allusions. Only the top-tier famous actors possessed a high level of cultural literacy, or rather, conversely, possessing cultural literacy gave one a better chance of eventually becoming a first-rate actor.

Ji Shuangyu seemed to grow taller inch by inch as he declared proudly, "Because the character is wrong. It should be 'overturned meat paste,' not 'overturned brew.' 'Hai' means meat paste; 'fu hai' means to throw away the meat paste. That's the literal meaning. In fact, it expresses a grief so profound that one stops eating. Therefore, this entire line is extremely sorrowful. When singing it, shouldn't you use a more mournful tone, with a more winding melody? It would be best to cry out a few lines, and end the phrases with a sustained note."

By the end, he was looking down on the crowd, his gaze possessing an extraordinary aura.

Everyone looked up at him, feeling as if they couldn't look directly at his brilliance, and raised their hands to shield their eyes.

"Ah!" It was Ying Xiaonong who cried out involuntarily.

A moment later, Ying Xiaonong realized his gaffe, coughed, and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't expect you to actually understand opera."

"Naturally. Otherwise, how would I dare say I could direct?" Ji Shuangyu jumped down from the stool. Only then could everyone look at him properly again. Good heavens, that lamp above him was blinding...

What a guy, arranging his own lighting effects while giving a speech.

Opera scripts were often passed down orally by illiterate artists, which led to the mistaken transmission of the character "hai." Similar situations existed in many plays. Although it was a bit embarrassing, this wasn't what surprised Ying Xiaonong.

In just a few sentences, Ji Shuangyu had clearly explained something that actors with insufficient comprehension or education might never figure out in their entire lives. If that actress performed as Ji Shuangyu suggested, she would definitely receive a standing ovation.

If she could do it, it would be called a "qiaotou" in the professional jargon, a skill usually only possessed by famous actors. It referred to their unique interpretations in a performance, which could be just a small detail but would achieve an excellent effect, elevating the entire performance.

Moreover, these words also revealed that Ji Shuangyu had an understanding of singing styles and was by no means an amateur!

—Although Ji Shuangyu was not an opera master, he had elders in the Pear Garden in his family. He had been exposed to it, understood it, and was influenced by it. What's more, the opera he knew was the refined essence from decades in the future.

Many incorrect lines had been corrected, and the most suitable performance methods had been discovered. Some techniques that were kept secret at this time would be widely disseminated in the future.

Coupled with his basic qualities as a director, if he couldn't even handle this, would he have the thick skin to offer to direct a play?

Ji Shuangyu looked at Ying Xiaonong. "Boss Ying, now what do you think? Can we rehearse?"

'A soldier who doesn't want to be a general is not a good soldier. My martial skills are top-notch, but my dramatic acting is a step behind. This gap isn't easy to close. Either the actor is exceptionally talented, or they must have a master who teaches without holding back, right?'

In this era, everyone held back a little, which was why some actors even "stole" techniques, secretly learning from the main actor without their knowledge.

At this moment, Ying Xiaonong keenly sensed that Ji Shuangyu, this young man, although not a famous actor and with skills of unknown origin, was willing to teach everything he knew... So this rehearsal was all benefit and only one harm to him. It was a great opportunity for him to take a huge step forward.

That one and only harm was just a bit of gossip. Ying Xiaonong said hurriedly, "Let them gossip!"

Ji Shuangyu: "Huh?"

Ying Xiaonong: "Ahem, I said, we'll rehearse..."