On the same day, at the other end of Small Drum Alley.

Nearly ten people stood in the small courtyard, most of them editors or printers from Kunlun Bookstore. In their midst, they surrounded a young man—none other than the bestselling author Shu Wangyan, who had fled here to escape his manuscript deadline.

"Hand over the manuscript! Hand over the manuscript!" a few people chanted, raising their fists.

"Mr. Wangyan, please just give us the manuscript," some tried to persuade him patiently.

"That's right, our general manager came over last night. It was all agreed that there would be at least two thousand characters today."

"He never came!" Shu Wangyan stomped his foot. "Besides, he's the one who told you there'd be two thousand characters, not me! How can you use that to rush and pressure me? This is outrageous!"

"Hand over the manuscript! Hand over the manuscript!"

The one leading them was Shu Wangyan's editor-in-charge. He said grimly, "And is it reasonable for you to fake your death? The tabloids outside are all calling you the nine-lived cat demon, betting on when you'll manage to 'die' nine times."

Shu Wangyan: "..."

"Hand over the manuscript! Hand over the manuscript!"

Shu Wangyan: "..."

"Can you stop shouting! It's so annoying!" Shu Wangyan covered his ears. "In any case, Zhou Siyin never came to my door. How am I supposed to produce two thousand characters?"

However.

No one dared to believe Shu Wangyan's words anymore.

Besides, the employees of Kunlun Bookstore were all in agreement that when Zhou Siyin said something, he would definitely do it. Shu Wangyan was pretending to be crazy, while their President Zhou was truly crazy (??).

Therefore...

"Hand over the manuscript! Hand over the manuscript!"

"Hand over the manuscript! Hand over the manuscript!"

Amid the clamor, Shu Wangyan squatted on the ground and started to cry.

He even began to ramble nonsensically, "Aren't you forcing me into a corner! Did Zhou Siyin teach you this? Trying to give me a taste of my own medicine, making me suffer the consequences of lying..."

No matter how much Shu Wangyan argued, this group of people refused to back down, demanding he hand over those nonexistent two thousand characters.

Just then, the courtyard gate was pushed open.

A tall young man with an overcoat draped over his arm strode in. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his face was pale with a hint of fatigue, as if he hadn't rested well. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said irritably, "What's going on? I could hear wailing and howling from a distance."

"Ah, Master!" Driver Hu was the first to see him, a little excited. He had come over this morning to pick up his master but had only found the indignant editors and a baffled-looking Shu Wangyan.

The moment Shu Wangyan saw Zhou Siyin, he cried out in misery, "Brother Baoduo! You've really done me in! Hurry and make it clear, I didn't write any two thousand characters last night. I slept soundly until dawn! But they're all surrounding me and accusing me!"

Baoduo was Zhou Siyin's courtesy name. He paused for a moment, then said humiliatingly, "Only two thousand characters, and you didn't write them even while sleeping so soundly? Are you even human?"

Shu Wangyan: "..."

Zhou Siyin led the charge, and everyone else began to complain in unison, convinced that Shu Wangyan had been slacking off again last night. Zhou Siyin, in particular, seemed to be on a short fuse for some reason, and his words grew increasingly sharp.

Shu Wangyan looked utterly hopeless. He was certain this was Zhou Siyin's conspiracy to make him suffer his retribution.

Shu Wangyan clutched his head and said, "But it's been difficult for me too, which is why I rented this courtyard, hoping to find some inspiration in the quiet." The story he was writing recently was a mystery-suspense with horror elements, and he wanted to gather some material in Small Drum Alley.

Actually, when Zhou Siyin found out he was living in a place like this, he had guessed that Shu Wangyan might have had a bit of a conscience this time and wasn't just faking his death. But it was precisely because Shu Wangyan was living here that he himself had suffered terribly, and his expression soured even more.

Seeing Zhou Siyin's expression darken, Shu Wangyan suspected he was about to erupt into a tirade. "Two thousand characters, right? Can't I just start writing them now?!"

Only then did Zhou Siyin's expression soften a little. At least some things had been accomplished today.

But his anger hadn't fully dissipated. He glanced at Shu Wangyan's handwriting. Because he was in a rush, Shu Wangyan was writing with a fountain pen. Zhou Siyin recalled Ji Shuangyu's calligraphy and sneered from the side, "Chicken scratch."

Shu Wangyan: "???"

I'm already writing the manuscript, why are you still scolding me??

The editors who had been worried that Shu Wangyan would fake his death again were immensely relieved. If not for the big boss, they really couldn't handle this Mr. Wangyan.

Fortunately, having lived in Small Drum Alley these past few days and chatted with the junk peddlers, he had indeed gained some inspiration. Shu Wangyan wrote furiously and finally managed to produce three thousand characters—exceeding the target by a thousand!

The editor proofread it on the spot. The printing department had prepared the paper last night and was just waiting for the manuscript.

Zhou Siyin idly sized up the courtyard. With Shu Wangyan's manuscript fees, there were few houses in Jingcheng he couldn't afford to rent, let alone a small siheyuan like this one.

He asked, "Planning to keep living here?"

Shu Wangyan: "Yeah."

Zhou Siyin: "Don't."

Shu Wangyan gave him a strange look, then said, "Why not? I won't move."

He watched Zhou Siyin's face, quickly jumped back a bit, and said arrogantly, "I've handed in the manuscript, you can't scold me anymore!" At this moment, he was the big shot of Kunlun Bookstore, and even Zhou Siyin had to be polite to him!

Zhou Siyin: "..."

Seeing his 'dead pig isn't afraid of boiling water' attitude, and considering he had actually managed to write the manuscript here, Zhou Siyin could only soften his tone. "In that case, the bookstore will allocate funds for you to live in this courtyard. Additionally, we'll have an editor visit you regularly."

They were very willing to spend money to maintain their relationship with the bookstore's star author, and not just in manuscript fees. Otherwise, they couldn't have had a long-term collaboration, which included hounding him for his manuscript. They couldn't do without each other...

"Aiya." Shu Wangyan's face scrunched up, and he finally sighed. "Alright then, Brother Baoduo, in a couple of days, come with me to find some fun. Someone gave me two theater tickets here. I was originally planning to ask Brother Xiao Shan to go."

Xiao Shan was his editor-in-charge.

Zhou Siyin asked, "He's not going?"

Shu Wangyan said sheepishly, "He's not going, and he even glared at me."

Xiao Shan, who was in the middle of proofreading, looked up and shot Shu Wangyan another fierce glare. 'Of course not! Do I look like I have the time?!'

Zhou Siyin snorted, "You're just looking to get scolded again."

—This Shu Wangyan was not at all enthusiastic about old-style drama. He was a novelist, and every time he went to see an opera, he would satirize it heavily for its crudely manufactured plot and poor logic.

Opera was certainly a traditional Huaxia art form, integrating poetry, painting, song, and dance, but art also varied in quality. For example, Kunqu opera was extremely elegant, while the scripts for Peking opera were much simpler.

In addition, many of the new plays currently being staged catered to the masses and sought to attract attention by being overly dramatic and sensational, and the final products were often hard to describe.

In Shu Wangyan's opinion, whether the plots were adapted from ancient stories or were original creations, there were truly few masterpieces.

It had long been said that many people in the opera world lacked culture, perhaps not even understanding the meaning of the lyrics they sang. Although there were literati who wrote scripts for popular actors, not all of them were great talents. Many scripts were draggy, focusing only on showing off literary knowledge.

From Shu Wangyan's perspective, the most detestable thing was that some operas still contained outdated and foul feudalistic ideas, which were in dire need of major reform.

Shu Wangyan often went to watch a play with the intention of relaxing, only to come back and write a scathing critique. It helped him meet his column's word count, and he enjoyed it too.

Naturally, the people he criticized weren't happy, so fans of the actors often got into shouting matches with Shu Wangyan.

This time was no exception. Shu Wangyan laughed heartily and said, "Exactly. I didn't want to go out, but I've been pestered by your editors all morning and absolutely must find a place to vent. These tickets weren't easy to come by, either. I hear it's a popular play recently, Changle Theater's new hit play, Temple of the Spiritual Official."

He rubbed his hands together. "Watch me go find their plot holes and gift them a column!"

......

Three days later.

By this day, Temple of the Spiritual Official had already been running for seven consecutive days. For Jingcheng at this time, that was quite remarkable. After all, it wasn't like Hushang, where a new play could run for many days.

And every performance had sold out. The box office was incredibly hot. Because Changle Theater didn't have a huge number of seats, demand far exceeded supply, and it seemed poised to continue its run.

People on every street and alley were hotly debating whether this run could break the record for consecutive performances.

In a teahouse near the theater, people were discussing Temple of the Spiritual Official, holding copies of Jinsheng Theater Magazine and quoting Zhang Dinghu's review, marveling that the play's style was vastly different from the Hushang school and had truly broken new ground.

Many people agreed, expressing their admiration.

Only one person held his head high and said, "What new ground? The set design of this play completely fails to conform to standards and lacks realism. It has reverted all the innovations of previous old-style dramas. You probably don't know, but Changle Theater was on the verge of bankruptcy before this. The talent their owner found adopted this style just to barely stay afloat. So, this isn't about blazing a new trail, it's about not having the money for good sets! They were only willing to install a few paltry mechanisms!"

Just as Xu Xinyue had heard at the Pear Garden Charity Association, there were similar arguments in the outside world. Egged on by certain individuals, the debate grew increasingly fierce, with widespread criticism of the changes in Temple of the Spiritual Official, but—it was all based on the standards of Western drama.

If judged by Western standards, then the opera stage was indeed full of errors and completely lacked realism. But were Western dramatic standards really applicable to the national drama stage?

Others began to argue back forcefully, "I find its beauty is in no way inferior to the sets of new-style plays. Each has its own merits. What's so bad about it?"

New-style plays were modern dramas that emulated Western theater, while old-style plays were the national drama, the opera. With these labels of "new" and "old," people seemed momentarily at a loss for a powerful rebuttal, especially those who considered themselves enlightened.

Another person also held his head high and said, "This play's artistic conception is elegant and purely embodies the beauty of our Huaxia. Why must it imitate the foreign style of the Hushang school? Judging it by Western standards is completely nonsensical."

The other person, however, acted as if he were the only sober one in a crowd of drunks, sneering, "Backward is backward! I have already co-authored an article with a friend criticizing the eight great fallacies of this Temple of the Spiritual Official, detailing all its outdated aspects!"

Outside the door, Shu Wangyan, who was passing by, happened to hear the last sentence. Thinking this person was also here to criticize decadent culture, he chuckled, "Hey, someone actually thinks like me. Good, I want to see which of us can land a more accurate blow."

The person with him was none other than Zhou Siyin, but Zhou Siyin looked distracted and wasn't listening to his rambling at all.

He was recalling the day Ji Shuangyu had introduced himself and told him to find him if there were any after-effects. That person worked at Changle Theater...

"Brother Baoduo, you're being so rude! You're not even listening to me!" Shu Wangyan said in disappointment.

Zhou Siyin still looked lost in thought and said unconsciously, "I told you to hand in your manuscript on time, and you didn't listen to me either."

Shu Wangyan: "..."

Shu Wangyan: "...Don't bring up such depressing things!"

Only then did Zhou Siyin realize what he had just said, but he didn't care. The guy was a procrastinator; he deserved to be scolded.

The two arrived at the entrance of Changle Theater. Just as they were about to enter, they heard someone greet them, "Mr. Zhou, is that you?"

Zhou Siyin's back was to the person. 'I knew I'd run into him!' he thought. He couldn't say he was happy, definitely not, but he couldn't say he was unwilling to see him either. He had made a huge fool of himself at this person's hands, yet the man was both talented and handsome. His feelings were truly complex.

Shu Wangyan, oblivious, turned to look and saw a young man standing outside the box office. He wore a stage costume over a brand-new, dark green cotton robe. Even with the padded robe under the costume, one could tell his figure was slender and upright, and his features were refined and very eye-catching.

Whoa.

Shu Wangyan slowly slanted a glance at Zhou Siyin. He didn't recall Zhou Baoduo having a hobby of patronizing actors.

"Are you still hale and hearty?" Ji Shuangyu asked tactfully. Zhou Siyin had a friend with him, so it wasn't convenient to ask directly.

But Shu Wangyan found this baffling. 'Hale and hearty'? How old was Zhou Siyin?

Zhou Siyin nodded and said calmly, "...Thank you, I am in good health. I am here to watch the play today."

'As long as he's not here to demand medical expenses,' Ji Shuangyu relaxed instantly. A smile rippled in his distinctively black and white eyes. "Then thank you for your patronage, and for bringing a friend."

Shu Wangyan couldn't help but interject, "Brother Baoduo, aren't you going to make an introduction? I must be ignorant, I don't recognize which famous actor is before us?"

It seemed to have become some kind of rule; whenever people saw Ji Shuangyu, they assumed he must be an actor.

But, in reality...

"Not at all, not at all, I'm no famous actor," Ji Shuangyu said with a wave of his hand. "My surname is Ji, Ji Shuangyu. On stage, I just play walk-on roles."

Shu Wangyan: "You're being far too modest!"

He simply didn't believe a face like that could belong to a walk-on role and genuinely thought it was just a humble remark.

Ji Shuangyu said sincerely, "It's true. Today, I'm just playing the hanging ghost. The only famous actor is Boss Ying Xiaonong. If you don't believe me, you can ask Mr. Zhou."

Shu Wangyan was stunned. He looked at Zhou Siyin, who was also nodding. "This... this..."

...This was truly unexpected!

"Director Ji, why are you wandering around again? You've already put on your costume, go sit backstage, my good sir!" One of the theater's stagehands ran out and called to Ji Shuangyu.

"I know, I know!" Ji Shuangyu replied. As the days went by, all the stagehands of the Hanxi Troupe had become exceedingly friendly with him.

Zhou Siyin keenly noticed that although Ji Shuangyu claimed to be a walk-on, this stagehand's attitude towards him was very respectful. Stagehands were often proud; since when did they treat a walk-on actor with such deference?

If Zhou Siyin hadn't personally been frightened by the hanging ghost, he too would have been puzzled by Ji Shuangyu's identity. How could a mere walk-on hold such a high status?

"Is 'Daoyan*' Brother Ji's courtesy name? I wonder what it means?" Shu Wangyan asked.

*T/N: Daoyan is the pronunciation for 'Director'

Usually, when choosing a courtesy name, the given name and the courtesy name are related. What was the allusion connecting Shuangyu and "Daoyan"?

The term 'director' already existed at this time, having been translated and adopted some years prior. Although the position was rare, films were popular throughout Huaxia, so most people had heard of it.

It was just that when Shu Wangyan first heard the word, he didn't connect Ji Shuangyu with being a director at all, assuming it was his courtesy name.

Shu Wangyan's preconception was that the opera world had never established the position of director, which led to the misunderstanding.

"It's not a courtesy name, it's a job title." Ji Shuangyu said, "It means 'director'."

Zhou Siyin, Shu Wangyan: "..."