Shu Wangyan took a moment to react before realizing that Ji Shuangyu had spoken a foreign phrase...

That was truly unexpected, leaving both him and Zhou Siyin at a loss for whether to laugh or cry. Even explaining it as 'director', your explanation was a bit sudden!

After a long pause, Shu Wangyan said, "My apologies, my apologies. To think you're a... director. Have you also studied abroad?" If so, he had truly misjudged him!

Ji Shuangyu said calmly, "No, I'm self-taught." Not only had he not, even if he had, he could only say no now. The Ji Shuangyu of this time and space had not only not studied abroad, he had never even been to school.

In this era, even a waiter working at a Western restaurant could learn a foreign language. One didn't need to have studied; being hardworking was enough. Learning it meant you could earn more money from foreigners. Zhou Siyin knew an illiterate shopkeeper who had made his way up just like that.

Shu Wangyan couldn't help but say, "But your pronunciation is very good."

Ji Shuangyu sighed. "Perhaps this is what it means to be smart..."

Shu Wangyan: "..."

Zhou Siyin remained silent. Even if Ji Shuangyu's explanation made sense—talent followed no logic—he still felt something was strange. It was like the feeling Ji Shuangyu had given him ever since they met. His hair, his aura, his speech, his abilities—everything seemed more complex than it appeared on the surface. He clearly worked in a theater troupe, yet he audaciously ran around dressed as a hanging ghost...

What a strange person!

And Shu Wangyan had become genuinely curious.

Even the full-time film directors active in the country at the moment were of limited skill. After all, the industry's development was still in its infancy; to this day, no domestic film's box office had surpassed that of an imported one.

Ji Shuangyu's courage to apply this system to the opera stage was astonishing enough. The box office was currently booming, and Shu Wangyan wondered just how much of a hand he had in it.

Regardless of Ji Shuangyu's family background or how he learned a foreign language, it had no real bearing on his skill as a director. While studying abroad, Shu Wangyan had read a report about an overseas director, the gist of which was that directors could not be taught.

A work represented the director's aesthetic sense. Even in some countries where the producer was central, the director's role was still indispensable.

When ordinary people watched a film, they paid more attention to the actors. A literary man like Shu Wangyan, however, would focus on the writer and director.

The impression Ji Shuangyu had left on Shu Wangyan so far was novel and mysterious.

Shu Wangyan had originally come with the intention of finding fault and hadn't known much about this play beforehand. Now, his mindset had undergone a subtle shift.

He looked at Ji Shuangyu and said, "I've heard it said that a drama should have a director's style, and a director also has the temperament of the film. In that case, I very much look forward to seeing what kind of style Mr. Ji has, and if it is also so... amusing."

"You flatter me, you flatter me." Ji Shuangyu's words were modest, but his expression was flamboyant and proud. Shu Wangyan had to suppress a laugh, thinking to himself that this was truly a fascinating person.

"I also have a scene in the underworld in this play. They were just rushing me. I need to go wait backstage and get on stage to play the hanging ghost," Ji Shuangyu said, wanting to take his leave.

Zhou Siyin stopped him. "Wait."

Ji Shuangyu looked at his grave expression. "?"

Zhou Siyin said sternly, "You're about to go on stage, and you dare say the word 'ghost'?"

Ji Shuangyu: "..."

Theater troupes had many taboos, and certain words were not to be spoken, especially before going on stage. For example, ghost, umbrella, pagoda, and so on had to be replaced with other words. Just before, Xu Xinyue had used substitutes like 'soul' and 'hanger' for 'hanging ghost'.

Ji Shuangyu knew about this taboo but had let it slip just now without thinking. It couldn't be helped; this industry had perhaps the most cumbersome set of taboo rules in all of society, and it was hard for him to be mindful of them at all times.

He laughed dryly. "It should be fine."

Zhou Siyin frowned. "Which deity does your troupe worship? You should go back and offer a stick of incense." He had been so frightened by Ji Shuangyu earlier that he... fell. It was truly harmful to people!

Ji Shuangyu found it a bit amusing and said, "Backstage, we worship the founding master and Guan Gong. Some actors also privately worship great immortals like the Five Great Immortals, Wutong Shen, and so on."

In the northern Huaxia region, many people worshiped animal spirits. The Five Great Immortals corresponded to the fox, weasel, hedgehog, snake, and rat. In a place like a theater troupe, many staff members worshiped animal immortals.

As for Wutong Shen, it was also a folk belief. Because "wu" for "five" sounded like "wu" for "martial," martial arts actors would offer sacrifices to it.

Ji Shuangyu thought, 'Didn't they say that modern society advocates science and combats superstition?' Even supernatural plays were criticized by some literary figures. Many people were far more scientific than the investor bosses he had met in the modern entertainment industry; those people had countless rituals before starting a shoot.

This Zhou Siyin looked so brazen and modern, had attended a foreign-style school, and knew a foreign language. The Kunlun Bookstore itself excelled at introducing Western learning, and even his family's Old Master Zhou seemed very open-minded. How could he himself be so superstitious?

No wonder he had fainted so dramatically after being scared by Ji Shuangyu before. It turned out he firmly believed in ghosts and gods...

What a strange person!

Ji Shuangyu looked at Shu Wangyan, hoping for some support. "Sir, you've studied abroad, you shouldn't believe in this, right?"

'My god, how could a fox possibly become an immortal!'

Shu Wangyan pondered, "You don't want to offer incense to Guan Gong? Then do you know about God..."

Ji Shuangyu: ".........."

Fine, so I'm the one in the minority.

As expected of an era where all sorts of strange things coexisted; it had all kinds of people. And it was true, the West was quite particular about faith.

"Alright, I'm going to offer incense. The underworld scene later is a bit thrilling and scary. You two be careful." Ji Shuangyu glanced quickly at Zhou Siyin, then slipped away after speaking.

Zhou Siyin: "..."

"Haha, good, scare me to death." Shu Wangyan chuckled foolishly for a moment, only then noticing Zhou Siyin's dark expression. "Brother Baoduo, what's wrong?"

Zhou Siyin said irritably, "Go upstairs! Finish watching and hurry back to write your article!"

......

Shu Wangyan's ticket was for the official seats, which were the best seats on the second floor, equivalent to a modern private box.

The two sat down with different feelings to wait for the show to start. Besides them, the audience was mostly made up of avid opera fans. At this moment, some fans in the theater were chatting.

"I've come to every performance. You probably don't know, but lately, Boss Ying's performance is slightly different almost every time!"

"I thought I was the only one who noticed. Also, why don't we see those annoying stagehands walking around on stage anymore?"

"If you ask me, that aria that Yunqing modified is also stunning. The line 'This body cannot bear the autumn air' is a long, sorrowful tune, sung with such tears and emotion, it drew buckets of tears from me. I've never seen anyone sing like that before. It must be a new technique he's perfected. That line alone is worth the price! An excellent supporting actor!"

Actors were not machines. Some would even improvise, picking up cues from the audience, but by and large, the performance was consistent.

At that time, some famous actors would sprinkle white ash powder on the ground and then perform their footwork on it. After one round, they would do a second. The footprints left both times would have the same number of steps and even be of similar size.

What this fan was talking about, however, were the changes in Ying Xiaonong's singing, performance style, and even the plot.

These changes were the result of Ji Shuangyu directing on the spot. Whatever the actors could digest each day would be presented to the audience on stage. As the lead, Ying Xiaonong's changes were more noticeable.

Audience members who came to every show and understood opera could notice these differences. Once they did, they really wanted to watch it a few more times.

Just then, the curtain on stage was drawn, and the performance began.

Shu Wangyan leaned against the railing, watching intently. The plot had just begun, but he already found it interesting.

First was the use of lighting, which so cleverly shaped the plot and characters.

Second was a detail the fans below had also mentioned: there was no one other than the actors walking around on stage.

The stage in those days was not so clear. Stagehands would walk back and forth moving tables and arranging props, and attendants would openly go on stage to give actors water. The audience had to consciously ignore them. But one can imagine how much this ruined the atmosphere and broke the immersion.

But in today's performance of Temple of the Spiritual Official, none of this happened. Even when there were changes, they were concealed by various curtains, prop movements, and so on, hidden from the audience's view.

This was an old habit, and when someone reformed it, the audience cheered loudly.

Shu Wangyan clapped and smiled. "How did this director convince these stagehands and famous actors? Good, clearing out this messy crowd really makes it much more refreshing."

—Ji Shuangyu had personally controlled the mechanisms with the stagehands, teaching them all the tricks, which made them want to call him master. These were skills that could put food on the table. With that kind of camaraderie, Ji Shuangyu merely asked them not to walk around openly on stage. How could they not agree?

As the story unfolded, Shu Wangyan was left speechless. He couldn't find any fault!

A master filmmaker once said that boredom in film is murder.

In fact, this is true for all art forms. When modern people watch old movies, they often find them very slow-paced. Even in the future reforms of opera, superfluous plot points would be cut.

Ji Shuangyu had also made bold cuts to the plot, leaving only the essence. A couple of classic scenes were enough to shape the characters.

The running time was reduced, but the whole story felt more fluid and became more impressive. It was also thanks to these actors that they could remember the new script on the fly; after all, it was their livelihood.

Therefore, not only could Shu Wangyan not find any fault, he felt that the plot structure was smooth and exquisite, a kind of satisfying experience he had never seen before. Even some Western short films didn't have such good pacing.

The introduction, development, turn, and conclusion and the distribution of major and minor climaxes were all handled properly. Although it was a supernatural play, it had none of the stale, feudalistic atmosphere!

The dragging parts of the plot were cut, the loopholes were patched, and even the ideology was updated with the times.

For example, there was a previous scene where, after a victim died, his wife would give a monologue and then choose to commit suicide to follow him, which used to be a tear-jerking moment on stage.

But in the new plot, the wife did not commit suicide. Instead, she vowed to seek justice and challenge the gods. In the end, she indeed helped Spiritual Official Wang with her practical actions. In an instant, a tear-jerking moment became a moment of passion.

Shu Wangyan couldn't help but comment, "Nowadays, some enlightened individuals heavily criticize supernatural plays for fooling the people and advocate for them to be banned. But while this play speaks of gods and ghosts, it portrays resistance and self-strengthening. On the contrary, it can invisibly educate the illiterate audience."

It completely lacked the musty air he detested most. At some key points, the form was even more novel!

For instance, there were several worshipers in the Lingguan Temple. The light first shone on the area below the stage, and after a worshiper finished their part, they would fall silent and still. The light would then shift to the shrine, where the Spiritual Official would perform, and then it would switch to another person.

"This technique is good, brisk and novel, and easy to understand!" Shu Wangyan praised. This greatly sped up the pace on stage.

Zhou Siyin also sighed in praise, "Montage."

"Montage..." Only then did it dawn on Shu Wangyan. "Ah... so it's transplanting film techniques onto the stage. It really does have that feel!"

He couldn't help but slap his thigh. So that's how it was, it was actually like this! It could even be done like this!

He hadn't thought of it at first!

Multiple scenes in one act. Although it was a live performance, it did indeed use lighting changes to present a montage technique on stage.

Montage is a classic film theory, but not every director can use it well. At least in the Huaxia film industry, they had only recently moved away from the monotonous technique of shooting everything with a single long shot.

Shu Wangyan also loved watching films and would sometimes read foreign theoretical articles to see if he could borrow anything for his own novels to enhance their visual sense. When Zhou Siyin mentioned it, he immediately understood and found it even more brilliant. Everyone wanted to borrow from film, but look at how this was handled.

As for the rest of the audience, they just found it novel and understandable, but they didn't know it was borrowed from Western cinema.

As for the set design, there was even less to say. It was one of the key reasons for the play's initial success.

The stage used the sets marvelously, and also cleverly employed various curtains and drapes: front curtain, backdrop, gauze curtain, butterfly curtain... especially the layered, folded curtains.

Here, many sets seemed to be more than just inanimate objects; they represented the passage of time, the intersection of heaven and man. Invisibly, the transformation of time and space was conveyed to the audience.

The techniques throughout the play were very innovative but not jarring. The aesthetic of the set design was full of classical elegance, seamlessly blending with the opera into a perfect, harmonious whole, making Shu Wangyan exclaim in admiration again and again!

......

As the play neared its end, Zhou Siyin said he was going to buy some tea.

Shu Wangyan was still immersed in the drama and waved his hand dismissively, not even questioning why they didn't just have the tea shop deliver.

Zhou Siyin walked into the courtyard. The residents of Jingcheng loved to plant flowers. Whether it was princes and nobles or common city dwellers, their courtyards always had flowers for all four seasons. Here, there was a faint scent of wintersweet, refreshing the heart and soul.

Looking up through the branches, the night was too deep. A half-moon, frosted, was hidden in the clouds, making the sky unclear. But one could hear the clear sound of pigeon whistles passing overhead, intertwining with the melodious flute music coming from the large and small theaters all along the street, sounding remarkably similar.

It had started to snow lightly at some point. Zhou Siyin tilted his face up, and the snowflakes landed on his sharply defined features, melting in an instant. He let out a breath, which seemed to carry a faint melancholy—

Damn it! Damn it!

The lighting in that underworld scene was really eerie. He had been holding it in for a while and had to come out for some fresh air.

Just then, something brushed against Zhou Siyin's back. He turned around casually and saw a tongue stuck right in front of his face.

Zhou Siyin: "!!"

A chill ran down his spine! His hair stood on end!

Looking closely, he saw it was a prop tongue. It was Ji Shuangyu and his prop tongue.

The man was playing with the tongue, flicking it against his back again and again.

Zhou Siyin: ".................."

At this moment, the audience was focused on the finale, and there was no one else in the courtyard.

When Ji Shuangyu saw Zhou Siyin hiding here, he came over to say hello, asking doubtfully, "Mr. Zhou, are you scared?"

Zhou Siyin smiled naturally. "Not scared."

He slowly reached out, and his two fingers precisely pinched the long, fake tongue that was still bouncing.

Internally: 'I'm crazy!! I'm going crazy!!!'

"Oh, not scared?" Ji Shuangyu tilted his head back and pulled the tongue out. His tone was casual, but his expression didn't look like he believed it in the slightest.

Without the tongue, his image was as if sculpted from smoke and clouds, more radiant than the frosty moon.

Unfortunately, he had deliberately taken off his hat at this moment, revealing a head of white hair. Light snow swirled and fell into his hair, indistinguishable from it, making his image even more otherworldly...

Ji Shuangyu smiled. "Mr. Zhou, did you think... this play was good?"

He clearly wasn't standing too close, yet in an instant, the scent of wintersweet faded, and the cold air of the fine snow in his hair drew near.

Zhou Siyin: ".........."

Seeing Ji Shuangyu's appearance again, Zhou Siyin's pupils suddenly contracted, and his heart gave two heavy thumps. He suddenly remembered what Shu Wangyan had said: a drama represents the director's style, and a director also possesses the temperament of the film.

Regardless of anything else, this whole production of Temple of the Spiritual Official was indeed just like Ji Shuangyu—unexpected, and thrilling...

And beautiful.