novelraw Chapter 89: Hellish Training and Peking Opera Stars
Chapter 89: Hellish Training and Peking Opera Stars
Early the next morning, his phone rang.
Jiang Ci had just stepped out of his room when he answered the call.
Lin Wan's voice, calm yet filled with strength, pierced directly through the receiver.
"I've already found you the best physical fitness coach and nutritionist in the entire capital. They'll be at your hotel in one hour."
"Money is not an issue. I want your body trained into a sheet of steel!"
Her speed of action was astonishingly fast. Clearly, she had acted immediately after Sun Zhou's report.
However, Jiang Ci refused.
"Sister Wan, I don't need a fitness trainer."
Lin Wan on the other end of the line fell silent.
"I want to find someone... who can perform traditional opera.""Perform opera?" Lin Wan's pitch instantly rose. "Jiang Ci, have you gone mad? You're competing with Peng Shaofeng on muscles, not vocal cords!"
"Xiang Yu's 'domineering aura' isn't just about muscles," Jiang Ci walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the ceaseless flow of the city. "It's more about an aura and bearing."
"What modern gyms build is dead muscle, it's for bodybuilding champions, not the Conqueror of Western Chu who could lift a tripod with his strength."
"What I need is that ancient military general's posture where 'essence, energy, and spirit' are unified. That kind of thing can't be found in today's gyms."
What he needed was something rooted deep in the bones, a soul that could support dozens of pounds of armor and still stand defiantly with a drawn blade before thousands of troops.
"Only opera performers who have trained since childhood, especially martial male roles, have a shadow of this thing in them."
Lin Wan's breathing was clearly audible over the phone.
She fell into a long silence.
A full dozen seconds passed before she spoke again. The previous anxiety and irritation had vanished without a trace, replaced by an extreme calm and understanding.
"I see."
She immediately grasped Jiang Ci's intent.
*Beep...*
The call was directly hung up.
Lin Wan had already used her actions to express her stance.
That very afternoon, Sun Zhou drove the black Alphard, taking Jiang Ci through a series of twists and turns, diving into an inconspicuous old alley within the capital's second ring road.
Deep in the alley, Sun Zhou stopped the car in front of a small courtyard that looked even more dilapidated than Wei Song's courtyard house.
"Brother Ci, this is the place." Sun Zhou got out of the car and pointed at the small courtyard. "Director Lin said she found an old gentleman surnamed Guan. He used to be the pillar of the National Peking Opera Theatre, a master of martial male roles. He's been retired for many years, and his temper... is said to be quite eccentric."
Jiang Ci nodded and stepped forward to knock on the wooden door.
The one who opened the door was an old man wearing a faded, washed-out undershirt, looking spirited and vigorous.
His face was full of wrinkles, his frame lean and thin, but his eyes were astonishingly bright.
He looked Jiang Ci up and down, then glanced at the luxurious entourage van parked at the gate.
"Looking for who?"
"Guan Zhenxiong, Elder Guan," Jiang Ci replied respectfully.
"That's me." The old man leaned against the doorframe, looking like he couldn't be bothered. "What do you want?"
Sun Zhou quickly stepped forward, a smile plastered on his face. "Hello, Elder Guan. We're from Spark Media. This is our actor, Jiang Ci. We'd like to invite you..."
Guan Zhenxiong directly waved a hand, cutting him off.
"Young people these days can't handle this hardship." His gaze swept over Jiang Ci's slender frame, carrying undisguised disdain.
"I don't teach idol stars how to pose. Go back."
With that, he was about to close the door.
"Elder Guan."
Jiang Ci spoke.
He didn't argue, nor did he say any more words of request.
He simply retreated to the small open space in the center in front of the door. In the moment before the old man closed the door, he took a deep breath.
When he spoke again, his entire demeanor had changed.
"In this life of mine, I have slain seven kings, destroyed four states, secured the realm, and pacified the world!"
These weren't lines from *Palace Conspiracy*.
This was a monologue he had created by shattering the emotions of the young general from *Palace Conspiracy* on his deathbed and the fate of the character Xiang Yu, then recombining them.
His figure was still thin, but each line of recitation carried the clangor of armored horses and the desolation of a hero at his end.
"What I believe in is that where the iron hooves tread, all becomes the king's land! What I trust is that where the sword points, the multitudes submit!"
"But they tell me this is tyranny!"
"They tell me to be gentle, to use strategy, to win hearts with hearts!"
His delivery carried a peculiar sense of rhythm. It wasn't the recitation style of Peking Opera, yet it possessed the penetrating power honed on the stage of spoken drama.
Guan Zhenxiong's hand, which had been about to close the door, stopped.
A glint of light flashed in his cloudy eyes.
Jiang Ci did not stop.
"I don't understand!"
"I only understand that the victor is king, the loser a bandit!"
"Why, after winning the world, do I lose the people's hearts? Why, after guarding the realm, have I lost everything?"
He wasn't roaring, yet that sense of unwillingness and confusion smashed heavily into Guan Zhenxiong's heart with every single word.
This young man was conversing with a fictional soul.
It was a belief that "the play is greater than heaven."
This was also the thing that their generation of opera performers had believed in their entire lives.
Guan Zhenxiong looked at the frail young man in the courtyard who seemed to have a fire burning within him, and for a moment, he saw the shadow of his own youth.
Jiang Ci's monologue ended.
He stood there, his chest rising and falling slightly, his entire person still immersed in the emotion of moments before.
The courtyard was deathly silent.
After a long while.
Guan Zhenxiong slowly pulled the door, which was already half-closed, open again.
"Five o'clock tomorrow morning. Be here."
He looked at Jiang Ci, word by word.
"Be one second late, and never come again."
The next day.
At 4:50 AM, Jiang Ci was already standing quietly in the small courtyard.
The sky was still pitch black.
At exactly five o'clock, the door to the main room creaked open.
Old Master Guan walked out, dressed in a practice uniform.
Without saying a word, he directly picked up a heavy wooden broadsword from the corner of the wall, about one and a half meters long, and threw it in front of Jiang Ci.
*Clang!* It hit the bluestone slab.
"Take it."
Jiang Ci bent down, gripped the hilt with both hands, and used all his strength to lift it. His arms immediately went numb and sore.
"Horse stance."
The old master spat out three words, then moved a small folding stool, sat down under the corridor where the light was dim, picked up a large tea mug, and began drinking tea on his own.
Jiang Ci held the broadsword with both hands, lowered his waist, and assumed the stance.
The chill of the early morning, mixed with the weight of the blade, pressed in from all sides.
In less than ten minutes, sweat began to bead on his forehead.
Twenty minutes in, his legs began to tremble uncontrollably.
Half an hour later, sweat had already soaked through his T-shirt, and the scenery before his eyes began to blur.
Just as he felt he couldn't hold on any longer, his knees about to buckle...
[Physical Optimization LV1] began to take effect.
A faint, warm current spread from his heart, slowly flowing toward his legs, which were shaking like sieves.
The tearing soreness brought by lactic acid buildup was gradually neutralized and soothed by a gentle force.
He was still exhausted, almost to the point of collapse.
But that feeling of being on the verge of breaking down was stubbornly held back beyond the final line of defense.
Gritting his teeth, he steadied his body, which had already begun to sway.
One hour.
An hour and a half.
The sky turned from ink-black to the pale light of dawn.
In the courtyard, there was only the sound of Jiang Ci's heavy panting.
Just then, the courtyard gate was gently pushed open.
Sun Zhou tiptoed in. Seeing Jiang Ci's state in the courtyard, he was startled, but seeing the old master resting with his eyes closed under the corridor, he didn't dare make a sound.
He could only quickly walk to Jiang Ci's side and hold the tablet computer in his hand up before his eyes.
The screen was lit up.
It was a photo, the background a brightly lit professional gym.
The man in the photo was none other than Peng Shaofeng.
He was shirtless, a few perfectly placed beads of sweat glistening on his bronze skin. He was confidently showcasing his perfect muscles in the mirror.
The lines of his pectorals, abs, and arms were full of a sense of power and beauty.
Below the photo was the Weibo post that had just been published. As for the comments section, it was full of praises like "hormones exploding."