PLT | Chapter 23

The Troupe Master Furen Comes to Inspect

No matter how Yan Chao thought about it, he still found it hard to imagine that half a month ago, his impression of xiangsheng had still been stuck at the “just joking around” stage, yet half a month later, the first time he listened to Guan Chenfeng and Jiang Chenchi perform xiangsheng, he could already roughly see some of the craft in it.

Although both of them were young, and there was still a trace of youthful greenness throughout the whole performance, it was obvious that they had already gone through quite a bit of honing in the small theater, and more or less knew how to hold down the stage.

Guan Chenfeng was lively and buoyant, quick-witted and adorable, the sort who could make the whole room laugh the moment he opened his mouth. Jiang Chenchi, as the penggen, was a little steadier, quietly helping him keep control of the rhythm of the whole room.

The two of them were close in age, could casually pull out all kinds of popular online jokes at a moment’s notice, and were obviously extremely familiar with each other, their coordination flawless. No wonder they were already able to hold their own at such a young age.

Yan Chao said to Zhou Chenyu, “People all say Guan Chenfeng is ‘Xiao Chenyu,’ but actually, in terms of style, Jiang Chenchi is more like you.”

After saying that, he remembered something else and added, “Except he doesn’t drive as hard as you do.”

“Nonsense. I raised both these kids with my own two hands.” Zhou Chenyu looked openly proud, as if he were these two men’s actual master, when in fact they clearly were only a few years younger than him.

“I can both peng and dou, you just haven’t seen what I’m like when I’m the dougen.” Zhou Chenyu laughed. “Perfect timing, from now on you’re going to be doing xiangsheng with me anyway. You peng, I dou, and the two of us can do a round of Fenhe Bay too?”

Uncontrollably, an image rose in Yan Chao’s mind of Zhou Chenyu with a headscarf wrapped around his head, waggling his brows at him and casting flirtatious glances his way.

He shuddered instantly. “I’m scared. Farewell.”

Onstage, Guan Chenfeng and Jiang Chenchi had finished their Fenhe Bay. The two bowed and stepped offstage, but when they reached the front of the stage, the applause and shouting below were still as enthusiastic as ever, and the host stopped them there, meaning the audience was asking them to come back out.

In stage performance, if the main act is done well and the audience likes it enough to ask for an extra performance, that is called a fanchang. In performances these days, any performer with even a bit of an audience base will do a fanchang.

The atmosphere during a fanchang is much more relaxed, and there is more interaction with the audience, so this counts as the segment fans like the most.

After Guan Chenfeng and Jiang Chenchi came back out for the fanchang, they told two short bits and chatted with the audience for a while, but the fans still would not let them off, so the two of them sang a pop song together as well.

Earlier, Yan Chao had been so focused on listening to xiangsheng that only now did he notice that among the audience seating upstairs and downstairs, quite a few young girls were carrying long lenses and heavy camera gear. Some were recording the whole thing from beginning to end, while others had shutters clicking nonstop.

Yan Chao had long since gotten used to this kind of idol-era fan-chasing style, but this was his first time seeing it in a xiangsheng theater, and he still found it rather fascinating.

He asked Zhou Chenyu, “Are these all your site admins?”

“Yeah. Solo sites, CP sites, group sites, we’ve got everything.” Looking at all the cameras below, a trace of gentle warmth showed in Zhou Chenyu’s handsome eyes and brows. “The girls really aren’t having an easy time of it.”

Yan Chao thought about it and asked, a little puzzled, “Other theaters all ban filming. Here, your xiangsheng gets recorded from beginning to end and posted online, so aren’t you worried that’ll affect the live audience turnout?”

But Zhou Chenyu smiled. “For people who perform xiangsheng, the more viewers the better. Otherwise you’ll spend your whole life trapped in this little theater. Where do you think the performance videos you see online come from? Weren’t they all filmed by the girls? In the age of traffic, the old closed-door approach stopped working long ago. More publicity like this can actually help the theater draw in customers instead.”

What he said did make sense. Yan Chao asked again, “But there are only so many fixed bits. If all the videos are posted online, then the next time you perform them again, won’t they lose their novelty?”

Zhou Chenyu said, “That’s where it tests the performers’ xiangua ability.[1] Before every show, they have to think about how to say something fresh and interesting. What regular audience members come to hear is exactly that xiangua.”

His words left Yan Chao somewhat stunned for a moment.

In the past, Yan Chao had always thought xiangsheng performers just spouted whatever came to mind, saying whatever they pleased. Only now, after truly watching a live performance once and hearing Zhou Chenyu explain things for a while, did he finally understand that behind every bit that looked casual and effortless, there was always plenty of private polishing and hard-earned skill from the performers.

As the saying goes, “One minute onstage takes ten years of work offstage.” For performances that already look highly difficult, it is comparatively easier for people to imagine the effort behind them. Little did they know that xiangsheng, which looked carefree, playful, and as if the performers were simply doing whatever they liked, was in fact also a language art that required diligent study and hard practice.

At that moment, a soothing pop song was being sung onstage, and the audience below softly hummed along with the melody.

Yan Chao looked over the seats below. Aside from those lively and flamboyant young girls, there were also middle-aged couples sitting in pairs, office workers in shirts and ties, and students carrying backpacks.

During the day, they rushed about for work or school, or threw themselves into the torrent of life, exhausted from dealing with all kinds of worries, big and small.

But after a whole day of tiring life, on an evening like this, there was still one small theater that offered them a temporary place to rest and enjoy a brief moment of happiness.

When the performance ended, the actors stepped off the stage and the audience drifted away. And perhaps that small sliver of happiness was enough to give them a little fresh strength for the toil and rushing about that awaited them next.

At that very instant, Yan Chao suddenly felt where the true charm of Xiaqing Yuan lay.

The two men onstage had finished singing, but the audience still refused to let them go. A male voice below shouted, “Fengfeng! Sing some opera!”

That syrupy “Fengfeng” immediately made the whole room erupt in laughter, but very quickly someone else joined in, “Sing Su San Qijie!”

This time, however, Guan Chenfeng did not agree so readily. Instead, he smiled and said, “Normally I might just make a fool of myself, but today I don’t dare sing.”

Jiang Chenchi habitually picked up the penggen. “Why not?”

Guan Chenfeng said, “There’s an expert down there tonight.”

The audience immediately started looking around in every direction, all asking, “Where’s the expert?”

Guan Chenfeng smiled slyly and said, “In the private room on the second floor.”

The moment his words fell, Yan Chao jolted instinctively, and right after that, the entire audience looked toward the second floor.

In the next second, someone sharp-eyed below pointed at them. “The troupe master!”

In an instant, hundreds of gazes focused in perfect unison on their conspicuous position.

At the same time, a wave of shouting rose through the theater, and once people got a clear look at who was sitting beside Zhou Chenyu, the shouting grew even louder.

Someone who loved watching the excitement shouted, “Xiao Yanzi!”

The audience below immediately broke into a chorus of rowdy heckling.

Faced with the sudden mass of cameras turning toward them, Yan Chao was inwardly full of speechless black lines, but on the surface he still had to keep smiling.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a second-floor private room where they would not be discovered?

That brat Guan Chenfeng really was exactly the same kind of little drama queen as his shixiong.

Jiang Lili moved pretty quickly this time, thump thump thump, she ran up from backstage and handed the two of them a microphone.

Left with no choice, the two of them stood up together.

Zhou Chenyu, meanwhile, was smiling with complete unconcern. He simply draped an arm over the second-floor railing and said to the audience below in a lazy, careless manner, “Xiao Yan-laoshi and I just came to listen to some xiangsheng. Is there really any need to be this surprised?”

Someone below shouted, “The troupe master furen is here to inspect the place!”

Yan Chao: “…”

Zhou Chenyu laughed. “Xiao Yan-laoshi is a proper gentleman, and he’s thin-skinned, you’re not allowed to tease him.”

Audience below: “The troupe master’s a furen-protecting maniac!”

Zhou Chenyu could not help letting out a snort of laughter, leaving Yan Chao standing beside him with an awkward yet still polite smile on his face.

Zhou Chenyu handed the microphone to him. Fortunately, Yan Chao was not someone who could not handle himself in public. Smiling, he said, “I just came to observe. I’m over here learning xiangsheng from your troupe master.”

Audience below: “If you want to learn it well, first sleep with the master!”

Yan Chao: “…Already slept with him! Are you done or not?!”

Audience below: “Yiii, ,”

Looking at Yan Chao’s completely-given-up, smash-the-pot-and-break-it expression, Zhou Chenyu was laughing so hard he could not get a word out.

He adjusted his expression, then took the microphone back from Yan Chao’s hand. “That’s enough, stop bullying him. This Friday night, we’ll be recording End of the Earth, and Saturday night, Second Role. Don’t forget to make arrangements, gentlemen.”

Audience below: “Already arranged!”

After the two of them greeted the audience and handed the microphones back to Jiang Lili, they sat back down in the private room, yet the audience below still looked reluctant to let them go.

Onstage, Guan Chenfeng said into the microphone, “Ai, Xiao Yan-laoshi originally wanted to quietly listen to a xiangsheng show, but I spotted him anyway. And then you all treated our guest like this, what if he comes down later and beats me up?”

Jiang Chenchi said, “It’s fine, the troupe master will protect you.”

Guan Chenfeng said, “I think he’s going to beat up the troupe master too.”

Jiang Chenchi shook his head and said with a solemn face, “Domestic violence is against the law.”

Yan Chao: “…”

Xiao Jiang, how did you start going along with them too?

Forget it. They were all from Xiaqing Yuan anyway, snakes and rats in one nest.

Yan Chao shot Zhou Chenyu an annoyed glance. “Not only am I going to hit people, I’m going to smash up the theater too.”

Zhou Chenyu held back a laugh and said, “Troupe master furen, can you really bear to?”

Yan Chao could not be bothered with him, and then he heard Guan Chenfeng say onstage, “That’s all for tonight’s performance. Everybody hurry home, and especially you young ladies, make sure to stay safe on the way. Do you all have boyfriends?”

Audience below: “No, we don’t, ,”

As if he had already guessed the audience would answer that way, Guan Chenfeng immediately broke into a smile, pointed at Jiang Chenchi beside him, and said smugly, “Heh, I do.”

Footnotes:

[1] “Xiangua” 现挂, meaning on-the-spot improvisation based on the live situation, audience, timing, or something that just happened during the performance. It is often one of the main attractions for regular live audiences.

[3] “Su San Qijie” refers to 《苏三起解》, a famous traditional opera scene. I kept the title in pinyin because it is a specific opera name and because the request was to preserve crosstalk-related and performance-linked terms where useful.

[4] “Black lines” 满头黑线, an internet-style expression meaning speechless exasperation or being overwhelmed with secondhand embarrassment.

[5] “Smash-the-pot-and-break-it” 破罐子破摔, meaning to give up on maintaining appearances and just roll with the mess at that point.