Uncle Fang's rustic opera troupe had been going for some ten years.
In the early days, Uncle Fang had never imagined that besides farming, he would one day know how to sing opera. It all started because he had a good voice and had once learned a few opera passages from others. During the farm slack season, he would sit beneath a big tree or on a ridge between fields, humming a few lines just to pass the time and dispel his boredom. Eventually, though, the villagers all agreed that his singing was pleasant and the lyrics engaging, and they suggested he form an opera troupe.
Planting willows unintentionally, they cast shade. Uncle Fang hadn't really taken everyone's words to heart, but before long, people began coming to his door one after another, specifically to ask to become his apprentices. Unable to resist their enthusiasm and the bonds of goodwill, he had no choice but to agree.
At the very beginning, the Fang Family Opera Troupe consisted of only three people: one singer and two who beat gongs and drums, singing and dancing simultaneously in a lively, vibrant manner. During festivals and holidays, they brought smiles to people's faces and picked up a few tips along the way. Later on, new members joined the troupe, growing to five, then six, and finally the current seven. They no longer performed solely Luju opera; they had also learned selections from Huiju and Peking Opera. The biggest change was the addition of a martial arts actor who could handle weapons and engage in combat.
This martial arts actor was from Chenjiazhuang, named Chen Geng. He was twenty-eight years old, the father of two children, yet the youngest member of the Fang Family Opera Troupe. Strong, solidly built, and quick-witted, he picked up whatever he was taught with uncanny accuracy. The spectators, who loved a lively spectacle, were particularly fond of his stage performances.
Chen Geng had his own ideas and had never agreed with Uncle Fang's prejudices about actors being useless. He believed the Fang Family Opera Troupe ought to welcome younger new blood. As for his own successor, he had set his sights on someone quite early on: Fang Yi. He was exceptionally fond of Fang Yi and could never resist praising him, saying that despite his tender age, the boy possessed boundless strength and an indescribable stubborn streak.
This time, in order to bring Fang Yi along to perform in Zhangjiazhuang, Chen Geng hatched a bitter-pain scheme.
The Fang Family Opera Troupe had a base in the mountain forest east of Baijia Village, named the Liyuan Base, though in truth it consisted only of a few crude thatched sheds nestled in the woods on a hill. To avoid disturbing the daily lives of their neighbors, Uncle Fang and his apprentices had built this spot on the sunny side of the forest to serve as a place for daily practice and rehearsal.
On the ninth day of the first lunar month, the Fang Family Opera Troupe was holding its final rehearsal.
For the past few days, Uncle Fang felt as though fifteen buckets were hanging from a well—a chaotic up-and-down of anxiety. One moment he worried that the performance would go poorly and become a laughingstock for the people from Jiangnan; the next moment he felt hopeful that if he could glean some reliable news from the Jiangnan folk, perhaps this time he might finally find Huizi; and then again he felt conflicted, fearing that the Jiangnan people themselves might be entirely in the dark about the situation back in Jiangnan, dashing all his hopes.
Chen Geng could see it clearly: Uncle Fang, ordinarily so sentimental and prone to melancholy, had his face shrouded in an even thicker fog of worry this time, so distressed that he could barely tell his nose from his eyes. He could only sit by himself on a barren tree stump on the western edge of the forest, smoking to ease his troubled mind.
Chen Geng and the other five troupe members were busy rehearsing on the stage. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Fang Yi peeking at them from not far away. Pretending he needed to use the latrine in the back, Chen Geng left the Golden-Hooped Rod right there on the stage.
Just as Chen Geng had anticipated, Fang Yi could not restrain his impatience. Strongly urged on by his curiosity, he ran onto the stage and began brandishing the Golden-Hooped Rod all by himself.
Had it not been for a shout from Chen Geng, Fang Yi might well have soon faced Uncle Fang's scolding and beatings. Uncle Fang never allowed children to come and play at the Liyuan Base, especially Fang Yi, for he worried that the actors would corrupt the youngsters.
Chen Geng pulled Fang Yi over to a mountain path on the northern ridge and quietly told him: if he wanted to go to Zhangjiazhuang as well, he would have to execute a plan immediately...
Fang Yi practiced martial arts and trained diligently; he had always been most fascinated by wielding spears and sticks. What is more, since Zhangjiazhuang had requested three consecutive days of performances, it was bound to be a bustling, lively scene. His heart had long been itching for it, and he was dying to tag along with the opera troupe to broaden his horizons. He readily agreed to Chen Geng's proposal, cooperating to stage a little performance.
Chen Geng returned to the stage to resume the rehearsal. As he used his right foot to kick up the staff lying on the stage, he pretended to lose his footing, suddenly lurched forward, and tumbled headfirst right off the grassy stage, which stood over a meter high.
"Chen Geng, what's wrong?" Hearing the commotion, the others were startled and rushed over in a swarm to help Chen Geng up.
"I'm fine... I'm just fine!" After standing up, Chen Geng walked back and forth with a slight limp, smiling and waving his hands at everyone.
Someone hurried off into the western forest to report to Uncle Fang. Before long, Uncle Fang rushed over in a blazing panic, firing off questions about what had happened. The others hurriedly described what they had just witnessed.
"Are you alright? Will this affect the performance?" Uncle Fang asked anxiously and angrily, repeating the two questions over and over.
"Well, I'm alright as such... I'm just afraid that by then..." Chen Geng stammered, hesitating and leaving his sentence unfinished.
"So it *is* serious! What on earth is wrong with you? Being so careless! We're about to go into battle, and you go and break your leg—it's an absolute joke!" Uncle Fang cursed in exasperation.
No one dared to speak, silently enduring Uncle Fang's outburst. The wind in the forest howled past their ears like countless bugles urging them to depart immediately.
Just then, Fang Yi, who had been hiding in the woods all along, approached Uncle Fang with a mock-serious expression and said, "Dad, Mom says lunch is ready, you all should pack up your things and head home to eat. We have to hit the road this afternoon."
Before Uncle Fang could utter a word, Chen Geng hurriedly cut in, "Master, don't be angry! I actually have an idea. My leg will probably be fine if I just rest it for a day without getting on stage. Why don't... why don't you let Fang Yi come with us? Let him fill in for me for a day to hold down the fort. I've taught him some footwork and movement drills before; he's naturally smart—he understands the moment you explain it and masters it the second he sees it."
It would have been better if Chen Geng had kept his mouth shut, but this remark scared everyone out of their wits. Uncle Fang, needless to say, stared with eyes as wide as copper bells. "What did you say? Say that again!"
Chen Geng knew he was now riding a tiger and difficult to dismount, so he simply mustered his courage and said, "Master, I know your rules. But given the circumstances, we don't really have a choice, do we? I suggested before that you take on a few young apprentices just in case of emergencies, but you didn't take my advice. Anything can happen—there's always a 'just in case', right? If a 'just in case' really happens, difficult as it is, we still have to carry out the original plan, don't we? Just this once! Let Fang Yi take my place for a day. I guarantee I'll be back on stage myself for the next two days without a single slip-up!"
Upon hearing this speech from Chen Geng, Uncle Fang stood rooted to the spot like a wooden chicken, expressionless and motionless. The wind ruffled his hair, making it look like a bird's nest.
Taking advantage of the moment, Chen Geng quickly shot a glance at Fang Yi. Fang Yi caught the hint immediately. With a light leap, he flew up onto the opera stage, and with just the tip of his toe gently tapping the staff, it obediently sprang up and landed in his palm. Instantly, wielding the wooden staff, he spun left and turned right, leaping up and down with effortless ease, executing the movements so smoothly that he truly looked like the Monkey King brandishing the Golden-Hooped Rod.
"Bravo!" Forgetting about Uncle Fang's feelings for the moment, everyone burst into spontaneous applause, shouting their approval without stop.
Uncle Fang, his mind a complete mess, rubbed his eyes hard. He simply could not believe the scene unfolding before him, utterly baffled. How had his traditionally obedient and sensible eldest son suddenly transformed into the Monkey King? Could this staff technique really be learned just by watching it once? Furthermore, look at his posture, his footwork, his physical poise—especially this staff work; it was nothing short of a masterpiece.
Watching Fang Yi twist and turn with complete ease on the stage, Uncle Fang's mind gradually cleared, and his eyes grew bright. He decided that Chen Geng made sense: when you ran into an unexpected mishap, you simply had to find another way to handle it. Besides, with Fang Yi's skill, once he stood on that stage and performed, it was bound to bring down the house with applause! Pondering it this way in detail, the resentment that had just risen in his heart completely dissipated.
"This is the only way out under the circumstances. So be it, let Fang Yi come along." With that, Uncle Fang turned on his heel and headed home.