Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
Republican Era Mystery: The Ghost of the Theater
墨書 Inktalez
As the sound of the Hu Qin pierced through the intricately carved wooden window, I was in the backstage filling a copper kettle with hot water.
My senior brother kicked me in the rear, "A Qiang, what are you daydreaming about! Boss Mei's Silver Ear Soup is going to get cold!"
The neon lights outside the theater buzzed ominously, and a sea of heads swayed in the dark audience below.
I cradled a gilded lacquer box as I made my way to the second-floor Dressing Room, the gold-painted peonies on the box's edge digging painfully into my palm. The copper handle felt as cold as ice from the canal in midwinter, and the light from a kerosene lamp seeping through the door crack pooled like a line of blood on the red-painted floor.
" Boss Mei, here's your late-night snack."
I heard my voice emerge from my throat like the crunch of a crushed walnut shell.
The sound of flowing water sleeves suddenly stopped.
In the copper mirror, half of a face painted with makeup reflected back at me; the rouge at the tail of her phoenix eyes was dark and bruised.
"Just put it there."
Mei Lan didn’t turn around; her hairpin adorned with Yu Ji flowers trembled lightly with the lyrics: "The Han Army has swept through the land, surrounded by sounds of Chu Ge—"
I stared at that Cinnabar birthmark on her neck, appearing like a drop of congealed blood beneath her snow-white foundation. Three days ago, Boss had me style Boss Mei's hair; when the horn comb snagged on that birthmark, she slapped me hard across the face.
Cheers erupted from downstairs, deafening in their enthusiasm.
Suddenly, Mei Lan turned around; her Gold Thread embroidered Fish Scale Armor brushed against my hand, leaving a fiery sting.
"You tell me," her nails dyed with cochineal dug into my shoulder, "is my Yu Ji better than Xiao Yan Qiu back in the day?"
I caught a whiff of jasmine oil mixed with opium’s bitter scent from her hair. Ten years ago, when Master was drunk, he let slip that the previous Yu Ji had truly committed suicide during a performance.
With a clang, a Prop Sword fell to the ground.
Mei Lan’s armor grazed my chin as she commanded, "Go change the tassel on that sword; it needs to be bright red with gold."
As I rummaged through the props room, I heard the gongs and drums signaling Curtain Call. The Brass Sword Hilt’s Pan Chi Pattern pressed painfully into my palm; the red tassel soaked in twenty years' worth of makeup fumes felt like a woman's withered hair between my fingers. Suddenly, a heavy thud echoed from upstairs, startling me into dropping the Tong Oil Lamp.
Kerosene flowed down the stairs, winding like a slender snake along the Vermilion Handrail. The door to the Dressing Room stood ajar, and the shadow of the Diamond Pattern Heart scattered into countless fragments on the floor. As I counted the thirty-seventh shard of light, I finally pushed the door open.
Yu Ji's emerald crown tilted beside the Makeup Box, with pearl tassels entwined around a blue-and-white porcelain vase holding White Begonia. Mei Lan leaned over the mirror, dark red flowers seeping from beneath her Fish Scale Armor, dripping onto the script of "Farewell My Concubine" that lay on the table.
"Mei... Boss Mei?" My shadow met hers in the mirror.
The rouge on her lips had smudged, resembling a stroke of cinnabar gone awry. The sword that should have been sheathed at Hegemon-King of Chu's waist was now plunged into her heart, the tassel's red soaked and darkened.
Suddenly, the copper mirror reflected blood characters on the wall. I stumbled back, knocking over the basin stand; the copper basin crashed to the floor, startling the entire Theater awake. As warm water spilled over the scarlet Costume's hem, I finally discerned those three dripping characters—Yu Ji Farewell.
Footsteps thundered up from the second-floor wooden stairs, the theatrical martial artists' black boots creaking against the floorboards. I slumped in the pool of water, watching blood droplets slide down the blade, blooming into a small plum blossom on the white jade tiles.
From downstairs, an eager voice shouted, " Boss Mei! The Police Department is here to ask for you—" The water in the copper basin still rippled, reflecting a fleeting shadow that passed above the beams. When I looked up, all I saw were the chandelier tassels swaying wildly; outside the intricately carved window frame, half a moon suddenly slipped behind a cloud.
Comment 0 Comment Count