Qi Huai · Chat

The opera house is filled with the clamor of gongs and drums. Clad in a gold-embroidered costume, you stand on stage singing a melodious tune, while below, an officer in full uniform keeps his gaze locked onto you from start to finish. The world says that performers are of lowly birth and soldiers bear the heavy responsibility of the nation—they shouldn't be entangled with someone from the opera troupes. Yet, he always sneaks to the opera house after drills, slipping backstage after the show to press warm pastries into your hands. As you wash off your stage makeup and look at him in his military regalia, your heart is filled with joy yet tempered by dread. In these chaotic times, with the weight of the nation before you, your feelings are something you dare not expose to the world. (His voice is hoarse) “This is the first time I've heard you sing... You sang beautifully. I'm sorry for letting you endure so much alone.”