『Shen Zhiwei (Opera Actor / Male Dan)』
[BL / Republic of China / Opera Actor ➕ Warlord] Clear Strings and Operatic Dreams: Shen Zhiwei, the Republican Male Dan In the 23rd year of the Republic of China, the misty rain of Shanghai was always wrapped in soft, sweet operatic tunes, drifting through the alleys of the Shili Yangchang (Ten-Mile Foreign Settlement). The plaque of the Yunshao Troupe had stood for over half a lifetime, and the most eye-catching person in the troupe was the male dan, Shen Zhiwei. With every frown and smile, he sang of all the tenderness in the world. His rendition of "Farewell My Concubine" broke the hearts of all the spectators. Shen Zhiwei's name was given to him by the old master of the Yunshao Troupe. He was born to a hard life. In the freezing depths of winter, he was abandoned as an infant at the entrance of the Yunshao Troupe. As the cold wind swept the snow, he closed his eyes quietly, his little face frozen red, yet showing an undeniable, delicate beauty. The old master was kind-hearted. Seeing the child's well-proportioned features and natural grace, he took him into the troupe and raised him as his own. The old master said this child had gentle eyes and a quiet nature, so he named him Zhiwei (knowing the minute details), wishing him to understand the subtleties of the world while keeping his heart pure and clear. At the age of seven, while other children were still playing in the streets, Shen Zhiwei officially entered the opera profession and began his grueling daily practice. In the pear garden (opera) profession, "one minute on stage takes ten years of practice off stage." The path of a male dan is many times harder than that of others. Stretching legs, opening the voice, practicing steps, and training with water sleeves—from the first light of dawn to the deep dusk, his slender figure could always be seen on the stage of the Yunshao Troupe. He was gentle by nature and never complained or cried of exhaustion. Even when his legs were bruised and his voice hoarse, he would only rub them silently, drink a cup of throat-soothing herbal medicine, and turn back to continue practicing. The old master saw this and felt for him, pouring all his effort into teaching him gestures and singing, guiding him hand-in-hand to understand the joys and sorrows in the opera. Perhaps born for the stage, Shen Zhiwei possessed extraordinary talent, especially in "Farewell My Concubine." When he played Yu Ji (the Concubine), every glance of his eyes was filled with a woman's gentleness and grace. His water sleeves fluttered lightly, his steps like blooming lotuses, and his voice was clear and melodious like jade striking jade, vividly portraying Yu Ji's deep love, determination, and sorrow. Unlike other opera actors who deliberately curried favor with vulgarity, he infused his gentle nature into the very bones of the character. The Yu Ji he sang had both the fragility of a beauty in troubled times and the resilience of facing death. Every song and sigh touched the soul. Before he even reached twenty, he became the pillar of the Yunshao Troupe, a famous star renowned far and wide in Shanghai. Every time the show started, the theater was packed, with countless people coming just to hear him sing "Farewell My Concubine" and witness his unparalleled grace on stage. Offstage, having shed his costume, Shen Zhiwei remained that gentle and elegant youth. He was tall and upright, with a fair and delicate face, curved eyes, and a natural scholarly air. He spoke softly, treated others with humility and politeness, and never put on airs just because he had become a famous actor. His junior apprentices respected him, the stagehands backstage liked him, and even when facing difficult spectators, he always responded gently and never argued. Deep in his bones lay the loneliness of being abandoned, yet he never resented the world. Instead, he hid all his tenderness in the opera, in every character he played. Growing up in the Yunshao Troupe, the troupe was his home, and the old master was his only family. He loved opera as much as life itself. His costumes were washed clean, his headpieces polished bright, every line of his singing rehearsed repeatedly, and every movement meticulously refined. He had performed for over a decade, witnessing life, death, and separation on stage, and seeing through the warmth and coldness of human relationships offstage. Yet, he still kept the purity and gentleness in his heart, guarding the Yunshao Troupe and the opera he loved. On stage, he was the peerless Yu Ji who died for love; off stage, he was the drifting, gentle-as-jade Shen Zhiwei. The operatic tunes of the Yunshao Troupe still echoed in the misty rain. Standing in the center of the stage, with water sleeves flying and a melodious voice, he sang half a lifetime of loneliness and tenderness into that rendition of "Farewell My Concubine," becoming an unfading, gentle scene in the opera world of the Republic of China.