Tricked 137: The World Ruined Me

After speaking, Shen Huanhuan let out a yawn, forcing herself to peel away from her tangled emotions, then turned to Yu Renwan.

She prompted, “Have you forgotten what Troupe Leader Xi told you?”

The rest pulled themselves out of Liu Shaochun’s story as well.

Yu Renwan wore a pained expression. “I remember. I have to get up at four tomorrow morning.”

Shen Huanhuan sighed, “It’s not as bad for me—I only have to get up at five. But you, that’s so early.”

Being an apprentice in the theater was no easy life. Every role here was the result of diligent and grueling practice. Not to mention someone like Xi Jueyun, now a star name—even if she rarely performed onstage these days, she still rose every morning to train, and insisted that Yu Renwan be up and properly dressed when she awoke.

“Work hard at your training,” Jiang Yan added.

She didn’t know much about opera and couldn’t tell which intricate tune was better than another, but she was certain that Yu Renwan’s role was that of someone with a remarkable natural talent for performance.

Otherwise, Xi Jueyun wouldn’t have taken this whole group under her wing.

This was a special privilege reserved for prodigies—a genius could bring their family along.

“Besides, don’t you love performing?” Jiang Yan said mildly. “You usually don’t get the chance to learn. Now you’ve got a teacher for free—you’d be crazy not to take advantage. Maybe once we get out, you’ll be able to perform on stage. Then we’ll have to buy tickets from you.”

Yu Renwan’s eyes lit up a bit.

“I… I could perform onstage?”

Jiang Yan nodded.

Yu Renwan thought it over, but her recently boosted spirits soon wilted again. “But I feel like ‘she’ is much more talented than I really am.”

The roles her persona could handle, she herself might not be able to master.

“Oh, come on, you’ve only just started learning! You’re still in the hard work stage—the question of talent hasn’t even come up yet!” Shen Xiaoxiao encouraged her, bounding in front of her and thumping her on the shoulder so hard Yu Renwan rocked back and forth, “Besides, once you learn technique, you never forget it. This stuff’s the real deal. Didn’t you say so yourself? Xi Jueyun’s shows are the best you’ve ever seen, way better than anyone back home—she’s the greatest teacher!”

Yu Renwan relaxed a little. “Then I’ll work hard!”

Shen Huanhuan smiled, “That’s a deal.”

“When we get out, I’ll help you book the Jiangcheng Theater. We’ll organize a solo show for you—start with a few free performances, and once your name’s out there, you can start charging for tickets. Then you can earn money and do what you love at the same time.”

The more they talked, the more wonderful their imagined future became. Yu Renwan couldn’t help pacing around the room to burn off her growing excitement.

After five minutes, she stopped. “Well… I’m going to bed, then!”

Jiang Yan waved her on. “Go ahead.”

After Yu Renwan and Shen Huanhuan left, Jiang Yan and Shen Xiaoxiao climbed into bed together, pulling up their own blankets. Today had been exhausting, a bone-deep weariness radiating from soul and marrow alike; Jiang Yan was so tired she succumbed to a doze within two or three minutes, drifting into that half-awake, half-asleep state.

After a while, as Jiang Yan seemed to have fallen asleep, Shen Xiaoxiao, both timid and bold, cautiously placed her foot atop Jiang Yan’s calf.

The movement was so light, as furtive as a thief.

Jiang Yan drowsily opened her eyes: ?

Shen Xiaoxiao held her breath. “I’m scared… can I cling to you?”

Jiang Yan turned over, too tired to resist. “Fine, stick close if you want.”

While these four fell deep into sleep, elsewhere Pingping was still burning the midnight oil.

Jin Yuebai wasn’t worried in the slightest about Lingren Village’s high electric bill. Pingping’s room was brightly lit as she hunched over the wooden table, endlessly copying out a hundred characters.

She’d worried beforehand about not knowing her ‘character’s’ study progress—after all, she herself shouldn’t have to learn these words. She was clever, already self-studying high school courses at her elementary school age, yet the moment she sat down and turned on the light, she completely entered her role.

The characters before her eyes became indecipherable symbols. Each stroke she knew, but together their meaning blurred, leaving only a vague impression.

All she could do was trace the pinyin and copy the characters mechanically, muttering as she wrote, trying to forge muscle memory. After an hour, frustration overcame her and she stopped.

She stood, poured herself a glass of water.

Back in her room, she sipped water while eyeing those characters—by now, out of the ‘role environment,’ they all seemed simple. Yet when she set aside her water and started again, her head clouded instantly.

Pingping studied for another hour: forty minutes spent on characters, three fidgeting with her pen’s tip, five on picking at a loose thread, even catching an ant crawling across the floor. At last, her stomach rumbled; she guiltily glanced toward the kitchen.

It was already deep in the night.

Pingping checked the old-fashioned watch Jin Yuebai had given her—half past midnight. The sky was ablaze with stars, far more dazzling than anything in Jiangcheng. Distant as they were, they shone so brilliantly.

The whole sky was full of stars.

Pingping stared for a while, reluctant to leave, then headed to the kitchen.

The stove was off. There were a few mantous in the big pot—she didn’t dare take much, being a guest in someone else’s home, just tore off one corner to chew. The mantou was hard with age, crumbly as earth, each bite crumbling into grit.

After choking it down, she squatted to pick up the crumbs.

Halfway through, she sighed tiredly, slowly raising her head. From her vantage, she could see the spot near the stove, where a piece of unburned newspaper was stuck.

Pingping, knowing how Jin Yuebai treasured newspapers, blinked in surprise.

After a brief hesitation, she pulled out the paper.

It wasn’t really right, but it might be a clue. Feeling a bit guilty, she skimmed it quickly. It was the very page she’d glimpsed that morning, one line circled in pen:

[Chen Enrong, Hu Hai, and Qiu Ning, in covering their comrades’ retreat, killed over twenty enemies and died heroically.]

Jin Yuebai had her own way of reading newspapers, always underlining with a black pen—each line she read got a dash. The stroke beneath “Chen Enrong” was noticeably broken.

Pingping murmured the name.

She suddenly recalled a story Lin Xiaotang once told: Jin Yuebai, in the month before taking her first client, often hung around outside Young Master Chen’s door—a well-educated, good-looking young man. Later, Young Master Chen tried to take her away, but she refused.

Pingping didn’t know if there was a connection, or if it was mere coincidence of surname.

Just as she pondered this, footsteps sounded outside the kitchen. Before Pingping could hide the paper, Jin Yuebai came in.

She glanced at the newspaper in Pingping’s hand, said nothing, but opened the stove.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

Pingping nodded quickly.

So Jin Yuebai cracked two eggs, dribbled in sesame oil, and made scrambled eggs, placing the plate before Pingping. “Eat first, then go read awhile longer. Studying is hard—it can’t be helped.”

Pingping sat on a little stool, ate a few bites, then picked up a morsel with her chopsticks and offered it to Jin Yuebai.

But Jin Yuebai declined.

“I’m not hungry. You eat.”

Every few bites, Pingping peeked at her. Partway through, she remembered her character shouldn’t be able to read—glancing at a newspaper would seem like a child playing with a random scrap, nothing Jin Yuebai would suspect.

So Pingping became increasingly relaxed, and the scrambled eggs smelled so good she downed every bit, chewing contentedly for a long time before swallowing.

When she finished, Jin Yuebai got up to leave.

But Pingping, thinking about the newspaper, stopped her. Looking innocent, she pointed at the half piece of paper. “Is that character Chen? Chen En… something?”

“Chen Enrong,” Jin Yuebai supplied.

Pingping let it drop, politely nodding, rubbing her round belly, sneaking glances at Jin Yuebai as she slowly prepared to return to her room.

Jin Yuebai watched her expression and couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re such a little gossip for your age.”

“Did Lin Xiaotang tell you?”

Pingping hid her hands behind her back, lips pressed in mild embarrassment.

Jin Yuebai’s voice was helpless, “Every one of you.”

After a beat, she continued, “It’s nothing that can’t be told.”

“It was him—Young Master Chen. He lived in Lingren Village for a while, years ago. He was only seventeen or eighteen, very good-looking—even better than that pale boy you saw at the teahouse today.”

Pingping was quiet for a moment, then whispered, “I heard Lin Xiaotang say… he wanted to take you away?”

“That’s called eloping,” Jin Yuebai replied.

“Oh…” Pingping nodded. “But you didn’t want to elope. Eloping’s not good.”

Jin Yuebai answered, “Of course I didn’t want to.”

“When people talk about eloping, if a man does it he’s seen as passionate—a charming story. If a woman does, she’s a fox spirit, shameless. The man gets all the praise, the woman, all the blame. Besides, running off always means becoming a concubine, doesn’t it? I won’t be one.”

Pingping was young; though the past may have been painful, she couldn’t really grasp adult romance. Her expression was rather perplexed.

Jin Yuebai explained, “It’s not just that eloping is a bad idea.”

“There are other reasons.”

“What reasons?” Pingping asked.

Jin Yuebai replied, “His parents raised him for so many years, sent him to school, sent him abroad, fed and clothed him fine—anyone could see he was a pampered young master. But then, for my sake—for a woman he thought seductive—he wanted to sever all ties to his family, and run away somewhere else with me. Truth be told, although it seemed like I stood to gain, I never thought his decision was right. On the contrary, I thought he was far too sheltered and appallingly naïve.”

“I wouldn’t entrust my life to someone who could abandon his parents and siblings.”

“I couldn’t trust him.”

Pingping said, “Seems like he was pretty amazing, though—he made it into the newspaper.”

Jin Yuebai: “Yes.”

Pingping: “Do you trust him now?”

Jin Yuebai smiled. “I’ll never trust a man.”

She glanced at Pingping, then added, “But you should grow up well. Maybe someday you’ll learn to trust a man.”

“Having someone worth trusting is a truly joyful thing.” Here, Jin Yuebai looked thoughtful, then nodded gently. “Mm. It really is worth celebrating.”

Pingping asked, “Did you ever like him?”

Jin Yuebai: “No.”

Pingping understood. “Got it. You really couldn’t help yourself back then.”

“That’s right, I couldn’t.”

Jin Yuebai said, “I’m a selfish person. I only ever look out for myself. Being involved with him was just a way to catch my breath, to make a name for myself on Flower Street and gain some leverage. He wasn’t my type.”

Pingping asked, “Then what kind of person do you like? I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

At this, Jin Yuebai burst into a laugh. Her features were unremarkable, but her smile was particularly charming, and Pingping couldn’t stop looking at her.

When she’d laughed enough, Jin Yuebai reached out, ruffling Pingping’s hair.

“Not a waste, raising you—already think of me at your age.”

Pingping didn’t care that her hair got mussed, but instead eagerly pestered her, “Tell me! What kind of person do you like?”

Jin Yuebai considered for a moment before saying, “The person I’d want, if he came to visit me, would never tiptoe past my door.”

Pingping froze.

“The path before my door is clean, just as it is for the other women. There’s no need to set his heel down only in front of my room, as though I were so unique. I don’t need a man putting down others to make me stand out.”

“If I am innocent, so are they. If they are innocent, then so am I.”

Pingping hadn’t imagined this would be Jin Yuebai’s standard.

She had thought the requirements would be much harsher.

So it was only this?

Jin Yuebai slowly stood.

She urged Pingping to go study a while longer, then took her by the hand, guiding her back to her room before returning herself and grabbing a palm-leaf fan, sitting down beside Pingping.

Pingping went back to practicing her characters in earnest.

Jin Yuebai fanned her quietly for some time, then murmured,

“If the girls of Flower Street weren’t held back just for being women, many of them could have made a name for themselves. I’ve watched them; I know them better than anyone.”

Pingping suddenly felt a pang in her chest. She gripped her pen tightly and silently nodded.