Although finding someone else might also take some effort, and maybe even require another tip to appease the guests, it was still better than making a fool of himself—regardless of whether it was David Miller's fault, failing to handle things would be a sign of his own incompetence as the boss.

Henry Carter, however, said, “Sorry to trouble you tonight as well. We’re all friends here, it’s no big deal.”

Seeing how sincere she was, not at all like she was just being polite, Mr. Harris was completely convinced. They weren’t close, but with a temperament like Henry Carter’s, it was no wonder she’d managed to stay in the spotlight for so many years without any mishaps.

The manager and other performers listened as Mr. Harris thanked her profusely, all feeling a bit surprised.

It wasn’t until Henry Carter took off her sunglasses that they suddenly realized who she was, and even got a little excited. They hadn’t expected the boss to have such connections—didn’t that mean they’d shared the stage with a celebrity today?

Since they were at a teahouse, Henry Carter glanced at Samuel Parker, and naturally thought of inviting him to sing “Why Bother with the Western Chamber” together.

Mr. Harris didn’t really follow entertainment news, but as far as he was concerned, it wouldn’t matter if Henry Carter brought one son or ten.

Samuel Parker also looked around backstage and smiled, “Then I’ll borrow a sanxian and accompany you.”

……

Private room.

An old man and a young man sat drinking tea, watching the stage below with cold eyes.

The younger one, about seventeen or eighteen, craned his neck to look for a while and said, “Grandpa, the guy with the short props got kicked off the stage.”

In the world of traditional performing arts, “the one with the short props” refers to a storyteller.

The old man said calmly, “Go find out if those two you mentioned are still coming.”

The young man nodded and left the room. Not long after, he returned and said, “Looks like they won’t be coming. Sigh…”

If David Miller himself were here, he’d be regretting it bitterly.

Because this old man’s stage name was Benjamin Reed, a senior figure in the crosstalk world, active on TV for decades, and his top disciple was even the vice president of the Beijing Crosstalk Association. Although he hadn’t performed much in recent years, his status was unshakable. His words carried more weight than David Miller running around all day.

David Miller had met the young man, Benjamin Reed’s last disciple, by chance, and had hinted countless times in front of him, hoping to build a connection with Reed.

But he never imagined that the young man, being a bit impulsive, would pass by with his grandfather today and, on a whim, suggest, “Grandpa, come watch a friend of mine perform with me. He’s pretty good.”

Benjamin Reed had always supported younger talents and was happy to agree. Who would have thought they’d run into David Miller and his group acting like divas?

Although the young man hadn’t said anything, Benjamin Reed could guess what had happened from the details.

Benjamin Reed was already thinking of leaving, when suddenly there was a burst of exclamations and cheers from below. Looking down, they saw two more people had appeared on stage.

The young man looked closely. “Hey, they actually got a celebrity? Isn’t that Henry Carter and her son, that… Samuel Something.”

The whole place wasn’t just stunned—it was about to explode.

They heard Henry Carter calmly reassure the audience, then introduce that she and her son would be performing a song adapted from the drum ballad “Why Bother with the Western Chamber.”

With all the commotion below, Benjamin Reed was still thinking of leaving. He’d been to countless gala shows, and he’d seen Henry Carter before—nothing special to him.

The young man made a face and said, “Grandpa, just listen. My cousin played this song before, and that Samuel Something added a drum section at the end. He was so off-key it was out of this world—no one even knows what style it was. You know, some people online call his singing ‘patchwork style.’ Hahahaha.”

“Let’s go, nothing more to see.” Benjamin Reed got up listlessly to leave. He had no interest at all in Henry Carter’s loud, clear singing.

Just then, the sound of the sanxian started up. [http://www.repanso.com] Baidu Cloud search engine, for finding novels, movies, and TV shows.

The sanxian is a difficult instrument to play well. It has no frets, a long neck, and three strings. Without real skill, it’s hard to even play the notes accurately, let alone show off any technique.

But if you master it, its greatest flaw becomes its greatest strength—because it has no frets, the pitch can change freely, making it extremely flexible, capable of both softness and strength.

In the north, most storytelling and singing use the large sanxian, and the tone of this one was bright, mellow, and distinctive.

“Why Bother with the Western Chamber” is a love story. With Samuel Parker accompanying live, his vibrato was lighter than in the original, adding a more lingering, tender feeling—making it even more fitting.

Benjamin Reed’s eyes lit up, and he stopped in his tracks, sincerely praising, “This sanxian… slides with such flavor!”

Not satisfied with just saying that, Benjamin Reed actually took two steps back to take a closer look, only to realize that the one playing wasn’t a professional musician, but Henry Carter’s son.

The young man was at a loss for words—he hadn’t known Samuel Parker could play the sanxian—and muttered, “Not bad, I guess.”

But in the next second, when Henry Carter reached the chorus, singing “It’s not just a dream of love, even awake the world is everlasting,” the song’s emotion reached its peak, and the sanxian played several sliding mid-string notes in a row, perfectly imitating the gentle call of wild geese.

Wild geese are known for their loyalty, and using the sanxian to mimic animal sounds is a highly advanced skill. In the world of traditional performing arts, this technique is called “skillful string transformation.”