Benjamin Reed couldn’t hide his appreciation as he looked at the young man. “Ingeniously changing the strings, using objects as metaphors for emotions, conveying form through sound—how could someone with such skill possibly go off-key?”

The young man was just as bewildered, his face showing a hint of embarrassment as if he’d been caught spreading rumors. “…Why don’t you listen to the big drum part after this! Who says that if you’re good at playing the sanxian, you must be good at singing too?”

That actually made sense, and Benjamin Reed immediately settled back into his seat, no longer thinking of leaving.

Just then, Henry Carter finished singing the chorus, and it was Samuel Parker’s turn: “Paper window, plum shadows, the moon rises—”

For his second performance, Samuel Parker was even more at ease, starting in a low register, his tone melodious. The way he drew out and then retracted the final notes was gentle yet full of tension.

This was one of the most intricate singing styles in zidi shu: the “sparrow tail,” most often used in scenic descriptions or lyrical passages.

Zidi shu singing is divided into eastern and western schools. The eastern style is bold and unrestrained, while the western style is gentle and winding. The old master who taught Samuel Parker specialized in the western style, making it especially fitting to sing “Why Bother with the Western Chamber.”

The young man said cheerfully, “That’s it, that’s it, listen—what kind of flavor is this?”

Nowadays, few kids study crosstalk. He claimed it was a family tradition, but he’d never formally apprenticed or trained. With limited talent and still so young, he couldn’t compare to the sanxian accompanist at the concert or to Benjamin Reed, so it wasn’t really fair to blame him for making amateur comments. After all, just listening to the singing, it was clear the issue wasn’t with being off-key.

He turned to look, only to see his grandfather’s expression had changed, staring intently downward. Just as he was about to speak, his grandfather’s hand covered his face. “Quiet!”

Not until Samuel Parker finished those four lines did Benjamin Reed finally let out the breath he’d been holding for so long, closing his eyes, his expression extremely complicated.

The young man probed, “Grandpa…?” 百度云搜索,搜小说就是方便 http://www.pan58.com

Benjamin Reed slowly opened his eyes and glanced at him. “It’s not your fault. Even I can hardly believe someone can still perform this art. If I’m not mistaken, what he’s singing isn’t any school of dagu, but zidi shu.”

The young man looked as if he’d seen a ghost. “Zi—zidi shu? You must be joking, hasn’t zidi shu been lost for over a hundred years?!”

Chapter Five

Zidi shu is already a dead art, with only some texts remaining; its performance style and vocal techniques have long been lost.

But, by great fortune, Benjamin Reed had once heard a few fragments sung by Old Master Scott, the most senior living elder in today’s crosstalk world.

In fact, Old Master Scott himself had never formally studied it. It was said that he had an elder brother who, by chance, had learned zidi shu, and Old Master Scott only remembered a few lines from hearing them as a child—hardly a proper or complete inheritance.

—Zidi shu is notoriously difficult to master; otherwise, how could it have been lost? There are over a hundred different singing styles alone!

But even with the old master’s half-learned, half-described renditions, at least people could get a faint sense of its flavor. 百度云搜索,搜小说就是方便 http://www.pan58.com

It was this flavor, along with lyrics similar yet distinct from dagu, that led Benjamin Reed to deduce that what Samuel Parker was singing must be zidi shu!

China is vast and full of hidden talents; perhaps some family has managed to pass it down by word of mouth. Just like Old Scott’s elder brother, who also learned zidi shu by coincidence, even though no one was performing it anymore.

He just didn’t know how many pieces Henry Carter’s son had learned. Even if it was only this one, it was already quite rare, and he was extremely curious where he had picked it up.

Benjamin Reed briefly explained a few things to his grandson, and the more he thought about it, the more intrigued he became. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to go backstage and have a chat.

With Benjamin Reed’s status, it was easy to get backstage by revealing his identity.

Backstage was bustling at this moment; it was a big deal for the teahouse to have a celebrity visit, so some performers went to the stage entrance to watch the excitement.

Few people here understood zidi shu, but many knew the sanxian. Samuel Parker had borrowed his sanxian from backstage. They’d thought he would just play a few casual notes, but when they heard his “ingenious string changes,” they all applauded just like Benjamin Reed.

When Benjamin Reed approached Mr. Harris and asked for an introduction, Mr. Harris naturally obliged, personally bringing Benjamin Reed and his grandson to the stage exit.

After the song ended, because the audience was especially enthusiastic, Henry Carter stayed behind to interact with them for a bit.

Samuel Parker exited first, and as soon as he stepped out, he ran into Mr. Harris bringing Benjamin Reed over. Benjamin Reed hadn’t been on TV for a long time, so Samuel Parker didn’t recognize him.

Fortunately, Mr. Harris was there to introduce them. “Jesse, this is Old Master Miller, he’d like to chat with you. Let’s go over here.”

Benjamin Reed didn’t beat around the bush, smiling as he said, “Young man, what you sang on stage just now—was that zidi shu?”

Even eighty years ago, few could recognize zidi shu. Seeing someone who knew the art, Samuel Parker was delighted and admitted it right away. “Yes, it was.”

Benjamin Reed’s suspicions were confirmed, and after putting his mind at ease, he grew even more excited. “Zidi shu has been lost for many years; no one’s performed it in ages. You’re so young—where did you learn it? Is it a family tradition? How much has been passed down?”

Of course, Samuel Parker couldn’t reveal his real teacher’s identity—people would probably think he was crazy. Times are different now, information is easy to check, and if you can’t make up a good story, you’ll get exposed.