Chapter 98 Liang Zhu (Part 3)

After realizing that she had been staring straight at Luo Jun, Liu Tao quickly became aware of her loss of composure. Frightened, she hurriedly lowered her gaze and asked in an even softer voice:

“Mr. Luo, do you like watching operas?”

After saying that, Liu Tao let out a regretful sigh, as if silently scolding herself for asking such a foolish question.

“Average.”

Luo Jun’s answer was unexpected.

“I prefer watching films. Some operatic lyrics are too obscure—I can’t understand them,” Luo Jun said.

Liu Tao slightly parted her lips, clearly surprised that the well-read Luo Jun would admit he didn’t understand. But she quickly found a reason for him in her mind.

“You studied in the West and grew up among foreigners. You didn’t learn the Four Books and Five Classics from childhood, so not understanding the lyrics is normal,” Liu Tao said. “Did you often watch movies when you were there?”

Luo Jun said nothing.

Liu Tao assumed she had asked another foolish question.

“I’ve never seen a movie,” she continued, forcing the conversation along. “I’ve heard that in movies people move but don’t speak, and someone off-screen reads the lines. There are all sorts of things in them—cars, trains… is that how it is?”

Luo Jun remained silent. Liu Tao’s voice grew softer and softer.

“When I first came here, I saw posters of movie stars. They were so beautiful—wearing pearl necklaces and purple qipaos, like paintings…”

“Mr. Luo, is what I’m saying particularly dull?” Liu Tao had already resigned herself.

“It is rather dull,” Luo Jun replied honestly—so honestly that it left Qin Huai in despair.

Liu Tao, like Qin Huai, was equally devastated.

Still holding his cup, Luo Jun asked calmly, “Then are you interested in watching a movie?”

“Huh?” Liu Tao was completely confused.

“There’s a new film releasing this Sunday. I’ll be at the Richard Hotel waiting for you,” Luo Jun said. Then he set down his teacup. “The café’s service is too inefficient. I ordered a cake this morning and it still hasn’t arrived. I have matters to attend to, so I won’t wait.”

Luo Jun stood up. Liu Tao immediately rose as well and followed him, clearly wanting to say more to make up for something, but no words came out.

“Do you like chestnut cake?” Luo Jun asked.

“Yes,” Liu Tao blurted out.

“Good. I’ll be busy these next few days and won’t come to the opera. Sunday at 2 PM, meet me at the Richard Hotel.”

With that, Luo Jun quickly walked out. The troupe manager hurried over from the corner, smiling as he saw him off.

Qin Huai glanced at Liu Tao, who stood somewhat dejected in the courtyard, then at Luo Jun, who was leaving in a hurry. After thinking for two seconds, he chose to stay.

Worst case, he’d just run into an invisible wall.

Before reviewing the memory, Luo Jun had reminded him to observe Liu Tao carefully and remember her appearance, so Qin Huai decided to stay and take a closer look.

The manager escorted Luo Jun to the theater entrance, then quickly returned. Seeing Liu Tao still standing blankly in the courtyard, he teased with a smile:

“What’s this? Still thinking about Mr. Luo? He’s already on the rickshaw.”

Noticing Liu Tao’s lack of joy, the manager realized things hadn’t gone as smoothly as expected.

“Did you upset Mr. Luo?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Liu Tao said, head lowered, full of regret. “I feel like Mr. Luo and I are from two completely different worlds.”

“You already are from two different worlds,” the manager said impatiently. “So what? That doesn’t stop him from taking you as a concubine.”

“But I feel like I’m too boring. Mr. Luo doesn’t even like talking to me. He barely says anything,” Liu Tao stammered.

Upon hearing this, the manager almost stomped his feet in frustration.

“Who told you to just chat with him? What kind of man is Mr. Luo? What hasn’t he seen? He studied in the West, has been living at the Richard Hotel for over a year, and doesn’t even carry coins smaller than a small silver piece—he tips in pounds!”

“He reads all day long. The hotel staff have practically bought out every bookstore in the concession for him. He doesn’t go to dance halls—he just watches movies and listens to performances. Go ask around Shanghai—among all the opera troupes, which leading actress wouldn’t be jealous of you?”

“Do you think Mr. Luo came to watch our Liang Zhu? Your senior brothers, junior sisters, and accompanists—do you even know their level? With Mr. Luo’s taste, why would he choose our small, provincial troupe over a mechanized grand production like Shi’s troupe?”

Liu Tao nodded and said, “Mr. Luo did say today that Senior Brother’s Liang Shanbo wasn’t good.”

The manager nearly lost his temper.

“Who cares whether it’s good or not? That’s not the point! The point is you need to make Mr. Luo like you and marry you as a concubine!”

Qin Huai felt like cracking sunflower seeds.

The manager pointed at Liu Tao, his finger almost touching her forehead but stopping short.

“Who told you to chat and share feelings? That’s not your role! Do you even have the education for that kind of conversation? You can barely recognize a few characters—how could Mr. Luo possibly enjoy talking with you?”

“Then… what should I do?” Liu Tao asked, lowering her head further, almost like she wanted to bury it like an ostrich.

“You seduce him!” the manager’s voice nearly pierced the sky. “Didn’t Ah Hong already teach you? Sing for him, sit close to him, feed him the soup you prepared!”

“Do this and that, just like that!” he said, exasperated. “If your soup isn’t good, Ah Hong already made it for you. Just say it’s yours—do you think Mr. Luo will care? Once you’re married in, do you still need to cook yourself? You can learn later!”

Liu Tao suddenly exclaimed, “The soup—Mr. Luo hasn’t had the soup yet!”

“Is that the point?!” the manager nearly fainted from anger. “How did Mr. Luo end up interested in you? If he had chosen Ah Hong, she’d already be married in!”

“Did Mr. Luo say he’ll come tomorrow?” he asked.

“He said he’s busy for the next few days and won’t come.”

The manager closed his eyes in despair.

“But he invited me to meet him at the Richard Hotel on Sunday to watch a movie.”

The manager’s eyes snapped open, gleaming.

“Then do you know what to do on Sunday?” he asked excitedly.

“How should I know?” Liu Tao hesitated. “Should I learn to make soup from Sister Ah Hong these days?”

“Forget soup—learn how to seduce him!”

Liu Tao looked troubled. “But I feel Mr. Luo might not like—”

“What do you know about like or dislike? I’m telling you, all men like it!” the manager said decisively. “For the next couple of days, I’ll say your throat isn’t well and have you stop performing Liang Zhu. I’ll have Ah Hong teach you again. Don’t underestimate her—she was once successfully taken in as the thirteenth concubine. You need to learn from her experience!”

“Liu Tao, whether our troupe can establish itself in Shanghai depends entirely on you,” the manager said earnestly. “You have feelings for Mr. Luo, and he seems interested in you too. Haven’t I treated you well all these years? Haven’t your senior brothers and sisters treated you well?”

“Look at Ah Hong—after being driven out with her legs broken, didn’t I still take her in? Old Jin lost his voice and can’t perform anymore, but he still has a place to eat in the troupe.”

“If you can marry Mr. Luo, everyone will live better. Even if, ten or twenty years later, you grow old and are cast aside, as long as I’m still alive, you can come back and make a living here like Ah Hong.”

“Everyone is counting on you!”

The hope of the entire troupe, Liu Tao, nodded slowly.

“I… I still want to make the soup myself.”

“It feels strange to use the soup Ah Hong made and say it’s mine.”

“Fine, make it yourself!” the manager said, now thinking the matter settled. “But forget about actually making soup. I remember Ah Hong is good at herbal tea. She has a special recipe for dried tangerine peel tea with brown sugar and salt. Have her teach you that. Bring it with you when you watch the movie.”

“I…”

Qin Huai was listening with great interest when he suddenly stumbled into an invisible wall, finally remembering there was a boundary in the memory and that he couldn’t stray too far from Luo Jun. He quickly ran out.

How large was the range of this memory?

In Chen Huihong’s memory, he had roughly tested the range to be only twenty to thirty meters. He had been standing here listening to gossip for so long that he almost forgot about the movement limit—and only now hit the boundary.

How do I get back to the Richard Hotel?

Is not being able to find Luo Jun within Luo Jun’s memory considered a malfunction?

He rushed out of the theater—and just as he exited, he realized his worry was unnecessary.

Luo Jun hadn’t left at all. The rickshaw had barely moved.

Qin Huai hurried to catch up and started running again.

“Sir, wasn’t the cake you were waiting for still not delivered? Are we leaving now…?” the rickshaw puller asked.

“It’s not important anymore,” Luo Jun replied calmly, reading the newspaper. “I’ve already heard what I needed to hear.”

The rickshaw puller didn’t dare ask further and just kept running.

Qin Huai: …

He almost forgot—Luo Jun had excellent hearing.

Even though he had aged and lost some of his divine abilities, becoming effectively a 92-year-old man, his hearing was still remarkably sharp—let alone back when he could light a cigarette with a breath.

Heh, a Bifang.