Chengcheng County…
In one quiet corner of the county town sat a tiny Daoqing troupe. The troupe master's surname was Zhang, so their humble folk-opera group was simply known as Zhangjia Troupe.
Zhangjia Troupe had:
two performers who did the singing,
four who specialized in dancing and storytelling movement,
four who handled the instruments.
Ten people altogether. A miniature cultural army.
In good years, their Daoqing performances could draw crowds three layers deep. Wherever they set up their little stage, the audience would swarm in like bees to honey. By the end of each show, they could always take home a respectable handful of copper coins. Enough food, enough clothes, enough dignity.
Then came the three years of drought.
And Zhangjia Troupe's life went from "struggling artist" to "starving artist" to "artist selling heirlooms to buy porridge."
This year, they had hit rock bottom.
Every time they tried to perform, only three spectators showed up—one of whom was probably just passing by—and the reward basket received fewer coins than a broken begging bowl. Stomachs empty, hearts emptier, they wound up lining up at County Magistrate Liang Shixian's relief platform for a bowl of watery paste just to stay alive.
How long could life continue like this? No one knew.
Just when they were at their limit, Troupe Master Zhang suddenly ran into an old friend at the relief station—Tan Liwen.
Tan Liwen was practically a legendary fan of Zhangjia Troupe. No matter how difficult the drought became, he still showed up for every show. Yet for the past few months, even he had vanished.
When Troupe Master Zhang saw him, his eyes immediately filled.
"Mr Tan! It's been so long! You always came to support us—but lately you disappeared. I feared something terrible happened to you."
Tan Liwen sighed.
"Thank you for your concern. I failed the civil examinations too many times to count. I finally accepted defeat. A few months ago, I went to Gaojia Village and became the assistant of Third Steward. I've been handling small matters there, so I couldn't return to watch Daoqing."
Troupe Master Zhang blinked.
"Gaojia Village? Ah—lately I've heard the name often. Many people say they're building constantly, hiring workers left and right. Sounds like a wealthy household."
Tan Liwen chuckled.
"Yes, that Gaojia Village. And actually, I came back to the county specifically to find you. I'd like you to come to Gaojia Village and perform a full Shanbei Daoqing set."
Troupe Master Zhang paused.
A tiny village wanting a folk-opera troupe? Impossible—unless some wealthy master was holding a ceremony and needed to impress guests.
He simply had to ask:
"Which lord is inviting us?"
Tan Liwen smiled mysteriously.
"You'll know when you get there. And don't worry about payment. Do you still not trust me?"
Troupe Master Zhang lowered his head, staring at the thin porridge in his hands.
Honestly, what was there to lose? They were already eating charity porridge just to survive.
"Very well… we'll go."
Thus, Zhangjia Troupe packed up their instruments, costumes, props—basically their entire surviving fortune—and began their grand little adventure.
They walked from noon to dusk and finally arrived at Gaojia Village.
The second Troupe Master Zhang lifted his gaze, he nearly dropped his luggage.
A towering fortress-like household—Gaojia Fort—stood proudly among the fields, surrounded by clusters of colorful little houses. It was sunset, so:
the road crews were off work,
the farmers were resting,
even the labor camp prisoners were in their "free ventilation time," wandering around before lockup.
Which meant the area around Gaojia Fort was bustling like a festival street.
Troupe Master Zhang swallowed.
"This Gaojia Village is… this lively? It's practically a small town!"
Tan Liwen laughed.
"Ordinary townsfolk aren't half as wealthy as our villagers. Come, I'll take you to the stage."
He led them into the Gaojia Marketplace, and there it stood:
A plastic-framed, faux-antique grand stage—wide, gleaming, and tastefully decorated.
Zhangjia Troupe had always performed on wobbly wood platforms that creaked if someone breathed too hard. This? This was a royal-level stage in comparison.
The entire troupe froze in awe.
"W-we're supposed to perform on… that?"
"Of course," Tan Liwen said. "It's the only stage we have."
"But we're not worthy of performing on such a magnificent—"
"Nonsense!" he snapped. "I've watched so many of your shows. You're absolutely worthy. I personally recommended you. Tianzun himself asked me to invite you! Now stop acting timid. If you sing off-key and embarrass me in front of Tianzun, I'll be the one suffering."
Troupe Master Zhang straightened his spine instantly.
"Thank you for your recommendation. Tianzun… may I know who that is?"
"You'll find out soon. For now, prepare. Tonight, you'll perform your best Daoqing piece for Tianzun."
Troupe Master Zhang looked at the sky.
"But it's already late. By the time we set up, everyone will be asleep…"
A cheerful voice suddenly chimed in.
"No worries!"
Gao Yiye popped out from behind a stall, smiling like a mischievous fox.
"Tianzun just issued an order: ignore darkness or bedtime. He's bored up there and needs entertainment. So get your Shanbei Daoqing ready."
Li Daoxuan truly was bored.
During the day, the sandbox of Gaojia Village was lively.
But after sunset, ancient villagers followed the "sunset means sleep" lifestyle.
The whole sandbox froze like someone hit a pause button.
But Li Daoxuan, being a modern human, absolutely couldn't sleep at sundown. He had hours to kill until midnight and nothing to entertain himself with.
So the moment he heard "Shanbei Daoqing," a rare folk art he had never witnessed—he demanded a show.
"Yiye, notify the villagers. A Daoqing troupe is here."
"On it!" Gao Yiye hopped away, practically dancing with joy. She had heard of Shanbei Daoqing her whole life but never seen it performed live.
Tan Liwen turned to the troupe with a grin.
"The Saint Maiden is excited. Quickly—prepare!"
Footnotes
Shanbei Daoqing — A regional folk performance blending narrative singing, dance, and percussion. Its vocal style and rhythms are distinctive to northern Shaanxi culture.
Grass-stage troupes — Small, informal performing groups historically common in rural China. Their stages were temporary, often made of wooden planks or literal straw platforms.
Village fortresses — Many northern villages built fortified homes or compounds to protect against bandits. A wealthy household like Gaojia Fort would have dominated the region.
Relief porridge — Thin grain paste distributed by local governments during famine or drought, often the only food many people could access.
Nightfall lifestyle — In pre-electric societies, rural communities operated strictly with daylight. Entertainment after dark was rare, making nighttime performances extremely special occasions.