After being dumped by the diva, I was picked up by her arch-enemy.

One week later, in Hengdian.

In the western section of the National Film and Television Base, a film studio reconstructed according to the original appearance of the Peking Opera Garden in Beiping during the Republic of China era has risen from the ground.

The opera stage with its blue bricks and gray tiles, the backstage with its carved beams and painted rafters, and the wardrobe room filled with costumes—every detail has been repeatedly researched and verified by cultural and historical experts. This stage took a full forty days to build, and three hundred carpenters were employed alone.

The opening ceremony wasn't too big.

No celebrities were invited to attend, there was no red carpet, and only three media outlets were present—all of which had been personally approved by Director Zhou.

Incense was lit, the red cloth was unveiled, and firecrackers were set off.

Chen Ge stood behind the monitor and pushed his reading glasses up his nose.

"His first performance made him famous in the Peking Opera world."

His voice wasn't loud, but the entire set fell silent instantly.

"Scene 23, Scene A. Cheng Dieyi and Duan Xiaolou premiere 'Farewell My Concubine,' and the audience is packed."

The clapperboard snapped.

Jiang Yichen walked out from behind the curtain backstage.

The air in the room froze.

He wore a fish-scale armor adorned with pearls, resembling the costume of Consort Yu, with tassels from his phoenix crown hanging down on either side of his temples. His face bore the standard Mei Lanfang style makeup: willow-leaf eyebrows, phoenix eyes, and a touch of vermilion at the corner of his lips.

Chen Hao stood next to the monitor, his mouth agape.

He had seen Jiang Yichen's disguise videos. But videos and real people standing in front of you are two completely different things.

This is not a man dressed as a woman.

This means that Yu Ji has come back to life.

Jiang Yichen's eyes changed. Those eyes, which were usually so calm as to be almost aloof, were now veiled with tears, filled with determination, reluctance, and the tenderness of a final glance before death.

He wasn't looking at the camera.

He was watching the person walking towards him from the opposite direction.

Tan Yunxiao.

Standing at 1.9 meters tall, wearing a king's helmet and sporting a painted face, he strode onto the stage from the other side.

The two met in the center of the stage.

The drumbeats subsided.

Jiang Yichen spoke.

"Ever since I—followed the King—in his campaigns east and west—"

Upon hearing this shout, Chen Ge, who was behind the monitor, suddenly sat up straight.

This is not your average singing.

It is a true embodiment of the Mei School of singing, with every breath, rhyme, and tone precise to the millimeter. But it is not a rigid imitation—he added a layer of Cheng Dieyi's own style to the foundation of the Mei School.

A deep affection bordering on madness.

The look Yu Ji gave Xiang Yu wasn't a feigned tenderness in a play; it was a genuine expression of her giving her life.

Tan Yunxiao continued.

"His strength could uproot mountains, his spirit could cover the world—"

His voice was deep and resonant, full of confidence, and combined with his expansive and powerful movements, he vividly portrayed the tragic end of a powerful ruler.

The two worked together seamlessly on stage.

One is as fierce as fire, the other as gentle as water.

The extras playing theatergoers in the audience were only supposed to cheer. But halfway through the performance, Jiang Yichen glanced back—

Several extras actually applauded.

It wasn't acting. He was genuinely stunned.

"Click."

Chen Ge didn't shout.

It was the assistant director who shouted it.

Chen Ge took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. After a long while, he finally spoke.

"Pass."

Just one word.

But Chen Hao noticed that Chen Ge's hands were trembling slightly.

Having been in the industry for forty years and directed countless classics, this veteran director was shocked by what a twenty-three-year-old presented on screen today.

One take.

This would be almost impossible on Chen Ge's film set.

-

During a break.

Tan Yunxiao removed half of his wig and squatted in a corner of the set to drink water.

Jiang Yichen walked over and handed him a towel.

"Senior brother, you held back your strength during that fight scene just now."

Tan Yunxiao wiped his sweat and grinned.

"Nonsense, could you really take a beating? I'd be afraid of knocking you off-screen, and Director Chen would kill me."

Jiang Yichen squatted down next to him.

"No need to stop for the next match. Duan Xiaolou is a martial arts performer, so the fight should feel realistic."

Tan Yunxiao glanced at him.

Are you sure?

"Sure."

Tan Yunxiao tossed the towel over his shoulder, stood up, and stretched his limbs.

"Fine, if you say you won't accept it, then you won't. Just don't cry later."

Jiang Yichen didn't reply. He looked at the restored stage in the center of the set, his gaze distant.

Cheng Dieyi's story has only just begun.

The following scenes are where acting skills will truly be put to the test.

They can't distinguish between reality and fiction.

Be faithful to one person until the end.

He had to live his life as Cheng Dieyi, and then Cheng Dieyi had to live his life as Yu Ji.

These are two shells nested together.

Upon opening the first layer, the audience sees Cheng Dieyi.

Upon opening the second layer, the audience sees Jiang Yichen.

Three people, one face.

Chen Ge walked over, holding a script in his hand.

"Next game, game thirty-seven."

He looked at Jiang Yichen.

"Cheng Dieyi Seeks the Sword".

The script only provides a brief scene description: After many twists and turns, Cheng Dieyi finds the Fish Intestine Sword, which was once kept in the Zhang family, and gives it to Duan Xiaolou as a token.

However, Chen Ge marked this scene with a red "emphasis" on the storyboard.

He once told Jiang Yichen, "This sword is the key to the entire play. The audience needs to see through this sword that Cheng Dieyi has completely gone mad."

It's not a madman who's cursing.

It's the kind of madness that treats fiction as reality and the stage as life.

It's 2 PM. The lighting on set is being redone.

The scene is an old pawnshop. Dust settles on the counter, and cobwebs hang in the corner. Cheng Dieyi wears a plain-colored long gown, her hair is tied up with a black ribbon, and her face is thin.

Chen Ge sat behind the monitor and raised his hand.

"Action".

Jiang Yichen pushed open the door and walked into the pawnshop.

His steps were light, as if afraid of disturbing something. His gaze swept across the dimly lit counter, finally settling on a long, dusty box in the corner.

He walked over.

The moment my fingers touched the box, I stopped.

With just that one "stop," Chen Hao saw a lot on the monitor.

The trembling of fingertips. The almost imperceptible swallowing. And the sudden, almost devout light that welled up in those eyes.

Like a believer who has found his idol.

Jiang Yichen opened the box.

Inside was an ancient sword. The blade was narrow and long, faintly gleaming with a cold light.

He drew his sword and held it horizontally in front of him.

Then he laughed.

That smile gave everyone on set goosebumps.

It wasn't joy. It was a sense of relief, like "I can finally give everything away." It was the expression on the face of a martyr walking towards the stake.

"Xiaolou".

Jiang Yichen's lips moved slightly, his voice extremely soft.

"You said you wanted a sword that could cut through iron like mud."

"I've been searching for three years."

"Found it."

He held the sword to his chest, as if he were embracing someone.

"Click."

Chen Ge's voice was a little hoarse.

"Pass."

The script supervisor paused for a moment before realizing what was happening and started writing down her notes. As she looked down, she secretly wiped the corner of her eye.