A live-streamed Chinese language lesson under the sky—the ancients were taken aback.

No minister answered Li Shimin's question.

Changsun Wuji stood below the steps, his face ashen. He was originally the Minister of Rites, and the four principles of social order and ethics were etched into his bones.

He stood there frozen, but the expression on his face said it all: This can be written into a book? This can be taught in class?

Fang Xuanling lowered his head and remained silent, pondering something else: Why did Master Shen bring this up? Tianmu never talks about useless things.

So what is the warning this play is trying to convey?

Wei Zheng calmed down, bent down, and picked up the pen that had fallen to the ground.

He realized something: Ms. Shen had just said that the story took place "on a stormy night," but she didn't say it was history; she said it was a "play."

What is a stage play?

He whispered to Li Shimin, "Your Majesty, this seems... not to be true, it's made up."

Li Shimin turned to look at him: "Made up?"

"It's made up," Wei Zheng said definitively. "Master Shen said it was a 'spoken drama.' Spoken drama... should be a literary genre from later generations, similar to our variety shows and military plays."

Li Shimin's expression changed.

Edited.

If it's made up, why would the screenwriter make up such a story?

Why did Master Shen bring it to the classroom? Why would later generations of students learn this kind of thing? What was his purpose?

Inside the Weiyang Palace.

Liu Che was drinking a cup of tea when he heard about this complicated relationship, and he choked and coughed incessantly.

He slammed the teacup down on the table, the scalding tea splashing onto the bamboo slips, turning the few lines he had just written into a blotch of ink.

But nobody bothered to wipe it.

"Is this the textbook we'll be using in later generations?"

Liu Che felt he had been tricked. He waited for ten days, but what he received was not the way to govern the country or the strategy to stabilize the nation, but an absurd play.

"It's simply..." He couldn't find the right words. Nonsense? Absurd? Outrageous? None of them were enough.

He stood up, took a few steps in the hall, then stopped and looked up at the sky.

Liu Che slowly sat back down.

Because he noticed something: Master Shen's expression.

She didn't smile as she did when talking about grain, nor did she have the solemn expression she did when talking about Xianglin's wife.

It was just a very calm statement, as if it were stating something extremely ordinary.

But her eyes? Liu Che couldn't quite put his finger on it; it was something he wasn't familiar with, as if she were looking at something very pitiful.

But he still felt awkward. "Why did Tianmu have to talk about this?"

In the East Market of Chang'an, several merchants who were unloading goods looked up at the sky and exchanged bewildered glances.

An older merchant unloaded the sacks from his shoulder, dusted off his hands, and said, "This family is really... family scandals shouldn't be aired in public, but they've done it right, writing it into a play and performing it for the whole world to see."

A young man standing nearby chimed in, "That's right. Which family doesn't do these things? They're too busy hiding them, but these guys are taking it to the school to teach."

A merchant in a silk robe shook his head: "Is this what students in later generations are learning? They don't study the classics, they don't take exams, and they discuss other people's private affairs in class? What kind of learning is this?"

After the initial shock, the fields and villages began to come alive again.

The old farmer smacked his lips, placed the earthenware bowl on the edge of the field, put his hands in his sleeves, tilted his head back, and stared intently at the sky.

His expression was the kind of expression one would have when people in the village were arguing and smashing pots, and they would gather outside the courtyard wall to watch the commotion.

"This Zhou Puyuan," he suddenly said, his tone certain, "is a scoundrel."

His son was standing next to him, his face still red.

He had studied for two more years than his father and knew what this family's affairs were called in books.

Those punishments were to be drowned in pig cages and scuttled in ponds, but Master Shen on the sky actually stood on the platform and read these words out word by word in front of a hall full of students.

The old farmer paid no attention to what his son was thinking; he was engrossed in the story.

"Let me tell you, this family is going to get into trouble again." He asserted with the air of someone who had been through it all. "You see, that girl named Sifeng definitely doesn't know that her young master is her own brother. If she doesn't know, that's fine, but if she does, someone will die."

The surrounding farmers nodded in agreement and began to chatter amongst themselves, all intrigued by the bizarre plot.

Shen Moyan continued speaking from the sky.

"A core principle of classical drama is the 'unities', which refer to the three ones:"

Consistency of time: The plot takes place within a strict 24-hour period.

Consistency of location: The core plot is concentrated in a fixed scene and does not switch arbitrarily.

Consistency of plot: The entire story revolves around the core conflict, and all subplots serve the main plot, resulting in a highly unified narrative.

"Thunderstorm" is a classic example of the use of the three unities in Chinese drama. Cao Yu deliberately adopted this classic structure, which has a very powerful dramatic tension. The entire story is strictly locked within a short 24-hour period, from a sweltering summer morning to 2 a.m. that night.

The current plot of the script is very short, but through the characters' dialogues and interspersed narratives, it brings together and ignites all the grudges, sins and entanglements that have accumulated between the Zhou and Lu families for thirty years.

Now we will begin analyzing the plot of "Thunderstorm".

"The first act of 'Thunderstorm' takes place in the living room of Zhou Mansion. It is a hot and humid summer morning, and a downpour is imminent."

She picked up her textbook and read aloud the opening stage directions from the original work:

"The room was stuffy and stifling, the air was heavy and oppressive, there was no sunshine outside, the sky was gloomy, and there was an atmosphere of impending downpour."

Shen Moyan raised his head.

"Pay attention to this weather description. It's not just about the environment; it sets the emotional tone for the entire series."

The word "bored" permeated the entire process.

The entire Zhou Mansion felt oppressive and suffocating. Everyone was trapped in this small living room, each harboring secrets, suppressed desires, and resentment.

The more oppressive and gloomy the weather, the more pent-up tension and conflict accumulate in people's hearts. When the pressure reaches its breaking point, a deafening thunderstorm will inevitably arrive, and all pent-up emotions will finally erupt.

"The first act opens with a dialogue between Lu Gui and Si Feng. Lu Gui is snobbish and mercenary. He has the leverage of Si Feng's affair with Zhou Ping to repeatedly demand money from his daughter, constantly threatening her: if she doesn't give him money, he will expose her affair with the eldest son to Lu Shiping."

Shen Moyan paused for a moment before continuing his explanation.

"Look at this opening design, Cao Yu is very clever. He did not use the Zhou family's superiors to start the plot, nor did he write about Zhou Puyuan's majesty, Fanyi's distress, or Zhou Ping's struggle."

He deliberately started his writing with two people from the lowest rungs of society: the greedy and despicable servant Lu Gui, and the timid and fearful maid Si Feng.

They stood in the most inconspicuous corner of Zhou Enlai's residence, but their conversation acted like a key, unlocking the secrets of the entire mansion.

"In less than three minutes into the play, Cao Yu revealed two things to the audience: the eldest son and the maid had an affair, and the servants in the household dared to blackmail their own daughter with their master's secrets."

No narration or subtitles are needed; everything is hidden in the dialogue, and the audience becomes an "insider" without even realizing it.

After the backdrop began to tell the story, none of the farmers on the ridge of the field left.

They had long since put down their farm tools. Some were squatting, some were standing, and some were simply sitting on the ground, craning their necks to look at the sky, their mouths slightly open, their expressions following the plot.

Upon hearing this, the old farmer exclaimed, "This Lu Gui, a father asking his daughter for money and using her shameful secret as leverage? Is this something a human being would do?"

His son sneered from the side, "There are plenty of people like that."

"So," the old farmer said, pointing a finger at the sky, "this family is rotten to the core. The master is a scoundrel, the steward is inhuman, and the mistress and the young master are together. It's no wonder it exploded."