Opera Masks
"ăOld Sixă, what did you see?" Master's voice sounded from the side.
"I saw... faces, and labels?"
"In my eyes, those aren't labels, but the 'anchor points' of ăThe Roleăs."
Master spoke calmly, "ăOpera Masksă are the condensation of ăThe Roleăs. Even if everything else is ignored, as long as this face still exists, his joys, sorrows, happiness, and anger, his spirit and thoughts, will endure meaningfully forever... It's exactly like a giant anchor on a steamship, nailing ăThe Roleă dead to the surging surface of the sea. No matter how the plot of the story tumbles endlessly, the ship is always there, and he is always himself."
"Anchor point..." Chen Ling murmured to himself.
"Right now, you are also a ship. You are sailing on an unprecedented ocean of ăBewildermentă, but your hull is unbearably weak. As long as the ăBewildermentă slightly stirs up wind and waves, it can smash you to pieces."
Master turned his head, those deep eyes staring at Chen Ling, and said slowly:
"If you want to conquer the ăBewildermentă, you need to find an 'anchor'."
"You mean, I need an ăOpera Masksă?"
"To be accurate, you need an ăOpera Masksă that belongs to yourself, an ăOpera Masksă that belongs to 'Chen Ling'... Only in this way, when you feel bewildered about your own existence, even when your mind is completely swallowed by ăBewildermentă, can you have a ray of hope to find yourself again."
Master's voice echoed in Chen Ling's ears, profound and mysterious. Chen Ling felt that he seemed to have understood, but also seemed not to have.
"Then... what exactly should I do?" Chen Ling asked doubtfully.
Master didn't continue explaining, but instead asked in return:
"If you had an ăOpera Masksă that belonged to yourself, which role type do you think it would belong to?"
Chen Ling's gaze swept over the four faces of ăMale Leadă, ăFemale Leadă, ăPainted Face Roleă, and ăSecondary Male Roleă in sequence, and he began to ponder.
Up until now, the role he was probably most familiar with was still the "ăFemale Leadă" role. After all, this body originally should have belonged to ăChen Yană... But thinking about it carefully, the existence of ăOpera Masksă is the concretization of his personal will. In his self-cognition, he is "Chen Ling" and not "ăChen Yană", so naturally he couldn't measure himself by a pure "ăFemale Leadă" role... But the other ăMale Leadă, ăPainted Face Roleă, ăSecondary Male Roleă, and ăClownă didn't seem to have much relation to him either... Could it be the ăMale Leadă role? That wasn't right either...
The five ăOpera Masksă flashed before Chen Ling's eyes. After pondering for a long time, he still shook his head:
"I... don't know."
"This is very normal." Master spoke leisurely.
"After all, humans are not labeled 'ăThe Roleăs' in a story, but extremely complex comprehensive bodies of personality. On every person's body, there are shadows of ăMale Leadă, ăFemale Leadă, ăPainted Face Roleă, ăSecondary Male Roleă, and ăClownă, it's just that the degree to which they are reflected is different.
The process of drawing your own ăOpera Masksă is essentially the process of recognizing your self, dismantling your past and present layer by layer, transforming them into lines and color blocks, and concretizing them into a unique face...
This process is exactly ăPainting the Vermillion Faceă."
Hearing this, Chen Ling roughly understood the meaning of the words "ăPainting the Vermillion Faceă", and also understood why Master said before that this secret method could help him break through the ăBewildermentă. Although he couldn't remember clearly what exactly his ăBewildermentă was, with the ăOpera Masksă as an "anchor point", at least he wouldn't easily lose himself.
"Please, Master, teach me." Chen Ling spoke respectfully.
Master waved his hand, signaling that Ning Ruyu and the others could come down, and said at the same time:
"ăPainting the Vermillion Faceă is a lengthy process. The ăOpera Masksă that belongs to you will also change as your experiences grow... What you need to do right now is to rely on your current cognition of yourself to draw out the prototype of an ăOpera Masksă."
"What should I do?"
"Go stand on the ăStageă."
Chen Ling didn't hesitate. He immediately turned around and stepped onto the ăStageă. By this time, Ning Ruyu and the others had already returned to the first row of the audience seats and sat down. On the empty ăStageă, only Chen Ling himself remained.
He stood ăOn Stageă, looking at the empty audience seats below, and unconsciously associated it with that ăThe Theateră in his mind... Fortunately, the two were not the same. The most important thing was that there were none of those damn "ăThe Audienceă" in the seats here.
Master subsequently stepped onto the ăStageă and beckoned with his hand. A ăCalligraphy Brushă appeared out of thin air in his palm. The pen shaft was entirely pitch-black, but uneven, as if it was polished from some kind of ancient beast bone. The fine hairs of the pen tip were like the first snow; it was unknown what kind of creature's fine hair it was.
Following the appearance of this ăCalligraphy Brushă, an inexplicable feeling surged into Chen Ling's heart. That wisp of snow-white at the pen tip seemed to possess the great power to purify everything. Just one glance could make people unconsciously empty their minds...
Master stood in front of the ăStageă's curtain, facing Chen Ling ăOn Stageă, and spoke once again:
"Sit down."
Chen Ling sat cross-legged with his back facing the ăThe Audienceă.
"Next, I, your Master, will teach you a verse of lyrics.
After you have memorized it thoroughly, I will use this brush to guide you into a state of 'formless and selfless'... In that state, your consciousness will begin a 'pseudo-dormancy', retaining only a sliver of sentience, and the ăOpera Masksă will also be in an absolutely blank state. At that time, you will use the lyrics to slowly awaken yourself.
During this process, the experiences and emotions hidden in your past will transform into ăMarkingsă, outlining the prototype of the 'ăVermilion Countenanceă'."
Chen Ling nodded heavily: "I understand."
"Good, then listen closely..."
Master parted his lips slightly, and an obscure and tongue-twisting verse echoed by Chen Ling's ear. Not only were the vocalization and melody extremely difficult, but they also resonated with spiritual fluctuations. If Chen Ling's "ăSingingă" skills hadn't been incomparably solid now, he probably wouldn't have been able to reproduce it at all.
Chen Ling frowned and listened to Master sing it a few times very seriously before committing it to memory.
"Have you memorized it?"
"En."
"Sing it once for me to hear."
Chen Ling immediately opened his mouth and sang the lyrics once. There wasn't the slightest error in the rhythm or the words; it was basically a perfect replica of Master's singing method. The four senior brothers and sisters ăOff Stageă continuously clicked their tongues upon hearing it, seemingly marveling at Chen Ling's monstrous talent.
After hearing it, a look of satisfaction emerged on Master's face, and he nodded slightly:
"Very good, next... it's all up to you."
Chen Ling took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes, like a red-clothed sculpture with its back facing the ăStageă.
Master stood in front of him, but the youth's face carried a steadiness and profoundness far beyond his years. He slowly raised that ăCalligraphy Brushă with the black shaft and white hair, and lightly tapped it against the center of Chen Ling's brow...
The next moment, Chen Ling only felt a wave of coldness transmit from the center of his brow. Then, it was as if his head was struck heavily, and his consciousness plummeted rapidly like jumping off a cliff!
Everything before his eyes went pitch-black.
On the ăStageă at this moment, a smear of white rapidly spread across Chen Ling's face, instantly covering his original features and skin, exactly like putting on a pure white mask... Clean, pure, and possessing limitless possibilities.