Although the character span was large and the challenge was daunting, in reality, it was easier to mold than Blood Rose.
The performance that evening achieved tremendous success. When the stage curtain fell, thunderous applause erupted throughout the venue. Once again, speculations abound over who Rebirth was.
Even the next day, the union paper, art paper, and many mainstream media dedicated large spreads to introducing Phoenix and fueling countless guesses about who Rebirth might be.
The most likely possibility was that Rebirth belonged to the General Union.
It was always guessable whenever a work fell into the hands of the General Union Dance Troupe. As for which member of the General Union it was, only Su Hai knew!
Trying to unearth secrets from Su Huili was akin to scaling the heavens—an unlikely feat.
Liu Yilan’s home was close to the National Grand Theater, a small, two-story western-style building that looked delicate and beautiful. Ever since three scars marred her face, she hadn’t stepped out of her house even once.
At first, she spent her days in a daze. It wasn’t until Qiu Bai returned once for a heart-to-heart talk with her that Liu Yilan’s condition began to change. Apart from spending her days in a stupor, she most often sat in front of the piano, playing.
She could play for an entire day, sometimes without rest or sleep.
Her family watched her condition with great concern. For her music sounded like dead water! Was a musician who had lost their soul still a musician?
Musicians and artists who visited the Liu family pronounced on the spot that Liu Yilan was finished!
Give it up! Liu Yilan would never stand again. She might be alive, but her soul was dead. She might still be playing, but her heart was blind.
Such a person, if they continued to play, it would be an insult to music.
Mr. Liu was so enraged he nearly suffered a stroke. Beethoven, Mozart, didn’t each one of them have their own troubles? Since they could overcome, so could his daughter.
These remarks sparked even more laughter.
A joke, how could Liu Yilan compare herself to great musicians? What right did she have? Beethoven went blind, but he was not blind in spirit, was he?
In the end, the arguments ended unhappily, and Mr. Liu, vexed, wouldn’t step out of his house except to teach.
A dark cloud hung over the Liu family for a time, but when Phoenix’s success exploded, friends and colleagues from the university mentioned it to Mr. Liu, who couldn’t believe it until he learned that Qiu Bai had returned with a script, convincing him the news was true.
"Wait... let me see the script." Mr. Liu had heard about Phoenix that day in his office and its significant impact on the arts festival and the theatrical community. However, having not witnessed the performance himself, he needed to see it to believe it.
Nowadays, there were plenty who would stoop to anything for power and fame.
"Here!" Qiu Bai handed over the script promptly.
Mr. Liu read quickly. Although not speed-reading, a few glances were usually all he needed for one page. But this time, he read the script for a whole hour, and in places, he went back to savor certain parts over again, not satisfied with just one read.
Qiu Bai didn’t rush her, patiently waiting.
"It’s written with soul and integrity," Mr. Liu said with a mix of admiration and surprise. "Rebirth’s diction isn’t ornate, and her literary cultivation might not be better than others, even falling short in some places compared to the average scholar. But her writing has infectiousness, imagination, and passion. She brings characters to life, sets the scenes vividly, and expresses the innermost workings of the heart to great effect."
Qiu Bai nodded, "That must be talent!"