Chapter 104: Time Steals the Black Hair but Holds on to You (A Tribute to My Ever-Eighteen Ally!)

The essence of a play lies in storytelling. Stories themselves vary in quality—some good, some bad. Yet, not every good story can be told brilliantly. To tell a story well on stage, the script must have a sturdy core; the ideas it conveys must be strong. Moreover, the actors’ skill and the meticulous attention to stage details are crucial.

Clearly, the current Li Shixin, through lighting and cinematic stage techniques, has transformed an ordinary story into something extraordinary. The emotions the story seeks to express were flawlessly conveyed to the audience.

As the second act concluded, the entire theater erupted in applause. Everyone was deeply moved by the portrayal of a daughter who, after marriage, establishes her own life, and the father’s loneliness and solitude in daily life.

“Excellent!” came a cheer from the back row.

Among those applauding was a group from the Cultural Bureau who had come to oversee the performance.

“Ha! What’s so excellent about it?” muttered one.

“I don’t see it either. The lines were sparse; it was so dull.”

Seeing the adults cheering boisterously, Chen Yiyi and Su Sansan pouted.

“Children, don’t speak like that!” said Sun Guowei, the team leader from the Cultural Bureau. After clapping his hands firmly a few times, he seized the intermission to smile at the two girls and explain, “You have to watch a play with your heart! Good or bad lies entirely in the details. Let me give you an example—‘Teahouse,’ you know it?”

“Though this classic by Lao She has been performed thousands of times both nationally and internationally, the most acclaimed and touching version remains the very first one staged by the Red Flag Drama Troupe.”

“Many versions of ‘Teahouse’ all share the same script, so why is the Red Flag Troupe’s version considered the most classic?”

“There’s a scene where an old farmer sells his daughter in the teahouse. In most versions, the customers show sympathy. But in the Red Flag Troupe’s performance, every customer in the teahouse secretly rejoices upon witnessing the sale.”

“Many critics said the actors’ emotions were wrong—how could they be happy seeing someone sell their daughter?”

“But those who truly understand drama and have deeply read ‘Teahouse’ know this detail marks the Red Flag Troupe’s performance as legendary.”

“In the old society, selling sons and daughters was common; nobody felt much sympathy. People only felt a secret glee—‘He’s so poor he’s selling his daughter; at least I’m better off than him!’”

“A stage and actor’s subtle details can vividly portray an era. That’s true mastery!”

Chen Yiyi and Su Sansan, having studied ‘Teahouse’ in school, clicked their tongues and asked, “Uncle, what does that have to do with today?”

“It has everything to do with it!” Sun Guowei chuckled and pointed to the stage. “Just now, the actor’s emotional transition—from the father’s reluctance and worry at the wedding to his loneliness afterward, and the expression of aging through gestures—was steady, precise, and perfectly suited. The actor’s skill was just right.”

“And the stage lighting, the few props used—no excess, yet none overshadowed the actor. It was textbook level! Watching it felt like savoring a piece of candy that’s not cloying but sweet and lingering in your mouth, leaving an endless aftertaste.”

“Sounds like you’re exaggerating. Is it really that good?”

(￣へ￣), (￣へ￣).

Seeing the two girls still unconvinced, their expressions screaming ‘I’m not buying it,’ Sun Guowei, as a cultural industry professional, shook his head.

“What school do you two go to?”

“Number One High School, sir. What about it?”

Silently noting the school, Sun Guowei sighed.

Kids these days seriously lack standards for appreciating beauty. It might be necessary to talk to the school leaders. Academic rigor is important, but so is the students’ cultural and ideological development!

---

Backstage.

Hearing the persistent applause from the theater, Zhang Shuo was utterly stunned.

“Godfather, I… I didn’t mess up, did I?”

“Heh.”

Li Shixin, already quickly changed out of his costume, smiled.

“Of course not. Didn’t you hear the audience applauding?”

Zhang Shuo stammered, “But when I went on stage, I was totally blank—I couldn’t remember my lines at all.”

“You silly boy, Shixin just helped you out. He changed a few lines and turned your blank moment into the nervousness and awkwardness of a new son-in-law facing his father-in-law. The stage effect was good—I think it was even better than rehearsal.”

Nearby, Zhao Jinzi, who had finished makeup and was ready to take over the role of the daughter in middle age, smiled softly and said, “That’s enough.”

Li Shixin motioned for her to stop talking, then stood and patted Zhang Shuo on the shoulder.

“Shuo’er, you did well just now. The first half was a bit off, but I’m very pleased with the latter part. Keep it up. Get ready and go on stage! Remember, once you’re on, you become the character. Forget everything else!”

Watching Li Shixin walk away, Zhang Shuo clenched his fists.

“Got it, Godfather!”

---

The first two acts of “Only You Are the Unforgettable Attachment of My Life” were mere preludes. Now, in the third act, the true turning point and climax arrived.

As the curtain rose, Li Shixin once again used stage settings and props to captivate the audience.

The third act was titled “I Don’t Recognize the Person in the Mirror,” portraying the father’s descent into Alzheimer’s disease after prolonged loneliness.

Alzheimer’s manifests in many ways, but the most obvious is central nervous system degeneration and memory loss.

The most severe form is memory loss so profound that the patient no longer recognizes themselves—unable to identify the reflection in the mirror.

Simply put, a patient whose memory is stuck at age thirty sees their sixty-year-old self and cannot accept it.

When the curtain rose, a rectangular mirror frame faced the audience.

Then, an even older-looking father staggered onto the stage and stood behind the frame.

He stared wide-eyed into the imaginary mirror.

His expression shifted from confusion to panic, then to anger.

Seeing this, Sun Guowei in the back row clenched his fist in admiration.

This stage portrayal was absolutely brilliant!

The actor facing the audience as if looking into a mirror, with the mirror frame turned outward, made it feel as if every audience member was looking into their own reflection.

No lines were spoken.

Yet the alienation, the estrangement, the fear of seeing a stranger in the mirror—all conveyed through Li Shixin’s focused gaze and the trembling micro-expressions on his face—pierced the audience’s hearts like a needle!

Crash!

With sound effects, the father smashed the “mirror.”

At that moment, the daughter and son-in-law, now middle-aged, appeared and supported him.

“The doctor’s voiceover explained, ‘Your father’s Alzheimer’s has advanced severely. He won’t be able to care for himself anymore. It’s best to assign someone to look after him, to prevent him from wandering off or being startled…’”

The daughter’s face was filled with sorrow.

Yet the play’s dramatic conflict and climax began to unfold.

The daughter quit her job to care for her father at home, while the son-in-law bore the weight of supporting two families.

But “there are no dutiful children by the sickbed”: losing an income and gaining a burden, the son-in-law’s attitude grew hostile. Influenced by her husband’s mood, the once gentle daughter became irritable.

She no longer treated her father with the respect and care she once did.

Finally, due to her negligence, the severely forgetful father wandered off on a stormy night.

The whole family panicked and rushed about on stage searching for him.

Meanwhile, the father, dazed and confused, found himself on that same rainy night from the first act, seated slowly by the dilapidated school gate.

After an uncertain length of time, the daughter, guided by a kind stranger’s information, found him.

“Dad! What are you doing here?!”

“I…” the father looked up blankly. “Xiaoxiao, I came to pick you up from school.”

The daughter froze on stage.

Tears streamed down her face.

“Dad! I graduated middle school over twenty years ago!”

At that moment, a voiceover replayed the first act’s father-daughter dialogue amid thunder and rain.

“Daddy, whenever it thunders and rains, you have to come pick me up, or I’ll be scared!”

“Okay, okay, Daddy remembers.”

“You can’t forget! No matter how busy work is, you have to come.”

“Mm, don’t worry. Daddy… won’t forget.”

Lines from the first act, spanning more than twenty years, resurfaced in the final scene.

The play surged toward its climax.

Emotionally overwhelmed, the daughter embraced her father tightly.

“Daddy, how come you forget everything but still remember this? You still remember this?!”

The father did not answer.

The scene froze.

Yet the curtain did not fall.

As the lighting shifted from dim to a warm, nostalgic glow, the daughter in her youth slowly stepped onto the stage and came to stand beside the embracing pair, pausing there.

Music began to play:

“Hold on to what you can, don’t let go; embrace what you can, don’t pull away.

Time rushes on, washing away everything.

...

Who can blame it?

Time is something that catches us unawares, sunny with wind, cloudy with rain.

We cannot fight the passing days, yet we yearn for the past.

It steals our black hair but keeps a part of you.

Life is a journey with no return; the good and the bad are all scenery.

Don’t blame me for being greedy—I simply refuse to wake.

Because of you, only for you, I wish to watch... the gentle clouds and breeze.”

The music ended abruptly.

As the curtain slowly fell, the father’s voiceover answered his daughter’s question:

“Because you... are the attachment I can never forget in my life.”

A roar erupted!

At that moment, the entire audience rose to their feet.

Amidst choking sobs, thunderous applause thundered through the theater.