9
Playing One’s True Self
When Jiang Qi snapped back to reality, he was already accompanying Old John to view the apartment.
Old John’s definition of a home was that anywhere outside wealthy neighborhoods was the same—sleeping under a bridge versus a fully furnished apartment made no difference to him.
Faced with Cao Yongjun’s warm, fully furnished apartment brimming with life, Old John showed no sign of being impressed.
On the contrary, Cao Yongjun was very impressed.
“Xiao Qi, does your teacher understand Chinese? He seems quite cultured and refined—definitely the type who’d take good care of the place.” While Old John was staring out the window, Cao Yongjun pulled Jiang Qi aside for a private chat.
“He understands. He’s a foreign teacher at our school and speaks excellent Chinese.” Jiang Qi didn’t know where Cao Yongjun got the idea that Old John would be careful with the apartment, but he played along while mentally calculating.
Cao Yongjun’s apartment was truly ideal.
First, it was nearby—any emergencies could be handled quickly since they were just floors apart.
Second, the rent was cheap. For such a nice apartment—four bedrooms, two living rooms, fully furnished—at 1,800 yuan a month with no agent fees, it was a rare find. Moreover, Cao Yongjun had mentioned renting out individual rooms first. Judging by his attitude, if the other rooms didn’t get rented, he might not bother, effectively making it a few hundred yuan for the whole space—perfect for a cash-strapped player like Jiang Qi.
Most importantly, while Cao Yongjun was leading Jiang Qi upstairs earlier, he recalled some gossip Ms. Jiang Xiaohong had shared during the New Year’s dinner.
Cao Wenyang was married!
Not just married, but planning to have kids!
Based on Jiang Qi’s understanding of Cao Yongjun, as long as Cao Wenyang and his wife didn’t object, Cao Yongjun and his wife would surely stay in the capital to help with childcare, and they wouldn’t return for years.
After careful consideration, Jiang Qi said, “How about this, Uncle Cao? My teacher is here scouting for creative inspiration. If he doesn’t find any, he might leave in a few months; if he does, he might stay for a year or even bring other teachers along.”
“If you’re comfortable with it, you could rent one room to our teacher first and lease the others gradually. If other teachers from our school come, you could prioritize renting to them. How does that sound?”
“Of course!” Cao Yongjun agreed immediately. “I wouldn’t feel at ease renting to strangers if I’m not here. Your Aunt Qian treasures this apartment dearly. If we ended up with one of those infuriating tenants from online listings, she’d have my head.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve been neighbors for over a decade. I’ll check in regularly to make sure everything’s fine.”
After Old John showed Cao Yongjun his ID (which may or may not have been valid), Cao Yongjun cheerfully went to the print shop at the community entrance to print a random rental contract he’d found online.
The rent was settled at 400 yuan per month, with one month’s deposit and one month’s rent paid upfront. Until another tenant moved in, Old John could use all areas freely—practically like getting it for free.
Before leaving, Cao Yongjun handed Jiang Qi the spare key, letting Old John choose a room first. He’d finalize payment and sign the contract upon his return.
Old John ultimately picked the smallest room—the study that belonged to Cao Wenyang. Though the smallest, it had good natural light, making it ideal for reading during the day without straining the eyes.
Don’t ask how Jiang Qi knew this was Cao Wenyang’s room – back in middle school, Jiang Qi had come to Cao Wenyang’s house for tutoring sessions.
Old John stared at the books on the shelf for a long time while inspecting the room.
“Someone in that family studies architecture,” Old John said with certainty after Cao Yongjun left the room.
“Architecture?” Jiang Qi thought for a moment. “I think Cao Wenyang did study architecture. He’s Uncle Cao’s son. I heard he specialized in bridge engineering, though I’m not sure if that’s related to architecture. They say it’s a very niche field with few people studying it nationwide.”
Old John nodded to indicate he understood.
When Cao Yongjun returned, they signed the contract directly. Jiang Qi transferred the money to Cao Yongjun on Old John’s behalf. Cao Yongjun said Old John could move in with just his luggage after he cleared out the miscellaneous items from the house in a few days.
After handling the housing matter, it was almost lunchtime.
Jiang Qi took Old John to the alley where the Murder Mystery Game Store was located for lunch. With so many shops to choose from, Jiang Qi didn’t know how to decide, so he simply picked the same beef noodle place they’d eaten at yesterday. That noodle shop served generous portions with fragrant broth – economical and satisfying.
As soon as they entered the noodle shop, Jiang Qi saw Liu Lan drinking soup from her bowl.
“Hey, Jiang Qi, John! You came to this noodle shop too!” Liu Lan greeted them enthusiastically upon seeing them, motioning for them to join her table.
Before Jiang Qi’s bottom even touched the chair, Liu Lan couldn’t wait to speak up: “I stayed up all last night writing lines and revised the performance parts. I just came from the print shop – take a look.”
As she spoke, Liu Lan pulled several A4 pages from her bag.
“Printing cost 1.20 yuan, Jiang Qi, remember to reimburse me.”
Jiang Qi nodded and looked over the material with Old John, discovering that Liu Lan’s performance content was actually quite well-written.
Segment Four:
Props: Clothing bag, table and chairs, books, paper and pen
Narrator: In the darkness, you see your 19-year-old self, running home as joyfully as a child, holding that precious bag. It contains the suit you carefully selected for your father – the best gift you could afford for him at age 19.
Liu Lan (male voice): “Dad, guess what I bought for you?”
John (male voice) (dim yellow lighting, only silhouette visible): “What?”
Liu Lan (male voice): “A suit. You can wear it on important occasions.”
The curtain opens slightly.
John (male voice): “I don’t have any important occasions.”
The curtain opens fully.
Liu Lan (male voice): “You can wear it to Sunny’s wedding.”
John (male voice): “I won’t attend your wedding. You wouldn’t invite me anyway. No one would want to see me at such a time, and your mother wouldn’t either. We’ve hated each other for years. No one would want us to appear together.”
Liu Lan (male voice): “But (pause), you could…”
John (male voice) (impatient): “Enough. There’s food in the microwave. Don’t disturb me – I’m reading a crucial part.”
The curtain closes. Old John stands up, picks up the bag, and exits.
Lights out.
.
Jiang Qi skimmed through the material and found no issues, except for one point of confusion.
“You said Little John’s lines? Isn’t this a male role?” As he spoke, Jiang Qi quickly browsed through the other segments.
Admittedly, his role was still quite substantial.
Jiang Qi participated in the performances of all character scripts except those related to John’s scenarios.
A scumbag who deceived his girlfriend, a younger brother killed in a car accident, a stern boss, a black-hearted vendor engaged in extortion, and a harsh young teacher.
All of them were villainous roles except the deceased one.
Liu Lan leaned over to take a look and said, “I noticed there were too many young male roles, and I was worried you wouldn’t be able to memorize all the lines in such a short time, so I took the part with the most lines, Little John, for myself. I’m not very good at imitating ordinary male voices, but I can manage a youthful tone somewhat. If you want to play Little John, though, you can take the role—no problem.”
Jiang Qi studied the script carefully and realized that Little John’s lines were indeed outrageously extensive.
He hadn’t done much memorization since graduating from high school.
“You’d better play it,” Jiang Qi said, following his heart, and then asked, “Who will handle the lights and curtains?”
“I’ll do it,” Liu Lan replied. “The lights and curtains in the shop are secondhand and not great quality. We’ve had issues with them before during tests.”
“Let me handle it,” Jiang Qi immediately volunteered upon hearing this. “I was in charge of lights and curtains in the drama club during college.”
Liu Lan had no objections. “Alright, then when we get to the shop, you can familiarize yourself with them. We’ll start rehearsing this afternoon. Just read from the script during rehearsal, and aim to have everything memorized by the day after tomorrow.”
After chattering for a while, the two turned around and noticed that Old John had already started eating. Liu Lan smiled and asked him, “Teacher John, how do you feel about your part?”
“No problem.”
.
After finishing their noodles, the three returned to the shop together.
Liu Lan led them to the dedicated performance room on the second floor, the largest room upstairs. Jiang Qi had noticed it on his first visit—the room had drawn-back curtains near the door, and he had wondered what they were for.
Liu Lan handed the remote controls for the lights and curtains to Jiang Qi, explaining the function of each button and having him test them one by one to get a feel for them.
“The sliding track for these curtains is a bit faulty and often acts up. If the lights are off during the performance, just go over and pull them manually—the customers won’t see anyway,” Liu Lan shared her practical tips with Jiang Qi.
After some adjustments, Jiang Qi had mostly mastered operating the lights, curtains, and background music switches. Meanwhile, Liu Lan and Old John had gone through their lines. At Liu Lan’s signal, the first rehearsal began.
The curtains closed, leaving Jiang Qi, as the stagehand, the only audience member.
The windowless room plunged into darkness when the lights went out. Liu Lan crouched in a corner behind the curtain and spoke in a clear, youthful voice, “Dad, guess what I bought for you.”
Jiang Qi pressed the light control remote, but nothing happened.
Jiang Qi: ?
It was working just a moment ago—had it broken already?
As he frantically pressed the remote, the lights came on.
Jiang Qi wasn’t sure if it was the lights—they hadn’t been this bright during the test.
A dim, yellowish glow illuminated Old John’s slightly hunched back as he sat at the desk. This silhouette projected onto the curtain appeared somewhat lonely.
“What?” came a somewhat aged voice.
Background music that wasn’t on the playlist but fit the scene perfectly began to play at just the right moment.
Jiang Qi hadn’t touched the remote, yet the curtains moved on their own.
The curtains slowly drew back, stopping perfectly to reveal exactly half of Old John’s face.
The lights shifted, slowly moving from bottom to top like a human gaze, compelling everyone’s attention to focus on the sole actor.
Old John maintained his usual demeanor, his indifferent eyes fixed on the side as if a young man full of anticipation truly stood there.
Jiang Qi didn’t need to control the lights or the curtains at all—to be precise, these elements weren’t under his control either. They seemed to have minds of their own, responding perfectly to Old John’s performance: brightening, dimming, focusing, dispersing, each change impeccably timed.
The plot reached its climax.
Liu Lan began the narration: “From that day on, you deeply realized that he never loved you, nor did he love anyone. He had always lived in his own world. What you once thought was his special treatment toward you was merely your illusion. To him, you were nothing more than a stranger bound by blood.”
The lights continued to follow Old John as the curtains began to slowly close. Rising precisely on cue, Old John walked forward without a hint of nostalgia, leaving behind the bag on the ground that had never been touched.
The lights went out.
Jiang Qi stood in place, slightly dazed.
“Bravo!” Before Jiang Qi could react, Liu Lan, who had been crouching in the corner, erupted into enthusiastic applause, clapping until her hands turned red before stopping.
Liu Lan switched the lights back on and gave Jiang Qi an exaggerated thumbs-up.
“That was incredible! The lighting and the curtains just now were amazing, and the background music—you must have revised it yourself after realizing the original wasn’t working, right? The atmosphere was just… just… absolutely perfect!”
“And Mr. John, your performance was outstanding! Are you a drama teacher? Watching you from the corner, I felt like you were Old John himself! It’s unbelievable—I was completely drawn in. Is this what they call ‘being immersed in the role’? What a pity I didn’t meet you earlier, or I might have studied acting!”
With her limited vocabulary, Liu Lan showered Jiang Qi and Old John with effusive praise, even instantly elevating her address for Jiang Qi to “Boss.”
After about three or four minutes of praise, Liu Lan seemed to realize she was running out of words, repeating the same compliments over and over, until she finally exclaimed excitedly, “Come on, let’s move on to the next scene and strike while the iron’s hot!”
In the next scene, Jiang Qi still had no lines, standing in front of the curtain as part of the audience.
Just like before, the lights, curtains, and background music seemed to have their own ideas, perfectly complementing Old John’s performance.
Suddenly, for no apparent reason, Jiang Qi recalled John’s second skill in the Cards—Acting True to Life (Everyone is good at playing themselves, though it can be a bit monotonous).
So, were the uncontrolled lights, curtains, and background music simply joining Old John in Acting True to Life?