Joke Collection Website - Mood Talk - A sad story about a player: a player with no heart
A sad story about a player: a player with no heart
I am an actor.
Master said that real players have no heart.
Before I met him, I always believed I was a real actor.
I have been learning to sing with Master since I was a child. As long as I can remember, I asked Master who I really am, and I was almost killed by Master that time. At that time, Master told me that singers had no family, let alone relatives.
I study singing and drama. People in operas should cry, and I will cry, too. I don't know why I cry, like an unattended clown. When I cry, someone will praise me and say that I sing well and act like a singer. Sometimes the sadder I cry, the happier they will laugh when they see me backstage.
I don't understand why they all act as if they know opera, but they don't sing it themselves.
Maybe it's because I have no heart.
I saw the trees beside the theatre blooming again. Master said that Teacher Niang would come back in autumn, and she would bring me the fruit from the tree, and she would pick it for me to eat.
But I have never met my teacher's mother.
I'm seven, and Master is thirty?
? Master, why have I never met the teacher's mother?
? I lost her because of master. ?
? Teacher Niang, will she come back?
? Maybe, when she stops singing, she will come. ?
? Why wait until my brother can't sing?
Master didn't answer me again, just waved his hand and said he was tired. Then he repeated that sentence to me. Aoki, remember, real players have no hearts. ?
I will also nod my head and stop asking questions.
I haven't seen my brother since I was five years old. Later, I heard that he was out of town, with a girl he liked, stopped singing and lived in seclusion in the mountains.
But teacher Niang still didn't come, and I never knew why.
The theater was redecorated and replaced with a bigger stage. Master said that this is what she always wanted to change.
I didn't ask who she was because I knew she wouldn't come.
I'm fifteen, and Master is thirty-eight?
? Master, why have I been singing this play?
Master just looked at the horizon and turned it into a fish-like cloud and a blue sky.
I saw fish swimming in Master's eyes on the horizon, and Master's eyes turned into the sea Wang Yang.
I knew I had said something wrong again, and I was a little depressed. I thought I had made Master angry again.
? Because it was her favorite play, now I can't sing it to her. She went to find someone who can sing this song for her. ?
Not much to say, or sing the song "Ode to Aoki".
Unlike usual, I am no longer emotional. Just singing, just acting.
Master said I made progress. Yes, I have always been heartless.
Before I met him.
I first met him in the theater. Dark clouds were playing in the air that day, and it was going to rain. There are as many people in the theatre as usual.
He had no seat to sit down and was squeezed in a small corner. In his eyes, there are no waves.
He wore a blue robe and shaved all his hair. He was a monk.
I stared at him all the time when I sang. When others laugh, he has no expression. Others are about to cry, but he still has no expression.
I don't know why. Is it because the monk has no heart?
At the end of a scene, everyone left one by one, smiling when they left, even though it was a sad scene.
He didn't leave, he was still standing, just staring at the stage, and there was no me on the stage.
I walked over and he didn't seem to see me. When he looked at the stage, he seemed to be looking at an artifact that had already been dismantled. He wanted to pick it up, but he never had the courage. He performed a play in his eyes, with no actors and no audience. Just me.
? what are you reading? I asked. The makeup on my face seems a little flowery.
? Go to the theater ?
? But now the play is over. ?
? Watch a play in your heart. ?
? But ...?
? You are heartless and have no feelings when you sing. ?
? But the master said ...?
? Real players have no heart. ?
He said that and left without looking at me. I watched his back gradually swallowed up by the dazzling sunshine outside the door, gradually away from the so-called secular, and gradually away from me. I don't know where he is going. Perhaps, he will go to a play without actors.
? Will you come back and listen to me sing? I asked, looking at his disappearing back.
? Never come again, never come again. ? His voice seems to be close to me, and it seems to be farther away from me than a lifetime.
? Why don't you come again? I reluctantly asked again.
? My name is unintentional. ? He just told me.
Since I met him, I can no longer sing with peace of mind.
There is a line in the play:? I have a heart, but you don't. ?
I always sing: I didn't mean to, but you did. ?
The host became very angry. He doesn't know what happened to me. He seems to be possessed.
One night, I had a high fever and my mouth kept screaming unintentionally.
When my fever dropped the next day, Master said sadly to me. You can't sing any more. Let's go. ?
I panicked and cried and asked why.
Master said, you are not a real player. I began to laugh. I knew that Master already knew everything.
? Then neither are you! You are not a real player! You will fall in love with others, too! You have to leave, too You don't deserve to stay in the theater. You don't deserve it ? I shouted recklessly, thinking that I was still the child who would spoil in Master's arms. I thought Master could hold me high and pretend that I could fly, just like when I was a child.
I saw Master slowly sitting in the chair in front of the bed. That moment was really just a moment. I feel that master is old, and he is already one fortieth.
? Sorry, master, I'm leaving tomorrow. ? I realized that I was wrong.
Master waved at me and said, no, you are a good play. Keep singing. ?
The master asked me:? Do you know who wrote the play you sang?
I shook my head.
? It is your teacher's mother. She wrote it for me. She thought writing a play would leave my heart. ? Master smiled, the kind of smile I have never seen before.
? Did the teacher succeed? I asked.
? She succeeded, but by the time I realized her success, she had already left. She said she couldn't wait for my heart. She said I was a real actor, the best actor she had ever seen. ? The master stood up from his chair. Cloth shoes are walking, silent, quiet, silent. Like master, when the cloth shoes landed, they had no heart.
? Then I can't do a play like Master's. ? When I said this, I didn't feel lost. It's like quietly passing from summer to autumn every year, watching the fruit on the tree bear one after another, and then falling off one after another, rotting and giving off an unpleasant smell. Then winter came, and I didn't feel anything.
? Aoki, never be a player like Master. ? With that, Master collapsed on the clean floor. When master fell to the floor, there was no sound, because he was too light, too light and too heavy.
The master is dead.
I know that wherever he is, he will never see Jenny again.
There are still as many people coming to the theatre as usual.
When the first handful of dirt fell on Master's coffin, I cried and everyone looked at me.
Look at me like a madman, because I didn't shed a tear after Master died.
I don't know what happened to me, so I cried for no reason.
The monk kept looking at me, and I didn't look back.
I don't want to be as sad as master.
? You're not her. ? He came up to me and said.
? Yes, I'm not her, I'm not the one that Master loves, and I'm not the one that you love. ? I smiled.
He's gone, master's gone, and so am I.
A month later, the theater?
? Will your heart ache?
? I won't. ?
? Why?
? Because I have no heart. ?
? Master said that real players have no heart. So, are you a real player?
? I didn't. I am you. ?
People all over the street say that she is crazy, and she talks to herself like two people.
? I don't know if you are, but there is nothing to say when you come back. The play continues and people are scattered. Aoki song
Author | Zhang, Shandong Tancheng No.1 Middle School
WeChat official account | Ganning Street
This article is an original article, the copyright belongs to the author, and it may not be reproduced without authorization!
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