[Translation] Don't Let The Country Go (不讓江山): Prologue

Word spread through the town that the wealthy Liu family, celebrating an elder's birthday, had hired an opera troupe to perform for three days right at the entrance of their compound. The townsfolk, who couldn't usually afford tickets for opera houses or theaters, were thrilled at the chance to see free performances. As soon as the news broke, many began planning to arrive early on the day to secure a good spot outside the Liu estate.

Early that morning, the open area before the Liu family gates was packed with people. The large stage stood empty as everyone craned their necks in anticipation. They waited for well over an hour, but no one appeared on stage. Impatient voices began to grumble, accusing the Lius of false advertising.

Another half hour passed. Then, the Liu family's steward stepped onto the stage with an apologetic expression, clasping his hands toward the crowd. "My sincere apologies," he announced. "The yamen just sent word. The hired troupe was waylaid by bandits outside the city. It seems the performance today cannot go on."

An uproar swept through the crowd. Banditry was on the rise beyond the city walls, and the world felt increasingly unsettled. Bandits who wouldn't even spare an opera troupe were truly despicable.

Just as the crowd was dispersing, crestfallen, a scrappy-looking boy of about ten or so clambered up onto the tall stage. He cleared his throat and declared, "I know all the operas. How about letting me earn that silver?"

A burly man in the crowd scoffed, "You? A hairless brat? What could you possibly know?"

The young boy didn't argue. Instead, he opened the large pack strapped to his back, pulling out instrument after instrument like a magician's bag—drums, stringed instruments, reeds, and flutes. After setting them up neatly, he began with a clear, a cappella solo. Though his voice was youthful, his enunciation was precise and his tone pure. After a few lines, he proceeded to demonstrate each instrument in turn, proving himself proficient in every single one.

"I'll take only thirty percent of what you'd pay the troupe," he bargained. "I'll sing and play all the instruments myself. You can even request specific pieces—name it, I'll perform it. It's Master Liu's birthday celebration, after all. Shouldn't it be lively?"

Before the steward could respond, the same burly man who had mocked him earlier snorted. "This little wild brat must be money-crazy. He's probably a swindler, maybe even has accomplices. I say, kick him off! Master Liu would be better off scattering some copper coins for everyone to enjoy."

The boy sighed. "Seems like you're the one who's money-crazy."

The man flared up. "You believe I can't beat you to a pulp?"

The boy grinned. "How about this? When you leave later, I'll follow you. Wherever you go, I'll go."

"You trying to extort me?" the man retorted.

"No," the boy said cheerfully. "You're so hot-tempered, who knows when you might just drop dead from rage? I play the suona exceptionally well—the kind of playing that makes everyone want to lie down properly. I could send you off with a tune, for half price."

Before the enraged man could lash out, the boy raised his voice to address the crowd. "While I have your attention, let me say a few more words, dear elders and乡亲们! If any of you have weddings, funerals, or celebrations at home, please consider hiring me! For funerals, I offer wind instruments like sheng, xiao, suona, and even professional mourning on behalf of filial sons. For joyous occasions, gongs, drums, flower-scattering, and toasts! First-time clients get a ten percent discount; second-timers get half off! My name is Li Diudiu—the Li Diudiu who knows just a little bit of everything!"

The mocked man, his face flushed red, charged onto the stage to teach him a lesson. Li Diudiu took a step back, pulled two empty bowls from his pack, and set them down. "Wait!" he cried.

The man halted, confused. "What are you doing?"

Li Diudiu straightened up beside the bowls and shouted, "He's about to hit me! Anyone want to place a bet? Wager on me, put your money in the left bowl. Wager on him, put it in the right. The house covers all winning bets."

The man stared at him, utterly dumbfounded, momentarily unsure how to proceed.

Li Diudiu asked impatiently, "So, are you hitting me or not? If not, don't block me from making money."

He turned back to the crowd. "Proper opera performances don't require tips. But for improper performances, no tips, no show! The more you tip, the more improper I can get!"

He wore a cheeky, bright grin, but inside, he felt a pang of loneliness. The loneliness of a ten-year-old is known only to oneself; speaking of it wouldn't make anyone believe him, so he kept it to himself.

He took a deep breath, silently telling himself, Hold on, Li Diudiu. Just hold on a little longer. You're almost there, almost have enough saved to buy Master a house.