The God of Qin Opera

When Lin Maisui was fourteen, her drunken father traded her into a marriage to settle his debts.

She fled barefoot that very night into the Qinling Mountains. Following the sound of Qin opera, she stumbled to the entrance of the county troupe.

From then on, she stoked fires, chopped wood, did laundry, and looked after all thirty members of the troupe.

No one would teach her? She crouched beneath the windows and listened in secret.

No shoes to wear? She practiced barefoot on gravel.

Her hands were cracked from the cold? She rubbed on frostbite ointment and kept practicing her orchid fingers.

Then, when the lead lost her voice onstage, Lin was thrust into the role.

Her rendition of “The Pear Blossom’s Ordeal” rang out in three waves of heartbroken sobs. Veteran opera fans wept on the spot, and the entire theater fell silent.

From then on, the mountain girl swept all before her.

County gold medal, provincial troupe’s leading star, nationwide fame.

Jealous rivals? She silenced them with her talent.

Senior performers tried to suppress her? She out-sang them.

The times changed? She stayed true to her art for a lifetime.

No benefactor paved her way.

All she had was a heaven-given voice, a strict teacher, someone who understood her,

and words etched into her very bones:

The opera comes before all else. Qin opera will never die.