Lu Shi's words left everyone in silence.
Owen, who first stepped onto the stage in 1856 and achieved fame by the 1870s, was not just an actor but also a theater manager. He had directed a series of Shakespearean plays at the Lyceum Theatre, earning widespread acclaim and even a knighthood for his contributions. In the realm of acting, no one could question his expertise.
Shaw worried that Owen might take offense at Lu Shi's critique.
"Lu, um..."
Unexpectedly, Owen cut him off and directly asked Lu Shi, "Mr. Lu, do you think there's an issue with my lines? Are they different from your vision of Humphrey?"
There wasn't a trace of anger in his tone; it was evident he was genuinely seeking advice.
Lu Shi pondered for a moment before saying, "It's not that they're different. I'm just concerned about your breathing... Sigh... I don't quite know how to explain it."
"Breathing?"
Owen and Lawton exchanged puzzled glances.
Breathing was indeed fundamental to acting, but it shouldn't be something to stress over this much, right?
Owen asked humbly, "Mr. Lu, when you mentioned 'breathing' earlier, what exactly did you mean? It can't just be about basic panting, can it? Does breathing affect one's endurance in a performance?"
Given Owen's sincerity, Lu Shi didn't hold back.
He thought for a moment and decided to leverage his Chinese cultural background to explain, "Sir Owen, have you ever heard of Peking Opera?"
Owen nodded naturally, "Of course! It's traditional Chinese theater."
Lu Shi continued, "In the art of singing, it's said that 'the sound should be like a sheng, with breathing both audible and silent,' meaning that breathing must be refined and in harmony. So..."
Before he could finish, Lawton interjected, "In harmony? How should breathing be in harmony?"
Lu Shi explained, "It's simple. For example, a person's breathing differs slightly when they are happy, angry, sad, or joyful. Similarly, a drunkard's breathing is different from when they are sober. Harmony means that breathing should match the character's state."
Turning to Owen, Lu Shi added, "Sir Owen, you emphasize immersive experience in acting. You should understand this well, right?"
Owen was deep in thought and didn't hear him.
Lu Shi called out again, "Sir Owen?"
Owen snapped out of his reverie and smiled apologetically, "Sorry, I got a bit lost in thought."
In fact, he wasn't daydreaming but rather deeply absorbed.
Owen had been contemplating Lu Shi's words, finding them profoundly enlightening. As an experienced actor, with countless practical experiences and a solid theoretical foundation, he considered few could still provide him with new insights, aside from luminaries like Stanislavski and Nemirovich-Danchenko.
However, what Lu Shi said gave him a fresh perspective.
Owen said, "Professor Lu, could you elaborate?"
Within less than an hour of meeting, Owen had already naturally upgraded his address for Lu Shi to "Professor."
Lu Shi couldn't afford to disappoint.
"Certainly."
Despite being an amateur in acting, this identity served as a perfect shield. When his insights on acting struck a chord, Owen and Lawton would genuinely admire him; if they seemed impractical, they could dismiss them with a tolerant smile.
Thus, their discussion continued until noon.
Owen invited Lu Shi to stay for lunch, eager to continue their conversation.
Lu Shi, however, had nearly exhausted his knowledge and smiled, declining, "Sir Owen, let's not turn this into a prolonged acting class. If we keep this up, 'Yes, Prime Minister' might never see the stage."
It was a light-hearted joke.
Owen, unfazed by the teasing, replied, "Don't worry, Professor Lu. I won't let you down."
Shaw chuckled, "In that case, I'll stay."
Owen rolled his eyes and retorted, "If Professor Lu stays, he can discuss acting with me. What are you staying for? For Ellen?"
Shaw almost choked on his words.
Lu Shi couldn't help but laugh, "Sir Owen, let the Dean stay. He really likes 'Yes, Prime Minister,' and he helped me revise it. The script owes some of its polish to him, so he naturally wants to observe the rehearsals."
Shaw agreed, "Right, I can keep track of the progress here."
Speaking of progress, Owen grew serious.
He mentally calculated for a moment and then said, "Professor Lu, the plot of 'Yes, Prime Minister' is almost entirely set indoors, so the stage design is simple. If rehearsals go smoothly, it should be ready for the stage within a week."
Rehearsals couldn't be rushed.
Lu Shi had no intention of meddling, so he chatted a bit more with Owen and Shaw before leaving with Natsume Sōseki.
The two boarded a carriage.
December in London was cold and damp.
Lu Shi drew back the curtain, allowing sunlight to penetrate the carriage and dispel the pervasive moisture.
Westminster's main street was bustling, with elegant shops lining both sides and well-dressed ladies walking by, occasionally stopping to admire the goods displayed in the shop windows.
At this moment, a newsboy ran past, shouting, "'And Then There Were None!' 'And Then There Were None!' Seven pounds a copy!"
It seemed the Royal Publishing House had reissued the standalone edition.
Lu Shi stopped the carriage and beckoned to the newsboy, handing over money, "Kid, give me a copy."
The newsboy cheerfully handed over the book.
Lu Shi weighed it in his hand.
It was heavy, made of high-quality material.
He turned to Natsume Sōseki and asked, "Sōseki, do you want to take a look?"
Surprisingly, Natsume Sōseki shook his head, "I've already read the serialized version."
Lu Shi let out an audible "Hmm?"
Having been roommates with Natsume Sōseki for a while, he knew him well. Sōseki was a bookworm who, despite having read the serialized novel, would still get excited about a reissued standalone copy, if only to savor the scent of the ink.
What was going on today?
Curious, Lu Shi asked, "Sōseki, do you have something on your mind?"
Natsume Sōseki's expression stiffened, then he sighed, "Just now at the Lyceum Theatre, listening to you and Sir Owen discuss acting, I suddenly felt the urge to write a novel."
Was there a direct connection between acting and novels?
Lu Shi was baffled.
"Uh... Could you explain a bit more?"
Natsume Sōseki clarified, "Just now, Sir Owen mentioned a school of acting—the experiential approach, where actors should actively feel the character and transform their emotions into art, rather than just coolly performing. Moreover, you mentioned that you try to immerse yourself in the characters when writing a script."
Lu Shi stroked his chin, sensing that the renowned Japanese author was having a moment of inspiration.
He asked, "Do you have an idea in mind?"
Natsume Sōseki nodded, "Yes, I want to use this immersive approach to write a novel. But the protagonist I want to immerse in..."
He trailed off, hesitating.
Lu Shi waited patiently.
He knew that the desire to express oneself was uncontrollable. When a writer was ready to create, they would naturally enter the creative state without needing external encouragement.
Natsume Sōseki said, "Lu, promise you won't laugh at me."
Lu Shi nodded, "Of course."
Natsume Sōseki gritted his teeth and said, "I want to raise a cat."
Lu Shi was utterly surprised that Natsume Sōseki's iconic work "I Am a Cat" was emerging so early.