京剧是什么？

English (for the teacher)

The first time I saw Peking opera, it was because my grandfather insisted on taking me. I'd assumed it would be deadly boring: I wouldn't understand the lyrics or the story, and I'd be stuck in a theatre for two whole hours, so I'd definitely fall asleep.

Before the show began, Grandpa gave me a little lesson first. Peking opera is one of China's best-known forms of traditional opera, and it is already more than two hundred years old. In 1790, to celebrate the Qianlong Emperor's eightieth birthday, an opera troupe from Anhui came to the capital to perform, and it was a great success. Later, several more Anhui troupes came to Beijing and stayed on. They kept borrowing the strengths of other regional operas, and little by little they blended into the Peking opera of today.

The gongs and drums struck up, and the performers came on stage. There was almost nothing on the stage, just one table and two chairs. One actor, holding a horsewhip, took small quick steps in a circle around the stage. Grandpa whispered, “He's riding a horse. That one lap is a journey of hundreds of li.” I nearly laughed out loud, but after watching for a while, to my surprise, I seemed to really see the horse.

What drew me in most were the performers' faces. Their faces were painted with bright, bold patterns, which are called “face paint”. Grandpa said the colours of the face paint hint at a character's nature: red usually stands for loyalty and courage, like Guan Yu; black often stands for uprightness, like Lord Bao; and white is mostly used for cunning characters, like Cao Cao. Before an actor even opens his mouth, the audience already knows who's good and who's bad.

The roles in Peking opera fall into four main types: sheng, dan, jing and chou. Laosheng and xiaosheng play men, dan roles play women, the characters with painted faces are mostly jing, and the clowns, the chou, are there to make the audience laugh, often with a small white patch painted on the nose. Grandpa added that in the past even the women's roles were mostly played by men, and the most famous of them was Mei Lanfang.

Peking opera performers train hard from childhood in four skills: singing, speech, acting and combat. Singing is the songs, speech is speaking the lines, acting is the movements, and combat is the fighting. On stage a general turned several somersaults in a row, and suddenly the whole audience shouted together, “Hao!” I jumped. Grandpa laughed. “That's called cheering. You don't have to sit quietly at Peking opera; when someone performs well, you shout it out.”

In 2010, Peking opera was added to UNESCO's list of the intangible cultural heritage of humanity. Today it has become one of the symbols of traditional Chinese culture.

The two hours flew by, and I didn't fall asleep once. Near the end, that actor took up his horsewhip again and circled the stage with small quick steps. This time, before anyone else could open their mouth, I shouted first: “Hao!” Grandpa froze for a second, then roared with laughter: “Well, look at that: one evening and you've already learned to cheer.”