Sitting in the barber chair, I can see from the corner of my eye lumps of hair falling to the floor. But stage warriors are always clean-shaven and so a trip to the barbershop is inevitable and long overdue.

Beards are a no-no in Peking Opera unless they're artificial (the industry term for that is rankou or 髯口). But since day 1, there's been chatter that the facial hair, which I've proudly sported since my awkward teenage fuzz phase, had to go. Part of the reason why the teachers suggested early on I'd try my hand at a Wusheng, or male warrior, was because of my build. Even venerable stage masters like Mei Lanfang, who's left his mark on the art as a Dan, or male performer of female roles, in the early 20th century, still practiced daily and for hours on end to fine-tune his skills despite having accomplished plenty. Perfection is an elusive concept in Peking Opera and choosing this path means having the will to embark on a journey where the destination is a moving target. I've hit a plateau in my performance just when the hill I'm clambering got steeper. I'm trying with all the might that I have, but the fact remains that Peking Opera has sky-high standards and time is as essential an ingredient as the training itself. I don't have my scene partner's agility or my teacher's flexibility. My body hasn't been conditioned yet to do the extraordinary things theirs can. I try to reason with the pros that I'm not one of them, that I'm not superman. To top it all, my second evaluation is looming on the horizon. The teachers are not happy with what they're seeing and I'm not happy that I still have to tweak this and change that. I'm still not fast enough, the transition between moves is not smooth enough, my jumps are not pretty enough. But I'm limited by what my body is capable of doing, though that's not good of an excuse to get Zhu laoshi (teacher) off my back. Any chance I get to go over the moves, I'm nabbing it. I'm going beast mode in class, at home and in the garden inside my residential compound. My teacher, Zhu Lingyu, thinks the performance is not yet crisp and is convinced that I'm not practicing enough. I've learned the entire sequence of the play that I'll be performing at the end of this journey, but there are still major hiccups in the routine. Time is running out, tensions are running high and my patience is running extremely low. We're at Day 88 and I'm a changed man, inside and out.

Peking opera show