CHAPTER 9 

In the days that followed, Lu Xiao continued his routine: he would visit the rehearsal hall in the mornings to check in on everyone’s practice and spend his afternoons at the training grounds.

His arm injury meant he couldn’t do resistance training or target shooting for now, so he focused on other exercises instead—weighted runs and one-armed push-ups.

A ten-kilometer run with 20 kilograms strapped on, followed by 200 one-armed push-ups—his training regimen wasn’t any less intense than what he’d do at the infantry camp.

If Regiment Commander Zhang Weidong found out, he’d probably slap his own forehead in frustration.

After all, he had sent Lu Xiao here to rest and recover. The whole idea was to give this “golden seedling” of theirs some downtime so he wouldn’t get himself worn out.

If he happened to get along well with the female art soldiers and bring a wife home afterward, that would be a bonus.

But instead of relaxing, Lu Xiao had increased his training intensity. Aside from his morning visits to the rehearsal hall, he was practically glued to the training field.

The female soldiers in the art troupe were very enthusiastic about him and wanted to get closer, but no one could ever find him. On the rare occasion they did spot him, their attempts to flirt or make small talk were immediately shut down.

With his tall, imposing figure, he stood out wherever he went. The girls had to look up just to meet his eyes—but if he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t even glance at them.

And if someone brave enough did meet his gaze, they were usually scared off by the deep, intense pressure of his stare.

One by one, the girls gave up, defeated. They could only console themselves by thinking, Well, at least he’s not taken. Just getting to look is good enough.

—

In the rehearsal hall that morning.

The cast of Red Detachment of Women was hard at work. At this point, they had practiced enough to do a full run-through of the performance.

Most people were working on individual pieces or rehearsing with small groups. Lu Xiao, as usual, was present in the rehearsal hall, fulfilling his assigned duty to coordinate and observe.

But today, there was an unusual frown between his brows.

A certain female soldier seemed to be lingering near him on purpose. Her dancing made it look like she was circling him.

That female soldier was none other than Zhao Weiwei.

Right now, she was dancing in Lu Xiao’s vicinity with an air of feigned focus, as if she were completely absorbed in practice.

Zhao Weiwei wasn’t some clueless little girl. She had lived a full previous life—she knew that chasing a man wasn’t about throwing yourself at him, but about the art of push and pull. You had to highlight your strengths, subtly and elegantly, until he came to you first.

Although Zhao Weiwei was determined to win over Lu Xiao, she pretended not to care. Unlike the other female soldiers who eagerly tried to please him, she never acted overly attentive. But behind the scenes, she put in a lot of effort, always finding subtle ways to get close to Lu Xiao.

The practice dance outfit she was wearing had been carefully modified by her own hands—she shortened the top to better highlight her excellent proportions. When dancing, she bent her waist as low as possible, and she had even secretly adjusted the neckline to accentuate her fair and ample figure, determined to present her most beautiful self.

Zhao Weiwei was confident that Lu Xiao wouldn’t remain unaffected. After all, in her past life, she had dated a soldier. Men in the army were young and full of testosterone, and most rarely came into contact with women. With her looks and charm, she was sure she could catch his eye.

She took a wide spinning step and followed it up with a quick hop on one leg. Catching sight of Lu Xiao from the corner of her eye, she suddenly stumbled and let out a soft cry, “Ah!”

She purposely fell in Lu Xiao’s direction, expecting a moment of physical closeness. But to her surprise, Lu Xiao only reached out with one hand, caught her by the arm, and straightened her back up. Before she could even react, he had already let go.

“Be careful.” With that, Lu Xiao frowned and stepped away from her, moving to a quieter corner.

He remembered this female soldier. What had happened in the cafeteria last time, and now this—Lu Xiao had started to instinctively dislike her.

Zhao Weiwei watched as Lu Xiao walked away, and bit her lip in frustration and anger.

—

That evening, before the dinner bugle sounded, Sang Miao headed to the cultural troupe’s training ground to find Lu Xiao, just as she usually did. The two of them practiced under the shade of the trees.

For the past few days, Lu Xiao had been giving her private lessons, and the two had grown noticeably closer. At the very least, Sang Miao was no longer keeping her distance from Lu Xiao like she had in the beginning, even though he was the male lead.

Despite his cold expression, Lu Xiao was a dedicated and meticulous teacher.

And ever since Sang Miao had her breakthrough last time, she no longer needed constant corrections from Lu Xiao during their sessions. She had always been smart and gifted at learning movements and expressing emotion and energy, and she put in enough effort too.

Every time before they started something new, she could already perform the content from the previous day perfectly, showing she’d put in serious work. Even Lu Xiao was very satisfied with this student. If Sang Miao were one of his own soldiers, she’d be just as outstanding as the squad leaders he’d personally trained—willing to endure hardship and naturally talented.

And don’t underestimate those squad leaders. Though they hadn’t made a name for themselves yet, in the future, they’d all become Lu Xiao’s trusted generals, each with their own distinguished achievements.

Which also showed just how sharp Lu Xiao’s judgment was.

“Make sure your foot lands steadily at the end. No tiptoeing,” Lu Xiao said, tapping lightly on Sang Miao’s calf.

She immediately adjusted her stance. “Yes, sir!”

“Keep going.”

Her graceful figure moved like a shooting star, and the light purple practice outfit hugged her curves perfectly.

Her gaze was fierce—perhaps she’d picked it up from Lu Xiao—carrying a bit of his imposing aura. At a glance, it was enough to shake someone’s heart.

Every punch she threw was decisive and sharp, making it hard to underestimate her.

Under her delicate appearance seemed to lie surprising strength—light, swift, and full of power.

Sang Miao imagined herself as Qionghua, the female warrior. Her eyes were filled with determination and confidence, and she exuded a fearless aura, as if saying: “If not me, then who?”

“Not bad,” Lu Xiao finally said as she landed the final move—a rare and direct expression of praise since they began practicing.

Breathing heavily, Sang Miao wiped the sweat from her face. Before she could even catch her breath, she heard Lu Xiao’s words of affirmation, and a look of surprise and joy flashed in her eyes.

She looked up at Lu Xiao. This was the first time he had given her such straightforward praise—did that mean she was ready to graduate from his training?

Sure enough, he followed up with, “You’ve more or less mastered this set of combat moves. It’s more than enough to incorporate into your dance.”

“Captain Lu, I’ve actually choreographed the moves you taught me into a ballet routine. Can you take a look?”

“Right now?”

“Mm!” Sang Miao’s eyes were already sparkling with excitement—she couldn’t wait.

She was extremely confident in her dance. What she wanted most right now was an audience.

Seeing her glowing with enthusiasm, Lu Xiao’s lips curved slightly. He gave a light nod and said, “Go ahead.”

“Okay!” Sang Miao answered crisply and immediately moved into her opening stance, silently marking the rhythm of the music in her mind.

The dance began. A flurry of quick toe steps, her upper body shifting left and right, paired with her anxious, searching expressions—all vividly conveyed the panic and helplessness of being bullied in the home of the tyrant Nan Batian. Her delicate “circular steps” on tiptoe showed not only ballet technique but also carried the charm of Chinese opera.

Her movements were light and fluid. Her toes barely touched the ground, her arms extended gracefully, and she danced to the rhythm as if she were a willow swaying in a storm—delicate and vulnerable, yet carrying a trace of hope and joy, like someone about to break free from a cage.

Then the story took a sharp turn. When Nan Batian grabbed her again, her movements turned heavy and repressed, filled with struggle and helplessness, as if every step bore immense pain. Sang Miao clutched her arms tightly to her chest, her body trembling slightly, exposing her inner fear and anxiety.

When Qionghua finally escaped and found the women’s militia—the Red Detachment of Women—her dance grew firm and powerful. Amid the hardship and deprivation, her movements brimmed with a yearning to survive and an unyielding will.

At the climax of the dance drama, portraying Qionghua fearlessly fighting on the battlefield, Sang Miao seamlessly wove in the combat techniques Lu Xiao had taught her. Her arms spread like the wings of an eagle, drawing elegant arcs through the air.

Her legwork was agile and strong. She leapt high, her body carving a graceful arc in the air before landing softly. Immediately after, she spun with astonishing agility, her skirt swirling like a blooming flower.

At the end of the dance, Sang Miao once again showcased her exceptional technique. Her feet moved swiftly, her body spinning in rhythm like a whirling top. She concluded the piece with a high-difficulty leap.

Lu Xiao had seen Sang Miao dance before. He didn’t understand much about the arts, but even he could tell—it was beautiful. Out of all the dancers, she was the one your eyes naturally gravitated toward, a beauty that was hard to look away from.

But this was the first time Lu Xiao had seen the entire routine from start to finish—and it was also the debut of Sang Miao’s newly revised choreography. The only word that came to mind was: stunning.

When she finished, Sang Miao felt a rush of exhilaration, smooth and satisfying.

Sweat trickled down her slender neck, a faint flush blooming on her porcelain cheeks. Though a bit disheveled, it couldn’t mask the sparkle in her eyes and the radiant confidence in her expression.

She had finally filled in the last missing piece.

Sang Miao looked toward her only audience member, eyes full of anticipation.

Those bright almond-shaped eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief, as if they were saying, Come on, praise me already!—confident and unabashed.

Lu Xiao’s fingers twitched slightly before he finally gave in and said, “It was perfect.”

Sang Miao’s eyes lit up with joy, like a child who had finally been given candy. She leaned in and said happily, “Thank you, Captain Lu. I couldn’t have done it without your help!”

Her small, palm-sized face tilted up to look at him. Lu Xiao chuckled lightly and patted her soft hair. “You did well.”