CHAPTER 12 

The next morning, Sang Miao woke up earlier than usual. During yesterday’s meeting, she had arranged with Liu Feng to practice and fine-tune their dance together.

By the time she arrived at the rehearsal hall, Liu Feng was already there, full of energy, and had clearly been waiting for a while.

As soon as he saw her, he walked up quickly and asked, “Sang Miao, did you eat breakfast? I went to the cafeteria just now and didn’t see you, so I brought you an egg and a bun.”

Sang Miao had a habit of doing morning practice on an empty stomach. It was something she had carried over from her past life.

She usually ate something only after finishing her morning routine.

“Not yet,” she replied, but she didn’t refuse his kindness. She took the egg and bun from the lunch box, her eyes curving with a smile. “Let’s rehearse first. I’ll eat after we’re done.”

Looking at her smile, Liu Feng scratched his head shyly and replied, “Okay!” He couldn’t help but feel like Sang Miao wasn’t as distant with him as she used to be.

Sang Miao was beautiful, and had always been the object of admiration among the male soldiers in the troupe. Although Liu Feng was also frequently cast as a lead in performances, Sang Miao never really thought much of him—he was just the troupe’s resident nice guy.

In the past, Sang Miao tried hard to maintain a persona of gentleness and kindness, stringing Liu Feng along to make him orbit her and cater to her every whim, but she never once took the initiative to ask him to rehearse privately. They actually didn’t have much interaction.

But now, Sang Miao had no such ulterior motives. She simply wanted to get the choreography right and treated Liu Feng seriously as a compatible dance partner. She didn’t dangle him along or expect anything from him, and that made Liu Feng feel like something about her had changed.

Sang Miao did some warm-ups first, then explained the new choreography to Liu Feng in general terms so he could get a rough idea.

After that, she started with a solo segment to show him the newly revised dance.

The updated section was full of power, grace, and resilience—perfectly embodying the spirit of the Red Detachment of Women. Every move radiated strength—leaps, spins, rolls…

Clap, clap, clap! Liu Feng couldn’t help but applaud enthusiastically.

His eyes sparkled after seeing Sang Miao’s revised choreography. “That’s such a great improvement! This version is much crisper—really brings out the feel of the Detachment! No wonder you said something was missing before.”

Sang Miao’s eyes curved with delight. Being recognized for her choreography made her genuinely happy.

“Let’s try running it together,” she said. “Actually, the parts you need to adjust aren’t too many. We just need to rethink some blocking and a few lifts. We can adjust things on the go as we rehearse.”

“Alright, let’s do it.”

Sang Miao began counting the rhythm, and the two launched into their partnered segment. They had rehearsed together many times before and already had decent chemistry.

Liu Feng’s movements were solid and forceful, every step as steady as a mountain. He spun his prop—his red-tasseled spear—with practiced ease, the tip flashing coldly under the lights. Today, Sang Miao happened to be wearing a red practice outfit. As the steadfast Hong Changqing lifted the fiery red Qionghua high in the air, the image was dramatic and stirring.

Sang Miao’s dance was graceful yet powerful. Each spin bloomed like a flower, revealing the resilience and beauty of a revolutionary woman. Her fingers brushed lightly along the spear’s shaft, as if caressing the back of a comrade-in-arms.

By the end of the dance, both were lightly coated in sweat, but felt satisfied and invigorated. Liu Feng was, without a doubt, a good partner—physically capable, quick to adapt, and able to seamlessly adjust to Sang Miao’s revisions, which allowed the choreography to reach its full potential.

The smooth teamwork made Sang Miao appreciate Liu Feng a bit more. Having a compatible dance partner made a big difference.

She turned and grabbed her large water bottle from nearby, unscrewed the lid, and sipped slowly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Liu Feng didn’t seem to have anything to drink. “You didn’t bring a cup?”

“I left early this morning and forgot to grab one.”

There were enamel mugs available in the practice hall, but everyone usually brought their own. Without thinking much of it, Sang Miao held out her own water bottle. “Then drink mine.”

Liu Feng froze. His heart started pounding wildly. Did she just… is she letting me share her bottle? That felt so… intimate!

He looked up at Sang Miao. Did she mean it that way?

He had always liked her, and his mind began to wander into romantic territory. Could it be that she has a little something for me too…?

Before he could finish that thought, Sang Miao added matter-of-factly, “I remember there are enamel mugs in the break room. Go grab one and I’ll pour some for you.”

She had simply noticed he didn’t bring water and remembered he brought her breakfast this morning. It was just returning the favor—Sang Miao didn’t think twice. She hadn’t realized how her earlier words could be misinterpreted.

Liu Feng’s soaring feelings crashed to the ground. Right… I forgot there are mugs in here… Luckily he hadn’t reacted too obviously. He scratched his head awkwardly and said, “Oh, okay. I’ll go get one.”

Sang Miao, meanwhile, was already lost in thought, mentally reviewing their earlier dance to see what else might be optimized.

She absentmindedly picked up the breakfast Liu Feng had brought and began nibbling on it while she thought.

When Liu Feng returned and saw Sang Miao deep in thought, he didn’t disturb her. He quietly poured himself some water from her bottle, drank it in one gulp, and pushed away the thoughts that had just bubbled up.

Soon, more people from the dance troupe began trickling into the rehearsal hall.

The first to arrive, as usual, was Zhao Weiwei. As soon as she entered, she spotted Liu Feng and Sang Miao. They both looked slightly flushed, as if they’d just finished dancing.

Zhao Weiwei walked over and stood on Liu Feng’s other side, casually striking up a conversation. “You two came early to rehearse today?”

Liu Feng was one of the few people in her past life who hadn’t looked down on her, so in this life, she felt a little more familiar with him.

And Zhao Weiwei naturally assumed that Sang Miao was wary of her, so she deliberately avoided addressing Sang Miao, instead trying to get information from Liu Feng.

Though he wasn’t especially close to Zhao Weiwei, they were in the same team and even shared scenes in the same production, so he didn’t see a reason to keep anything from her.

“Sang Miao reworked the second half of the choreography a bit. She asked me to run through it with her so we could get used to it.”

Zhao Weiwei’s voice immediately jumped an octave. “What? She changed it again!?”

Her sudden outburst made both Liu Feng and Sang Miao turn to look at her, startled.

Realizing she’d overreacted, Zhao Weiwei quickly added, “I just mean… the dress rehearsal is next Monday, right? Isn’t it a bit risky to make changes now? What if everyone doesn’t have enough time to adjust to the new choreography?”

She wasn’t entirely wrong—changing choreography at the last minute could impact the whole production.

Seeing that Zhao Weiwei seemed a bit upset, Sang Miao explained, “It’s not a big change. I just tweaked the movements in the second half of my solo. It doesn’t really affect the group sequences. It’s mainly adjustments between Liu Feng and me—blocking and partnering. Everyone else’s parts remain the same.”

“That… I see.”

Liu Feng also chimed in to help Sang Miao explain, “It’s mainly Sang Miao’s part that changed. It won’t really affect the rest of us much, and the revised version is actually really good—it’s taken the overall texture of the dance to a whole new level.”

Sang Miao added, “I was planning to wait until everyone arrived to tell you all about the changes. Then we could do a full run-through and hear what everyone thinks.”

“Oh, okay… sure.” With both of them saying this, Zhao Weiwei had no choice but to drop the issue. If she kept pushing, it would only make her seem overly sensitive.

Not long after, Xiao Honghong and a group of female soldiers arrived in pairs and trios.

As soon as Xiao Honghong came in, she went straight to Sang Miao and linked arms with her. “Sangsang, you’re way too hardworking, coming so early again. I wasn’t even awake when you left!”

Li Lan asked, “Sangsang, did you revise the choreography again? That’s amazing!”

Several of the female soldiers who were part of the dance rehearsal also came over to chat with Sang Miao, like students playfully chatting between classes. The atmosphere was lively and cheerful.

Zhao Weiwei, however, was pushed to the sidelines like an outsider. Her expression twisted briefly before she suppressed her annoyance and walked off, unwilling to mix with the others.

Who knew whether it was pride or stubbornness—when Zhao Weiwei first joined the cultural troupe, people had tried to be friendly, but she always kept a cold face and rarely responded. Over time, no one wanted to keep trying. Meanwhile, the other girls who joined the troupe at the same time had long since blended in.

After chatting a bit, Sang Miao got straight to the point and informed everyone about the new choreography changes.

Zhang Qiaoling, one of the dancers and a very straightforward person, asked bluntly, “Sangsang, is it still okay to change things now? We might not be able to keep up.”

Everyone was a bit surprised. Dress rehearsal was just next week, and Sang Miao had actually changed the choreography again.

But after seeing how capable Sang Miao was during the last few rehearsals, no one reacted too strongly. Especially those who danced with her—they had all been helped and guided by her at some point. Whenever anyone struggled with a move, Sang Miao could instantly pinpoint the issue and offer a fix. Over time, their trust in her only grew.

Of course, Sang Miao knew that changing the choreography now would catch people off guard, so she immediately explained what she had told Zhao Weiwei earlier. Liu Feng helped her explain things as well.

Any questions others had were also cleared up one by one.

Once everyone understood that the changes were mostly in Sang Miao’s own part and wouldn’t affect the rest of them much—and considering Liu Feng, the one most affected, had no objections—there wasn’t much left to say.

Their trust in Sang Miao’s abilities made them more willing to accept her changes.

Still, words alone weren’t enough to demonstrate the effectiveness of the revised version. They needed to see it with their own eyes to feel reassured. That was exactly why Sang Miao had called Liu Feng in so early today—to rehearse and refine their parts.

Seeing everyone’s mixed expressions, Sang Miao spoke up, “Let’s just go ahead with a run-through. Once you see it, you’ll understand. If you have any suggestions afterward, we can still make adjustments. After all, this is a team effort. Working together is what matters most.”

“Alright, let’s run through it once,” said Liang Xiaoling, who shared the same dorm as Sang Miao. She and her roommates were Sang Miao’s closest allies and strongest supporters.

Then Zhao Shenbin, the male dancer playing Nan Batian, went to grab the “Red Lantern” radio from the corner of the rehearsal hall to prepare for the practice. It was clear that Sang Miao had really developed a great sense of teamwork with the others during this time.

While the music for the formal performance would be played by the band, the dance team usually practiced with pre-recorded music on the radio.

Once Zhao Shenbin had the radio ready, everyone got into position. After the performance ended, everyone could tell—it was definitely different, and the changes were excellent.

Sang Miao’s revised choreography was even more outstanding than the original, traditional Red Detachment of Women ballet, and it brought in a fresh sense of artistic innovation.

Especially the part where Qionghua charges onto the battlefield—it now carried more of the powerful momentum of a soldier heading into combat, layered into the ballet movements.

And it was true: the other dancers’ parts hadn’t been changed much. Although Sang Miao’s movements were significantly altered, her position, blocking, and movement patterns remained mostly consistent with the original layout.

The result of the rehearsal was fantastic. Everyone fully supported the changes now—there were no more objections at all.

Except for Zhao Weiwei, who was so angry she was practically grinding her teeth to dust. Sang Miao had done too good a job—the changes in the second half were massive.

What was she supposed to do after practicing so hard for so long?

Dress rehearsal was next week! There wasn’t even time to relearn everything from scratch!