Chapter 10: The Ballet Girl

This was Leng Jun’s second time meeting Chen Siyu, and only just now did he find out she was a ballet dancer.

At the same time, it seemed natural to him—because besides ballet, he couldn’t think of any other field that could cultivate such an extraordinary, ethereal, lively, and adorable temperament and personality in a girl.

Regarding the matter with Gao Daguang, he needed a conclusion before he would rejoin the team.

Normally, he shouldn’t ask, but he did: “Siyu, today’s incident didn’t affect you too much, did it?”

The Performing Arts Troupe was full of talented people, but it also had very strict requirements for the purity of its members.

Before even officially joining the troupe, she was already burdened with rumors; her future path would be very difficult.

Chen Siyu’s face showed a complicated glance, but she didn’t forget to declare her stance to her “brother”: “Brother, to make sure there are no problems in the future, I won’t go out to watch movies anymore.”

Leng Jun originally wanted to say that watching movies was okay, and if she couldn’t find anyone else, he could take her, but before he could speak, the jealous Gao Daguang jumped in: “I heard you live at the Ink Factory now. When I have time, I’ll come pick you up to watch a movie.”

Chen Siyu thought Gao Daguang was such a fool—when he should take responsibility, he doesn’t dare; when he shouldn’t show off, he just flaunts himself. The original self really must have been blind to like him.

No matter how she replied, it sounded awkward. To clear things up would seem deliberate, so she could only give a silly smile.

Amid the awkwardness of everyone, Director Fang signed off on the investigation results and came out: “Captain Leng, I’ve finished the report on this matter. It won’t affect your training, will it?”

Leng Jun took the report and carefully read it. Then he shook Director Fang’s hand: “No, it won’t.” Then he asked, “What will happen to the person who spread the rumor about Chen Siyu and Gao Daguang’s misconduct?”

Director Fang was a little troubled. After all, Nianqin and Siyu were sisters, and Nianqin was far more honest. If he had to personally stamp a negative mark on her file, he would feel guilty.

So, he wanted to talk to Siyu again, to see if he could handle the matter delicately and downplay it.

But Leng Jun pressed, so he had to take a tough stance: “According to current regulations, it must be dealt with severely!”

“Afterwards, send a letter to the Air Academy. I need to know the final outcome,” Leng Jun added.

Just as he was about to leave, he turned back and told Chen Xuan’ang, “Left side of Building 23, come find me anytime if you need anything.”

The tall, cool man made the poor little Xuan’ang look even smaller and more vulnerable.

“Okay, big brother!” The boy’s tone was that of a little fangirl!

After leaving with Gao Daguang, Leng Jun looked back one last time as he exited. The cute and lively ballet girl, with delicate peach-pink skin bathed in fiery dawn light, resembled the color of spring crabapple blossoms. When she met his gaze, she gave a small smile.

A thought flashed through his mind: She lives at the Ink Factory, ten stops away from his home, about five kilometers.

That annoying younger brother had quietly gone home early without saying goodbye.

Though Chen Siyu still didn’t have much money, once her job was confirmed, she could finally relax a bit.

When she left home, her grandmother gave her 15 yuan in cash and 20 yuan in various food coupons. Today she visited several department stores, awkwardly complimenting the salespeople. Though she spent 4.8 yuan in food coupons, she finally bought some fine wheat flour and rice.

Back at home, she locked the door and saw a little woman with her head pressed against the window, peeking slyly. When she entered, the woman turned and left.

The woman’s surname was Zhang; she was a widow in her early thirties with a five-year-old daughter named Yanyan.

Chen Siyu was good at noticing details. When she went to empty the coal ashes, she found that everyone burned honeycomb coal—except this widow, who quietly burned a more flammable type with almost no smoke.

Just after Chen Siyu entered, she heard a swallowing sound behind her. When she turned, Zhang Widow grabbed her waist and said, “Chen Siyu, you’ve already joined the Performing Arts Troupe, right? Let me give you some friendly advice: Xuan’ang will be a burden to you. Now that you’ve joined, you should leave quickly—the sooner, the better.”

So this widow was also waiting for her to get into the troupe to kick her out.

Chen Siyu smiled and deliberately said, “I was just about to leave. It’s a pity about that nice piece of meat—I don’t have time to cook it for Xuan’ang. I wonder who in the troupe is close to Xuan’ang’s grandmother?”

Zhang Widow reached out to grab the meat. “That’s me. Maomu gives me five yuan in food coupons every month; I take care of Xuan’ang for her.”

So that explained why she always gave Xuan’ang a few scraps of rotten sweet potato, making the kid fart non-stop all day.

Chen Siyu said, “You can have the meat. Make it for Xuan’ang.”

Zhang Widow didn’t suspect anything and reached for the meat. But the moment her hand touched the string, Chen Siyu grabbed her hand and screamed, “Aunt Zhang, that meat is the food ration my foster mother painstakingly saved for me. How can you just take it?”

Immediately, two neighbors, Aunt Guo and Aunt Xu, rushed over. “What’s going on here?”

They caught Zhang Widow in the act of grabbing the meat, and the troupe’s little darling was scared silly.

Aunt Xu stomped, “Xiao Zhang, how dare you steal a child’s meat?”

Aunt Guo, whose son was a leader, said sternly, “Xiao Zhang, this girl is a junior member of the Performing Arts Troupe. If you dare bully her, I won’t hesitate to reprimand you right here.”

Zhang Widow felt wronged. Chen Siyu had said she was giving the meat to her, so how did it turn into her stealing it?

Unable to defend herself, she shot Chen Siyu a vicious glance, spat “little devil,” and left.

Chen Siyu planned to make beef and onion stuffed buns with the remaining meat.

She first made the dough and left it to rise in the sun, then chopped the meat and prepared the filling. As she mixed it, the two aunts nearby couldn’t help but smell the aroma. “Girl, what are you making?”

“Buns,” Chen Siyu lifted the bowl’s cover and sniffed, “The dough has risen really well.”

But the two aunts looked at her dough puzzled: “Why does your dough have no sour smell, but instead a strong milky aroma?” They sniffed again: “This smell is kind of strange.”

“Using yeast powder and substitute milk powder, mixing the dough with warm water—no need to add alkali—and it smells fragrant,” Chen Siyu explained.

“No way. This is the first time I’ve heard of using milk powder in dough. I don’t believe your buns will taste good,” Aunt Guo scoffed and shook her head. Aunt Xu shook hers too: “What a waste of a big bowl of dough. You’ll probably just ruin it.”

But they were kind-hearted and didn’t want her to feel bad, so they quickly tried to reassure her: “You’re still young and just trying something new. Even if it’s wasted, it’s no big deal. If it tastes bad, we’ll all help you eat it and then make up the dough for you.”

Look at that—they were already planning to share the loss with her.

But when it came to cooking delicious food, this was Chen Siyu’s favorite thing to do, even back when she was confined to a wheelchair.

She would sit in her wheelchair, cooking and flirting with her little boyfriends, turning them one by one from naive young lads into mature, responsible men. Then she would laugh as they told her they were ready to settle down and broke up with her, leaving to marry and have children. They gradually became worldly, greasy, balding, and beer-bellied.

And then they became so mundane that they treated her like just a fling to brag about—a curious, colorful episode in their lives.

In all the wasted years with a disabled leg, only food had never let her down.

Since there was no steamer basket at home, she borrowed one from Aunt Guo’s place.

And now, the dough fermented with substitute milk powder smelled even better than dough fermented with pure milk would in the future. Plus, the microbes in the air were clean at this time, so after the second fermentation, the dough was incredibly soft. When steamed again, the buns rose perfectly. When the buns came out of the steamer, Aunt Guo and the other aunts were collectively stunned by how soft and fist-sized they were.

The kids’ drooling was three times longer than when Chen Siyu had sung before.

Aunt Xu pinched off a piece of the bun’s skin and tasted it: “Wow, it’s actually sweet.” She hurried to give some to her grandson too.

“If buns are sweet, what’s the point?” They said that, but Aunt Guo was starting to drool as well.

Aunt Xu described it: “It’s not the sweetness of sugar, but the sweetness of wheat fragrance, sweet and fragrant.” Even the juice on her hand she sucked clean.

Aunt Guo took a bite as well: “Girl, give me your recipe. When I get some meat, I’ll make it this way too.”

Look at the effect, the response.

Even if Chen Siyu didn’t get into the performing arts troupe, selling buns could still make her the richest woman of the 1960s.

Because ingredients were scarce, it was all the more important to unite with everyone she could.

At the neighboring houses, Chen Siyu gave each child a bun.

Although she disliked Widow Zhang, the children were innocent, so she gave one to little five-year-old Yanyan as well.

When Xuan’ang came home from work, washed his hands, and held the soft bun, he took a big bite and jumped up: “Hot, hot!”

Onions steamed into a fresh juice that could burn if not careful.

Chen Siyu stomped her foot and teased her silly little brother: “Are you stupid? You don’t eat buns in one big bite—you have to blow on it first!”

But when she smiled, Chen Xuan’ang looked even sadder. He lowered his eyes, his long eyelashes trembling violently: “You’ve already achieved your goal. Go back to your foster father’s house. If you don’t leave soon, you won’t be able to leave at all.”

Chen Siyu immediately understood: “That old Mao threatened you and told you to chase me away, didn’t he?”

Chen Xuan’ang’s childhood family was well-off, with meat on the table every meal. But this soft, milky bun made by Chen Siyu was the first he’d ever eaten like this, and he could easily eat eight in one go.

But he was a guilt-ridden person. If she stayed, she’d inevitably get involved. Thinking this made him even more irritable: “Mind your own business. Eat the bun, then leave. Don’t ever come back.”

Either he would die in silence or explode in silence, but either way, two lives would be lost.

Chen Siyu, of course, would not leave.

Because that old Mao was one of the two lives Xuan’ang carried on his conscience.

According to the book, he drowned in the public restroom, and Mao Mu suspected that Xuan’ang pushed him in.

Chen Siyu knew this little brother was ruthless and no good.

But as his sister, she didn’t want his hands stained with blood. She wanted his hands to stay clean all his life, only used for playing piano.

Chen Siyu sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed and said first: “Xuan’ang, it’s not that I want your money. But have you ever thought? The monthly rent of 30 yuan at Ink Factory—that should be yours. It shouldn’t be taken by Mao Mu.”

360 a year. In these times, that was a high salary only officials could earn.

If he got it back, Chen Xuan’ang could continue studying, find a piano tutor, and buy a piano. Maybe this little rascal could compose even more great pieces than in his past life.

After a long pause, Chen Xuan’ang sighed softly.

You have to know, Mao Mu was a living “White-haired Girl.” Every month she went to the grievance meetings, well known and respected by the entire city. She claimed to need the money for medical treatment, so how could Chen Xuan’ang ask for it back?

Besides, Mao Mu and Old Mao reportedly held evidence that his mother was a spy. So don’t even mention asking for money.

Old Maol, a boiler worker, could crush Xuan’ang like an ant.

“It’s just an old boiler guy. You go wash the bowls and watch carefully—I’ll make him behave tonight,” Chen Siyu said.

The boy’s big doe-like eyes blinked, staring at his sister as if he’d misheard.

Actually, when he came back that night and saw she was still there, he was very surprised.

He thought as soon as she got the household registration and confirmed her entry into the troupe, she would leave.

He didn’t expect she’d come back, and even more, that she was prepared to stand up for him.

But Mao Mu had his life by the throat—how could she help him?

Nowadays, big-character posters were popular. To report someone, all you needed was your word. No witnesses or evidence were required. The Thought Committee would help keep it secret. So when Chen Nianqin reported her sister, she wasn’t affected and could continue working normally.

Thinking her sister might be sent to the countryside today, Nianqin felt sad but also a little pleased.

Just then, the unit leader came looking for her: “Chen Nianqin, the Thought Committee called. They say Chen Siyu has evidence that she went to the Six Nations Hotel to see ‘Peter and the Wolf,’ a children’s play. How do you explain this?”

Back then, it was easy for Chen Siyu to trick her into going to the countryside. Now that she’s been reborn, why is it so hard to push Chen Siyu away?

Frustrated, Chen Nianqin blurted out, “Nonsense! She clearly watched an adult film called Red Whirlwind, with actors kissing on stage. How could it be Peter and the Wolf? She’s a liar. You can’t trust her. I—I’m going to report her for lying and deceiving the leaders!”

The leader’s expression was complicated. “Red Whirlwind does have scenes of men and women kissing, but it’s a proper film, not adult content. Of course, it’s inappropriate for someone so young to watch that kind of film. If Chen Siyu really watched it, we would criticize her. Do you have any proof?”

To frame her sister, Chen Nianqin had already destroyed the ticket stub.

But Chen Siyu produced a ticket stub for a children’s play.

To slander a children’s play as an adult film—that’s seriously malicious!

“Your sister only watched a children’s play, but you claim she saw an adult film. How do you explain that?” the leader said coldly.