Chapter 12: The Newbie

Though the courtyard’s morning wasn’t filled with birdsong and flowers, it was rich with the scent of milk, fresh bread, and cornmeal porridge.

But the most special of all was the smell of Chen Siyu’s buns—oil dripped in the pot, simmering slowly over low heat, seeping into the soft edges of the buns until a crispy golden crust formed, releasing a mouth-watering aroma that drew in a flock of hungry little children.

Chen Siyu wasn’t fond of kids and didn’t usually bother with them, but seeing them drooling three feet long, she relented and handed out half a bun to each.

A group of little rascals gathered around the beautiful big sister, nibbling on their buns as they hopped around joyfully.

Only Yanyan, the daughter of Widow Zhang, shrank into a corner, wide-eyed, sucking on her fingers.

Chen Siyu’s heart softened at her timidness, and she deliberately gave her the largest bun. The little girl beamed with joy.

A bicycle jingled past. Moments later, Director Guo’s booming voice echoed across the courtyard: “Chen Siyu, are you here? A letter from the City Art Troupe just arrived. Come get it!”

Amidst the children’s chattering and the crackle of a radio broadcast, a crisp, clear voice suddenly rang out through the courtyard: “The Art Troupe has notified me to report in!”

Art Troupe?
Report in?

Everyone brushing their teeth and washing their faces by the water trough, foam still hanging from their mouths, turned to look toward the main gate.

There, a girl in a fresh green outfit, as lively as a spring shoot, spun gracefully through the gate, holding a letter in her hand.

“So you’re starting work now? What position did they assign you?” Auntie Guo asked with a wide grin.

Auntie Xu chimed in, “You’ll be on stage soon, right? I wonder when we’ll get to see you perform.”

“When I make it on stage, I’ll send everyone tickets,” Chen Siyu laughed. “Distant relatives aren’t as close as neighbors—we’re even closer than family, aren’t we?”

With that, amidst the courtyard’s cheer and congratulations, she grabbed Chen Xuan’ang and cut through the inner yard, heading straight to block Director Gao Jian, the factory director and Party secretary of the Ink Factory, at his house door.

As they came face-to-face, she saw Widow Zhang chatting with Director Gao’s wife, Miao Qing.

Widow Zhang nearly jumped out of her skin upon seeing Chen Siyu.

Chen Siyu pretended not to see her and saluted Director Gao smartly: “Director, I’m here to report that I’ve officially started work.”

“I heard you’re with the Art Troupe now. You must perform well.” Director Gao said as he prepared to leave for work.

But Chen Siyu quickly stepped aside to block his way, pulling Chen Xuan’ang forward and presenting him with a sweet smile.

“Director, now that I’m working, I should be Xuan’ang’s guardian.”

Director Gao’s eyes were filled with approval. “Alright then, he’ll be your responsibility from now on.”

“Also, Xuan’ang’s grain coupons and monthly allowance shouldn’t go to Maomu anymore. I’ll handle them for him,” Chen Siyu added.

Even though Director Gao had to respect this fresh-faced Art Troupe recruit, when it came to the monthly allowance, he immediately declined: “Maomu is a laboring woman, sickly and frail. You can take the grain coupons, but the monthly allowance should still go to her for medical expenses.”

So, the factory leadership was well aware that Xuan’ang’s money wasn’t being spent on him, yet they tacitly allowed it to happen.

Simply because Maomu had a “good” political class background, while Xuan’ang’s was bad.

Step by step, then. This was just the first round—getting the grain coupons was already a small victory.

“Thank you, Director.” Chen Siyu said, pulling Xuan’ang with her as they bowed deeply. “Goodbye, Director!”

Miao Qing watched Chen Siyu’s figure recede, her eyes narrowing. “Chen Siyu is known all over town as a sharp little vixen. Letting her manage Xuan’ang’s grain coupons? Might as well have kept them with Maomu—at least he wouldn’t starve to death that way.”

Director Gao shot her a glare. “Can you stop gossiping like an old fishwife? Talking behind a young girl’s back. Chen Siyu is still so young, a promising Art Troupe recruit. You and Widow Zhang make her sound like—” a brothel girl.

Miao Qing had long treated Chen Siyu’s acceptance into the troupe as a joke. Now that the Art Troupe had actually admitted her, she was feeling the sting of her own assumptions. Unable to swallow her pride, she muttered, “You men, a pretty face flashes a smile, and you lose your souls.”

Director Gao’s voice rose, “Miao Qing, are you insane? That girl isn’t even eighteen. I’m old enough to be her father!”

Meanwhile, Widow Zhang, like a whirlwind, rushed off to the boiler room to inform Maomu about Chen Siyu becoming Xuan’ang’s guardian.

Naturally, Maomu would soon know as well.

But Chen Siyu wasn’t afraid. After all, Maomu was a festering sore—sooner or later, she would have to cut it out.

The bus swayed and bumped for half an hour before she arrived at her workplace, nearly late on her first day.

First, she reported to the HR department, collected her uniform and meal tickets—she officially had a work post now.

Reporting alongside her was a girl named Ma Manman.

“Wow, the new uniform’s color is so pretty, but why are the shoes rubber shoes again? I don’t want them. I like leather shoes,” Ma Manman complained.

Chen Siyu was also fiddling with her new uniform. Now that she had new clothes, her current set could be handed down to Xuan’ang. Hearing Ma Manman gripe about the shoes, she immediately offered, “I’ll give you three yuan, trade me the shoes.”

“We’re coworkers now. Why would I take your money?” Ma Manman looked at her in mock astonishment. “I’ll just give them to you.”

“You’re so kind, Manman!” Chen Siyu beamed, but still secretly slipped three yuan into Ma Manman’s pocket.

It was her first day, and she’d already met a warm-hearted coworker. Naturally, she had to be even more generous in return.

After reporting in, they headed to the rehearsal hall. Director Ding of the Troupe’s General Affairs office greeted them and asked first, “Which one of you is Chen Siyu?”

“I am.” Chen Siyu stepped forward and saluted confidently.

“Do you have a sister named Chen Nianqin?” Director Ding asked again.

Chen Siyu stood tall and replied, “Yes.” Thanks to Chen Nianqin’s notoriety, her name had preceded her arrival.

Director Ding gave her an appraising look and nodded, “Not bad.” Then he added, “The troupe’s understaffed, everyone’s busy rehearsing. You two will be in charge of organizing performance costumes, tidying the practice room, and cleaning the dorms for out-of-town performers.”

“Guaranteed to complete the task!” The two rookies snapped to attention with a salute.

Director Ding’s gaze lingered on Chen Siyu, carefully observing her delicate oval face, as small as a palm, her porcelain-white skin, and cheeks as rosy as spring begonias. From bone structure to skin texture, she was flawless; the more you looked, the more breathtaking her beauty became.

Ordinary girls with large eyes often appeared vacant without makeup, but not her. Her eyes shimmered like rippling water, bright and captivating. With just a blink, they could steal one’s soul. Even women would find their hearts fluttering.

Her skin was impeccable, like a freshly peeled egg, not a single freckle in sight.

She had long, slender legs, with her hips sitting a notch higher than Ma Manman’s—a perfect nine-heads figure. Her waist-to-hip ratio was simply flawless.

No wonder she was known as the top “sharp fruit” of North City.

“Go on now. Make sure you perform well in the future!” Director Ding encouraged.

Entering the costume and makeup department, the two felt like Grandma Liu visiting the Grand View Garden. Costumes from The White-Haired Girl, The Red Guards of Honghu Lake, Wang Gui and Li Xiangxiang—all were neatly arranged according to their respective productions.

But after a brief moment of admiration, they had to haul the costumes into the bathroom and start washing.

In the era before washing machines, laundry was pure hard labor.

After a full morning’s effort, they were so exhausted that they could barely straighten their backs—yet they had only finished washing the costumes of a single production.

While scrubbing away, Ma Manman chatted excitedly, “We’re going to be stars, lead actresses in major roles! Have you thought about which role you want to play? Li Xiangxiang or Li Qin? Honestly, I’d love to join the Song and Dance Troupe and play The White-Haired Girl!”

Li Qin, Li Xiangxiang, and The White-Haired Girl—these were all leading female roles in the model operas, commonly referred to as “Jiao’er” (prima donnas).

The path to stardom was long, especially in the General Troupe. Any performer who made it to a lead role would appear on the big screen, becoming a household name nationwide. But in order to be cast, a veteran star had to choose you, mentor you, and groom you.

If no senior took notice of you, after doing manual labor for a while, you’d be reassigned to a local troupe in the provinces.

Thus, it was always the star who chose you, not the other way around. Ma Manman, being a true rookie, was still dreaming naively.

As they worked, they suddenly heard footsteps approaching. Chen Siyu immediately stood up straight and greeted, “Good morning, teachers!”

Ma Manman looked up and was stunned—two leading actresses had entered, one of them being Meng Xiaolin, the celebrated performer of Li Xiangxiang who had graced the silver screen and was famous nationwide. The other was Xu Li, the principal performer of The White-Haired Girl in the Song and Dance Troupe.

Flustered, Ma Manman quickly bowed, “G-Good morning, teachers!”

“Oh, two new recruits, not bad, not bad.” The two actresses casually greeted them as they headed for the squat toilets.

Chen Siyu and Ma Manman sensibly retreated outside.

Inside the restroom, Meng Xiaolin said, “Xu Li, I heard you’ve got a new girl in your troupe who actually spread rumors about her own sister, claiming that a chaste, unmarried girl had slept around. Is that true?”

Xu Li replied, “Her surname’s Chen, Chen Nianqin. Honestly, kids with poor character like her should be expelled. But the leaders were too soft-hearted. Her mother cried, begged on her knees, so in the end, they just reassigned her to Haijiao Island.”

Chen Siyu’s ears perked up. So the General Troupe’s efficiency was really something—Chen Nianqin had already been transferred.

“Haijiao Island often gets hit by typhoons, and enemy reconnaissance planes fly over from time to time. It’s a tough place. That girl’s in for a rough time. But this whistleblowing culture is getting so tiresome,” Meng Xiaolin sighed.

But to Chen Siyu, this sounded like a blessing in disguise.

Haijiao Island—future tourist hotspot.

Fresh fish, shrimp, giant crabs scuttling everywhere, ripe for the picking.

With fewer people there, Chen Nianqin would instantly become the troupe’s leading star without needing to do menial chores. The local villagers were bound to be simple and kind; once a lead singer performed, the seafood offerings would surely be endless.

If it were Chen Siyu herself, holding a giant crab in one hand and a jumbo prawn in the other, she’d probably die of happiness on the spot.

She hoped Chen Nianqin would recognize her own good fortune and stay there for good, never coming back.

As she was still lost in her envy, Xu Li added, “But she probably won’t last long. Her mother’s been pleading with every leader she can find, trying to get her transferred back.”

Of course, in her previous life, Chen Nianqin had worn herself out competing for credit and glory, slaving away in rural villages until her health deteriorated. She ended up marrying an abusive husband, and Feng Hui had neither the heart nor the power to help her.

Now, with Chen Nianqin unwilling to leave the city, resorting to tears and tantrums, Feng Hui would undoubtedly exhaust every connection to pull her back.

Though a faint sense of unease stirred in her chest, Chen Siyu quickly calmed herself.

With her abilities, by the time Chen Nianqin returned, she would already be an indispensable core member of the General Troupe.

Back to scrubbing clothes.

Before long, Chen Siyu pressed a hand to her forehead, “Feeling a bit dizzy.”

Ma Manman, ever the kind-hearted girl, rushed to support her. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Chen Siyu whispered, “My family’s food rations were never enough to begin with. Plus, I’m still feeding a living White-Haired Girl. Honestly… I’m just starving.”

“A living White-Haired Girl? That’s a new one. You sit and rest; I’ll wash these.” Ma Manman offered earnestly.

“No, no, lightly wounded soldiers don’t leave the frontlines. We’ll wash together—I can hold on.” Chen Siyu refused to rest, scrubbing even harder, making sure every costume was cleaned to perfection.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Director Ding passing by the restroom door, hands behind his back, scrutinizing her like an X-ray.

In Director Ding’s eyes, she was a restless little “sharp fruit.”

But for the sake of freeing Xuan’ang from Mao Mu’s grip, and to ensure her own career path, Chen Siyu had to build an image of a pitiable, long-suffering girl—innocent and fragile, yet shouldering the burden of supporting a “living White-Haired Girl.”

After all, she was up against a real, bona fide “White-Haired Girl,” a symbol of the oppressed working class. Her persona needed to be robust and watertight.

A true strategist knows when to bend and when to rise. After a full day of laundry, her back ached and her waist throbbed, but Chen Siyu still wore a gentle, sunshine-like smile.

In just one day, she had established herself as the polite and hardworking rookie “jiao’er” in everyone’s eyes.

By the time they’d only managed to finish half the workload, it was already seven in the evening. Director Ding nodded in approval, allowing Ma Manman to clock out.

Chen Siyu, however, stayed behind.

Taking a deep breath, she stretched out her arms in the grand rehearsal hall of the opera house. In front of the mirror, she performed an exhilarating segment of the Black Swan from Swan Lake.

Ever since she had functional legs again, this had been her greatest dream.

After finishing one round of dancing, she was still unsatisfied and started another. She was completely unaware that the sky outside had already gone pitch black.

What she didn’t realize was, this was the 1960s — streetlights, public security — none of it could compare to later generations.

By 9 PM, with only a few scattered streetlights, the streets were swallowed in darkness. At the bus stop, only a handful of people stood around, sparsely scattered.

Holding onto her new clothes and shoes, trailing the mouth-watering scent of braised pork belly, Chen Siyu dashed madly and leapt onto the last bus. The few passengers onboard couldn’t help but glance over at her from time to time. She herself couldn’t resist lifting the clothes to take a whiff.

At lunch, everyone was allotted a piece of braised pork belly. Ma Manman had deliberately given her piece to Chen Siyu. Siyu, being frugal, hadn’t eaten hers either and had carefully wrapped it in oil paper. So now, she had two pieces — each as wide as a palm and as thick as a finger.

Even wrapped in clothes, the aroma of the meat couldn’t be concealed, continuously seeping out, enticing the senses.

Pork from the 60s, with minimal seasoning, had a uniquely sweet and rich fragrance — the pure essence of the meat itself. Just imagining — when she got home, with new shoes, new clothes, and two thick slices of pork belly — how ecstatic her annoying little brother would be, made Chen Siyu beam with a silly grin.

After getting off the bus, she sprinted all the way home, completely unaware that a man wearing a dark green leather jacket, with a cold and stern face, exuding a chilling aura, had boarded the bus at the second stop after her and got off when she did.

But Chen Siyu had no reason to fear.

Because that shadow was none other than her “cheap brother” she had picked up off the streets — Leng Jun.