Chapter 8: The Trump Card

Song Huaizhi was usually warm and straightforward with people, but when it came to the young girls in the troupe, he rarely showed a smile and was mostly serious.

People seemed to have a natural sense of fear toward their leader. When eating in the canteen, no one generally approached Song Huaizhi on their own—except for the political commissar and his group.

Song Huaiwen glanced up briefly upon hearing this but said nothing and continued eating. Song Huaizhi quickly caught on, “Sit! No one’s there.”

Xu Ruyan smiled as she sat down, apparently unfazed by Song Huaiwen’s coldness. She ate in small bites, then shyly said, “Teacher Song, actually I have a few questions about dancing I want to ask you. Since we have the retest tomorrow, there are some moves I just can’t get right.”

Leaders liked people who showed ambition.

The moment Song Huaizhi heard it was about dance, he instantly opened up and started talking nonstop. Even after Song Huaiwen finished eating and left, he still nodded and continued discussing professional matters with Xu Ruyan.

“That Xu Ruyan is really thick-skinned. She dares to cozy up like this, yet she’s never seemed that enthusiastic toward Commander Song before,” Li Zhen sneered disdainfully at Xu Ruyan’s ingratiating manner.

Liu Huixin’s heart raced seeing that tall man, but unfortunately, she had courage without guts and could only fake a weird, sarcastic attitude along with the others.

People are selfish. If you want something, just go after it openly. On that alone, Shen Nanqing had a bit of admiration for Xu Ruyan—and she was quite smart too.

Everyone knew Xu Ruyan was aiming for Song Huaiwen. She hadn’t tried to strike up conversation or get close to him directly. Instead, through her talk with Song Huaizhi, she made Song Huaiwen aware that she existed and created the image of a diligent, studious person for herself—already leagues ahead of most others present.

Of course, admiration didn’t mean liking. As the saying goes, it’s easy to change rivers and mountains, but hard to change one’s nature. Xu Ruyan’s intelligence was rarely used for noble pursuits, mostly for selfish schemes.

Xu Ruyan’s behavior in the canteen caused little stir because everyone was more interested in the final results of the cultural performance selection.

The retest took place in a large theater—a real stage.

A row of judges sat in the audience. Military ranks had been abolished fifty years ago, so everyone wore the standardized 65-style uniform, making their exact ranks unrecognizable. But from the four pockets on their uniforms, it was clear they were all officers.

Backstage was noisy, filled with excitement and nervousness. Although this wasn’t a formal performance, to impress the judges, some were putting on makeup, others stretching and warming up their muscles.

Xu Ruyan subtly scanned the scene, feeling slightly anxious—she understood the saying “there are always better people out there.”

Her eyes caught sight of Li Zhen pacing anxiously as if her backside was on fire, and Su Xiangqin curled up hugging her knees, trembling. Gradually, Xu Ruyan’s unease calmed down and confidence returned.

As time passed, it was soon their turn—Yandu Military District.

Liu An, ever the gentleman, went first and performed well.

Next was Su Xiangqin. She handed a sheet of music to the conductor, who clearly showed displeasure, feeling that his professionalism was being questioned.

He was a seasoned conductor, knowing every popular and once-popular piece like the back of his hand. He didn’t need to conduct from a music score.

He furrowed his brow slightly, but out of restraint did not refuse. He glanced down at the music score and found some unfamiliar pieces. Looking more carefully, he grew visibly agitated, even trembling slightly. Fortunately, he quickly calmed himself—this was not the time or place for discussion; finishing the task at hand was the priority.

The stage lights came on. Su Xiangqin stood alone under the pale spotlight, her figure trembling faintly, as if burdened by heavy memories.

The music began suddenly, like a mournful lament. She immediately started dancing, her steps faltering and unsteady, as if struggling to walk a thorny path through a painful history. Her hands grasped helplessly in the air, as though trying to touch the scars of old Jinling City.

As she spun, her hair wildly flew about. Each pause was filled with eyes full of pain and struggle. Sometimes she hugged her arms tightly, as if warming herself in the dark; sometimes she stretched out fiercely, as if trying to break free from captivity, shouting to the world that this history could never be forgotten.

When the dance ended, the hall fell silent for a moment, then suddenly erupted into thunderous applause. Both judges and the leaders of the various units rose to their feet, clapping to honor this heavy history and the performer.

Xu Ruyan was startled by the applause from the front of the stage. She had no idea what had happened—only that this applause was louder than any before.

Curious, she slipped behind the curtain and watched the judges from the side. Their evaluations were very positive. Some even asked about the choreography and the composition of the dance drama. Su Xiangqin said it was created and composed by their own troupe.

Seeing that she still seemed emotionally overwhelmed, the judges didn’t press further and silently noted it down. Looking at the list, there were two more performers from Yandu Military District, presumably one of them was next.

“You just said it was created and composed by yourselves? What does that mean?” Xu Ruyan’s heart sank with a bad feeling. She quickly grabbed Su Xiangqin’s hand and urgently asked.

Su Xiangqin’s eyes reddened, clearly at a loss when faced with Xu Ruyan’s questions. Before she could respond, Li Zhen stepped forward and pulled Xu Ruyan away angrily, “Are you crazy? Can’t you see she hasn’t even recovered yet?”

Time waited for no one; it was Xu Ruyan’s turn next, and she didn’t have time to waste on nonsense.

Li Zhen first helped Su Xiangqin sit down, then took her own music score from her military green shoulder bag.

Xu Ruyan noticed this.

Learning from the previous experience, the conductor accepted the music score very willingly this time, his mouth nearly stretched to his ears in a grin. This trip wasn’t wasted — an unexpected bonus of two new pieces.

Li Zhen’s dance style was completely different from Su Xiangqin’s; her music was noticeably more cheerful.

Her movements were light and nimble, like a lively lark flying over open fields. Her steps were sometimes as light as treading waves, sometimes steady as roots planted firmly. Her arms moved softly, like desert poplar branches swaying in the wind, and with every twist of her waist, she displayed the supple resilience of life.

As the music quickened, she spun rapidly, her skirt billowing, as if fiercely resisting harsh conditions. Every pause captured the tough posture of the poplar tree; through her passionate dance, she told the story of the wild land’s children taking root in the soil, their indomitable spirit.

Applause erupted again. Everyone watched in amazement. When asked again about the composition of the dance drama, they received the same answer.

Deputy Commander Zhong’s heart was warmed. Just a few days ago, the head of the creative studio had complained to him about the artistic festival’s program lineup hitting a bottleneck and was worried sick. Unexpectedly, there was a surprise.

With only one performer left from the Yandu Military District, this Xu Ruyan was presumably their final act. The last performance was usually the highlight—surely there was still a surprise to come.

Deputy Commander Zhong was full of anticipation—and the outcome truly shocked him.