CHAPTER 10 

Then he quickly withdrew his hand.

Sang Miao had brought her past self—who loved to act cute and clingy—into this world as well. Once she warmed up to someone, trusted them, she couldn’t help but get attached. Even now, after all these years, she still saw herself as the new kid in the dance troupe, always doting and pampering when around her seniors.

Lu Xiao, tall and steady with an impassive face, had taken on the role of both mentor and teacher during this time. Even though Sang Miao hadn’t realized it herself, she had come to rely on and trust this stern-faced yet patient instructor, letting her guard down a little more than she should have.

At that moment, dark clouds drifted across the sky—it looked like it might rain.

Sang Miao suddenly remembered she hadn’t brought in the clothes she hung up to dry in the morning. “Captain Lu, I think it’s about to rain. I have clothes hanging outside my dorm—I need to go get them!” she said quickly.

Without waiting for a response, she turned and ran off, her light and graceful figure disappearing into the distance.

Lu Xiao stood silently, watching her vanish from sight before slowly withdrawing his gaze.

It wasn’t until she reached the bottom of her dorm building that Sang Miao finally caught her breath. Her heart was practically pounding out of her chest. She hadn’t been this breathless from dancing, but after performing an entire piece in front of Lu Xiao and running straight here—it felt like her heart might leap out of her throat.

She paused to catch her breath before heading upstairs to bring the clothes in.

Not long after, raindrops began to fall—sure enough, it had started raining.

Since she was already downstairs, Sang Miao figured she might as well go back to the dorm for a bit. It just so happened that no one else was there at the moment. Tonight was document reading night—someone from the troupe’s leadership would come to read official documents, and everyone was required to gather in the first-floor rehearsal hall. There was no evening dance practice.

With the evening free, and having worked up a sweat earlier, Sang Miao took out a change of clothes and grabbed her bath basket, planning to take a shower before dinner.

It was dinnertime, so the dorms were fairly empty, and the communal bathhouse would likely be quiet as well.

Sang Miao was a southern girl.

Even though she’d been in this world for a while, she still wasn’t comfortable bathing fully naked with a group of people in a public bathhouse.

So she always waited until everyone else had pretty much finished before going—she did her best to avoid the big rush.

Just as she stepped out of her dorm room, she ran into Zhao Weiwei—who had also returned. The two came face-to-face.

Seeing Zhao Weiwei, Sang Miao’s thoughts immediately returned to Lu Xiao, and she suddenly felt a strange twinge of guilt. Have I been spending too much time around the male lead lately?

Feeling awkward, she hurriedly brushed past Zhao Weiwei.

Zhao Weiwei had also come back early to shower, though she arrived a little later than Sang Miao. The dinner bell had already rung. Supper lasted from 5:30 to 6:30.

She watched Sang Miao’s hurried figure disappear and her expression soured.

Lately, she’d noticed that Sang Miao often disappeared from the rehearsal hall in the afternoons. She wasn’t sure where she went. Then she thought of Lu Xiao—who was also frequently absent in the afternoons—and couldn’t help but wonder if the two were off somewhere together.

But she quickly dismissed the idea.

Lu Xiao was known for keeping his distance from the female soldiers. It wasn’t likely that he’d secretly spend time with Sang Miao. Besides, they weren’t always gone at the same time.

Sang Miao hurried to get cleaned up—if she was fast enough, she could still grab dinner before the cafeteria closed.

Zhao Weiwei, on the other hand, wasn’t in any rush. She never ate dinner.

That was a habit she had developed in this lifetime.

She came from a rural background, a family so poor they could barely feed or clothe themselves. Back home, she’d only been able to bathe once a month. It was only after joining the military that she finally lived a life of regular meals and warm clothes.

When she first entered the army and discovered she could eat meat every day in the cafeteria—for free—Zhao Weiwei went wild. Every meal she piled her plate high and wolfed down her food as quickly as possible.

At the time, she often heard whispers and giggles during meals. People from the troupe were clearly mocking her—but she didn’t understand then. She thought they were just sharing some interesting city gossip.

That kind of overeating quickly turned her from a skinny, dark girl into a sturdier, rounder version of herself. Her skin did get fairer, but the added weight wiped out any trace of her original delicate beauty.

She still remembered the day Teacher Yang had gently suggested she cut back on food to maintain her figure, and the humiliation and shame she’d felt at that moment—along with the laughter of others around them.

Thinking back to that moment, Zhao Weiwei wished she could find a hole to crawl into.

So now, Zhao Weiwei no longer devoured every meal like she used to, wolfing down food as if she were trying to burst her own stomach. She had learned from those refined city girl soldiers to eat only until she was about sixty percent full.

She even skipped dinner to maintain her figure.

Zhao Weiwei had also gotten rid of the bad habit from her village days of not liking to bathe. Now she washed herself clean every single day. She no longer hoarded every cent of her military salary like she used to. Instead, she asked people to help her buy trendy items whenever they went out—snow cream, pearl powder—and used them to nourish her once dark and rough skin until it became noticeably fairer and more delicate.

Although she couldn’t be called a stunning beauty now, she was definitely sweet and pleasant to look at.

If her parents were to visit the troop right now, they might very well mistake her for some pampered city girl raised on good food and care.

She no longer had that rustic, unsophisticated look from before.

Back at the dorm, Zhao Weiwei calmly took out her bath basket. She carefully unwrapped the jasmine-scented soap she had spent two whole yuan on, lifted it to her nose, and took a deep sniff. It truly smelled wonderful. Satisfied, she placed it into the basket.

Next, she found a big jar of snow cream and a small box of pearl powder and gently arranged them in the basket too. Only then did she go grab her clean clothes and a towel, preparing to bathe.

Don’t underestimate these few little items—they had cost her more than half of her first month’s salary.

But thanks to these things, Zhao Weiwei had transformed so quickly, becoming fair and fragrant, like a whole new person. Even some of the male soldiers in the cultural troupe had started to treat her differently, growing noticeably more attentive.

This filled Zhao Weiwei’s vanity to the brim.

When she entered the bathhouse with her basket, Sang Miao had just finished showering. From the lifted curtain of the shower stall, waves of hot steam rolled out.

Her graceful figure appeared slightly blurred in the mist. The girl’s long hair clung damply to her back, and her freshly bathed skin glowed faintly as if bathed in a soft light.

She gently wiped the tips of her hair, and water droplets slid down her slender white fingers, leaving behind sparkling trails on the floor.

Perhaps assuming no one else would be there at that hour, she casually held a towel in front of herself without really covering up her delicate curves.

When Sang Miao stepped out and saw someone outside, she instinctively and somewhat awkwardly covered her chest, moving uneasily toward another row of lockers—it was Zhao Weiwei, coming to bathe as well.

Thankfully, their lockers weren’t side by side. Once Sang Miao confirmed Zhao Weiwei couldn’t see her directly, she relaxed and lowered her hands, using the towel to carefully dry the rest of her body.

Once dry, Sang Miao took out a jar of fragrant lotion and applied it thoroughly from head to toe. Her already supple and glowing skin looked even more delicate and radiant under the moisturizing balm.

As a dancer, Sang Miao paid extra attention to her body’s maintenance and figure. Even without that, she was still a girl who loved being beautiful.

While applying the lotion, she recalled how strange Zhao Weiwei’s gaze had felt just now. She had been staring for so long that it made Sang Miao uncomfortable. But since they weren’t too close, maybe she had imagined it.

Meanwhile, behind the locker area, Zhao Weiwei was clenching her fists tightly, her knuckles pale from the force. The scene she had just witnessed kept playing in her mind.

All that effort she had put in to maintain her beauty—and yet Sang Miao had achieved it so effortlessly, with such natural grace. An unspeakable jealousy surged up within her, making her resent Sang Miao’s superiority.

The fire of envy burned hot in her chest. Her gaze turned colder, and the once hesitant, secret thoughts in her heart became more determined.

Why should you have all of this?

After bathing, Sang Miao carried her washbasin back to the dorm. Since they had to attend a briefing that evening, she didn’t need to wear her practice uniform.

She changed into her standard military uniform— a crisp white shirt with epaulets, a dark green half-length Dacron skirt, and a pair of low-cut black leather shoes. The look was both smart and feminine.

There were no hairdryers in this era, so Sang Miao’s hair was still damp. She stepped out onto the corridor—summer evenings weren’t too hot, and a gentle breeze was blowing.

Leaning against the railing, she used a towel to pat her hair dry. In no time, her hair was almost fully dry.

She quickly braided it into two neat pigtails, shiny black plaits that hung down in front of her chest.

Seeing that it was getting late, she put on her military cap and hurried to the canteen.

By the time she arrived, there were only a few scattered people left in the dining hall. Tonight’s dinner was dumplings. Everyone helped themselves from a big pot.

Since Sang Miao had arrived late, only a few broken dumplings were left in the pot, their wrappers torn, fillings spilling out.

She pouted in disappointment. So she really was too late. Who would’ve thought tonight’s meal would be dumplings?

Just as she was about to scoop some of the broken ones just to fill her stomach, a voice called out from the serving window. It was Little Zhang, one of the cooks. “Sang Miao, don’t eat those.”

He came out from the back kitchen carrying a fresh plate of plump, steaming dumplings. The cook’s team ate separately from the other soldiers—only after everyone else had eaten would they sit down for their meal.

So just now, they had boiled a fresh batch of dumplings for themselves.

Little Zhang was a young and gentle-looking army cook, not very old, having joined the military early. He had a good temperament, got along well with the female soldiers in the cultural troupe, and often looked after them.

When Sang Miao saw the steaming white dumplings he brought over, her eyes lit up and her smile bloomed, crescent-eyed and full of warmth. She immediately put down the ladle she was about to use.

“Little Zhang, you’re the best!” she said, gratefully receiving the dumplings he had saved for her. Their hands brushed briefly in the exchange, and Little Zhang blushed behind his ears as he looked at her smiling face.

Sang Miao, on the other hand, hugged the bowl and began eating heartily. After a whole afternoon of training, she was starving. She had been prepared to make do with whatever was left, but unexpectedly, Little Zhang had saved her a perfect serving.

He really was such a good person. No wonder everyone liked him.