Shi Man and Sister Mei both froze for a moment.
Shi Man hadn’t expected that she would once again foresee what was about to happen because of that dream, while Sister Mei felt a headache coming on the moment she saw Yao Wenjing.
Yao Wenjing had entered the troupe in the same batch as Shi Man. She was young and talented enough, but the girl had far too many schemes.
Sister Mei only liked dealing with straightforward people, yet Yao Wenjing always clung to her, pestering her to introduce a potential marriage partner.
Sister Mei hurried off, and before letting the curtain fall, she still turned back to remind her, “Xiao Man, about what I mentioned—wait for my letter, alright?”
Yao Wenjing didn’t even get a chance to speak. In front of her was only the gently swaying door curtain. She closed her slightly open mouth and stared at the doorway, lost in thought.
When she turned back, her gaze landed on Shi Man, and a streak of jealousy flashed deep in Yao Wenjing’s eyes.
It was a day off, so Shi Man wasn’t wearing the Type 55 military uniform. Instead, she had on a floral dress with white leather shoes. The hem of the dress was trimmed with extremely fine lace, revealing a fair stretch of neck and slender calves. She was so beautiful it was as if she were glowing.
When Shi Man wore the standard wool military uniform, she already stood out like a crane among chickens. Today, she was even more eye-catching. No wonder she could be set up on a blind date with Deputy Commander Ling.
The deputy commander! For the new troupe members, he was a figure of immense stature.
What was more, it was Ling Zhen—the youngest deputy commander in the entire military district, the iron-blooded man most admired by male soldiers and the ideal man whom female soldiers most wanted to marry.
The more Yao Wenjing thought about it, the more sour she felt, and she couldn’t help saying, “Manman, you’re really lucky.”
Those words matched exactly the first thing Yao Wenjing had said when she entered in the dream.
Shi Man remembered how, in that dream, she had gradually lost herself because of Yao Wenjing’s words, her vanity inflating like a balloon being blown up. Alarm bells rang loudly in her heart. She subconsciously reined in her expression and lowered her long lashes.
Yao Wenjing set down the metal bucket, supported her aching waist, and continued, “You’re about to marry Deputy Commander Ling anyway. You don’t need to work yourself to death like us, preparing for tomorrow’s selection. I really envy you.”
Tomorrow was the first selection for the new troupe members. Several troupe leaders would serve as judges, scoring them to determine ranks and future assignments.
The first-place soldier would also receive a commendation.
In this era, people valued commendations and honors as if they were life itself, so everyone was straining every nerve to compete for first place.
Shi Man remembered that in the dream, she had directly given up on this selection.
Because Sister Mei had sent milk candies, and Yao Wenjing kept egging her on, Shi Man had felt that her matter with Ling Zhen was already set in stone. Since that was the case, she didn’t bother participating in the selection.
She was going to be the commander’s wife, after all. Why bother putting herself on display? How undignified.
But from the moment she gave up on that selection, the artistic path everyone had once been optimistic about for her began to slide downhill.
At her ear, Yao Wenjing was still talking. “Ordinary art troupe soldiers aren’t allowed to marry casually. Either you get promoted to cadre status, or you marry an officer at battalion level or above. Manman, you just arrived and already—”
Shi Man had a bad temper and got impatient easily. She turned her head and cut Yao Wenjing off. “Who said I’m getting married?”
All the words Yao Wenjing had left jammed in her throat. She widened her eyes and heard Shi Man continue, “This selection—I’m participating. Not only am I participating, I’m taking first place.”
After saying that, Shi Man flicked her braid and walked out.
Yao Wenjing stared at her slender, beautiful back and frowned. She always felt that something about Shi Man had changed somehow. It felt strange.
…
The art troupe’s main rehearsal hall had been built in the late 1950s, a product of the “fast, good, and economical” approach. It could accommodate more than a hundred people at once for stretching, training, instrumental practice, and vocal exercises.
It was a day off, so only the newly recruited cultural troupe soldiers occupied the space. Every one of them was training hard, hoping to leave a deep impression on the leaders during tomorrow’s selection.
Shi Man had decided to participate in the selection because she didn’t want everything to unfold exactly according to that dream’s predictions.
She wanted to break the nightmare.
As Shi Man passed through the large rehearsal hall on the first floor, some people were flipping, some were holding handstands, and some had their legs pressed up on metal bars while whispering about her.
“That’s Shi Man, right? She’s really pretty.” “How else would she get set up with Commander Ling?” “She’s here to train too? No need, is there?” “Exactly. She’s already climbed a high branch—why suffer like this?”
Like Yao Wenjing, many people felt Shi Man had no need to join in this hustle.
Shi Man didn’t like being watched. She went up the stairs and walked down the corridor lined with rooms on both sides—where flute sounds, violin practice pieces, and lilting vocal exercises drifted out—until she reached a small, private practice room on the third floor.
She locked the door, changed into white soft-soled practice shoes, and began working through small jump combinations, stretching, leg kicks, circular steps, and handstands, practicing each item carefully.
She had trained these just yesterday, but after experiencing that long nightmare, practicing again now made her feel as if a lifetime had passed.
In the dream, when Instructor Wu from the cultural troupe’s dance team retired, he once said that Shi Man was a natural at dance—soft waist, excellent flexibility, even her arches stretched straighter than others’, and she picked up movements quickly.
That was why Instructor Wu had felt such regret that after Shi Man got married, she no longer put her heart into dancing.
Truth be told, Shi Man had never truly liked dance. She had simply realized she had talent and felt fortunate that she could use it to earn a living.
But once she had a better meal ticket—Ling Zhen—why endure the hardship of training anymore?
Of course, that was the Shi Man of the dream.
The Shi Man now had drawn a deep lesson from that nightmare—relying on a man was worse than relying on herself.
So today’s training was probably the hardest and most earnest practice session Shi Man had ever had.
Sweat quickly beaded on her forehead, crystal clear, sliding down her cheeks to the tip of her chin, then dripping onto the red-painted floor, dampening a small patch.
With the selection tomorrow, she didn’t push herself too hard. She just loosened up her ligaments, practiced basic skills, then stood in front of the mirror in the small practice room, refining her movements for the piece she planned to perform.
The mirror in the small room couldn’t compare to the one in the main hall downstairs, which was an entire wall made up of eight mirrors. This one was small, probably discarded from some bygone era.
The reflection of Shi Man in it was blurry and stretched into rippling distortions. In the past, her temper wouldn’t have tolerated such a substandard mirror—she would have left immediately. But today, she remained calm, practicing over and over again.
She repeated the routine, picked out the details that felt off, reconsidered them, then danced through it again…
Rather than wanting to take first place, it was more that Shi Man was holding her breath inside, competing stubbornly with that nightmare.
Not until dusk had settled did Shi Man finally emerge from the small practice room, drenched in sweat.
Luckily it was summer. The rain outside had stopped at some point, and Shi Man walked along the still-dripping covered corridor toward the cafeteria.
She only took a steamed bun and a small plate of tofu—light fare, also in preparation for tomorrow’s selection.
Just as she finished eating and was packing up her lunchbox, Yao Wenjing happened to come in.
Her eyes scanned the room. After spotting Shi Man, she lifted her foot to walk over, only to see Shi Man heading out through the back door instead.
Yao Wenjing froze. One look at Shi Man told her that Shi Man had been practicing all afternoon. Seeing that she seemed ready to continue training even after dinner made Yao Wenjing feel as if she’d seen a ghost.
This batch of new art troupe soldiers had only arrived half a month ago. During this time, they’d been busy with military training, drills, and marches.
Everyone knew how pampered Shi Man was—complaining at the slightest discomfort, crying over a little sweat, eyes red-rimmed whenever she got a blood blister on her foot.
And now Shi Man was training this long for the selection?
Yao Wenjing couldn’t make sense of it. She went back to the dorm and waited until the lights-out bugle was almost about to sound before Shi Man finally returned.
“Manman, have you been practicing all day?” Before Yao Wenjing could speak, the other roommate, Liu Tao, asked first.
Their room was small, with three people sharing it.
Liu Tao had a sweet, syrupy voice and had been specially selected to sing opera in the cultural troupe. She hadn’t really prepared for tomorrow’s selection and had instead spent the whole day out having fun. She was still brimming with excitement.
“Manman, you should’ve gone out with me instead. You have no idea how fun it was out there—you’d definitely like it.” Liu Tao was similar to Shi Man in temperament. They could play together easily, both loved pretty things, and had quickly become close sisters after arriving.
But when Shi Man thought of the way, in the dream, Liu Tao had coaxed her into investing in a business that failed, then ran off with a man, a wave of disgust rose in her.
She subtly brushed aside Liu Tao’s arm as it reached for her and said in a slightly weary voice, “I just washed up in the washroom. I’m a bit tired. I’ll sleep first.”
She really had trained hard today, and even her throat was a little hoarse.
Liu Tao leaned closer and said with concern, “Manman, isn’t your thing with Deputy Commander Ling already a done deal? Instead of scrambling at the last minute, you might as well talk to Deputy Commander Ling. He’s high-ranking and well-connected—one casual word from him and you’d get first place.”
As Yao Wenjing pricked up her ears to listen, the lights-out bugle suddenly sounded.
After the long, resounding call, the summer night quickly settled, gradually leaving only the chirping of insects outside.
Liu Tao didn’t get an answer from Shi Man and yawned.
She thought Shi Man was exhausted and had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
But after a long while, in the quiet night, Shi Man’s very soft voice suddenly sounded. “Who said I’m marrying him?” It carried that familiar, spoiled Shi Man tone.
Eavesdropping, Yao Wenjing froze, then froze again. What—was she already throwing a tantrum at Deputy Commander Ling before even marrying him?
Then again, that was exactly the sort of thing Shi Man would do.
Liu Tao snuggled closer under the blanket, lowering her voice to speak to Shi Man. Yao Wenjing only caught the first few words: Liu Tao insisting that Ling Zhen, so handsome and promising, was hard to find even with a lantern, urging Shi Man to cherish him, hold back her temper until after the wedding.
Yao Wenjing snorted. If Shi Man knew how to cherish and restrain herself, she wouldn’t be Shi Man.