The Stunningly Beautiful and Delicate Darling in the 1980s Military Compound - Chapter 22

In 1982, the Ministry of Culture had just concluded a symposium emphasizing the prosperity of the arts and the creation of more high-quality works. Under this national atmosphere, cultural innovation was sweeping the country. Mocheng followed the call, organizing a city-wide “Cultural Grand Competition.”

Every sector had to provide a representative. Yin Xiumei took this very seriously. In the past, the compound’s small talent shows were decent enough, but when compared to the professional performers of the city’s Art Troupe, they paled in comparison. She had racked her brain before deciding to take an unconventional route: showcase a rare cultural specialty to stand out.

Yin Xiumei thought her idea was brilliant, but she hit a wall with Zhang Jingjing. Despite her silver tongue, Jingjing refused to budge.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the compound’s honor—Jingjing was a fiercely loyal person. But confidence, once shattered, is hard to rebuild. She could never forget her first time performing the Mongolian dance in the courtyard. The laughter had been deafening.

“It looks like a monkey show! So funny!” some had said. Others, who claimed to be “world-traveled,” added mysteriously, “It looks just like the gorilla performance I saw at the Beijing Zoo—all flailing arms and legs.”

On the surface, Jingjing had barked back at them, making them apologize with “we were just joking,” but inside, she had retreated. She began to doubt herself and vowed never to “humiliate” herself in public again.

Jingjing felt that Mingyue understood her. She hoped Mingyue would join her in rebuffing Yin Xiumei. Pulling Mingyue aside—and stealing a glance at the stern-faced, intimidating Chen Che—she whispered her true feelings.

Yin Xiumei squeezed in. “Is there something I’m not allowed to hear?”

Jingjing, feeling bolder now, said, “Auntie Xiumei, Mingyue also thinks I shouldn’t do it. Can’t you find someone else? There are so many ‘elegant’ ladies in the compound who better represent our image.”

Yin Xiumei couldn’t fathom it. To her, performing on a city stage was an opportunity people would die for. Seeing Jingjing’s resolve, she sighed. “Fine, I’ll ask someone else.”

But Mingyue stepped in. “Auntie Xiumei, I never said Jingjing wasn’t capable.”

“Mingyue! You betrayed me?” Jingjing hissed.

“Jingjing, let me ask you: Do you love your Mongolian dance?”

“I love it, but… I’m not the right fit for it.”

“Who says?”

“The people in the courtyard… they said…”

Mingyue cut her off. “The people here? Who are they to decide? Do they know dance? Do they even know what Mongolian dance is? If they’re so ‘capable,’ let them get on stage. Until they can out-dance you, their opinions are trash.”

“Jingjing, your logic is wrong. If you don’t want to compete, that’s fine. But if you’re quitting because of those busybodies, then you’re letting them win. Why care about them?”

“But…”

“No buts. I haven’t seen you dance yet, but Mongolian dance is incredibly powerful. It’s a national treasure. In all of Mocheng, how many people can actually do it?”

“Exactly! Mingyue is right,” Yin Xiumei added quickly, sensing an opening. “And I saw you dance last time—I thought it was wonderful!”

Jingjing wavered. “I… I’ll think about it.”

Yin Xiumei took that as a “yes.” “Great! I’ll put your name down.”

“Wait, Auntie! I said I’d think about it!” But the enthusiastic head of the Women’s Federation was already walking away, pausing only to tell Chen Che, “Commander, I’m already working on your wedding. Don’t worry, it’ll be beautiful!”

The sun was scorching. Back inside, Mingyue gulped down a large bowl of cold water. Noticing Chen Che staring at her, she asked, “What? Is there something on my face?”

“No.”

Chen Che was simply being “conquered” by her again. He realized that while his mother-in-law described Mingyue as a delicate girl who knew nothing of the world, she was actually incredibly perceptive. She had a unique perspective on life; she was fiercely kind to those who treated her well and utterly fearless toward those who didn’t.

During the hottest part of the afternoon, the “carb coma” hit Mingyue. She was napping when she heard voices in the yard. Looking through the window, she saw a stranger in a white shirt and black trousers with a bicycle. He had been speaking loudly until Chen Che told him his wife was sleeping; then, he lowered his voice to a mumble.

When she finally got up, the man was gone. Chen Che had a rare smile on his face. “Are you awake?”

“Yes. Who was that?”

“A contact of a comrade. I asked him yesterday if we could take photos in the city today. He just came to say the photographer is available.”

Mingyue’s eyes lit up. “We’re taking photos this afternoon?”

“Do you want to?”

Of course she did. No girl could refuse a photoshoot. Since arriving, she hadn’t taken a single picture. While state-owned photo studios existed, they were expensive and usually reserved for special occasions.

Mingyue rushed to change her white shirt for a vibrant, colorful dress—better for the camera. She twirled in front of Chen Che. “How do I look?”

Her skin was snowy white, and the bright dress made her look pure yet sophisticated. Chen Che was dazed for a moment before managed a “Beautiful.”

Mingyue waved a finger in front of his eyes. “No need to be so dramatic, even if it’s true.”

She freshened up, and since she had no lipstick, she used a trick she’d heard of: she dampened a piece of red wrapping paper and pressed it to her lips to give them a natural flush.

Since Chen Che didn’t own a bicycle, he borrowed one from a neighbor. Mingyue sat on the back, fanning herself with a paper fan. The road was lined with poplars, and the occasional breeze caught her skirt, brushing it against Chen Che’s legs. Every time his heel moved back, he felt the soft fabric, making his heart race.

At the photo studio, they had to wait an hour and a half behind a family taking a portrait. Some large studios offered “wedding dress” photos now, but this small one in Mocheng only provided standard portraits.

The photographer came over to help them pose. In this era, most people were camera-shy and stiff. Mingyue, however, was a natural. She tilted her head and smiled perfectly, but noticed Chen Che was like a block of wood.

“Don’t be nervous,” she whispered, leaning into him. “Just sit like you normally do. If you’re this stiff, the photos won’t look good.”

But “normally,” no one sat this close to him. Chen Che could smell a faint, delicate fragrance coming from her, and his mind was anything but calm.

“Yes, yes! The lady’s pose is excellent!” the photographer called out. “Sir, put your hands down! Don’t move away! What’s wrong with you? You’re more shy than the lady!”

In the final seconds before the shutter clicked, Mingyue suddenly tilted her head and rested it on his shoulder.

Because Chen Che remained so stiff, Mingyue ended up taking several solo shots afterward. It became her personal runway. The photographer, who had been in the business for years, had never seen anyone so fluid. She moved between “cool,” “glamorous,” and “innocent” effortlessly. He didn’t have to teach her a thing.

A crowd of people waiting in line gathered to watch, their eyes full of envy. When she finished, a shy girl approached her. “Comrade, it’s my turn next. Could you… teach me how to pose? I’m taking my wedding photo too, and I’ve been terrified for two days.”

Mingyue agreed immediately. “Of course. Don’t be nervous. Just do what makes you feel beautiful.”

She took the girl behind a curtain and showed her how to smile naturally. Since the girl was shy and “stiff,” Mingyue stayed by the camera during her shoot.

“On the count of three, say ‘Eggplant’!” Mingyue called out (the Chinese equivalent of “Cheese”).

After the shoot, the girl was beaming with gratitude. “I live nearby. Please, come to my house for dinner tonight!”

“Thank you, but we want to walk around a bit more,” Mingyue declined politely.

By the time they left, the sun was setting. The street was becoming quiet. Their original plan to visit the park and the department store had been delayed by the photoshoot and helping the girl.

Mingyue felt a bit bad that Chen Che’s rare day off was slipping away, but she felt helping the girl was worth it. “Should we find a state-owned restaurant nearby?”

Chen Che hesitated. “The Colonel invited us to his house for dinner. If you don’t want to go, we won’t.”

He was worried. The Colonel’s wife had tried to set him up with her niece, Qianqian, multiple times. He was afraid she might be difficult toward Mingyue. He had already declined once yesterday, but the Colonel had pressed him again today.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Mingyue said. “Let’s hurry then! We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”