The Stunningly Beautiful and Delicate Darling in the 1980s Military Compound - Chapter 25

In this era, specialized photo frames didn’t exist yet. The most common kind were made of four rectangular wooden strips nailed together, sandwiching two layers of glass. Even then, only well-to-off families bothered with them; most people simply tucked their photos under the glass of a wall clock or a framed mirror.

However, as soon as Chen Che got the photos, he went to the market and bought an expensive frame. Back home, he carefully placed their joint portrait inside and polished the glass with a towel. His cool, peach-blossom eyes seemed glued to the frame, unmoving.

Mingyue, meanwhile, was focused on her solo shots. Every single one was beautiful enough to touch her heart. Even with the slight blur of the era’s photography, her delicate charm was captured perfectly.

I have this face and a brain that knows the future, she thought. If I don’t use them, it would be a sin against nature. She wasn’t going to let her gifts go to waste.

She was still admiring the photos when Zhang Jingjing burst in. Her round cheeks were flushed with anger and her eyes were brimming with tears. “Mingyue! They went to Auntie Xiumei to make a scene. They won’t let me go to the city for the competition!”

Mingyue hurried over to comfort her. “Don’t panic. Tell me slowly—who won’t let you go?”

“Qiu Hua and the others. They say it’s a collective activity and Auntie Xiumei has no right to make decisions for everyone or appoint me as the representative.” Jingjing’s face grew hotter as she continued, “They… they even accused Auntie Xiumei of taking a bribe from me to give me the spot! Mingyue, you know the truth! I didn’t give her anything. I didn’t even want to go at first. How can they lie like that?”

In those days, bribery was a serious political offense. If the Security Section got involved, people could be detained. Jingjing’s anxiety was justified.

Mingyue tried to calm her down. “The more panicked you are, the harder it is to explain. Can they prove you bribed her, or are they just talking nonsense?”

Mingyue knew that in a place like this, the truth often mattered less than the narrative. A lie told a thousand times becomes the truth. The priority was to suppress the rumors and minimize the damage. “Are they still making a scene?”

“Yes, over at the Women’s Committee office.”

“Let’s go. Take me there.”

Yin Xiumei was a hot-tempered but warm-hearted woman who saw herself as a servant of the people. Being accused of bribery was unbearable for her, but the more agitated she became, the less people believed her. Not everyone liked her “busybody” personality, and some were relishing the chance to take her down a notch.

The Women’s Committee office consisted of two spare rooms: an office and a meeting room. Both were now surrounded by a crowd. Several women at the front were shouting, demanding to know why Zhang Jingjing had been chosen without a consensus. No matter how Yin Xiumei explained her logic, they refused to listen, trying to force her to admit to “collusion.”

Mingyue stepped forward, shielding Yin Xiumei. Just as she had in Song Village, she adopted an air of high-status authority. “What are you doing?” she shouted, her voice cutting through the noise. “This is New China, a new society! Are you trying to force a confession through intimidation? If anything happens to Auntie Xiumei, every one of you will be an accomplice.”

Many recognized her as Commander Chen’s new wife but were surprised by her sharp tongue.

“We just want to know why she picked Zhang Jingjing,” one woman argued. “She knows nothing! Sending her to the city will only embarrass our compound.”

“Zhang Jingjing can perform Mongolian dance,” Mingyue countered. “Can any of you do that?”

After a few seconds of silence, someone scoffed, “That Mongolian dance looks like a monkey trick. It’ll just make people laugh at us.”

“Comrade, watch your words,” Mingyue said sternly. “We are in an era of national ethnic unity. You just compared a minority ethnic dance to a monkey trick. Are you trying to sabotage ethnic harmony?”

A label that heavy was enough to make anyone shut up.

Mingyue continued her pivot. “Do you understand Auntie Xiumei’s intent now? This dance isn’t just a performance; it represents our compound’s stance on ethnic solidarity. Broaden your horizons! This is about our commitment to national harmony.”

She spoke with such fervor that many were actually intimidated. However, she knew these people were like “grass on a wall”—they’d blow whichever way the wind went. Once the bribery talk was suppressed, Mingyue offered a compromise: “If you aren’t satisfied, feel free to suggest better alternatives.”

“I suggest Zhao Xing! She’s from the Art Troupe. She’s pretty, can sing, and can dance.”

“Right! Xingxing is the best we have. She’s the flower of the whole Art Troupe!”

“My Zhizhi is good too! She can do breakdancing. Didn’t she look great last time?”

The crowd began bickering, each person looking out for their own interests. Finally, they reached an agreement: they would hold a preliminary competition within the compound. Everyone would vote, and the winner would represent them in the city.

As the crowd dispersed to prepare for their own “stars,” the accusations against Yin Xiumei were forgotten.

Yin Xiumei was still sobbing from the stress. “They went too far! I’m quitting! Let one of them be the Women’s Director!”

Mingyue poured her a glass of water. “Auntie, it’s over now. Don’t ruin your health over them.”

“But Zhao Xing and Xiao Zhizhi… one acts like she’s above everyone, and the other looks like a hooligan! How can they represent us?”

“It doesn’t have to be them,” Mingyue said. “We have the competition now. Jingjing, you must prepare well. Not just for the city, but to prove them wrong.”

Jingjing apologized to Yin Xiumei for the trouble, but the older woman patted her hand. “It’s not your fault. But Mingyue is right—you have to win. If you win fairly, no one can say a word.”

Winning in the city could lead to the provincial level, or even Beijing. It was a supreme honor. Soon, every ambitious young person in the compound was rushing to sign up.

Yin Xiumei looked at Mingyue. “You’re beautiful and you have great taste. You’re better than any of them. Mingyue, you should sign up too.”

Jingjing chimed in. “Yes! If you can’t dance, I’ll teach you. You’re so thin, you’d be a natural. Or you could sing! Please, come with me, or I’ll be too scared.”

As a former socialite, singing and dancing were second nature to Mingyue. She hadn’t mentioned it before because she didn’t want to compete with Jingjing, but now that the field was open, she decided to join. Her goal, however, was different: she wanted to go to the city to network and get a feel for the current economic climate.

She went to the committee to sign up. There were already over thirty names—singers, dancers, even an erhu player.

“What will you do?” the clerk asked.

“I’ll sing,” Mingyue replied.

“Lots of people are singing,” the clerk said honestly. “Singing isn’t a unique advantage. Do you have any other talents?”

“Can I play the piano?” Mingyue asked.

The clerk blinked. “A what?”

Realizing there was no piano and that her skills were mediocre at best, Mingyue pivoted back. “I’ll stick to singing. It’s about participating.”

“What song?”

“Just Because I Like You.”

In the timeline of this world, the song had likely just been released in Hong Kong and hadn’t reached a remote place like Mocheng yet. She would have to sing it a cappella, which was a challenge. But Mingyue loved the song and had sung it countless times at KTV. She had the skills.

When they left, Jingjing was curious. “Mingyue, I’ve never heard of that song. Is it real?”

“Yes, it’s by a Hong Kong singer. It just hasn’t become popular here yet.”

Hong Kong. The word itself was the peak of fashion in 1982.

The day of the competition arrived. No one expected it to become such a massive event. Because of the mutual suspicions, the management office had brought in two professional judges to rank the performers.

That evening, almost the entire compound gathered at the auditorium.

Chen Che knew Mingyue had signed up. He had never been interested in such events, but tonight, he did something unprecedented: he came home early, changed into civilian clothes, and headed to the auditorium.

The moon was sparse, but the auditorium was alive with the roar of the crowd.