The Stunningly Beautiful and Delicate Darling in the 1980s Military Compound - Chapter 26

Inside the compound’s auditorium, the air was thick with excitement.

The seating area, which held over two hundred people, was packed. In an era with few entertainment options, a cultural competition was an event no one wanted to miss.

As soon as Chen Che walked in, Yin Xiumei called out to him enthusiastically. “Commander Chen! Why are you sitting in the back? Mingyue is performing later. You’re family—I saved a seat for you at the front!”

A few people from the North Compound were sitting nearby. The North and South compounds were separated by a small street lined with daily necessities like the supply store, the barber shop, and the butcher. While the residents knew of each other, they weren’t intimate.

Everyone had heard that Commander Chen had married a stunning beauty. They had planned to sneak a peek during the wedding, but hearing that the new bride was performing tonight spiked their anticipation.

“Commander Chen is still so handsome,” someone whispered. “I can’t imagine what kind of goddess could possibly match him.”

“What’s the rush?” another laughed. “You’ll see her on stage in a bit.”

This was the first time Chen Che had ever sat in the “family section” of a performance. He was seated right near the makeshift stage, next to a logistics director in his late forties who was there to watch his daughter.

The director teased him, “This is rare! Commander Chen usually avoids these artsy events like the plague. Marriage really does change a man.”

Chen Che, never one for small talk, simply nodded and sat upright. His stiff, disciplined posture stood in stark contrast to the lively, cheering families around him. To anyone else, it might have seemed aloof, but for Chen Che, it was just his standard personality.

Behind the scenes, it was total chaos. Despite two staff members trying to maintain order, everyone in the compound knew each other, and everyone wanted to go first. Arguments were breaking out everywhere.

Seeing things spiral out of control, Mingyue pulled a staff member aside. “This isn’t working. Why not have everyone draw lots? That way the order is fair and indisputable.”

The staff member, a simple military clerk, slapped his forehead. “Right! Why didn’t I think of that?”

He quickly gathered everyone. “Listen up! We’re drawing lots now. Whoever draws number one goes first!”

While the compound had held talent shows before, they were usually just for morale. This was different—the chance to represent the compound in the city was a rare honor for the collective. Everyone was fired up.

Mingyue and Zhang Jingjing both drew late slots, though Jingjing was scheduled before Mingyue.

The performances began. Since the late 70s, Teresa Teng’s songs had become a craze. Many stylish young people in the compound had her cassette tapes and could hum a few tunes. Some played the accordion, lending an air of sophisticated elegance to the stage. Truly, the compound was full of hidden talent.

Zhao Xing, one of the few who had actually been in the professional Art Troupe, took a creative approach. She performed a musical drama, singing while acting out a scene through dance. It was vivid and emotional, and the audience erupted in applause.

Behind the scenes, Zhang Jingjing watched, mesmerized and then terrified. “Mingyue, Zhao Xing can sing and dance so well. We don’t stand a chance.”

Mingyue was busy at a round mirror, perfecting her look. While most people still wore black and white, aesthetics were becoming bolder, following the trends of big cities. Mingyue knew that a bit of “exaggeration” would grab everyone’s attention.

She had chosen a vintage long dress. To match it, she had gone to the barber shop that afternoon to get a “big wave” perm. The state-owned shop still used old-fashioned iron tongs. It was a delicate, dangerous process involving high heat; even with care, some parts weren’t perfectly curled.

Mingyue was patiently fixing every strand. Seeing Jingjing’s panic, she said calmly, “Why are you nervous? We can’t lose in spirit. The arrow is already on the string; panicking won’t help. Just show them your true strength.”

Jingjing knew Mingyue had permed her hair, but she had only just changed into her dress. If the perm made her look “prettier,” the vintage black dress made her look “explosive.” Jingjing circled her in awe. “Mingyue, where did you get this outfit? It’s… it’s too beautiful.”

“If I’m going to perform, I have to look the part,” Mingyue said without modesty.

I said look the part, not become a legend, Jingjing thought.

The other performers noticed her too. In the cramped waiting room, Mingyue was practically glowing. Even those who disliked her couldn’t deny her beauty. At most, they muttered sourly about her looking like a “vixen” or “no proper woman would dress like that.”

Mingyue didn’t care. She wanted all eyes on her.

Out in the family section, Jingjing’s husband had moved up to sit next to Chen Che. “Jingjing told me your Mingyue has been encouraging her. They’ve become quite close.”

Husbands needed their own diplomacy as much as wives. Knowing Jingjing was Mingyue’s friend, Chen Che couldn’t ignore the man. They chatted briefly, and the husband invited Chen Che and Mingyue over for drinks soon. At the word “drinks,” Chen Che felt a shadow over his heart and performed his first-ever polite deflection.

Soon, it was Zhang Jingjing’s turn. There had been many types of performances, but Mongolian dance was rare.

Yin Xiumei gripped her hands by the stage, her own reputation tied to Jingjing’s success. The weeks of practice had paid off; Jingjing’s movements were sharp and professional. Even those who had mocked her before were surprised.

Everything was perfect until the very last move—the most difficult one. Jingjing needed to drop to her knees and slide forward for a grand finish.

But as she slid, it felt like the floorboards had been coated in oil. She couldn’t stop her momentum and, unable to regain her balance, she slid right off the edge of the stage.

The stage wasn’t very high, but the fall was clumsy. Yin Xiumei rushed forward to catch her, but she was too late. Jingjing landed face-down on the floor.

The audience erupted in laughter. In an era where people were sensitive about “saving face,” such a public humiliation could be devastating.

The side door to the waiting room was locked to prevent the audience from entering, and the stage was guarded. Mingyue couldn’t get out to her. Finally, staff members helped a crying Jingjing into the backstage area.

“Mingyue, they did it on purpose!” Jingjing sobbed, hugging her. “Someone put wax or oil on the boards. They don’t want me to go to the competition.”

Jingjing, who seemed so strong, had been worn down by repeated rejection. She looked like she couldn’t take one more moment of public failure. But she was stronger than Mingyue expected. She didn’t care about the embarrassment as much as the fact that she had let Yin Xiumei down.

“Calm down,” Mingyue whispered, patting her back. “We’ll find out who did this after the show. Don’t let them win by giving up now.”

The show continued, but the atmosphere backstage was tense. After three more performers, it was Mingyue’s turn.

As she prepared to go out, Jingjing grabbed her hand. “Mingyue, Auntie Xiumei and I are counting on you. We can’t let those petty people win. You must win.”

“I’ll do my best,” Mingyue promised.

When the announcer called the song title, Just Because I Like You, the audience was confused. No one had heard of it. Some wondered if she had written it herself.

But as the “new bride” of the compound, this was her official debut. Those who had been nodding off suddenly sat up. “Commander Chen’s wife is coming out!”

There were no stage effects. The equipment was just a single wired microphone. A curtain hid the stage.

When the curtain was pulled aside, a mesmerizing woman appeared. She wore a pure black vintage dress with a square neckline, black gloves, and her hair was styled in exquisite, glamorous waves. Her figure was graceful, her eyes enchanting.

Just by standing there, she took everyone’s breath away. She looked more brilliant than a movie star.

Mingyue knew her power. She gave a dazzling, confident smile. “Next, I will sing a song from Hong Kong for you all.”

There was no accompaniment. She had to sing a cappella.

“The sorrow won’t fade, the gloom won’t disperse… why is my heart so empty? Why is it that I like only you?”

Mingyue used a slight Cantonese accent to give the song its authentic flavor.

“Commander Chen, your wife knows Hong Kong songs? She sounds amazing,” the logistics director said. When Chen Che didn’t answer, the director turned to see him staring at the stage, completely entranced.

“The affection is gone, the love is lost… why is it that I like only you?”

On stage, Mingyue was lost in the song. Below, Chen Che felt a surge of electricity through his heart. The noise of the crowd seemed to vanish.

In this moment, he could no longer lie to himself.

He liked Song Mingyue. He was deeply, irrevocably attracted to her. Maybe it started when she jumped into the river to save someone, or when she fell asleep on his shoulder, or when she teased him while introducing him to others. Or maybe it was earlier—from the first moment he saw those beautiful, speaking eyes in his own bed. He had already fallen.

He was a man of principle. If he didn’t like her, how could he have agreed so easily to her ridiculous “fake marriage” plan?

It turned out the poems weren’t lying: love at first sight was real.