The Stunningly Beautiful and Delicate Darling in the 1980s Military Compound - Chapter 29

Song Mingyue had never been one to be coy, especially regarding matters of the heart. She stared into Chen Che’s eyes; beneath his usual cold, stoic surface, there were ripples of emotion that weren’t hard to detect.

She blinked her large eyes, her heart filling with curiosity. “Chen Che, do you… like me a little?”

In this era, “liking” someone wasn’t something people declared openly; affection was expressed in subtle, veiled ways. Chen Che never expected her to be so blunt.

He did like her. But the words remained stuck in his throat, his breathing growing heavy as he struggled to find his voice. Used to repressing his emotions, he simply didn’t know how to perform a confession.

After a long moment, Song Mingyue pulled back. She couldn’t quite explain it, but she felt a tiny flicker of disappointment.

On the surface, she kept her smile, pushing the bicycle toward him. “Alright, I’m just teasing you. Go buy the salt; I’m not going anymore.”

She had too much on her plate to worry about romance. Besides, influenced by her “scumbag” father in her previous life, she had never been optimistic about love. Whether it was the old Song Mingyue or this new one, a relationship would never be the entirety of her life.

Transportation was vital, and with the bicycle, everything became easier. That evening, Zhao Xing stopped by after work to finalize their plans.

Zhao Xing was naturally talented and proud. Growing up with both parents in the military gave her a sense of superiority. Now a member of the Art Troupe with a “iron rice bowl” job, she looked down on “parasites”—women from small towns who only lived in the family compound because of their husbands’ military status.

However, Zhao Xing was disciplined. Since the organization had paired them together, she would obey orders; she only hoped Song Mingyue wouldn’t hold her back.

“I can both dance and sing,” Zhao Xing analyzed rationally. “Are you only good at singing? Can you dance?”

“A little, but not much,” Mingyue said truthfully. She had taken various arts classes as a child with private tutors, but back then she was restless and often slackened off. Now she felt the regret of not having studied harder.

Among her skills, her best was the piano, which she had studied for three years before quitting.

Zhao Xing assumed she was making excuses. What does ‘a little’ mean? Does wiggling around count as dancing? Just as she was about to retort, Mingyue added: “I can play the piano. I can play while you dance.”

“The piano?” In some backward regions, people didn’t even know what a piano was. Even in the Art Troupe, they were rare.

“I know a colleague who has a Soviet-made piano at home,” Zhao Xing said, skeptical. “I’ll try to borrow it, but don’t tell me you can’t play it once I bring it here.”

“If I say I can, I can. Why would I lie to you?” Mingyue disliked her attitude. “Also, we are partners now. I hope you learn to respect people.”

Zhao Xing felt a flash of shame. She truly had looked down on Mingyue. There was another layer to it: her best friend, Wang Qianqian, had always liked Chen Che. After one blind date, Qianqian was obsessed with him, but he kept rejecting her. When Chen Che brought home a wife from the countryside, the Art Troupe was abuzz with gossip. Everyone wondered what kind of “goddess” could be better than the troupe’s beauty, Wang Qianqian.

Seeing her friend’s heartbreak, Zhao Xing naturally didn’t want to like Chen Che’s new wife.

Mingyue didn’t want to dwell on it. “Let’s settle the format: I play piano, you dance. If there’s no piano, an electronic keyboard works. As for the song, I’m fine with anything you choose, though simpler is better for now.”

“Fine. Tomorrow at four, come to the Art Troupe to find me.”

Throughout the conversation, Mingyue remained composed and rational, making Zhao Xing seem petty and irritable by comparison. Zhao Xing couldn’t understand it—she considered herself excellent and hadn’t intended to make things hard for Mingyue, but Mingyue wasn’t the “hick” she had imagined.

When Chen Che returned that night, Mingyue was already asleep. He had hoped the bicycle would bridge the gap between them, but while their relationship had “thawed,” they had become strangely polite and distant.

This is probably how our relationship should be, Mingyue thought. Aside from the marriage certificate, everything is fake. We’re just roommates.

Chen Che, meanwhile, was at a loss. He bottled everything up. He wanted to talk to her, but his courage vanished the moment he entered the house.

The next afternoon was blistering hot. Song Mingyue put on her modified sun hat and a light floral dress, then rode her bike to find Zhao Xing.

The roads were nearly empty as everyone hid from the heat. The Art Troupe was on the northwest side of Mocheng Park. Mingyue hadn’t been there before, but she wasn’t afraid to ask for directions.

Past the park, a large river ran to the north, with two forks in the road to the west. Unsure of which way to go, she saw a young man fishing on the riverbank. She stopped and approached him quietly so as not to scare the fish.

The young man was Cheng Er. He was home from university for the summer and was fishing with his grandfather. His grandfather was on the other side, and they had a bet to see who could catch more. Cheng Er was focused on the water until a gentle tap on his shoulder made him turn around.

He saw a face of peerless beauty. Cheng Er jumped, nearly falling off his stool. He had heard stories of fox spirits; for a moment, he thought he’d met a demon in broad daylight.

“Comrade, are you okay?” Mingyue asked, reaching out to steady him.

“I’m fine.” Cheng Er realized she was human. He had never seen someone so beautiful—an oval face, flawless features, and eyes as clear as spring water.

“Comrade, do you know the way to the City Art Troupe?”

Cheng Er’s heart hammered. “Are you going to the Art Troupe?”

“Yes. Which of these forks should I take?”

“Oh, the Art Troupe…” Cheng Er forgot all about the bet with his grandfather. He put down his rod. “I’ll take you. There are more turns ahead.”

“Will it disturb your fishing?”

“No, I was just about to stand up and stretch anyway.” He lowered his eyes, not daring to look at her face, but his gaze fell on her dress, which perfectly complemented her graceful figure. His heart churned like spring water.

At the roadside, he saw her brand new Phoenix bicycle. It looked expensive; her family must be well-off. When they reached the first fork, Mingyue said, “You can just tell me the rest of the way. No need to trouble yourself further.”

“It’s no trouble. I live near the Art Troupe,” Cheng Er said eagerly. “Are you going there for something important?”

“Just visiting a friend.”

“I live in a courtyard alley nearby. Where do you live?”

Mingyue felt the conversation was getting a bit too personal for a stranger, but he seemed harmless. “I live in the military family compound.”

No wonder she has such an air about her, Cheng Er thought, assuming her parents were military officers. “My name is Cheng Er. What’s yours? Don’t misunderstand, I have no ill intent. It’s fate that we met; I’d like to be friends.”

Mingyue had no intention of making friends. She saw people in green military uniforms riding bikes from a distance and pointed. “Is the Art Troupe that way?”

“Yes.”

“Great, I can take it from here. Thank you, comrade!” She rode off.

Cheng Er stood there, his heart racing. He was annoyed at himself for being too forward and scaring her off before he could get her name.

Security at the Art Troupe was strict. After registering, the guard went inside to fetch someone to lead her in. Mingyue sat in the guardroom, enjoying the electric fan to cool down from her ride.

At 4:30, people began to leave for the day. The guard shouted toward the main building: “Is Comrade Zhao Xing here? Someone is here for her!”

“She’s in the locker room. I’ll tell her!” someone replied.

Wang Qianqian was among the crowd. Zhao Xing had mentioned this to her, so Qianqian immediately knew who the visitor was. She was intensely curious about Song Mingyue.

Last weekend, her aunt Shen Yulan had come over for dinner. When discussing Chen Che’s new wife, her aunt’s tone had changed from anger to persuasion: “Qianqian, that wife Chen Che married is actually quite nice. She’s a good match for him. It’s been so long; you should focus on developing things with Xiao Meng.”

But a young girl’s heart is stubborn. No matter how good “Xiao Meng” was, he wasn’t the man she wanted.

“Xingxing told me about this. I’ll go get her,” Qianqian told the guard.

In the guardroom, Mingyue had taken off her hat and was re-tying her hair into a ponytail. Her permed waves had flattened a bit, but the ponytail gave her a different, spirited charm. Hearing someone call, she turned around and saw a woman she didn’t know.

Wang Qianqian scrutinized her. At first glance, she had to admit Mingyue was stunningly beautiful and knew how to dress. Her dress highlighted her curves, her skin was porcelain white, and in the sunset, she seemed to glow.

So Chen Che likes this type, Qianqian thought. She admitted she was beautiful but felt such beauty was “indecent”—as if it were a calculated snare to seduce men.

“Comrade Qianqian, do you know this person?” the guard asked.

“I do.” Qianqian reached out a hand. “Hello, I am Wang Qianqian, Zhao Xing’s friend. She’s changing and asked me to fetch you.”

Mingyue nodded politely. She knew Chen Che had a former “interest” named Qianqian, but she didn’t realize this was the one. She simply viewed her as Zhao Xing’s colleague.

Qianqian assumed Mingyue knew who she was. Their history was common knowledge in the compound. But along the way, Mingyue remained silent, following behind without a word of gossip.

When coworkers asked who the beautiful girl was, Qianqian ignored them, her jealousy simmering. As they reached the fork between the main hall and the cafeteria, Qianqian’s impulse took over, and she led Mingyue toward the cafeteria.

Seeing the crowds thin, Mingyue stopped. “Comrade, are we going the wrong way? That says ‘Cafeteria’.”

“It’s right next to it,” Qianqian lied. “Xingxing might be there.”

“Are you sure?” Mingyue wasn’t a fool. Rehearsing in a cafeteria? If they were going to do that, they could have stayed at the compound. Besides, this woman was acting strange. Mingyue didn’t know how she’d offended her, but the hostility was palpable.

Did Zhao Xing send her to mess with me? Mingyue doubted it. Zhao Xing was proud, but she didn’t seem petty enough for such tricks.

“If you don’t want to lead me, I’ll find her myself,” Mingyue said.

Qianqian recovered quickly. “Both paths lead there. There are too many people on the main road. If you don’t want the shortcut, we can go the other way.”

As they turned back, Zhao Xing appeared. Afraid the two would clash, Zhao Xing hurried over. She led Mingyue to a second-floor rehearsal room and finally asked, “Did Qianqian give you a hard time?”

“Why would she? Do we know each other?”

Zhao Xing swallowed. “You don’t know? Commander Chen didn’t tell you? Qianqian is the one he had a blind date with before.”

“Oh, she’s the niece of the Regiment Commander,” Mingyue realized.

“Why are you just saying ‘oh’? They had a deep history. Stay away from her.”

Mingyue found it ridiculous. “Why should I stay away? It has nothing to do with me. It’s not my fault they didn’t end up together.”

“The instructor suggested we perform Tales from the Vienna Woods if you can play piano,” Zhao Xing said, moving to business. “If not, we can do Harvest Gongs and Drums.”

Mingyue was more familiar with the waltz than the 80s songs. “The waltz is fine, but that’s for couples. How will you dance it alone?”

“That’s why I wanted to ask… would you mind if I added a partner?” Zhao Xing asked cautiously.

Mingyue realized why Zhao Xing was acting less arrogant—she wanted to bring in someone who wasn’t from the compound. “As long as they don’t hold us back. This is for the compound’s honor.”

“He’s a great dancer,” Zhao Xing promised.

The rehearsal room had an old electric keyboard—an advanced instrument for the time. Zhao Xing took her there, still nervous. “If you can’t play, tell me now so we can pivot. Don’t embarrass yourself later.”

“It’s just a keyboard,” Mingyue said dismissively. She sat down and played a piece of foreign music with such flair that Zhao Xing’s disdain turned into pure admiration.

“Mingyue, you can actually play! Where did you learn?”

“At home. Never look down on others; sometimes I just like to keep a low profile,” Mingyue said cryptically, enjoying Zhao Xing’s shocked expression.

Soon, a handsome but silent young man named Wang Mo arrived. He was Zhao Xing’s partner. He was a professional, powerful dancer. While the Art Troupe usually did revolutionary dramas, the Waltz was a modern “breakthrough” for enthusiasts.

Wang Mo was excellent, but Zhao Xing struggled to keep up. She seemed shy around him; she clearly liked him.

They practiced until dusk. As they left the building, Mingyue spotted the young man from the river—Cheng Er. He was still wearing the same clothes; he had been waiting for her all afternoon.

He ran over. “Comrade, we meet again! I was worried you wouldn’t know the way back in the dark.”

Zhao Xing’s eyes lit up. “Mingyue, who is this?”

“A stranger,” Mingyue said.

He was a stranger, but his intentions were now unmistakable.