Guitarist and Shadowless Kick (5)
However, after asking their names and nationalities, and before they had finished discussing the content of the first lesson, Teacher Mei immediately asked everyone to practice it again. During the practice, she stopped several times and changed the positions of some students.
Zhao Shihua finally understood why she was able to join in even though she was half a month late: they had been learning the movements for the previous two weeks and only started rehearsing the formation changes today. After all, this wasn't a choir. If they just stood in four rows and performed slowly, the opening performance, which should have been exciting, would probably only make the audience drowsy.
To create more variety, Teacher Mei's idea was to break up the group Tai Chi practice into smaller parts, with students in the same row performing two moves simultaneously, moving from left to right like a relay. This created a sense of timing while also allowing students to freeze the key poses like a photograph. The final moves were then performed together, hinting that starting next semester, the entire school would join in the action.
So, placing a foreign friend in the last column was meant to reflect the spread of Chinese culture abroad? Zhao Shihua, using the same thinking as in a Chinese reading appreciation question, tried to guess Teacher Mei's intentions, but at the same time, he felt a little uneasy, not knowing where he would be assigned.
When everyone heard they only had to memorize two or three phrases, they immediately changed their tune, praising the teacher's creativity. Even Teacher Mei was embarrassed by their flattery. The atmosphere brightened, and the half-hour practice was over in a flash. It gets dark early in December. After dismissing the class, Teacher Mei called Zhao Shihua over and asked her how she felt.
"It's alright..."
"I've watched around, and your moves are the best. They're especially smooth. People who learned as children are truly different. How about you take charge of the opening? The beginning has to be pretty!"
"Get started?" Isn't it just raising two hands?
"Oh!" Teacher Mei seemed to hesitate as she lifted the speakers. "Then add the left and right wild horse manes."
"I can..."
"Don't think too much about it," Teacher Mei patted her shoulder, her white teeth showing in her smile. "Uncle Xiang has recommended it to me several times. It's settled!"
Zhao Shihua froze in place, only to follow after a moment—it was time to hone her ability to say "no," or she'd always be stuck in a dilemma. However, if her master and teacher hadn't joined forces to push her out, she probably wouldn't have gotten to play again. With mixed feelings, she headed to the cafeteria, only to realize halfway that her meal card was still in her schoolbag, which she'd left in the classroom.
She had no choice but to go back and on the way up the stairs she ran into some of the sports committee members she had just met, but because she had been keeping her head down, no one recognized her. When she reached the last landing, she ran into Shao Yifu as expected, and he was actually walking down the stairs with the foreign classmate.
"Hi," Zhao Shihua quickly changed the subject, remembering his international friends' strong desire to learn Chinese. "Hello."
"Hello!" The other person's eyes lit up, "Your name is 'Chao'——"
"Zhao, Zhao Shihua." Shao Yifu corrected on the side.
"Yes, yes, yes! Do you know?" Seeing that the other two looked confused, she pointed at Shao Yifu and Zhao Shihua.
"Yes, we are in the same class. Manon, I know you, not you."
At first, Zhao Shihua thought that Shao Yifu used some advanced English vocabulary. It was only after a long time that he realized that they were speaking French. Suddenly, he remembered that he had been abroad to gain experience, while he had never even seen what a passport looked like. Suddenly, he felt that Shao Yifu's image had become several inches taller.
"Her 'fetal energy' punch is so good."
Zhao Shihua was a little overwhelmed by the constant praise and waved her hands, saying "It's okay, it's okay." Shao Yifu, as cheeky as ever, responded as a matter of course, "Of course, she has been doing this since elementary school."
"Which elementary school?" the foreigner asked curiously. It seems that taking things out of context is a common mistake made by foreign language learners around the world.
Although she wasn't sure if the other person was flattering her out of international etiquette or simply a habit of flattery, Zhao Shihua felt elated, as if she'd been given a bag of colorful candies. Even her parents and teachers hadn't praised her to anyone before, yet this stranger, whom she'd only known for less than half an hour, was constantly praising her. After saying goodbye, even her steps upstairs became brisk, her previous anxieties swept away. It was just a simple move; she'd definitely be able to handle it!
However, she was too shy to ask too many questions directly at the time, so she resorted to inquiring about her from Shao Yifu the next day. Zhao Shihua only remembered her Chinese name as Li Meiyu, and that she was from Lyon, France. Later, she learned that her real name was Manon, and that she was a sophomore exchange student in the International Department, attending Yangzhong for a semester.
"Originally her name was Meiyu. I heard it as 'Meiyu' yesterday and was wondering who gave her that name." It has a hazy flavor of ancient poetry.
"At first I thought it was the 'Meiyu' in mermaid." Shao Yifu nodded in agreement.
"Li Meiyu is so famous, how come you haven't heard of her?" Zhu Miaoyan interjected as she passed by. "At the school sports meet, she broke two or three running records. We all said back then that it was no wonder Asians rarely won championships in running races."
"But aren't champions generally from Africa?" Zhou Xin retorted.
"Many of them are actually American citizens," Li Xuping corrected.
The discussion quickly escalated from Li Meiyu's personal life to the level of international politics. Zhao Shihua quietly returned to her seat, no longer participating. After all, she only wanted to understand Meiyu herself, not the entire group behind her. She had already suffered from these simplistic and straightforward equations: black people are necessarily athletic, martial artists are necessarily combatants, and so on. She didn't want to repeat them.
In the following rehearsals, Zhao Shihua would often go over to talk to her. On the one hand, he wanted to thank her for the compliment and to practice Chinese with her. On the other hand, he wanted to avoid being surrounded by curious boys and asked questions like in a press conference. However, what they cared about was not her struggle to become the first female sports committee member in the school, but which kind of martial arts in martial arts novels could truly make one invincible.
That's the Avada Kedavra curse, it's definitely going to kill the enemy in one move, Zhao Shihua muttered to himself.
Manon, who came from the hometown of the Little Prince, was closer to Harry Potter's hometown, but she was more interested in Chinese culture. She not only learned Chinese, but also practiced Tai Chi. She even thought Zhao Shihua was amazing just because she knew some Kung Fu - this made her feel a little incredible, and she even developed a sense of heroism in her heart that "all people in the world are brothers."
Brothers should enjoy a drink and eat meat together! So, after rehearsals on Saturday afternoons, Zhao Shihua specially invited Li Meiyu to the cafeteria for "weekend fried rice." Because the number of students on campus dropped dramatically over the weekend, the cafeteria had a special window open with a variety of side dishes, allowing students to mix and match their fried rice to their liking. Stir-frying over high heat created a flavorful and popular dish.
Li Meiyu was amazed by the variety of side dishes and told Zhao Shihua that in France there was a dish called "Cantonese fried rice." She had originally thought it was a fixed dish, but she had never expected there to be so many options. Now it was Zhao Shihua's turn to be surprised, because as a native Cantonese, she only knew of "Yangzhou fried rice" and had never heard of a specific "Cantonese fried rice."
Practicing together and meeting for meals, Zhao Shihua, seeing Li Meiyu's bright, warm smile across the table, suddenly recalled childhood memories of walking home with her friends after martial arts class. Her home was west of the training ground, and she always remembered returning home on weekends to a blazing orange-red sunset. After class, starving, she'd buy a grilled sausage from the corner store, slathering it with sweet and spicy sauce or a sprinkle of cumin. The group of children would eat as they walked, and when they were almost done, it was time to say goodbye to their last friend at the intersection. Before arriving home, they'd remember to wipe their mouths thoroughly to avoid being caught and scolded by their grandmother.
Zhao Shihua later told Li Meiyu about the story of how he had given up in junior high school. Li Meiyu sighed exaggeratedly and said righteously half in Chinese and half in English: This is your cultural characteristic, it would be a pity to throw it away.
So, was she, too, holding a treasure? Treasure buried in the earth, who knows if it will still shine when dug up again. With a few shovel strokes, she unearthed a nostalgic childhood filled with friends and companions. Then, glancing at the reactions of those around her, she hesitated for a moment before raising her shovel again, unearthing a bit of the fearlessness of those days.
As I was struggling back and forth, the end of the year was approaching.
With the frequency of discussing a new topic at every rehearsal, the fourth annual "Huashan Sword Contest" on the playground—the question of whether Tai Chi can be used in actual combat—hadn't yet been fully resolved, and the New Year's Eve party was already approaching. This year, the New Year's Eve holiday fell on a Friday, so the party was scheduled for Wednesday evening.
After their final rehearsal on Tuesday evening, they hurried to the auditorium to check out the venue. Teacher Mei's rental costumes had just arrived, and even if they didn't fit, there was no time to change them. Upon receiving them, Zhao Shihua noticed that hers was the only bright red; everyone else's was bright yellow. At first, she thought it was another gender-specific issue, but then she turned and saw Li Meiyu also holding a yellow martial arts uniform. She ran to ask the teacher.
"Oh..." Teacher Mei said in a long tone, with a hint of cunning hidden in her smile, "I originally ordered this set, and then you said you wanted it, so I gave it to you."
So, the leader was actually the teacher? Zhao Shihua couldn't help but feel cheated.
"Luckily, you and I are about the same height," Teacher Mei stretched out her hand to compare their heights. In fact, she was half a head taller. "...Just roll up the long parts."
But this bright red outfit, so festive it felt like Chinese New Year, would not only attract attention but also bring back unpleasant memories. Zhao Shihua tried not to let herself think about that; after all, the shoes she would be wearing would be her own, and she wouldn't have to relive the childhood nightmare of wearing a size too big.
When I tried them on back in the dorm, I realized they were still too long. I could roll up the trousers a few times to shorten them, but I couldn't roll up the sleeves. And if I left them down, they looked like I was imitating Jian Tingting's water sleeve dance. I finally managed to get by with a few pins from the next door dorm.
As for the loose waist, Zhao Shihua hesitated for a moment before finally moving all her clothes out and piling them onto the bed. From the farthest corner, she pulled out her wrinkled training belt. Its bright yellow hue perfectly complemented the bright red. She wrapped it around her waist twice and tied a knot. After so long, her knotting technique hadn't become rusty at all.
"Wow, this outfit is so cool! Just like in the movies." Xu Jiamei walked out of the bathroom. "What hairstyle are you planning to wear?"
"Ah?" She subconsciously smoothed her ponytail, "Just like now."
"How can that be?" Xu Jiamei hurriedly dried her hair, took out a rubber band from the drawer, and asked Zhao Shihua for a comb. She ordered her to sit still and immediately combed her hair into two buns. "How is it? Cute, right?"
Zhao Shihua looked at herself in the mirror, feeling she was still a long way from being cute. Instead, she looked like the chubby doll in the New Year pictures, looking festive. She repeatedly stroked her buns and said, "I feel a little too special..."
"No, no!" Xu Jiamei grabbed Zhao Shihua's hand as he tried to remove the rubber band. "Performing on stage is about attracting attention. You can't just mess around!"
Qiao Xiaoling, who had just finished washing clothes, also stepped forward to stop them and said she wanted to take a photo as a souvenir.
Zhao Shihua didn't know whether to laugh or cry: "I know, I know, but I can't go to evening self-study with this hairstyle."
After lights out at 10:30 pm, she lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. Her costumes lay piled beside her, the silk fabric smooth and cool to the touch. It was clearly real, but the unreality grew heavier, almost suffocating her.
Is tomorrow really the day for me? What kind of response will I get? A mix of polite compliments and casual jokes, I guess? What if I end up in middle school all over again? Is the risk really worth it?
His mind was filled with all sorts of questions, and the ball of wool in his head was getting more and more tangled. Zhao Shihua finally couldn't hold on any longer and fell into a daze. Even his dreams were filled with a chaotic and noisy scene:
She was dressed in red and flew down from an ancient city wall, only to find herself at Shaw Yi-fu's concert. She was actually a special guest and went on stage to perform boxing. She stomped her feet hard and cracked the stage floor, falling all the way into the abyss. Her junior high school classmates, whose faces she could not see clearly, were pointing at her and laughing, "Ms. Strong." She kept running and running, and when she reached an intersection, the traffic light flashed the four big words "I Don't Turn."
In her dream, she obeyed traffic rules and didn't dare turn. Several people were chasing her from behind, demanding compensation, but her legs were paralyzed, unable to move. Seeing the pursuers getting closer, she closed her eyes, threw out a punch, and used Xiaolongnu's martial arts, a white silk thread swinging out...
When I opened my eyes again, I was already in the busy backstage of reality.
Zhao Shihua had a hard time remembering how he spent the day. He couldn't even finish the last two big questions in the morning's math test, and he had a terrible time learning the reaction equations for aerobic and anaerobic respiration in biology class. He had no appetite for dinner and after casually stuffing himself with a barbecued pork bun and a raw meat bun, he couldn't eat any more, so he went to the auditorium to change clothes early.
The auditorium was bustling with students, some debugging equipment, others setting up backstage. Zhao Shihua, emerging from the restroom, bumped into Zhuo Siqi. Knowing he'd been drafted in to help out again, she quickly grabbed her deskmate and tried to talk to him, hoping to distract herself and ease her nerves.
I remember that after the Little Singer Competition, when the two of them were washing clothes together, Zhao Shihua asked her what specific part of the stage she was responsible for. The last time she saw her, she was busy running around backstage.
"It's just... controlling the switch." The rest of his words were drowned out by the sound of running water.
After that, since Zhuo Siqi showed up for self-study class as usual, plugging in earphones and concentrating on studying, as if the art festival was happening on another planet, Zhao Shihua forgot to continue asking her what the switch had to do with the party.
"It's the switch for the stage lights. Different lights are turned on to meet the requirements of different programs." Zhuo Siqi explained again as the two walked back side by side.
"Aren't you afraid of heights?" Zhao Shihua thought about the rows of headlights on the ceiling of the auditorium, which were at least ten meters above the ground.
"...Of course it's connected to the switch underneath with wires." Zhuo Siqi slowed down his pace, looked back, and asked her, "Shihua, are you too nervous?"
Zhao Shihua nodded hurriedly to hide the embarrassment of having learned all these years of physics in vain.
This kind of tension and panic, which caused his IQ to plummet, soared exponentially as the audience gradually sat down. Even his master and fellow apprentice had said they wanted to come and watch the performance a few days ago. When Zhao Shihua thought of this, he could hear his heart pounding.
It's just a few simple movements, I can do them with my eyes closed, no problem, no problem - Zhao Shihua repeatedly comforted himself. He almost didn't even hear what Teacher Mei said at the last moment when they gathered. He just lowered his head to check whether his shoelaces were tied tightly.
"Hey!" Suddenly someone called her in her ear, scaring her so much that her soul almost left her body.
Zhao Shihua took a long time to turn around, and when he saw that it was Shao Yifu, he got angry and punched him on the spot.
"It hurts! Why are you squeezing so hard?" He rubbed his upper arm. Because his clothes were a size too small, he looked particularly funny. "I called you two or three times, but you didn't hear me. Are you scared?"
She became more and more uneasy as she was asked, and forced herself to remain calm. She said "no, no", but she nodded slightly involuntarily.
"Are you saying yes or no..." Shao Yifu patted her shoulder gently, "Think about it, it's just exercise. You see, I lead the exercise every day, so even if I make a mistake, it's okay."
Zhao Shihua dug up a few scenes from her memory where Shao Yifu had misstepped or misremembered a move, and smiled weakly. If we were to compare thick-skinned people, she'd definitely rank last.
Suddenly, a passionate piece of music rang out overhead, the volume so loud it was almost deafening, and even the panic was temporarily suppressed. Teacher Mei urged them to quickly go on stage and take their respective seats. Zhao Shihua moved to the lower right corner of the stage, where a small cross had been taped with black tape as a mark. She paused, took a deep breath, and stared at the dark red curtain hanging from a height in front of her. Then the velvet shook, and a crack appeared in the middle, and yellow light came in. At the same time, a familiar male voice came from the loudspeaker:
"——Yangcheng Middle School's 31st New Year's Eve Gala begins now!"
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