Chapter 64 A Program That's a Hodgepodge
Finally, the performance began.
The program was indeed diverse. There were those who sang excerpts from model operas in a serious manner, although their singing skills varied, their costumes were quite convincing; there was a song and dance performance of "The Glory of Chairman Mao"; there were also those who performed clapper talk and played the harmonica... The applause and cheers from the audience were constant.
With each program they appeared on, the hearts of the livestock company members tightened. Their textbook-based drama seemed particularly out of place and petty compared to these professional programs.
Finally, the announcer read out: "The next program is an excerpt from the revolutionary modern Peking opera adapted from the textbook play 'The Red Lantern,' titled 'Telling a Heartfelt Story of Revolutionary History' and 'Everyone Has a Bright Red Heart.' Performed by: Animal Husbandry Company."
Sparse applause rang out from the audience, but more than anything, there was a curious gaze and a quiet anticipation of a good show.
The curtain rose. There was no scenery on the stage, only two tables and a chair borrowed from the troupe headquarters.
The actors from the livestock company stood on the empty stage, while the audience below, all bundled up, watched these people who seemed unfazed by the cold with curiosity and a touch of scrutiny.
The silence before the start was broken by a sneer from the Eighth Company area: "What's going on? Going up to tell a story? Not even changing your clothes?" Several people from the Eighth Company chuckled along.
On the judges' panel, the serious-looking old judge frowned and scribbled something in his notebook, clearly extremely dissatisfied with this incongruous format.
The children on stage were trembling with fear. Looking at the sea of faces below, Sister Wang's mind went blank; her legs felt like they were cramping, and the first word stuck in her throat, impossible to utter.
Shu Ran stood by the side of the curtain, more nervous than ever, her palms soaked with sweat as she clutched the script. Adapting a model opera into a textbook play—to people at the time, this might have seemed like utter nonsense.
Just as an awkward silence was about to break out, Sister Wang was so enraged by the sneer and the biting cold that a surge of anger welled up inside her.
She took a sudden step forward, not with the stride of a Peking Opera performer, but with the posture of someone arguing with someone in real life, and facing the audience, she roared out the first line in her loud voice, without any regard for anything else—not singing, but a real, heartfelt recitation, dripping with blood and tears:
"—Seventeen years! Through wind and rain, I dare not mention the past!!"
These simple words abruptly silenced all the snickers. The audience was stunned, and the judges were also taken aback. This wasn't a theatrical performance; it sounded like a real old woman making a complaint.
Sister Wang was completely desperate. Tears streamed down her face as she pointed into the void: "What am I afraid of? I'm afraid that if you knew, my heart wouldn't be able to bear it! My will would crumble! Several times the words were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back!! It was them! They're the ones who took your father away! It was your father... who was killed by them—!!"
That cry of "Oh no!" was choked with sobs and despair, without any formulaic performance; it was the most primal grief.
Many of the Corps workers in the audience who had experienced life and death were instantly struck by the experience, instinctively clenching their fists and their eyes reddening.
Sister Wang seemed to be pouring out a heavy past with all her might. The audience gradually quieted down.
Even the serious old judge paused for a moment while taking notes.
Next, Shi Tou, playing Li Yuhe, was moved by the genuine emotions and cried out passionately, "Mother! Tell me! I'm not afraid! I'm not afraid of anything!"
Li Xiulan, playing Li Tiemei, entered the stage. She carried a red lantern made from a glass medicine bottle, her fingers trembling with nervousness, but her voice sounded like she was swearing:
"Listen to Grandma, tell me about the revolution, how heroic and tragic! But it turns out I was born in the wind and grew up in the rain!" "Grandma, don't worry! I, Tie Mei, will definitely keep it safe!"
She didn't sing, but instead read out the lines clearly, word by word, in a tone close to recitation.
When she and the "neighbors" played by Chuncao, Xiaoya and others recited "I have countless uncles... Although we are relatives, we don't recognize each other, but they are closer than relatives," some people in the audience even hummed the familiar melody softly, even though the people on stage were just reciting it.
There was no singing, no fancy movements, only incredibly sincere storytelling.
The audience was eerily silent, a state of complete bewilderment and speechlessness.
Shuanzhu shouted unusually loudly, "Sharpening scissors and knives!"
When Adil and another child, dressed as Japanese soldiers, stormed onto the stage and "captured" Li Yuhe, their wild energy as children from the pastoral area drew gasps from the children in the audience.
Finally, Li Tiemei held up a red lantern, and all the "neighbors" and "revolutionary comrades" gathered around. As Li Xiulan recited with a trembling but unwavering voice, "We will not leave the battlefield until all the wolves are defeated!" the curtain slowly closed.
The program has ended.
On stage, the actors remained in their final poses, panting, watching the audience nervously.
The audience was completely silent.
A deathly silence fell backstage. The men of the Eighth Company wore expressions of disbelief. Zhou Qiaozhen whispered to her comrade, "What is this nonsense? Just yelling and that's it? It's embarrassing!"
The silence lasted for about two or three seconds, but to the people on and off the stage, it felt like an eternity.
The silence was more terrifying than any booing. Shu Ran's palms were sweaty as she sat in the wings. Had they failed? The audience was even stingy with their reactions? The faces on the judges' panel were all tense…
The backstage staff called them offstage. The actors all went backstage, put on their cold cotton-padded coats, shivering, their emotions a jumble, unsure whether what they had just experienced was a success or a failure.
Shu Ran's hands and feet were ice-cold. All she knew was that they had done something unprecedented. Would the judges and the audience accept it? She had absolutely no idea.
At the front of the stage, the announcer announced the start of the Eighth Company's dazzling performance of an excerpt from "Taking Tiger Mountain by Strategy." The pronunciation was clear and precise, the costumes were elegant, and the movements were precise. As the music began, it seemed to instantly pull everyone back onto the track of a "formal" performance.
Backstage, the person in charge came over to the livestock company and said, "Comrades, you can go back to the guesthouse to rest and wait for further notice." His tone was flat, revealing no emotion.
These words sounded like a final verdict. Everyone packed their things dejectedly, preparing to leave silently. The shadow of failure loomed over everyone.
Just as they were about to leave the backstage area, a commotion suddenly arose from the direction of the judges' panel.
Suddenly, the old judge, who had been looking serious the whole time, stood up and asked during the break between the Eighth Company's performance and their exit: "Is the person in charge of that Livestock Company's program... that program that wasn't really a program, still here?"
Everyone was stunned, and all eyes were on them.
Shu Ran's heart pounded. She took a deep breath and stepped forward: "Commander, I am Shu Ran, the teacher in charge of the team."
The old judge stared sharply at her, then swept his gaze over the actors behind her, who were wearing bulky cotton-padded coats, shivering from the cold, and whose faces still showed signs of excitement. He asked urgently, "Who taught you to do this? What is this? It's neither opera singing nor recitation!"
Shu Ran answered nervously but clearly: "Reporting to the leader, no one taught us. We figured it out ourselves. Our conditions are poor, no one can sing Peking Opera, and the women and children don't know many characters. But we think the stories and spirit of the model operas are good, so we want to tell the stories and keep the spirit in our hearts in a way that we can understand and do. This is not a performance, but a way for us to learn the revolutionary spirit."
The old judge stared at her, then looked at Sister Wang and Li Xiulan, and suddenly slammed his hand on the table, startling everyone.
"Excellent! What a wonderful way to learn!" The old judge's voice trembled with excitement. "I've spent my whole life in propaganda, and today you've taught me a lesson! I never knew revolutionary art could be done like this! Yes! That's it! Let the story touch people's hearts! It's a hundred times better than just singing a few lines!"
He turned to the other judges and the entire audience, and said loudly, "Comrades! Have we sometimes forgotten why we do all this? It's to help the people understand, remember, and be educated! The comrades from the livestock company have the worst conditions, but they used their brains and their hearts! They weren't acting; they were using their own way to tell us how much Grandma Li's family hates, loves, and is determined! This kind of power is stronger than any fancy show!"
His impromptu speech, filled with emotion, resonated strongly with many ordinary workers in the audience. Most of them were also ordinary people with limited education, and the Livestock Company's simple storytelling style struck a chord with them even more directly.
"The commander is right!" "I understand! I've taken it all in!" "It's much better than singing that I can't understand!"
A chorus of approval erupted from the audience. The other judges nodded and whispered among themselves, clearly moved by the old man's words and the villagers' reactions.
The situation began to reverse.
During the scoring process, although some judges still gave low scores on the grounds that it "did not meet the norms of artistic performance," the old leader and several other judges who were moved gave very high evaluation scores.
Ultimately, the livestock company's eclectic performance, thanks to the strong resonance it evoked through its sincere emotions and innovative format, narrowly defeated the eighth company's performance, earning the highest praise and qualification for the division's performance.
When the results were announced, there was silence backstage, followed by cheers!
Shu Ran saw several veteran judges applauding enthusiastically, their expressions still serious, but their eyes showing approval. Officer Yang Zhenhua smiled and gave her a thumbs-up.
Zhou Qiaozhen and the people from the Eighth Company stood at the backstage entrance, their faces ashen, and stormed off in anger.
On the truck ride back, although the cold wind was still biting, the truck bed felt like it was burning with warmth. Everyone huddled together, sharing the joy brought by the award certificate.
"Teacher Shu! The division headquarters! We're really going to the division headquarters!" the children screamed excitedly, their voices trembling from the cold.
"I have to write to my mother right away!" Li Xiulan was so excited that she couldn't speak coherently.
Sister Wang touched the certificate, her hands still trembling, but her face shone with an unprecedented radiance: "It was worth it! Even if my ears froze off, it would have been worth it!"
Shu Ran wiped away her tears of laughter and said loudly, "Yes! Let's go to the division headquarters! We're going to perform this play at the division headquarters!"
By the time the truck returned to the livestock company, it was already pitch black, and the snowstorm seemed to have intensified. However, the entrance to the company headquarters was brightly lit with torches.
The news had already spread, and the entire company, bundled in thick cotton-padded coats, trudged out through the snow.
Company Commander Ma and Secretary Liu stood at the front, their faces flushed red by the firelight.
"The hero is back!!" The cheers were deafening in the cold.
The steaming hot mutton soup was a rare treat for them, and the aroma filled the canteen, dispelling the chill from everyone's bodies.
Surrounded by the crowd, Shu Ran smiled as she accepted everyone's congratulations, but a more practical and urgent thought was brewing deep in her heart.
The excitement and sense of honor were real, but she knew very well that these things couldn't put food on the table.
Once everyone had calmed down a bit and started enjoying the rare bowl of mutton soup, Shu Ran took her bowl and walked up to Company Commander Ma and Secretary Liu.
“Company Commander, Party Secretary,” her voice was still a little hoarse, “the success we’ve achieved this time is all thanks to the support of the company and the hard work of our comrades. Especially the children and the sisters in the literacy class, they really gave it their all.”
Company Commander Ma was delighted and waved his hand, "Yes! You've all done a great job! I'll give you all a commendation!"
Shu Ran smiled, then changed the subject: "I don't deserve any credit. It's just that seeing everyone's enthusiasm made me think that if our usual conditions were just a little better, everyone could have done even better. Look at this time, we even won an award for our program and are going to the division headquarters. We've certainly gained face. But what about the substance?"
She paused for a moment, looking at the expressions of the two leaders, "I don't ask for much else, I just thought... you see, we've brought honor to the company this time, could you perhaps resolve these most practical issues a little? For example, could you allocate some stationery or other teaching aids to us, so that the children and the sisters in the literacy class can have more motivation to study and bring even greater honor to the company in the future?"
Company Commander Ma and Secretary Liu exchanged a glance. They were in high spirits, and Shu Ran's words were all reasonable; she had just performed a great service, so it was difficult to refuse this request. Moreover, improving teaching conditions would also be a political achievement for them.
Secretary Liu pondered for a moment, then nodded: "Teacher Shu's consideration is very thoughtful. You've all worked very hard this time, and it proves the significance of education. So, Lao Ma, what do you think..."
Company Commander Ma was decisive. He shouted into the canteen, "Accountant Shi! Tomorrow, check if there's any leftover tar paper and wood scraps in the warehouse. Take inventory and prioritize the school's needs! Also, submit a report and get the school a special allocation of a box of chalk! Damn it, our livestock company's kids can't be so poor they can't even afford chalk!"
"Yes, sir!" Accountant Shi replied quickly.
Shu Ran felt a weight lifted from her heart and said with a smile, "Thank you, Company Commander! Thank you, Secretary! On behalf of the children, thank you!"
This is one of the core purposes behind her painstaking efforts in creating this textbook drama.
Chen Yuanjiang stood on the periphery of the crowd, watching how Shu Ran skillfully pressed her advantage, how precisely she made her demands and obtained promises. Perhaps a hint of understanding or even admiration flashed in his eyes.
His lips curled into a fleeting smile, then returned to their cold, hard form as he turned and disappeared into the snowstorm. He still carried a small bottle of badger oil in his pocket, intended for treating frostbite.
*
For several days in a row, Shu Ran and her fellow actors became the talk of the town in the company. When getting food in the canteen, the chubby cook, for the first time ever, ladled an extra half spoonful of oily minced meat into their bowls; as they walked, employees and their families, both acquaintances and strangers, greeted them with smiles and gave them a thumbs up: "Well done! You've made our livestock company proud!"
The children became idols among their peers, surrounded by people who asked them to recount their experiences at the regiment headquarters and on stage again and again.
Even Zhao Weidong, who usually only cared about production targets, managed to squeeze out a rare, almost smiling expression on his serious face when he met Shu Ran, and said dryly, "Hmm, not bad. It didn't interfere with business, it's...not bad."
Secretary Liu and Company Commander Ma were overjoyed. At the company meeting, they repeatedly praised Shu Ran and the family members of the staff who participated in the performance, and decided to allocate some limited funds to support them in preparing for their trip to the division headquarters, although it was only symbolic.
However, the recognition that surprised Shu Ran the most came from the pastoral area.
One sunny afternoon, the sunlight shone brightly on the snow, reflecting a dazzling light. The children were reading aloud in the classroom, with Shu Ran providing guidance. Suddenly, the sound of horses' hooves and footsteps came from outside the classroom.
Shu Ran looked up and saw Old Aken wearing a heavy leather coat, holding a long, cloth-wrapped object in his arms, standing quietly at the door, his expression gentler than ever before.
Behind him followed Turdi and several curious children from the pastoral area.
The sound of reading aloud in the classroom gradually subsided, and the children looked curiously at this unusual elder.
Shu Ran hurriedly went out to greet him: "Old Aken, what brings you here? Please come in."
Old Akhen waved his hand, not going inside, but standing in the sunlight at the doorway. He untied his cloth bundle, revealing a dombra with a neck worn smooth and shiny.
He didn't say much, but simply sat cross-legged on the dry ground at the classroom door, held the dombra in his arms, and gently plucked the strings.
A desolate and melodious tune flowed out, different from the passionate and exciting model operas, and different from the crisp recitation of children. It was an ancient ballad from the depths of the grassland, carrying the scent of wind and sand and the resilience of life.
He began to chant softly in the local language.
People inside and outside the classroom listened quietly. Although most of them couldn't understand the lyrics, the emotions in the melody touched their hearts.
Adil quietly translated fragmented phrases into Chinese for the pillar and stone beside him:
"...The eagle...flies high...because its eyes...can see very far..." "...The foal...to grow up...cannot do without...lush pastures..." "...Boys...and girls...their clever minds...need...the nourishment of knowledge..."
Shu Ran listened quietly, watching Old Akhen's focused and devout expression. She understood that this was not ordinary entertainment; it was an elder expressing his approval and blessings in his own way.
As the song ended, Old Aken looked up at Shu Ran and said, "Teacher Shu, I've heard about the performance you went to. Everyone else was dressed like clouds in the sky. You were dressed like dirt on the ground."
He paused, then tapped his heart with his finger. "But the real model is here. What you did wasn't to bring the play onto the stage. You brought the light here."
He tapped his chest hard again.
"Thank you, old Akon. Your song is more precious than any reward."
Old Aken smiled faintly. Shu Ran seized the opportunity to invite him, "Old Aken, when I visit you in the future, could you tell me stories about the grasslands and teach me to sing these ancient songs? I want to teach them to the children; it's very valuable knowledge."
Old Akhen pondered for a moment, looked at the Han and ethnic minority children in the classroom with their curious eyes, and nodded: "Good. Stories and songs are also fertilizer for the grassland."
The fervor surrounding the regimental performance gradually subsided, and the news of performing at the divisional level was confirmed, to be held next spring after the roads were clear and the weather warmed up. This meant a rare period of buffer and preparation.
Shu Ran's life revolved around her daily teaching and literacy work. However, the continuous fatigue and the serious illness eventually took their toll on her body. As the weather grew colder, her old cough would recur, and her face always looked pale.
Chen Yuanjiang's military overcoat has still not been returned.
That evening, after the students had all left school, Shu Ran was still in the classroom grading homework by the light of a kerosene lamp when she couldn't help but cover her mouth and cough violently again.
She was about to pour herself some hot water when she caught sight of the military overcoat hanging in the corner. After hesitating for a moment, she went over to take it down and wrapped it around herself.
Just then, the classroom door was pushed open, and a blast of cold air swept in. Chen Yuanjiang stood in the doorway, his gaze immediately falling on Shu Ran, or rather, on the military overcoat that wrapped her up tightly.
Shu Ran's face flushed slightly, and she subconsciously tried to take it off: "Officer Chen... you've come at the right time. I've washed the coat and have been saying I'd return it to you..."
Chen Yuanjiang's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, his brows furrowing. He didn't take the coat she offered, but instead stepped inside, his voice still flat and cold: "Wear it."
Shu Ran understood that he meant she shouldn't return it. Shu Ran's outstretched hand froze in mid-air, unsure whether to take it off or put it on. Her mind raced: This coat was indeed warm, but it was freezing cold, and she wasn't fully recovered from her illness. If she insisted on returning it, and she really fell ill, missing teaching would be a minor matter, but losing the opportunity to perform at the division headquarters would be a much bigger loss.
Chen Yuanjiang walked to the podium, his gaze sweeping over the mountain of workbooks and the open literacy textbook on the table. The subtle reproach in his tone became more pronounced, "You're not fully recovered from your illness, and you're already wasting your life on these things?"
Shu Ran pulled her coat tighter around herself and argued, "The literacy classes have just started to show promise, we can't stop..."
“Nobody’s telling you to stop,” Chen Yuanjiang interrupted her, pointing at the textbooks with his finger. “If you’re quick-witted, you’ll find more solutions. Do you really have to do everything yourself?”
He paused for a moment, then said, "Wang Guilan is now in charge of the family team, and Li Xiulan has become much more composed. You trained them both, they know the most characters, and they are very enthusiastic. Let them take the lead and guide the women in reviewing and consolidating their knowledge, and learning new characters. Once you've recovered, you can teach them more advanced topics."
Upon hearing this, Shu Ran weighed her options: the literacy class was something she had built from scratch, and it was an important asset for her to gain a foothold and recognition. If she insisted on continuing, she might really fall ill again, and that would be a complete loss.
Moreover, Chen Yuanjiang's words reminded her that she might take this opportunity to see Sister Wang and Li Xiulan's independent work ability. If they could take on the responsibility, she could free up her hands and focus more on planning the important event of performing at the division headquarters—that would bring greater reputation and potential benefits.
Just then, Xu Junjun arrived, panting, carrying her medicine kit. Someone had clearly called her. She immediately became angry upon seeing Shu Ran's condition: "Shu Ran! Why are you disobeying me again! You dare to stay up like this before your cough is fully healed? The literacy class won't collapse without you these next few days! Sister Wang and Xiulan might be able to work now, so let them lead the class for now, consider it a test of the initial teaching results! This is an order, I'm the medic, you have to listen to me!"
Looking at the cold-faced special envoy and the medic with his hands on his hips, Shu Ran finally stopped insisting. She knew they were right. She really needed rest, and Sister Wang and Li Xiulan really needed opportunities to stand on their own and grow.
"Alright..." Shu Ran stopped insisting and tried to take off her coat again: "Then this coat..."
"I told you to wear it!" Chen Yuanjiang's tone became stern. He glanced out the window, "We'll talk about it when the weather gets warmer." After saying that, he didn't give her a chance to argue and strode out.
Xu Junjun made a face at his back, then shoved a packet of Chinese medicine into Shu Ran's hand without saying a word: "Did you hear that? The special envoy has spoken! Now, take your medicine and go back to rest! This coat... humph, at least he still has some conscience."
Shu Ran was ultimately unable to return the coat; instead, Xu Junjun forced her to return to her dugout to rest.
Shu Ran found Sister Wang and Li Xiulan and explained the situation. Sister Wang patted her chest and said, "Teacher Shu, don't worry! I'll teach everyone exactly the way you teach! I guarantee I won't let anyone down!"
Li Xiulan nodded vigorously: "Teacher Shu, please take good care of yourself. We can handle it! If there's anything you don't understand, we'll write it down and ask you when you're better."
Therefore, the daily work of the literacy class was temporarily handed over to Sister Wang and Li Xiulan. Shu Ran focused her main energy on the children at the school, while also starting to slowly organize and improve the script of the textbook play that she was going to take to the teachers' headquarters, thinking about how to do it better.
As the weather grew colder and heavy snow blocked the roads, the company entered a relatively quiet state.
Shu Ran finally had the opportunity to slow down, recuperate while observing the people and events on this land.
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