Chapter 902

"Didn't you hear Liu Feng say? They sat on the bus for two days and two nights—what kind of smells weren't on that bus? Smokers, stinky feet. Maybe her sweat glands are especially developed, she sweats a lot, and just now she got soaked in that heavy rain—so of course it went sour. Is your awareness really this low? You're mocking a new comrade over something this trivial?"

Wang Yan gave He He Xiaoping a direct diagnosis then—no serious issues. Her sweat glands being overactive was one factor; she was also somewhat weak from malnutrition.

It's normal. After all, material conditions today aren't rich—half of China still goes hungry. He He Xiaoping wasn't favored at home; her circumstances were already mediocre, and just having food to eat was already lucky.

But to be fair, her mother and stepfather certainly weren't that cruel to her. At least she grew up safely and even made it into Jingcheng's art troupe. Put bluntly, you can't dance hungry. This is physical labor—no matter how talented or artistic you are, stretching limbs still consumes energy. If their family had truly treated her so harshly, she never would've made it out.

There was indeed some odor, but not nearly as bad as people made it out to be—just a faint sourness from sweat. Compared to gym locker rooms, dance students' shoes were still far worse.

Others weren't any less sour or smelly—maybe even worse. If they really were that foul, He He Xiaoping couldn't have stayed in that dorm. They were just using this as an excuse to ostracize her. Like school bullying: the bully picks on whoever they dislike, beats them, insults them. Even if He He Xiaoping smelled fine, they'd make her smell bad.

Hao Li Shuwen naturally had a temper. Though she did mock He He Xiaoping, how could Wang Yan speak to her like that? She was, of course, upset.

"You're so boring—why do you always escalate everything? So now we can't even say something's sour?" Hao Li Shuwen glared at Wang Yan with wide eyes.

"It's you who's boring. You should learn from Comrade Liu Feng. Though our cultural troupe isn't a combat unit, we're still comrades. This young comrade's family background is clearly poor—not like yours. She's young, still trying to prove herself. You don't help her, and you mock her—is that appropriate?"

"What do you mean, 'yours'? What's wrong with 'yours'?"

Wang Yan turned his head, looking at the displeased Hao Li Shuwen, and smiled faintly: "Just like now."

"You…"

Just as Hao Li Shuwen was about to speak, He He Xiaoping, spinning and kicking her legs, suddenly collapsed right in front of Liu Feng.

"Oh no, are you okay?" Team Leader Su Huilan rushed over. "Wang Yan, come take a look."

"No big deal. Just exhausted from the bus ride, didn't rest well. I suspect her blood sugar's still low. Two good sleeps, a few full meals, and she'll recover with proper nutrition."

Wang Yan didn't move, smiling as he explained.

"No big deal—I can still do backflips!" He He Xiaoping pushed herself up and replied.

"Stop showing off," Su Huilan shook her head, giving He He Xiaoping a light tap on the head. "I watched your basic skills just now—good, no regression. I'm giving you two days off. Rest properly."

He He Xiaoping hurriedly said: "No need, Team Leader, I'm fine."

"Rest when I tell you to. Don't worry—nothing will be affected, your allowance will still be paid. Only when you're well-rested can you dance well and fulfill our cultural troupe's duties."

Liu Feng, ever thoughtful, voiced He He Xiaoping's concern—the cultural troupe's benefits were quite good.

In fact, currently, the military offered the best benefits and the safest conditions. Within the military, the cultural troupe's benefits were top-tier. Of course, for Hao Li Shuwen and others, it wasn't about benefits—they wanted safety. After all, if they didn't join the military, they'd be sent to the countryside. Their parents mostly had military connections, and these people still had some influence, which is how they ended up in the cultural troupe.

Even if they had no influence, most were still clerical staff, not frontline troops. But a significant number did go to frontline units—those were the brave ones. Many died in the coming war, truly defending their homeland. Compared to this group in the cultural troupe, the difference was clear.

Liu Feng wasn't a dull man—otherwise he wouldn't have guessed He He Xiaoping's concerns, nor would his speech have been so natural. He was just kind. He was a good man. He didn't mind small, effortless acts of giving.

Hearing Liu Feng's words, Su Huilan caught the key point and nodded knowingly. She then called over Xiao Xiao Suizi: "Xiao Xiao Suizi, take He He Xiaoping to logistics to get bedding and such."

"Yes, Team Leader," Xiao Xiao Suizi replied.

He He Xiaoping lowered her head, thanked Hao Li Shuwen, put on her clothes, and followed Xiao Xiao Suizi away step by step. She had seen Hao Li Shuwen's gesture—but what could she say?

Team Leader dismissed the group, told everyone to rest and practice on their own, then left. The courtyard was left with a group of pretty girls and a band of musicians. All young, same social circles—once dismissed, they naturally formed small groups, boys and girls laughing and chatting.

Since they were all young, most had no partners, and their social circles were limited, their romantic targets naturally clustered here, mutually drawn.

Lin Lin Dingding was the most popular—several men clustered around her. Lin Lin Dingding was a genuine tea, a true master of fishing. She could fairly give other comrades the illusion that she had some fondness for them.

Especially since Lin Lin Dingding herself wasn't bad—could sing, could dance, and was beautiful. To these young, hormonally charged boys, it was deadly.

Wang Yan noticed Liu Feng's gaze held a hint of displeasure when he looked over. His affection for Lin Lin Dingding hadn't formed overnight.

Later, when Liu Feng hugged Lin Lin Dingding, he may have been too eager. He was then giving a massage to Ma Chaoqun, who was about to get married. Liu Feng himself was no longer young, and naturally had thoughts of starting a family. With only Lin Lin Dingding and him alone, he seized the moment. Hugging her was just impulse.

As Hao Li Shuwen said, Wu Ganshi and Dr. Zhang had hugged her too—so this wasn't a secret. Among so few people, true secrecy was impossible. Others might not know, but Liu Feng probably did. He just happened to be caught in the act, and Lin Lin Dingding, eager to distance herself, successfully got him expelled.

Watching Liu Feng loudly call people over, handing out letters from home and some food and supplies he'd brought back, Wang Yan didn't linger. He slipped his hands into his pockets and strolled away slowly.

"Wang Yan, don't leave—explain to me clearly, what exactly is wrong with me?" Hao Li Shuwen, unwilling to let go, grabbed Wang Yan's arm and followed, annoyed.

"Stop pulling and tugging—what does that look like? Look at what the comrades are staring at!"

Hearing Wang Yan's words, Hao Li Shuwen glanced around—everyone was indeed watching them. She quickly let go, but had no intention of letting him off. She muttered, "What's so interesting?" and followed him out.

"Wang Yan, stop. Today you must explain clearly."

"Your confidence comes from your father. The merit is his, not yours. Don't claim his merit as your own—it has nothing to do with you. Of course, privileges for children of meritorious cadres are justified, but you can't treat them as entitlements. Looking down on He He Xiaoping—what do you think you're basing that on? When I said 'yours,' I meant it clearly enough?"

"I was just joking. He He Xiaoping didn't even say anything—why are you making such a big deal? And what does this have to do with my dad? Can't you stop escalating everything? Are you even interested in that little girl? Are you defending her over something this small?"

"I'm just speaking fairly—is that 'interested'? Soon you'll hear others say you and I are involved, and that you're interested in me." Wang Yan shook his head. "You have your own logic—do you even listen to me? Enough. Don't follow me, or it'll really get messy."

"Hmph, I wouldn't even bother with you. I'd have to be blind to like someone like you." Hao Li Shuwen shot him a furious glare and turned away.

She was from Jingcheng, a spoiled person, with a touch of that so-called "sassy beauty" vibe—Feng Feng Kuzi liked that type, and eventually she ended up with Chen Can. Her most shining moment was later, in Hainan, when Liu Feng went to the city management to reclaim his tricycle and got beaten up. Hao Li Shuwen saw it and yelled, "Cao ni ma de." Then she paid for his tricycle, retrieved it, teased him a bit—and that was the end.

Wang Yan smiled faintly and kept walking.

Since gaining the favor of his living father and experiencing more, he'd become less inclined to reason with others. Because reason rarely works—most people are stubborn about their own views, convinced their logic is right. No matter how much you say, they have their own thoughts and won't listen.

You see this constantly in daily life: two strangers arguing, each spouting their own logic, each shouting louder. Like driving: if you're cut off and hit, the front driver blames the rear driver for not yielding—even feels justified. That's their logic—whatever benefits them is their truth.

Trying to make them recognize their error, understand universal, accepted "truth," is utterly impossible.

Of course, even before gaining his father's favor, Wang Yan knew this—he just couldn't control his emotions. When others shouted, he shouted too. He always wanted them to see right from wrong—but he'd never succeeded.

Later, Wang Yan still reasoned—but not to make them understand reason. He reasoned to make them afraid to act. In other words: deterrence, intimidation. If they wouldn't listen, he'd punish them harshly. His logic suddenly worked—those who heard him suddenly tried to understand.

Hao Li Shuwen was the same. Her personality and cognition were already formed, with her own views—why would she listen to Wang Yan's nonsense? Even though she admitted he was right, she wouldn't admit her own arrogance. She'd say: this is just my nature, nothing to do with my parents.

How could reason ever reach such a mindset?

Still, Wang Yan said more. He couldn't really slap these people around. The military was disciplined—even the cultural troupe was. Besides, Hao Li Shuwen was a female comrade.

As for men, it depended. Beating someone without cause was wrong—it depended on who was being unreasonable.

Wang Yan didn't go far—just to the back of the building.

This side was the shaded rear, with a fence behind. Though it was shaded and usually deserted, it wasn't dirty or messy—kept just as clean as anywhere else.

Several male comrades were already gathered here, cigarettes dangling from their lips or pinched between fingers, chatting half-heartedly. This was the officially recognized smoking spot—along with dorms and toilets.

After all, this was the military—discipline mattered. You couldn't just stroll around with a cigarette dangling, let alone parade down the street outside the cultural troupe with one. That would ruin the soldier's image—terrible.

Of course, military reforms hadn't happened yet—many later rules didn't exist. And this was the cultural troupe, even looser, with worse discipline. Even so, no one dared be truly disorganized or undisciplined. Even if some things here already felt outdated, it didn't mean anything went.

From his pocket he pulled out a pack of Da Da Qianmen—three fen and five li per pack, nothing special here. He even saw someone smoking Huazi—seven fen a pack. Real moneybags.

"Wang Yan, take one of mine. Zhonghua. I spent a fortune buying these. You should try one too."

"No need, they're all the same." Wang Yan shook his head to politely decline, then put one in his mouth and started smoking.

The speaker was Chen Can, the trumpet player Xiao Xiao Suizi liked. This fellow was relatively low-key; few people knew his father was the second-in-command of the military region here. It was only later, when the song-and-dance troupe was about to disband, that his identity was exposed, after which he became a well-matched pair with Hao Li Shuwen, leaving poor Xiao Xiao Suizi to tear up her love letter through tears.

"Hey, Wang Yan, what's the deal with that newcomer? I saw you two coming back together. Do you know him?"

The speaker was Zhu Ke, the very performer who had despised the strong odor on He Xiao Ping and refused to partner with her for dancing.

Wang Yan explained, "Wasn't I out wandering? On my way back, I happened to run into the heavy rain earlier, so I took shelter over at the supply and marketing cooperative across the street. I just happened to encounter Liu Feng leading He Xiao Ping, who were also taking shelter from the rain there, so we got acquainted a bit earlier. What's up?"

"Nothing, I just asked casually. Isn't it natural to be curious when a new comrade arrives?" There was a hint of contempt in Zhu Ke's words.

As far as Wang Yan knew, Zhu Ke's family conditions were also quite good; he was from Jingcheng and came from a cadre family. Without some backing, he wouldn't have dared in the original story to ostracize He Xiao Ping by refusing to dance with her, thereby clashing with the squad leader. After all, before being an artist, the squad leader was first and foremost an official, and a direct manager at that.

He Xiao Ping's attire was not very decent; it was all old clothing. Of course, not many people wore new clothes at that time, but even so, people's clothes were always clean and tidy. He Xiao Ping's were not; some stains simply could not be washed out, making her look undignified. Furthermore, He Xiao Ping's shrinking demeanor and her cowardice in daring not to meet others' gaze made people look down on her even more.

But there was no help for it. People say one should be confident, but how easy is that really? Among the vast world, how many people possess strong confidence relying solely on themselves without any support? Those who are aggressively poor don't count; that isn't because they are confident, but because they are scoundrels. When they encounter someone truly strong, they wail and cry faster than anyone else.

Regarding Zhu Ke's attitude, Wang Yan made no response, offering only a faint smile...

Meanwhile, on the other side, He Xiao Ping followed Xiao Xiao Suizi to the logistics department to collect bedding, basins, soap, and other daily necessities. Just as Wang Yan had told He Xiao Ping in advance, they said there were no summer uniforms left, measured He Xiao Ping for her size, and then sent the two of them away.

Watching Xiao Xiao Suizi walking ahead to help carry the items, He Xiao Ping finally recalled Wang Yan's words. Through their brief contact, she felt Xiao Xiao Suizi was quite nice; she had spoken to her so much and seemed very kind.

After holding back for a long while, she finally opened her mouth: "Comrade Xiao Xiao Suizi..."

"We are all comrades-in-arms, and I'm only two years older than you. Just call me Xiao Suizi; everyone calls me that." Xiao Xiao Suizi asked, "What is it?"

"I want to wear a military uniform to take a photo and send it home. Could I..."

"Borrow my uniform to wear? Sure, no problem at all. The photo studio is just not far opposite our song-and-dance troupe. Do you want me to take you there?"

"No need, no need, I saw it when I arrived. Thank you, Xiao Suizi. Don't worry, I will handle your uniform with great care, guaranteeing I won't get it dirty. As soon as I return, I'll wash it for you."

He Xiao Ping remembered Hao Li Shuwen's earlier disdain; how could she possibly forget?

"Hey, it's just wearing it once, why bother washing it again? But the smell on you is really quite strong. Did you get stifled on the bus? Go wash up quickly in a bit."

"I naturally sweat a lot, plus being on the bus..." He Xiao Ping explained roughly, then asked, "How much do you charge for bathing here? Is it expensive?"

"Charge?"

Xiao Xiao Suizi was stunned by the question, slightly bewildered for a moment, then laughed, "No charge, it's free. Every day from three to six in the afternoon, there is hot water."

"Does that mean we can bathe every day? When I was at home, bathing cost fifteen fen; I always heated water to wash at home..." Noticing that Xiao Xiao Suizi didn't seem to care much, she said emphatically, "Being a soldier is truly great!"

"Then be a good soldier!" Xiao Xiao Suizi said with a laughing shake of her head.

Changing a person's small fate is just this simple. This mainly stemmed from He Xiao Ping; she had listened to Wang Yan's words, although this did not alter her future circumstances in any way.

Stealing the uniform was merely a minor incident; she would still be ostracized, and still be ostracized. This stemmed from others looking down on her. Of course, what others might think is that He Xiao Ping herself was unsociable; how would they admit that it was ostracism?

After finishing a cigarette and chatting idly with this group, listening to them talk about all sorts of nonsense, Wang Yan returned with them to their respective rehearsals.

Wang Yan finally found his tool for earning a living: a suona.

As for musical instruments, of course he knew how to play them, and he understood music theory as well. However, to say he was highly proficient in any of them was completely untrue. He indeed knew how to play many instruments, but all were at Level 1 proficiency, just barely sufficient for use.

This was still something he had practiced himself when he had nothing better to do. For him, these skills were useless; having a basic understanding was enough. After all, his main focus lay in music appreciation, an area in which he was very professional. He had never expected that there would be a day when he would rely on playing wind and string instruments and singing to establish himself.

Although he hadn't practiced for a long time and his skills had nearly vanished, his appreciation ability remained, and he possessed the theoretical knowledge, so picking it up again posed no problem. Reaching Level 3 wouldn't take too long.

The suona has distinctions in pitch and duration, and there are many schools. The one in his hand was a mid-range suona, called the 'Southern Suona' by northerners. Its sound was relatively gentle, making it excellent for accompanying song and dance; it was very melodious, not too eye-catching, and unlike the large northern suona whose blast could summon souls.

Immediately, Wang Yan took the suona to a corner, opened the window facing outward, and started right away with 'A Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix'.

Of course, he couldn't actually play it; this piece involved many techniques and was the repertoire with the most complete set of suona techniques, having undergone multiple adaptations.

But even if one doesn't know how, one must play; if one doesn't play, how can one learn? Play enough, and one will know how...