Chapter 42: Huangpu Past Stories 1

The mornings at Huangpu Military Academy are always split open by the bright bugle that tears the sky; Li Yuxuan stands at the edge of the field, watching the silhouettes of students marching in their morning run, the blue veins on his temples throbbing. In the ranks there are always a few troublemakers who deliberately miss a step, and some who, while the instructor turns, sneak a slap on the face—these half‑grown boys, each one a rebel against discipline, yet all harbor a surge of patriotic zeal, making them impossible to beat or scold.

This is not managing students at all; it's clearly taming a herd of wild horses. He rubs his throbbing temples and sighs inwardly. He used to think being a teacher was easy, but now, standing in this position, he realizes that corralling these future officers—who carry ideals yet are wild and hard to tame—is even more exhausting than maneuvering against enemies on the battlefield. He even blames his former teachers a bit: even with the limited corporal punishment allowed now, disciplining them already makes him furious. Thinking of teachers in later generations, who must tread carefully even when rebuking students, truly it's not easy.

Since these students entered Huangpu Military Academy, days have been simple and routine, shuttling daily between the classroom, dormitory, mess hall, and Training Ground along a four‑point line. Yet with so many youths from all corners of the world gathered together, there are always a few idea‑spouting troublemakers, and many among them will one day stir the winds of destiny, so such wild imagination keeps surfacing endlessly.

That afternoon, Li Yuxuan had just sat down in his office, not yet opening today's training record, when he heard Jiang Xianyun's clear voice from outside: Chuan Jin, the director is calling you.

Fine, as long as it's not the principal calling me. A lanky voice replied, its tone dripping with nonchalance.

Jiang Xianyun laughed scoldingly: It's Director Li calling you.

Which Director Li?

You say there's another Director Li? Jiang Xianyun lowered their voice, asking if you've messed up again—did you go with people last night to steal the kitchen's sweet potatoes?

There's no such thing; I've been perfectly proper this month. The voice hurriedly defended itself, but footsteps grew nearer. Never mind, I'll go to Teacher Li's place for a meat break; his office always hides something tasty.

Jiang Xianyun shouted from behind: Remember to bring me some meat from Director Li's place, Chuan Jin!

Got it, got it!

As soon as the words finished, the office door was shoved open with a thud, and Chen Geng burst in, his military‑style cuffs still stained with Training Ground mud. Spotting Li Yuxuan, he grinned, flashing a set of white teeth: Director Li, you called for me.

Li Yuxuan stared at the doorframe swaying from the shove, his temper flaring: Can't you even knock when you come in? Sooner or later you'll scare yourself into a problem.

Well, that's not possible. Chen Geng shuffled over with a mischievous grin, his eyes already scanning the room, his nose sniffing eagerly—there must be something good hidden by the director. He said that while pulling open a drawer to rummage.

I called you to the office for a reprimand! Li Yuxuan thumped the table heavily, "And you treat my place like a mess hall?"

Chen Geng froze, scratched his head, his face full of grievance: Director, I can't be blamed. You know the academy's meals—go days without a whiff of meat, and yesterday's vegetables were just a splash of oil; I'm at a stage where I need to bulk up…

He counted on his fingers: It's only when you, Director, are present that we can enjoy a proper serving of meat. Usually just a bit of minced meat is a treat; sometimes we don't even have enough rice, and training into the night leaves our stomachs growling—hardly pleasant.

Li Yuxuan sighed inwardly. He knew the meals were poor—academy funds are tight, Soviet Union aid supplies are still en route, and the students' daily training load is heavy, making hunger inevitable. He had raised the issue of improving the food with the principal, who softened his tone, but the budget is truly strained now, so they can't purchase more meat for the time being; they'll have to wait.

He shifted his tone, his gaze sharp on Chen Geng: By the way, I heard you recently organized some kind of Blood‑Flower drama club.

It's the Blood‑Flower drama club, Director. Chen Geng perked up instantly, his eyes sparkling, saying they turn revolutionary stories into scripts and perform them on the field at night for everyone—both boosting morale and giving the troops a chance to relax after training! Yesterday we staged "Lin Zexu Bans Smoking," and the applause from the audience almost blew the tent off.

Li Yuxuan raised an eyebrow: Oh? Who all took part? How was the performance?

Jiang Xianyun and the others all helped! Chen Geng grew more excited as he spoke, "I mainly write the scripts, and sometimes I take the stage. Last time we performed 'Stab Qin', I played Jing Ke; before I could finish the line 'The wind whistles, the Yi River is cold', the audience erupted…"

The two continued talking about the drama club; Li Yuxuan listened as he described how they plot the story, gather props, and organize rehearsals amid the grueling training schedule, and his initial anger gradually faded. Though the kid is mischievous, what he does has its merit—using theater to spread revolutionary ideas is indeed far more vivid than plain preaching.

After about half an hour of chat, Chen Geng rose to take his leave; as he turned, his eyes lit up at the sight of a bamboo basket in the corner holding freshly bought pork belly, which Li Yuxuan had specially asked someone to bring from the town for a meat feast that night.

Director, I'm off now! he said, snatching the piece of meat with quick hands, turning to slip away, "I'll save this for the brothers; after the performance tonight we'll give everyone an extra meal!"

Ah, you… When Li Yuxuan chased after him, Chen Geng had already vanished; only his hearty laugh echoed from afar.

He stood at the doorway, staring at the empty corridor, both exasperated and amused: What on earth is this? Where's my meat??? Chen Geng can't have slipped away with it again, can he?

He sighed, shaking his head helplessly: Seems I still can't get too close to them; they never treat me as an outsider.

Yet the corner of his mouth couldn't help but lift slightly—these half‑grown boys, though mischievous all day, exude a fresh vigor, like wild grass in a field, bearing a reckless vitality that stubbornly grows in this chaotic age.

Li Yuxuan turned back into the office, intending to make another trip to the kitchen to see if he could portion out more ingredients. Outside, the students' training chants rang loud and orderly; he suddenly felt that disciplining these headache‑inducing students, though tiring, held its own kind of charm.

After all, these noisy youngsters today will one day shoulder steel guns on the battlefield, using their blood to forge a peaceful nation. If he spends a little extra effort now, perhaps they'll shed less blood later. With that thought, losing a piece of meat hardly seems a big deal.