Chapter 2041 - A Performance Across Time

"Do you think Yunmi will come today?" one of the girls asked suddenly.

Since the founding of the Plaid Skirt Club, Zhang Yunmi had occupied the center position in every performance—the coveted "center" spot reserved for the troupe's star. That had continued until two years ago when she departed Lingao for Guangzhou, and Lin Aili inherited her place.

"She's been off stage for two years. Why would she?"

"The time away doesn't matter, but Yunmi's a senior official now. Would she really dance with us?"

"Why not? She was already an Elder before, wasn't she?"

"That was different. Back then she was an idle Elder without portfolio—her status was high, but few people recognized her. Now she's a senior cadre in Guangzhou, the principal of the Cadre Training School. Half the naturalized officials here today are probably her students."

"You're right. Dancing in front of her own students in a skirt like this..." The speaker glanced down. The performance costumes could barely be called skirts—they didn't even reach the knee. Though all of them had received modern-style education from childhood, and most were orphans unburdened by parental strictures, the relatively conservative social atmosphere still weighed on them. Even in Lingao, the most "progressive" city in the realm, naturalized citizens still pointed and whispered behind their backs.

No matter how much the Elders affirmed them, no matter how many honors they bestowed or how many female Elders set examples, the girls still carried an inexplicable sense of shame about their performances.

The curtain lifted abruptly. Everyone looked up to see Zhang Yunmi herself, radiant in a newly tailored performance costume.

"Yunmi!" The girls swarmed around her.

"You look beautiful!"

"Are you performing with us?"

"But we haven't rehearsed together—"

"We've danced 'Journey of Love' a hundred times. We don't need rehearsal."

After two years apart, Zhang Yunmi's mindset had evolved considerably. She'd had no intention of performing originally—this appearance was half at the behest of the Plaid Skirt Club's Elder sponsors, half at the suggestion of several Municipal Government Elders who believed she should lend her prestige to the campaign for cultural reform.

"How has everyone been?" Zhang Yunmi asked with a smile. Two years of experience had sharpened her social polish.

"Good, everyone's been good!" Lin Aili had always been the troupe's deputy, only ascending to center after Zhang Yunmi left. Now she clutched Zhang Yunmi's hand tightly, unwilling to release it. "We've been hoping you'd come back..."

"Coming back permanently is impossible," Zhang Yunmi laughed. "But a guest appearance? No problem."

"With you as center, we all feel more confident," another girl said. "Aili's voice is too soft—it doesn't carry the same authority."

"Where am I soft? Where?" Lin Aili pretended indignation.

"So you're saying my dancing is stiff, then?" Zhang Yunmi joined the teasing.

The girl's face flushed. "No, no, not at all! Your dancing is beautiful..."

The stage crew called from beyond the curtain: "Countdown three minutes—prepare to go on!"

Outside, dusk was falling, the sky deepening to twilight blue. Cloud shadows drifted overhead. Against the gathering darkness, the Great World's hall blazed with light, a beacon of brilliance. Beyond the security cordon, the crowd—having stood hungry all day—remained electric with excitement, debating the banquet scene inside. Vendors threaded through the throng, hawking snacks and thirst-quenching fruit.

Suddenly the stage lights flared to life on the platform built atop the Great World's steps. Shadowy figures moved behind the glare.

Everyone had heard that this wedding would feature an "Australian performing troupe"—or as some claimed, not a theatrical troupe at all but the Council of Elders' "song and dance company." Supposedly it was "utterly licentious and morally corrupting"—young women displaying bare legs and arms, swaying hips and bottoms in ways that drove hot-blooded young men to distraction. The troupe was said to perform so rarely, reserved almost exclusively for Elder audiences, that only a privileged few naturalized citizens had ever witnessed it.

The idlers traded gossip continuously, and their listeners ached with curiosity, all desperate to witness this rarest of Australian spectacles. Now, as the stage lights blazed, the crowd instantly surged forward. Fortunately, preparations had been thorough—the National Army had established a security cordon reinforced with special barriers designed to withstand the press of bodies.

Five metallic chimes rang through the speakers. "Journey of Love" commenced. With the opening notes, the stage lights flared to full brilliance, illuminating the dancers in dazzling radiance. Their performance costumes were blue, woven from genuine silk interlaced with silver thread. By varying the ratios of silk to silver, different lustrous shades emerged. To enhance the shimmering effect, fragments of crystal glass served as decorative accents. What appeared a simple costume was in truth extraordinarily labor-intensive and material-costly. Because silver oxidized readily, losing its luster, such a garment could endure only a handful of performances before requiring replacement—a stunning extravagance. But its effect under the spotlights was without precedent.

The shimmering costumes sparkled beneath the glare, captivating even the loafers who had come specifically to ogle "white legs."

With the opening beat, Zhang Yunmi—who had been facing away from the audience—spun gracefully, blew an adorable kiss to the crowd, and swayed her hips as she glided from the back row to center stage.

The plaza erupted. The crowd surged like a tidal wave, bodies undulating and crashing against the security cordon in an explosion of shouts and exclamations.

The cries came not only from natives witnessing such a performance for the first time, but also from many naturalized citizens. Because they recognized the radiant figure commanding center stage, singing and dancing in a miniskirt, as none other than the Municipal Government Secretary-General and Principal of the Cadre Training School—Zhang Yunmi herself.

A high-ranking female Elder performing on stage! The news rippled through the venue like wildfire, inside and out. The crowd roared. Spectators outside pressed forward desperately. Even the dignified guests within the hall forgot propriety, swarming out to witness this "unprecedented marvel" at the closest possible distance.

The dancers' skirts swayed in unison with the beat, swishing first one direction, then the other. The rhythmically synchronized choreography entranced countless onlookers, drawing wave after wave of exclamations.

"Such perfect unison! Like a single person!"

"Look at the Elder lady's legs..."

"An official's daughter playing courtesan—truly unprecedented!"

"Those legs! So long and straight!"

"You've got drool on your chest!"

"Stop pretending to be proper—you're pushing just as hard!"

The crowd's roar nearly drowned out the music from the speakers. The National Army was forced to draw bayonets to prevent the audience from breaching the cordon. Reserve forces began dispersing people at the rear to prevent further pressure.

Liu Xiang observed the spectacle before him with measured contemplation. The shock of cultural forms transcending time was unprecedented—but whether this shock would be accepted by people of this era remained unknown. He recalled reading about the Moscow Bolshoi Ballet's tour of Chinese communes in the 1950s, which had been dismissed as "naked women dancing."

"Such a waste..." Cui Hantang muttered beside him, patting his belly. "These speakers! These amplifiers! These costumes! And these girls—why not deploy them for something productive?"

Liu Xiang nodded. "The impact is certainly powerful. The effect, however, remains uncertain."

"Exactly! Exactly!" Cui Hantang seized the agreement. "My Daoist ritual dancing, my daoqing performances, Eight Trigrams Sword, Tai Chi—any of them would harmonize better with the social environment than this! Yet this bunch still manages to commandeer so many resources!" He'd long coveted the speakers, mixing equipment, and amplifiers, having to plead each time he borrowed them. The Plaid Skirt Club, by contrast, could requisition them with a simple request. Moreover, Cui had perpetual grievances with the club, denouncing it as decadent culture—a stance that had created considerable friction with the club's powerful backers.

Liu Xiang chuckled when he heard this. "You're still fixated on that? Self-funding for religious organizations is national policy. The Plaid Skirt Club self-funds as well—how many resources can they truly consume? Besides, the Council of Elders doesn't consider these 'decadent songs' particularly problematic. I know the truth: you simply can't stand it."

"Right, I can't stand this nonsense. Good Chinese people engaging in such frivolity..."

"Ah, that's where you're mistaken." Liu Xiang felt it necessary to offer Daoist Cui a gentle correction. "Why do you think we risked our lives crossing to this timeline?"

"For our ideals."

"Precisely. Those grand visions—stars and seas, communism, imperialism—let's set those aside, they're too lofty. Many Elders simply want a human zoo or to become Governor of Tahiti. Those Plaid Skirt Club fellows just want to experience being idol managers."

"If they wish to indulge behind closed doors, no one's stopping them. The problem is that indulging requires resources—what benefit does it provide our cause?"

Liu Xiang smiled wryly. "That kind of talk isn't conducive to unity. Chief Wen said it well: don't constantly try to control heaven, earth, and reproductive organs—attempting to micromanage everything. Look, these few Elders running their idol group consume modest resources. They're harmless to man and beast, saving everyone considerable aggravation. Otherwise, if they were all like... certain individuals in the Council of Elders, wouldn't that create more headaches?"

Now Cui Hantang understood. These seemingly casual words carried substantial weight.

"Old Liu, you're right. I'll turn a blind eye and let them proceed." Once he thought it through, Cui Hantang became magnanimous. "Besides, Little Zhang enjoys this as well—might as well let her be happy."

(End of Chapter)