Returning to the county opera troupe in 77

Chapter 115 Internal Struggle

By the time the rehearsal for a play ended, it was already noon.

Zhu Zhengkuo and a group of veteran artists walked out of the theater chatting and laughing, and were about to go to the canteen for lunch. As soon as they stepped out of the theater, their steps slowed down by half a beat.

On both sides of the street, several long-haired educated youths wearing old cotton-padded coats squatted by the roadside smoking. A few of them were whispering to each other, and someone was standing on tiptoe, looking towards the theater troupe's compound. His eyes scanned back and forth between the gate and the wall, and it was unclear what he was looking at.

Seeing the shady behavior of these people, Zhu Zhengwei frowned slightly. He didn't stop walking, but turned to Chen Xiangdong and Liu Dezhu walking beside him and muttered, "Those people should all be educated youth returning to the city, right? Look at them, they don't sit or stand properly, they don't look like good people at all."

Liu Dezhu glanced at him in the direction of his gaze and replied in a low voice, "That's right. I saw them fighting with someone on the street the day before yesterday. They chased the person for half a block with bricks in their hands. They only ran away when the police came."

Chen Xiangdong's gaze lingered on the hairy faces for a moment, then he suddenly narrowed his eyes. He recognized one of the men with a yellowish face as the one who had been with the triangular-eyed man that day.

A thought struck him, and he subtly took half a step forward, leaning close to Zhu Zhengke's ear: "Secretary Zhu, have you heard? There have been quite a few thefts and robberies in the county town recently—"

As he spoke, he gestured towards the group of people by the roadside: "Don't you think our theater troupe should be a little more careful?"

Zhu Zheng looked away and nodded: "Yeah, you're right. These people are always loitering around on the streets. Who knows if they'll have some wicked ideas?"

He thought for a moment and then said, "I'll go tell Xu Erdao in a bit and ask them not to sleep too soundly tonight, and to take a few more laps around the compound."

As the group chatted, they stepped through the gate of the compound, crossed the front yard, and turned into the canteen. A mouthwatering aroma of meat wafted towards them.

When Fatty Qin saw Zhu Zhengqu arrive through the food window, he grinned and shouted, "Secretary Zhu, come sit down! Today's dish is stir-fried pork with pickled cabbage. Try it and see if it tastes the same as in southern Shaanxi."

Upon hearing this, Zhu Zheng's eyes lit up.

The pickled cabbage here isn't the kind of pickled cabbage from the north, but rather pickled cabbage made from radish greens. It's soaked in clear brine, then chopped and stir-fried with slices of pork belly. The result is a fragrant and tangy dish that's perfect for cutting through the richness of the meat and whetting the appetite.

He had been away from southern Shaanxi for many years, but he had always missed the taste of his hometown. Today, just smelling that sour and fragrant aroma made his stomach rumble.

Hao Meili and her son, Pangwa, were eating around the table when Zhu Zheng looked around but couldn't spot Jia Dafang.

Jia Dafang hasn't shown up much these past two days. He disappears after work, and even his meals are brought back to him by Hao Meili. Nobody knows what he's thinking.

Before he even reached the table, the chubby boy, his mouth stuffed full, spotted him first. He quickly put down his chopsticks, waved at him, and mumbled, "Uncle Zhu, come quick! This meat slice is delicious!"

Hao Meili then looked up and saw Zhu Zheng. A smile appeared on her face. She subconsciously looked around before swallowing the steamed bun in her mouth. With a hint of demureness, she smiled at him and said, "Sit down and eat quickly, or the bun will get cold."

Their eyes met for a moment, and Zhu Zheng's eyebrows softened a bit. Fatty was still clamoring, "Uncle Zhu, sit down quickly." He smiled and patted Fatty's head before sitting down at the table.

"Secretary Zhu, please start eating!"

At this moment, Fatty Qin brought over a plate of stir-fried pork with pickled cabbage and placed it on the table with a "thump". The oily slices of pork were piled high, and the aroma of pickled cabbage mixed with meat filled the table.

He put down the plate, and before he could even wipe his hands, he rushed to the kitchen: "Oh dear, ever since Lao Yu left, it's just Qiu Fen and me in the kitchen. We're busy all day long. I'm going to get some food for them."

Before he finished speaking, he had already slipped back into the kitchen, the curtain behind him flicking and then falling down.

A long queue had formed in front of the window, with enamel bowls, aluminum lunch boxes, and rough porcelain bowls lined up on the windowsill. Liu Benyi, Xue Wei, and the other kids were getting impatient and tapping the rims of their bowls with their chopsticks to urge them on.

Fatty Qin returned to the kitchen, grabbed a large ladle, and started ladling food into the pot, muttering as he did so, "What's the rush! Everyone gets a share, you're not left out!"

With each spoonful, some soup spilled onto his sleeves, but he didn't bother to wipe it away. He was busy scooping the food into the rice bowl that was being held out the window. He was indeed quite busy.

Zhu Zheng's gaze unconsciously drifted towards the window. Previously, three people were responsible for the meals of more than a hundred people, and the operation was quite efficient. Now that Yu Baoliang had been transferred, the three people had become two. They had to steam buns, cook dishes, and also take care of serving food and cleaning up. They had to handle everything inside and out, and it was indeed a bit of a stretch.

Zhu Zheng thought for a moment and muttered, "It seems I really need to hire another kitchen helper soon—"

Hao Meili patted the chubby child who was burping from being so full, "Son, go play after you finish eating, but don't forget to go to school later."

The chubby boy smiled and replied, "I know," then jumped off the bench and ran towards the door. His little legs moved quickly, and Hao Meili's voice followed closely behind, "Slow down, slow down!" But the little boy had already darted out of the cafeteria door in a flash.

Zhu Zheng watched the chubby boy run off into the distance, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. He then turned to Hao Meili, his tone casual as if chatting about everyday things: "What's Lao Jia been up to these past few days? Why hasn't he left the house after get off work?"

Hao Meili glanced at Zhu Zheng, hesitated for a moment, and finally said in a low voice, "He hasn't come back for lunch for the past two days. I don't know where he's gone. He also comes home very late every night."

As she spoke, she absentmindedly poked at the vegetable leaves in her plate with her chopsticks: "I didn't dare ask too much. When I did, he wouldn't say anything, just that it was a matter for the troupe and told me not to get involved."

Upon hearing this, Zhu Zhengke's heart stirred, and he couldn't help but wonder where Jia Dafang would go after get off work.

This Jia Dafang is probably unwilling to be stripped of his power like this, and he is secretly plotting a counterattack.

Meanwhile, Lin Gouwa, with his two thin legs tumbling along, stumbled back to the dormitory. With each step, he felt as if two wooden wedges were driven into his hip bones, and the soreness was indescribable.

He secretly grumbled in his heart that Chen Xiangdong had really messed him up. He almost crippled him by trying to practice the splits. Now his legs felt like they had been split in half and then haphazardly put back together. No matter how he sat, it was awkward.

After finally managing to get inside, he closed the door behind him, sat down on a stool with trembling legs, bent down to pick up the thermos on the floor, and was about to pour himself a bowl of water.

The door creaked open, and Lin Datou walked in, humming a little tune.

As soon as he entered the room, the sunlight fell on the sparse, hairy head, and he was momentarily stunned, thinking he was seeing things. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and blinked hard a couple of times before exclaiming in surprise, "Gouwa?"

Lin Gouwa turned around, and the two of them stared at each other for a long time.

Lin Datou finally couldn't help but burst out laughing: "What the hell are you doing, you coward? Did you get into a fight with a dog and get it chewed up? How did you manage to ruin such a perfectly good head like this?"

As he spoke, he stepped forward, bent down, and peered closely at the bald, round head. He couldn't resist reaching out and touching the stubble, then burst into laughter, doubled over: "This looks like a chicken that's just been plucked—tell me, what happened?"

Lin Gouwa blushed, his ears burning, and stammered, "I...I apprenticed under a shaver to learn opera—I shaved my own head—"

Upon hearing this, Lin Datou was stunned for a moment, then his eyes widened in surprise: "What? You're learning opera from that old man, Pi?"

"W-what's wrong?" Lin Gouwa was startled by his uncle's sudden reaction, instinctively shrinking back and blinking his eyes narrowed: "Is it not allowed?"

But to everyone's surprise, Lin Datou suddenly grinned and slapped his thigh: "Wow! Our Lin family has finally produced a talent who can actually perform on stage! Your uncle wanted to learn opera back then, but they didn't take a liking to me—"

He stopped abruptly before he could finish speaking, almost letting something slip—

He glanced at Lin Gouwa, then quickly coughed, pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back, muttering, "Learning opera and becoming an apprentice is a big deal, not to be taken lightly! No, we need to go to the supply and marketing cooperative, buy a pack of tea, two boxes of pastries, and a bottle of wine, and prepare the apprenticeship gifts. Our Lin family are people of principle, we can't let anyone find fault with us. Let's go, let's buy them now."

"Huh?" Lin Gouwa's face fell, and he looked down at his legs. "Now? Now?"

County Hospital, Internal Medicine Ward for Cadres.

On the windowsill sat a potted green ivy that had withered halfway, its leaves drooping, looking even more listless than a patient in bed.

Jia Dafang sat on a stool next to the hospital bed, his bottom barely touching half the stool, leaning slightly forward: "Director Chu, are you feeling any better?"

Jia Dafang carefully observed Chu Shengli's expression, and seeing him raise his eyelids slightly, he continued, "After Zhu Zheng was reinstated, he devoted himself entirely to old plays, neglecting the actors in modern plays, and spending all his time rehearsing those outdated things. I'm wondering, isn't he taking too big a step?"

Chu Shengli's face was still a little pale. He leaned back on the stacked pillows. When he heard the name "Zhu Zhengguo", he snorted twice and said in a hoarse voice, "Whether the steps are big or not is not up to you or me to decide—Zhu Zhengguo has powerful connections. What can I do?"

As he spoke, he turned his face away, his gaze falling on the drooping potted green ivy, as if he couldn't be bothered to mention that name again.

As Jia Dafang listened, he lowered his voice even further: "But right now, Zhu Zheng is leading a group of old fogies in enthusiastically rehearsing an old play. Once the old play becomes popular, the path for modern plays will be completely blocked."

Chu Shengli slowly turned his head and glanced at him, his eyes seemingly filled with anger at his lack of ambition. The corners of his mouth turned down even further: "Old Jia, you've been working under me for so many years, do I really need to teach you this little thing?"

He propped himself up more, leaning back against the pillows. "A pilot program for traditional plays, a pilot program for traditional plays—if it doesn't produce results, what's the point of this pilot program? If traditional plays are brought back, modern plays will inevitably suffer a blow. This is no longer a confrontation between traditional and modern plays; it's a conflict between two groups of actors, a struggle within the people! Do you understand?"

"Within the people —"

Upon hearing this, Jia Dafang repeatedly murmured those four words, his expression gradually shifting from bewilderment to a look of sudden, excited understanding: "Director Chu, you mean—"

Chu Shengli reached for the enamel mug on the bedside table, took a sip of water, and then looked at Jia Dafang: "If the pilot project succeeds, it will be Zhu Zhengque's achievement. But if it fails and causes trouble, isn't that also his responsibility?"

Jia Dafang's eyes suddenly lit up; in an instant, it seemed he had found a way to deal with Zhu Zhengwei.

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