Returning to the county opera troupe in 77

After that fire, Chen Xiangdong suddenly became a celebrity in the county theater troupe, and his treatment improved considerably. Of course, his primary job remained the same: stage manager.

Jia Dafang had spoken to him once, saying that the troupe would be holding a commendation meeting in a few days to highly praise Comrade Chen Xiangdong's advanced deeds of bravely rushing into the fire to save people in order to protect state property and the safety of people's lives.

More importantly, Jia Dafang's words implied to him, both openly and subtly, that the leaders of the Education Bureau greatly appreciated his heroic act of saving lives and were very likely to use this incident to give him a chance to be promoted from a temporary worker to a permanent employee.

All we need to do here is report his personal information to higher authorities.

In those days, becoming a permanent employee was practically like having a secure job.

He wasn't fortunate enough to have that in his past life. If he had been able to become a full-fledged member back then, even if the troupe disbanded later, he could at least have been reassigned to another unit, instead of ending up in a destitute situation.

The leader had given such a clear hint, and Chen Xiangdong wasn't stupid; he naturally understood that he couldn't let others do the work for nothing.

Jia Dafang was a heavy smoker, so Chen Xiangdong simply gave all his belongings to Liu Dezhu and asked him to help him buy a carton of Golden Monkey cigarettes from the supply and marketing cooperative.

Liu Dezhu took the crumpled two yuan and thirty cents, and then heard Chen Xiangdong chuckle sheepishly: "Hehe, Master Liu, thank you for your trouble. I'll definitely pay you back the shortfall after I get my salary."

Liu Dezhu waved his hand with a smile: "This is nothing, I'll pay the rest. But your official appointment is a big deal, what good is a golden monkey?"

Chen Xiangdong was taken aback, then scratched his head with a wry smile: "Master Liu, you're right. But this is all the money I have left. I'm already lucky to have a golden monkey."

Liu Dezhu stuffed the crumpled bills into his pocket, patted his shoulder, and said, "Alright, you're just a young kid, inexperienced and unreliable. Don't worry about it, I'll run the errand for you. I'll add some money for you to buy a good one. You saved my niece, and I haven't thanked you yet."

Chen Xiangdong quickly waved his hand: "Master Liu, that won't do, those are two different things!"

"Stop talking nonsense." Liu Dezhu glared at him. "I'm your master, don't you listen to me?"

After saying that, he turned and walked towards the gate of the courtyard, leaving Chen Xiangdong standing there dumbfounded. He blinked, wondering if Liu Dezhu had accepted him as his apprentice.

The system interface then popped up:

[Instrument Proficiency (Banggu/Cymbals): 18/100 (Able to play simple rhythms)]

[Successfully apprenticed under first-class drummer Liu Dezhu; the "Surpassing Master" advancement system is now available. Current proficiency is insufficient for advancement.]

Seeing the extra pop-up window, he immediately understood: without a master, even if he mastered the skills to the maximum, he could only reach the same level as Liu Dezhu at best.

But once you become an apprentice, and your skills are perfected, you might surpass your master.

That evening, Liu Dezhu hummed a little tune and sauntered into the woodshed. He sat down on the edge of the bed, said nothing, and just smiled at Chen Xiangdong.

Chen Xiangdong felt uneasy under his gaze: "Master Liu, how is it?"

Liu Dezhu grinned and said, "It's all set! I personally watched Jia Dafang write his application for permanent employment and get it stamped with the troupe's red seal. If everything goes smoothly, you might be officially hired in less than two months."

"real?!"

Chen Xiangdong was so overjoyed he almost jumped out of bed, clapping his hands and saying, "It's all good, haha, I can eat rations from now on!"

Liu Dezhu couldn't help but laugh and scold, "Look at you, you coward! Before the official confirmation document comes out, you still have to continue to do a good job in inspection. You can't slack off or cheat. This is your performance period."

"I know." Chen Xiangdong chuckled and nodded vigorously.

Liu Dezhu gave him a few more instructions, telling him to practice the basic hammer techniques thoroughly, before walking away with his hands behind his back and a swaying head.

On October 20, 1977, the troupe performed at the county theater.

Before dawn, Chen Xiangdong got up, tidied up the woodshed, and then practiced drumming for half an hour with drumsticks.

After breakfast, he went to the theater with the production crew.

The county theater was located in the courtyard in front of the troupe's compound, and it was under the troupe's management. When there were no performances, it was mostly idle, with only a lame old man named Fang responsible for cleaning and looking after it.

Chen Xiangdong had dealt with this old man in his previous life. Old Fang was always drunk and had a very strange temper. Few people in the troupe could get along with him, and quite a few people openly or secretly called him "idiot" or "drunkard".

Later, I learned from the gatekeeper Hu Xiaolian that when Fang was young, he was a famous martial arts performer in northern Shaanxi, and his solid and powerful kung fu was unparalleled.

Unfortunately, he was later persecuted and lost a leg, which completely ended his acting career, forcing him to work as a theater attendant for the county troupe. From then on, he never recovered and developed a severe alcohol addiction; if he didn't drink for a day, he would tremble all over as if he had malaria.

Sure enough, as soon as Chen Xiangdong entered the theater, he saw Old Fang sipping his liquor from an enamel cup. As Chen Xiangdong passed by him, he smelled a pungent odor of alcohol.

Production crew leader Niu Laohei pulled Chen Xiangdong, who was staring at Old Fang, and whispered, "What are you staring at that drunkard for? Be careful he doesn't yell at you later, or you'll get covered in spittle for no reason."

Old Fang, with his sharp ears, didn't even raise his head, muttering indifferently, "Trying to look like an elephant with a scallion stuck in its nose, not content with just pulling the millstone itself, yet concerned about where others are looking."

Niu Laohei glared fiercely at Fang Laotou, then grabbed Chen Xiangdong and dragged him away: "Don't pay any attention to that biting old dog. Let's go move the props!"

Setting up tables and chairs, moving props, and pulling up the curtains, the production crew was busy as bees, not having a moment to rest. Old Fang sat in the first row of the audience, occasionally hiccuping and humming indistinct operatic tunes.

We were busy until lunchtime, and finally we got all the preparations done before the show started.

Chen Xiangdong followed the production crew out of the theater and headed towards the canteen in the compound. There, at the canteen entrance, he saw Old Fang carrying a rice bowl, wobbling towards them.

As Niu Laohei passed by Old Fang, he spat a mouthful of phlegm onto the ground, then, without even looking at him, said to Chen Xiangdong in a pretentious tone, "Useless at everything, but number one when it comes to eating. Our troupe is just supporting a bunch of good-for-nothings. When will things ever get better?"

Chen Xiangdong naturally knew that Niu Laohei was making veiled attacks, so he could only chuckle and remain silent.

Old Fang seemed to have long been immune to the troupe members' talk of guns and sticks. He limped over the thick phlegm on the ground and didn't forget to sneer, "Damn it, whose dog let loose and pooped at the canteen entrance?"

Niu Laohei's face turned even darker, like the bottom of a pot, but since the entire troupe was in the canteen, he couldn't bring himself to argue with an old cripple. So he pretended not to hear, took a few quick steps, and plunged into the canteen.

The performance of "Shajiabang" was scheduled to begin at 2 p.m., so the actors quickly ate a few bites of food and rushed to the backstage area of ​​the theater to put on makeup and change costumes.

Chen Xiangdong quickly finished his rice and followed the production crew back to the theater to do a final check on the set and props.

At 1:30, the audience began to enter, and the once quiet theater suddenly became lively. People were eating sunflower seeds, chatting and bragging, and calling their children to find their seats, creating a buzzing atmosphere.

Old Fang had one good point: whenever there was a performance, he was always tactful and wouldn't cause any trouble. Right now, he was holding his enamel mug, limping to the last corner of the row, and continuing to drink with his neck hunched over.

On one side of the stage, the drum and music troupe was already ready.

Chen Xiangdong stood behind Liu Dezhu, listening to him talk about the changes in drumbeats and rhythm in "Shajiabang" in a casual manner.

The other musicians already knew that Dongwazi, the stagehand, had become Liu Dezhu's apprentice, so no one found it strange. Occasionally, someone would turn around and chat with him for a few words.

"Today is a performance arranged by the county for the cotton mill workers, so we have to do our best," said Lin Datou, who was in charge of the cymbals, beaming with excitement. "I heard that the cotton mill sponsored a batch of cotton cloth for our troupe to use as our practice clothes."

Liu Dezhu immediately curled his lip: "Act well? When have we ever acted badly? Just mind your cymbal part."

Lin Datou and Liu Dezhu had never gotten along. When he saw Liu Dezhu hitting him with his teeth, he immediately retorted, "The cymbals are definitely fine. Just keep playing your drum and stop worrying about other things."

Liu Dezhu was not one to mince words. He craned his neck forward, looking curious: "Big Head, have you found your nephew yet? I heard that Jia Dafang reported it as manslaughter arson to the higher-ups, although it was manslaughter..."

Before he could finish speaking, Lin Datou's face had turned as black as the bottom of a pot.

He slammed the cymbals on the table, glaring at him: "Gouwa is Gouwa, and I am me. What does it matter to me if he runs away?"

Liu Dezhu chuckled and slowly picked up the drumsticks: "What's it to you? That's your own nephew. What's it to you? If the higher-ups really investigate, even you, as his uncle, might get into trouble."

"you!"

"Alright, alright!" Old Ma, who was playing the erhu nearby, quickly tried to smooth things over. "The performance is about to start, and you two still have time to bicker? What kind of impression will it make if the audience hears you!"

Lin Datou glared at Liu Dezhu, grabbed the cymbals, and turned around. Liu Dezhu wasn't annoyed. He curled the corners of his mouth, tapped the rim of the drum twice to test the sound, and had never lost a verbal battle with Lin Datou in over ten years.