Returning to the county opera troupe in 77

The two-day rural performance tour has come to an end.

As the four tractors, chugging and belching black smoke, prepared to leave Hongxing Commune along the bumpy dirt road, Director Li stood by the roadside, waving to Zhu Zhengkuo. His voice, booming through the engines, said, "Secretary Zhu, it's settled then! Next time, Hongxing Commune will invite you to perform again. Make sure you put on a few more of our old plays!"

Zhu Zhengwei sat on the edge of the last truck bed, leaning halfway out and waving at Director Li with a smile: "Don't worry! Next time I'll definitely give you all a good show!"

Only after Zhu Zheng sat down did Chen Xiangdong rub his hands and ask, "Secretary Zhu, next time, can we really put on a few more of the same old plays?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Feng Zhengxiao, Han Zhengkui, and Fang Zhengsheng all turned their gazes to Zhu Zhengcuo's face from inside the same truck bed.

Zhu Zheng looked up at the slowly rising sun in the east, his voice slightly shaky from the bumpy ride: "The performance at the Red Star Commune is just a stepping stone. We'll soon find out the higher-ups' attitude towards the old plays. As for whether they can open a door..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the faces in the truck bed: "Let's wait and see..."

We set off from Hongxing Commune at around 9 a.m., and after a bumpy ride all morning, we finally arrived at the county theater troupe's gate at around 1 p.m.

The group of people, who were starving, thought they would be able to have a hot meal when they arrived at the theater troupe. But when they got to the canteen, they found that the pots were empty, the stoves were cold, and the cutting boards were spotless, without even a single scallion.

"Where's Yu Baoliang? Why didn't he cook?"

He Jianshe placed the empty bowl on the window and muttered in dissatisfaction, "This is outrageous! Don't they know we're coming back today?"

Others joined in the commotion, some ran into the kitchen to lift the pot lids, and others squatted down to look into the firebox, where even the ashes were cold.

Fatty Qin frowned, touched the edge of the pot, and then glanced at the knife rack next to the cutting board. Several kitchen knives were neatly placed in the wooden slot, with the handles facing outwards and the blades facing inwards, which was his usual arrangement.

Yu Baoliang would always leave the knife on the cutting board or in the basin, never putting it back in the knife holder after use.

Qin Pangzi couldn't help but wonder: why did the kitchen stop cooking while I was away for the past two days? Didn't Lao Jia, Xu Erdao and his group criticize Yu Baoliang?

Li Qiufen followed her in, glanced around, and muttered, "Old Yu is really something..."

As they were talking, Xu Erdao walked into the canteen with his hands behind his back. Hearing the complaints, he seemed to have expected this. He said, "Stop making a fuss. Lao Yu was transferred to the state-run restaurant in the East District. He left in a hurry, so we've been cooking for ourselves at home these past two days."

As soon as he finished speaking, the canteen fell silent for a moment. A group of people looked at each other in bewilderment. Yu Baoliang had worked in the theater troupe's kitchen for five or six years. Why did he just leave like that?

"You were transferred?"

Fatty Qin raised an eyebrow. He really hadn't expected Yu Baoliang to leave, and so suddenly at that.

It's obvious that he felt ashamed to stay in the theater troupe any longer because he and Chen Xiangdong had caught him with the anonymous whistleblower letter.

Rather than being criticized later, it's better to find a way to save face now.

Lin Datou leaned over the food serving window, tapped his rice bowl with his chopsticks, and shouted into the kitchen, "Old Qin, what are we doing for lunch?"

Fatty Qin was bending down to pick up a half-sack of flour from the corner, and without turning his head, he said, "What else can we do? We can't let so many people go hungry, can we?"

Fatty Qin sighed, put the sack of flour on the cutting board, and said to Li Qiufen, "Start a fire to boil two pots of water. I'll go knead the dough. Let's make do with some crow's nest for now."

"Crow's sauce is fine too, just make the noodles a bit thicker." Lin Datou grinned. "I like the sauce."

Li Qiufen rolled her eyes at him: "You think you're so great at eating!"

Seeing that he wouldn't be able to get a hot meal anytime soon, Chen Xiangdong decided to send Liangzhu back to the theater first.

He stood at the door and glanced around the courtyard. He saw Li Mancang, Lin Gouwa, Song Linfeng, and Xue Wei squatting by the wall, sunbathing. He called out to them, "Come and lend a hand, carry the prop beams back to the theater storage room."

Upon hearing this, the four men stood up, dusted themselves off, and followed Chen Xiangdong to the front yard. The five of them easily carried the beam towards the theater. Xue Wei, who was walking in front, tilted his head and asked, "Brother Xiangdong, what do you think will happen if Director Jia finds out that our troupe performed an old opera in the countryside...?"

"Who cares?" Chen Xiangdong, with a beam on his shoulder, scoffed. "The show's already over, so what if he finds out?"

Xue Wei pressed further, "What if he causes trouble?"

Song Linfeng, Li Mancang, and Lin Gouwa also looked over at the same time. It was no wonder that Jia Dafang would agree to sing the old opera. They could guess that it wouldn't be long before Old Jia would have to resort to his methods.

Chen Xiangdong turned his head, his gaze sweeping over their faces, and grinned: "You guys are always worrying about nothing! Even if the sky falls, there's always someone taller to hold it up. Since Secretary Zhu dared to bring the old show on stage and openly challenge Old Jia, he must have some trump cards up his sleeve, right?"

Upon hearing this, Xue Wei and his companions' eyes lit up. If the gods in the heavens were going to fight, they, as insignificant creatures, were eager to watch and see how the gods actually controlled the clouds and rain...

.........

Jia Dafang sat on the old-fashioned wooden sofa at home, his face so gloomy it was almost dripping with water.

Qiao Haizhu sat half-up on the edge of the sofa opposite the table, leaning forward and gesturing wildly as he described the audience's reaction to Han Zhengkui and Feng Zhengxiao's performance. He finished by glancing at Jia Dafang's face and then slapping his thigh in feigned anger: "They're absolutely outrageous! They don't respect you, Commander Jia, at all!"

Xu Erdao quickly nodded in agreement: "Exactly! That old play has been banned for so many years, how dare they put it on like that? Commander Jia, that guy surnamed Zhu is clearly provoking you!"

After saying that, he winked at Lin Datou and Pan Lanxiang beside him, and slightly raised his chin in Jia Dafang's direction, wanting them to join in the fun.

Who knew that one of them had a wandering gaze, seemingly lost in thought, his eyes darting back and forth across the coffee table, refusing to meet the other's eyes.

The other one kept his eyes downcast and remained silent, his fingers resting on his knees, seemingly focused on picking at the mud stains on his pants, showing no intention of paying any attention to him.

Seeing that neither of them reacted, Xu Erdao had no choice but to awkwardly avert his gaze and add, "Commander Jia, if you don't step in soon, those people are really going to rebel! They've already started this old drama in public; in a couple of days, won't they be taking advantage of you?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Jia Dafang's face turned as black as the bottom of a pot, and he slapped the sofa armrest with his hand.

Xu Erdao and Qiao Haizhu shrank back in fright at the slap, while Lin Datou and Pan Lanxiang also raised their eyelids in unison, glanced at Jia Dafang's face, and then looked away.

Jia Dafang's eyes widened, veins bulging on his neck, and his voice cracked as he shouted, "This is the cultural front! It's regression! They're using the guise of rural performances to bring back those shady old tricks to the stage!"

He grew increasingly agitated, his voice rising higher and higher in the living room. Finally, he abruptly stood up, his face contorted with rage: "As long as I'm here, they won't be able to do anything reckless! I don't care what Zhu Zhengkuo is up to, the old regime is absolutely untouchable! I think that Zhu guy's position as secretary is nearing its end!"

In the kitchen, Hao Meili was humming a song and squatting by the basin washing potatoes when she heard Jia Dafang say "Zhu is correct." Suddenly, her fingers trembled, and the potato in her hand slipped into the basin with a "plop," splashing water that wet her front.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she abruptly turned her head towards the living room, exclaiming in a low voice, "Brother Gouzi?!"