Chapter 1525 - Selection

This was not Zuo Yamei's first time here. She made her way familiarly down the corridor and pushed open the nearest door. It was a large rectangular room, brightly lit. In the center stood a long table surrounded by a dozen or so chairs. Against the walls were rows of wooden lockers and benches.

Zuo Yamei opened a locker, carefully removed her cape, folded it neatly, and hung it inside. She checked her hair and clothes in the mirror set into the back of the door, making sure nothing was out of place. Then she took out a pair of shoes from the lower shelf of the locker.

These shoes were quite rare—a pair of black low-cut leather pumps made of deerskin. They had been crafted by a shoemaker found among the European prisoners in the labor camp. After being provided with several pairs of worn-out modern shoes as samples and complete technical documentation, he had finally produced something resembling modern-style footwear.

Naturally, such handmade products were not efficient. Limited by the cost and supply of leather, production was small—only a few styles made in small batches for the Yuan Elder Court and certain naturalized civilian staff whose work required attentive appearance. Zuo Yamei had received this pair after being selected for training here—they were kept in the locker and worn only during training.

She carefully wiped the uppers, ensuring there was no dirt. One last look in the mirror; she pinned her name tag to her collar and locked the locker.

Next to the changing room was the makeup room, but today's assembly notice had specified no makeup, so she did not go in. She walked directly toward the physical training room in the back.

This was her third time here since the selection began. After the first and second rounds, few remained. Zuo Yamei was somewhat nervous. After the Maidservant Training Class had been reorganized into the College of Arts and Sciences, she had gone from being a final-term graduate of the training class to being the first-term graduate of the college.

Though the reorganization meant she was no longer a slave of the Executive Office, losing the chance to become a Yuanlao's slave had initially left her and her similarly situated sisters feeling quite deflated. Everyone knew that being assigned as a life secretary to a Senior Official could eventually lead to becoming a Yuanlao's concubine. If one bore a son, mother and child would enjoy wealth and glory for life. She had ranked near the top of her class in all evaluations; when the graduation list was posted, even the teachers said it was a pity.

Lately, however, she was less regretful. Zuo Yamei had seen enough to know: Senior Officials would inevitably have numerous wives and concubines in the future, and jealous squabbles within the household would be common. If tensions ran high, a woman of her origins—a refugee, born lowly, with no one from her family to back her—would be a natural target for bullying. If the principal wife were harsh, let alone wealth and glory, even survival might be in doubt. A principal wife tormenting a concubine to death was hardly unheard of in the Ming.

Though Senior Officials were more approachable and kinder than wealthy Ming men, as long as distinctions between principal wife and concubine existed, such things would happen—the only question was severity.

True, some of her seniors had become principal wives, but those were rare exceptions. Most who bore children to Yuanlao remained nameless, titleless life secretaries. Thus her enthusiasm for becoming a life secretary had cooled considerably.

The sudden notice to participate in arts-group selection had caught her off guard. After joining the National Police, she had initially struggled to adapt to the intense workload, but the extra year of advanced education had given her a better foundation than most, and she learned quickly. By now she had more or less gotten the hang of things.

Still, Zuo Yamei immediately grasped the significance of the selection. At the Maidservant Training Class, she had received training in posture and dance, and she had watched films of Australian song and dance as well as live demonstrations by female Yuanlao. She knew the Yuanlao loved Australian song and dance. As a maidservant trainee serving at annual gatherings and other Yuanlao events, she had witnessed firsthand the rapturous enthusiasm of the Senior Officials when female Yuanlao danced—though to Zuo Yamei, those dances seemed a bit too wild.

If she could advance in this area and win the Yuanlao's favor, even without becoming a life secretary, it would greatly benefit her future.

With this in mind, Zuo Yamei had given her all during the selection, demonstrating every skill she had learned at the training class and doing her best to imitate the Australian mannerisms and gestures she had picked up from internal films and female Yuanlao. She had passed two rounds successfully. Today would bring the final result.

The thought made her nervous. In her mind, she rehearsed over and over the assignment Liu Shuixin had given after the last round: memorize a minute-and-a-half dance routine and a song.

The dance was not too difficult for Zuo Yamei—her posture and dance scores at the training class had always been good. Singing, however, was harder. There had been voice exercises at the training class, and among naturalized citizens they had heard the most modern songs and had privately hummed them, but they had never formally learned to sing.

She was realistic about her voice: it was hardly sweet, and she sometimes went off-key.

Would she catch the instructors' eye today? Zuo Yamei felt uncertain. Nearly forty candidates had made it to the third round, almost all graduates or current students of the former Maidservant Training Class, now the College of Arts and Sciences. She knew full well the college's teaching caliber in this area. Especially since she had heard from underclassmen that the college had opened a specialized arts track to train girls in instruments, singing, and dancing.

If those girls were competing, their abilities were surely above hers. Zuo Yamei could not help worrying—reportedly, more than half would be eliminated in this round.

Outside the rehearsal room, young women stood crowded together, all wearing outfits identical to hers. Some she recognized; they exchanged quiet greetings. Most of the rest were silent; some had their eyes closed, unable to hide their tension. Zuo Yamei felt it too. She glanced at the door—the first group had already gone in. She had received her number at the end of the last session: Group Five.

The rehearsal-room door was closed, but she could hear muffled music from inside. After passing the last round, she and all the successful candidates had attended a two-day-one-night workshop here, rehearsing this very song's choreography.

Hearing the tune made her even more nervous. Involuntarily, her fingers began miming the movements.

Just as she was fretting, the music inside stopped. Voices seemed to speak; a few minutes later, the rehearsal-room door opened. The girls from the first group emerged. Those waiting outside parted to let them through. Though everyone tried to look nonchalant, traces of joy, worry, and disappointment showed on their faces.

Even though the official results would not be announced until several days after all auditions were complete, each candidate's performance and the judges' reactions during the selection already told a great deal.

The last girl from the first group came out. Zuo Yamei recognized her: Lin Aili, a junior. Junior was relative—Lin Aili had actually been at the school for a long time. She had been sent to Lingao by the Guangzhou Station when she was not yet ten, completed lower elementary at Fangtso Di, then transferred to the Maidservant Training Class. Probably because she had grown up at Fangtso Di, Lin Aili's figure, bearing, and poise resembled an Australian more than any other girl. In the training class, there had been much speculation about which Yuanlao would choose her. After the class became the college, she had formally enrolled in the arts track. She was the overwhelming favorite in the selection.

The moment she appeared, several acquainted girls surrounded her with questions. Zuo Yamei felt a twinge of inadequacy and edged away.

Each group had six members. Four groups passed without pause. Finally, someone came out to call: "Group Five, prepare to enter! Get ready for the dance."

Zuo Yamei took a deep breath. She stretched and limbered up, gave her hem one last smoothing. At the staff member's signal, she walked in.

The rehearsal room was brilliantly lit. Before the enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror wall stood a long table, behind which sat seven or eight Senior Officials—tall, short, slender, stout. Some Zuo Yamei had seen before; others were appearing for the first time.

What surprised her most was seeing a superior from the National Police among them: Wu Ciren.

Wu Ciren was the director of the Traffic Police Division. He had almost no connection with Zuo Yamei. But his extraordinary height and weight made him a giant by local standards, so he was very well known within the National Police.

Such a burly man interested in the arts? Zuo Yamei was taken aback—she understood a bit about Australian culture: someone like Dongfang, with his long, flowing hair rare among male Senior Officials, fit the image of Australian arts.

Another familiar face was Liu Shuixin, who taught them dance. She looked somewhat haggard, perhaps overworked.

Temporary number tags were taped to the polished paulownia floor. Each candidate took her assigned spot and bowed together. "Good evening."

"Good evening." The selection's host was Liu Shuixin. "Today is the third round—and the final round." She stressed final. "Who remains will be decided by your performance today. Please do your best."

"Yes, Teacher."

"First, the dance segment."

Liu Shuixin nodded to the Yuanlao beside her. Okamoto pressed the button on the tape recorder, and the melody of 21st Century Love Revolution immediately flowed from the speaker.