Chapter 389: The Long-Haired Elder in White

“This is—”

“They are students from Fāngcǎodì,” Lian Nishang said with a slight sigh, as if reminiscing about her own school days. “These are all children from the selection group.” Her words were tinged with envy.

Zhuo Yifan was secretly astonished. This Lian Nishang was always arrogant and proud, looking down on almost everyone except the “chiefs.” She regarded the imperial court as an enemy, often uttering treasonous and disrespectful words. For her to speak with such a tone! The status of these “young pseudo-Aussies” was self-evident!

If he could get his hands on one of those “uniforms,” Zhou Zhongjun and the others could approach a genuine Aussie in broad daylight. The chances of success would increase significantly.

For the past few days, Zhou Zhongjun and her group had been active around Dongmen Market, familiarizing themselves with the terrain and trying to buy a student’s “uniform.”

From the intelligence Zhuo Yifan had gathered, students were a group that was relatively close to the Aussies, and the genuine Aussies were less guarded around them.

To their surprise, the student uniforms were nowhere to be found. Lingao had a thriving ready-to-wear clothing industry. Naturalized citizens almost exclusively bought ready-made clothes, and it was also popular among the local populace because they were well-fitting, affordable, and more cost-effective than buying fabric and hiring a tailor.

But the “uniforms” were the one thing they couldn’t buy. The “work clothes” in the ready-to-wear shops bore a superficial resemblance to the various “uniforms” of the Aussies—both being front-buttoning short jackets—but the details were very different, and the women’s clothing had even greater disparities. The Fāngcǎodì female student uniform had no equivalent on the market. After some inquiries, Zhou Zhongjun learned that these were all “government-issued” and not available for purchase.

Otherwise, I could have Zhou Zhongjun and the others ambush a few female students…

As his mind wandered, he suddenly heard the sound of dense footsteps approaching rapidly from behind. In an instant, with a barely audible “excuse me,” a tall figure rushed towards where they were standing.

Almost instinctively, Zhuo Yifan gently pushed Lian Nishang aside and took a diagonal step himself, quickly turning around. But the narrow space was not conducive to dodging. He felt a cool breeze brush past his back as a figure bumped into him. In his haste, he could only plant his feet firmly. The person, who was still running at high speed indoors, seemed rather boorish. He didn’t seem to notice that he had almost collided with a woman. He just turned, said something like “sorry,” and pushed through the crowd to leave. Zhuo Yifan vaguely saw that the person was a young man, quite tall, about six feet, dressed in white with long, unbound hair.

The senior disciple of Huashan was momentarily bewildered. “Isn’t Lingao supposed to be a place of strict rules and order? How can they tolerate such reckless behavior? How strange!” He was a little indignant. It was one thing to be queued behind a group of children, but to be bumped by some random person was another. If it weren’t for his martial arts training giving him a solid stance, he would have made a fool of himself in front of the policewoman Lian Nishang.

Lian Nishang, however, exclaimed in surprise, “Ah, that’s the chief Zuo Yamei mentioned last time, the only male chief who keeps his hair long! Why is he running in here alone? Isn’t he with the orchestra?”

Zhuo Yifan was puzzled. “Is this a genuine Australian? Why doesn’t he have his hair cut?”

“Most of the chiefs have their hair cut, that’s true. But Zuo Yamei told me there’s a male chief in the art troupe who’s different. His appearance and way of speaking are very different from the other chiefs. Oh, I remember now, that’s Chief Dongfang from the art troupe. He must be here for the cultural festival rehearsal today. Let’s go in. There’s probably a show to watch!”

“Oh, I didn’t expect to see such an unconventional Australian. It’s truly surprising.” Zhuo Yifan was ecstatic. He hadn’t expected the Aussies to enter and exit the stadium so casually, giving him such an opportunity for observation. He immediately followed Lian Nishang inside.

Dongfang Ke, who had often overslept and been late for work at the Finance and Economics Committee, had cycled from the Bairen dormitory to the stadium at top speed. To save time, he hadn’t gone around to the small entrance usually used by the Elders but had forced his way through the main entrance, nearly colliding with a spectating commoner in a long robe. He finally reached the stage just as Liu Shuixin was sitting down at the piano.

“Whew, I overslept, sorry.”

Nangong, standing on the conductor’s podium, was not surprised at all. “Go have a drink of water and catch your breath.”

“No need, let’s start right away. Let’s run through the tempo first, and then focus on the live acoustics and feedback.”

“Uh, I just had the strings try it out, it was okay. Alright, let’s rehearse.”

“Rehearsal piece: ‘Good News from Lingao Reaches the Li Villages,’ percussion, get ready.”

Nangong raised his baton. With the long call of a bullhorn, the sound of bells from the percussion section cut in, and the melodious, cheerful sound of the piano flowed from the fingers of Dongfang and Liu Shuixin. The MIDI keyboard wasn’t set up yet, so they had to make do with a harpsichord for now, which gave the 20th-century revolutionary folk tune a strange, hybrid feel.

Below the stage, Zuo Yamei, who had long finished her snacks, spotted her friend and waved them over. “Over here, over here!”

“So you knew this was the art troupe’s rehearsal! I would have come earlier if I’d known! Hehe, did you see Chief Dongfang? He just ran right past me,” Lian Nishang said, chatting happily with her friend, leaving Zhuo Yifan to the side.

Still in a state of amazement, the great hero Zhuo watched the performance on stage with great interest. The “Australian orchestra,” in both its formation and the instruments it used, was unique. What was most surprising was that a genuine Aussie was personally performing as a musician, with a man and a woman playing the same instrument together. The “disregard for hierarchy and social order” of the Australians was something he was experiencing firsthand. The “Australian music,” however, had a certain grandeur compared to the folk music of the Ming Dynasty. The strings were lively and intricate, the bells and gongs were well-coordinated, and the melody, in a major key, was sonorous and passionate. The large foreign zither, Zhuo Yifan had heard, was a Western product capable of playing dozens of notes. The male and female pianists were well-rehearsed. There was another “genuine Aussie” on stage, also dressed in plain clothes, dancing with a wooden stick in his hand, which was quite comical. The musicians playing the gongs and drums watched him intently.

Suddenly, the music entered a fast-paced section, becoming even more passionate. Then, the gongs and drums sounded, ending on a long note. The dancer with the wooden stick also clenched his fist and froze his posture. Only then did Zhuo Yifan roughly understand what he was doing.

“Wow, the chiefs really can do anything. They’re amazing at playing instruments too!” Lian Nishang was still immersed in the impactful “Song-Australian melody” and couldn’t help but “worship” them again.

“I heard from a chief at the club that this art troupe has gathered all the naturalized citizen musicians in Lingao, with Chief Dongfang, Chief Nangong, and Chief Liu personally performing. The instruments were also purchased from Macau. Director Okamoto went to a lot of trouble for this,” Zuo Yamei added. As for the disputes over artistic resources she had accidentally overheard among the chiefs, as a police officer, she naturally knew to keep it confidential.

“Oh, right, I was so engrossed in the performance! I’ve neglected the great hero Zhuo. My apologies, Young Master. What do you have in your hand?”

“You’re too kind, Miss Zuo. This is an Australian jianbing guozi I bought in Dongmen Market. You can try some.” Zhuo Yifan had long since cast aside any notion of propriety between men and women, seeking only to gain the trust of these two policewomen.

“Hehe, not right now, I’ve already had breakfast. Should we go to the sparring hall now, or listen to the art troupe’s rehearsal for a bit longer? It seems like there’s more to come.”

“Let’s listen a bit longer! It’s really amazing!” Lian Nishang seemed to have become a loyal “fan” of the art troupe.

Zhuo Yifan also chimed in, “That would be wonderful. The music of the Australians has a truly unique flavor!” In reality, he wanted to get a better look at the faces of these genuine Aussies. “It’s just that for these chiefs to be playing instruments themselves, it feels a bit undignified…”

“Hehe, don’t you Ming gentlemen also play the zither, practice calligraphy, and paint? Why can’t the chiefs play the piano?” Lian Nishang turned to retort, pouting her lips.

How can a scholarly pursuit in one’s study be compared to performing on stage for money? the young master Zhuo thought to himself, but he held his tongue and didn’t argue.

On stage, the orchestra was rearranging their seats and instruments. Dongfang Ke and Liu Shuixin came down. Okamoto met them and said, “Not bad, not bad. At that speed, the piano and percussion’s basic rhythm and layers didn’t fall apart. Nangong’s conducting is excellent. It’s just that the sound field is still a bit thin. The sound system needs more tuning.”

“More or less. This piece is relatively short, and they’re quite familiar with it. I have nothing to do in the next piece, ‘Colorful Clouds Chasing the Moon.’ I’ll sit in the audience and listen to the effect,” Dongfang Ke said, surprised that Okamoto hadn’t berated him for being late.

“Alright, find a seat yourself. I’ll stay here and supervise. Comrade Liu, you…”

“I’ll go to the opposite stand to listen!” Liu Shuixin also seemed very enthusiastic. As a former key member of a song and dance troupe before the transmigration, she was no longer satisfied with just singing at the Elders’ New Year’s parties. After all, the stage was where an artist’s passion lay.

Dongfang Ke tied his messy hair back with a cord, unbuttoned the top button of his silk shirt, and walked alone to the stands where a group of naturalized citizens were watching. He vaulted over the railing and stood in a patch of shadow with his arms crossed. On stage, Nangong Hao began to conduct the folk orchestra.

Tapping his foot to the beat, Dongfang Ke’s gaze was not on the stage. He was searching for something.

“Hey, Yamei, this Australian piece seems very different from the last one?” Lian Nishang was not musically inclined. In this era, without mass media, it was not easy for ordinary people to be exposed to various types of music.

“I heard this one at the last rehearsal. It’s said to be a folk tune from the Fujian-Guangdong region that the Australian chiefs re-arranged.”

Zuo Yamei had clearly become an avid follower of the arts under the influence of the Senate, speaking with confidence.

Zhuo Yifan was staring at the musician playing the huqin. He noticed that the man clearly had the appearance of a soldier and wondered why he was playing the fiddle. Suddenly, the hair on his neck stood on end. Something felt wrong.