The mountain peaks on both sides blocked out the sunlight, and shadows blanketed the road through the river valley. Along that road, a line of army-green sedans and trucks chugged onward...
After last night's final performance, the arts troupe had completed its performance duties for the year. They would have seven days to rest and recuperate before beginning a new year of performances once again.
The roads now were naturally nowhere near as good as they would be decades later. After being jolted around all the way, they finally returned to the arts troupe's base in Mengzi. As usual, someone was shouting that the bathwater was ready and telling everyone to hurry up, get themselves sorted out, and take a bath. The arts troupe, quiet for so long, once again came alive with clattering bustle.
Wang Yan still went to help the props team unload the vehicles. He had done it before, so naturally he had to keep doing it now; he still had to stand united with his comrades. But this sort of thing was difficult, really. If he helped, people said he was putting on an act. If he did not, they would say he was full of himself, that he was getting carried away. Still, Wang Yan helped anyway. In any case, nobody dared run their mouth in front of him.
Of course, the slap in the face came quickly as always.
Watching Wang Yan busy at work, Hao Shuwen immediately mocked him. "Oh my, Platoon Leader Wang is still helping the props team? What a fine comrade. Everyone should learn from Comrade Wang Yan—not arrogant, not impatient."
She had voiced exactly what everyone else was thinking, and her sarcasm could not have been more direct.
"Hao Shuwen is right. Wang Yan has always been like this.