Chapter Eighteen: Performance Class in the Broadcasting Department

Of course, attending the broadcasting class required a small price: it meant missing two lessons with their homeroom teacher, Mr. Chen. At school, a single lesson was divided into two sessions, each lasting forty-five minutes, with a ten-minute break at noon. However, Ms. Ma preferred to teach her two lessons consecutively, so they would miss all of Mr. Chen’s classes. Yet, the unyielding Ms. Yang had spoken, and Mr. Chen could only cooperate and let them go. It’s true that the kind-hearted are often taken advantage of! As the bell rang, Dong Yanyan sighed softly, carrying her chair and notebook, slipping out the back door of her class, crossing the corridor, and settling in the back row of the broadcasting classroom. Liu Siying had arrived earlier and was already smiling sweetly, greeting the senior students.

Dong Yanyan found a seat in the back that wouldn’t block anyone’s view—there was little choice, given her petite stature. Glancing back inadvertently, she saw the blackboard, decorated with a striking three-dimensional red drawing that resembled a throat, and she was sitting right at its center. Feeling a bit uneasy, she stuck out her tongue and moved her chair slightly to the side.

Ms. Ma swept in with her teaching materials and tape recorder, the class president called for everyone to stand, and she responded with a gentle smile, letting everyone sit. Noticing Dong Yanyan and Liu Siying, she nodded to them with special warmth.

People are always curious about unfamiliar things, and Dong Yanyan, determined not to let herself down, felt wide awake. The students in this class were much more relaxed and free during lessons; the teacher’s questions were often improvised, sparking lively discussions. Soon, there was even an impromptu performance segment, where students formed groups and enacted short skits of their own choosing.

What a gathering of handsome boys and beautiful girls! Although the students in this class had shockingly low entrance exam scores, their looks and poise, cultivated from a young age, were truly remarkable. It was a feast for the eyes!

Dong Yanyan was sitting at the back, chewing her pencil and squinting dreamily, when Ms. Ma wandered over, tapped on the desk beside a boy, and pointed at her, saying, “Zhang Dawei, you take her. Dong Yanyan, this is a rare opportunity for practical experience—make the most of it.”

Dong Yanyan’s eyes widened in surprise: it was her first time auditing, and she had to perform? That was too sudden! Looking at Liu Siying, already enthusiastically rehearsing with the seniors up front, Dong Yanyan stood up with a cheerful smile, offering Zhang Dawei a friendly, modest greeting, “I don’t know anything yet, so you’ll have to teach me, senior!”

Zhang Dawei smiled, flashing a perfect row of eight white teeth. “Yanyan, don’t be nervous—there’s no script, just follow my movements. Come, let’s practice briefly.” He stood, moved a desk to a cleared space at the back of the classroom, and the two of them began rehearsing their positions around the table.

They had only ten minutes to practice, and each performance lasted three minutes. Everyone had brought their own cassette tape; whoever went on stage had their chosen background music played. Zhang Dawei chose “You, My Deskmate” as his theme, and they were scheduled last.

Dong Yanyan, a woman in her thirties with a penchant for beautiful men, felt a familiar surge of nervousness. There was nothing she could do—she’d always been a student who struggled with self-expression and had spent years at home. This open style of performance challenged her inner ostrich. So as others performed, she watched intently, carefully studying their words and movements.

When Zhang Dawei led her to the front for their turn, all the emotions she’d built up seemed to vanish suddenly—her mind went blank. Luckily, the familiar melody started, grounding her. The two sat at the desk, resting their chins, deep in thought, rising, turning back-to-back, secretly holding hands, stepping apart, walking forward, turning to look back... In just a few short movements, she was guided entirely by her senior, and only when applause broke out below did her tension ease. She bowed, then nervously looked at the teacher.

Ms. Ma nodded slightly, giving her an encouraging smile. “Not bad—just a bit tense. It’s your first time on stage, that’s only natural.”

“Thank you, teacher!” She smiled in relief, following her senior to step down from the stage.

“Don’t leave yet, Dong Yanyan—we’d like to hear your thoughts on Wu Yuanheng.” A boy in the front row, pen in hand and sitting upright with a serious, studious expression, spoke at a volume just right for the whole class to hear.

Dong Yanyan jumped in surprise, turning to look at the teacher with a pout. But Ms. Ma didn’t rebuke the bold questioner; instead, she looked at her watch. “There are ten minutes left in class, Dong Yanyan—you have ten minutes to speak freely.”

How could Dong Yanyan not understand the teacher’s intention? In this class, teachers rarely encountered students who were both high-achieving and motivated. When they did, they seized every chance to share their knowledge. A sudden wave of emotion touched her—then she thought, she was facing a bunch of privileged teenagers, most of whom could sit here even if they scored zero on their exams. Besides, they’d just graduated high school—how much knowledge could they have? She herself, a seasoned, internet-addicted homebody, consumed countless texts daily; even bluffing, she could impress them for a while. And now, her identity was just that of a student younger than they were—even if she made mistakes, the teacher would understand. What was there to worry about?

With that thought, she hopped back onto the stage, picked up a piece of chalk, and smiled calmly. “All right, Ren Jiaxuan, to satisfy your curiosity, I’ll share my understanding of Wu Yuanheng! Everyone loves beauty, and as a hopeless admirer of handsome faces, I can’t help but fantasize about this famously good-looking prime minister! Who was Wu Yuanheng? He was a refined gentleman, as well as an iron-willed, upright chancellor—gentle on the surface, strong within. To use a joking term, a gentle, cunning strategist. In his lifetime, he devoted all his effort to supporting that man and holding up half the Tang empire. His death was the last sigh before the decline of the Tang dynasty, marking the beginning of its sunset.”

She turned and wrote a single large character on the blackboard: Tang! Why only one? Because she knew her handwriting wasn’t fit for display.

After writing it boldly, she turned her gaze and continued, “Let’s spread our wings of imagination and return to that morning over a thousand years ago. A renowned minister was ambushed and killed on his way to court. His iron will and brilliant mind could not withstand the blades of thugs—a truly tragic scene! Almost at the same time, his soulmate Pei Du was also attacked on his way to court, barely surviving. When news reached Daming Palace, all officials were gripped by fear; meanwhile, the poets Bai Juyi and Li Shangyin, with little influence, were each scheming for themselves; within Daming Palace, the leading man of the Tang empire, Emperor Xianzong Li Chun, stood alone, sighing deeply...”

Fortunately, she wasn’t nearsighted; she could ramble on while discreetly keeping an eye on the clock. When she saw it was half past three, she wrapped up her speech, bowed to the teacher and classmates.

Dong Yanyan turned to look at the teacher, and this time, she saw a hint of approval in her eyes.

“Very good—your language is fluent, your logic fairly clear, and your thinking is novel. But your pronunciation still needs work; after class, talk more and practice more. Class dismissed.” Ms. Ma gathered her lesson plan, put an arm around Dong Yanyan’s shoulders, and walked out of the classroom.

After listening to Ms. Ma’s gentle, motherly guidance, Dong Yanyan drifted back to her own classroom, only then remembering she’d left her notebook in the broadcasting class. She quickly ran back to retrieve it.