The annual city-wide autumn arts gala was an event that every unit’s performance troupe prepared for with the utmost gravity. Making it into the final show was considered a singular honor.
After all, the gala didn’t just feature units from the Capital City; it also included outstanding performances selected from other provinces. Its scale was comparable to the Spring Festival Galas of the eighties and nineties!
The competition was incredibly fierce. Even a performance selected by the Central Political Department wasn’t guaranteed a spot on stage.
Naturally, the audience members were all heavyweights—the same esteemed figures who regularly appeared in the newspapers.
Every single ticket was marked with a name; it was not an event open to the public.
The Zhaoyang Clothing Factory’s performance troupe had been around for seventeen or eighteen years, but only once—two years ago—had they succeeded. A dance the troupe had adapted from Huo Tianhao’s story was selected for its profound theme, which was considered the troupe’s finest hour.
First thing Tuesday morning, everyone was summoned to the troupe’s conference room for a meeting.
The girls from the various groups were all present. The troupe’s leaders took their seats one by one, joined by Vice Factory Director Zhao, who oversaw the factory’s cultural and promotional activities, as well as the heads of the union and the organizing committee.
Each of them gave a speech, repeatedly stressing the importance of the gala. This wasn’t merely a matter of pride, but a reflection of the organization’s resource priorities!
A performance troupe served as a unit’s public face, the embodiment of its spirit.
The city’s top leaders were extremely busy; they couldn’t possibly be familiar with every single unit. They formed their general impressions of subordinate units through various means.
And that general impression determined where future opportunities might be directed.
In other words, the autumn arts gala in August was directly tied to whether the factory’s sales could double in the coming year.
After he finished speaking, Vice Factory Director Zhao asked Mr. Xue about this year’s plan. In his opinion, the performance that had just won first place during their goodwill tour of a dozen affiliate units was excellent and could be submitted for consideration.
Xia Zhaoyun had already discussed this privately with Mr. Xue and Teacher Su.
A novel and successful performance would be quickly replicated or imitated by others. Two months was enough time for that novelty to fade, meaning it would no longer have the competitive edge they imagined.
Therefore, they had to decisively scrap that performance and choreograph a new one!
The young women’s hearts were ablaze, ready to burn themselves out completely for the sake of the factory’s future.
The moment the leaders left, the resentment from the girls of Group Two was practically tangible. They immediately rounded on Song Zhenbao. "Song Zhenbao, whoever gets involved with you is just plain unlucky..."
"Teacher Xia is such a wonderful person, and your family has driven her to a dead end..."
"If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have missed out on such an amazing opportunity! Do you have some kind of blood feud with us? Why do you have to make our lives so miserable?"
"Exactly! We had the best shot at getting those ten years of seniority, and it’s all because of Song Zhenbao!"
No matter how thick-skinned Song Zhenbao was, she couldn’t withstand the collective assault from the girls of Group Two. Covering her face, she ran home in tears.
Her heart ached with hatred. ’If Xia Zhaoyun hadn’t stolen eighteen years of my life,’ she thought, ’I would be the one everyone’s fawning over today.’
’Even though I’ve been reborn into this life and trained so hard, I’m still missing those crucial eighteen years,’ she fumed. ’I still don’t stand out among the other dancers at all.’

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