The Program
When Mother Lin learned that Su Su wasn’t pregnant, she stopped restricting her movements, though she remained concerned that Su Su might pick up bad habits from Widow Qiao, whose reputation wasn’t exactly stellar.
Thankfully, Sun Ying was accompanying Su Su, which eased her worries.
However, Mother Lin didn’t anticipate that the women practicing for the performance would start gathering at her daughter-in-law’s house because the village committee building was too cold.
The first time she stepped into the house during one of these sessions, she was stunned. The place was bustling with activity.
Mother Lin couldn’t believe her eyes. Ever since she had married into the village, her home had never been this lively except during big events. Now, it was full of women not only practicing their lines and songs but also bringing their own handiwork to do while they practiced.
She was amazed by how her daughter-in-law had managed to keep this group of often headstrong women in line. Father Lin had once remarked that Su Su had the potential to achieve great things, and seeing her now, Mother Lin had to agree.
Initially, she was worried Su Su might get bullied, so she stayed for the first two days. But she quickly realized that Su Su’s smooth-talking skills and authoritative demeanour commanded respect. She even acted like a leader, knowing when to soften her tone and when to stand her ground. Relieved, Mother Lin stopped attending the sessions, though from the courtyard, she could still hear the cacophony of off-tune singing from the backroom.
Su Su didn’t have it easy, though. She applied everything she had learned from her school days about teaching and managing groups to keep things under control. Sun Ying’s familiarity with the village women helped as well—she had selected participants who not only had decent memory but also showed promising enthusiasm.
Still, after two days of shouting instructions, Su Su’s voice was almost gone. The village head and Lin Donghe soon arrived at her house with a pound of sugar as a token of appreciation. Sugar was a rare commodity in this era, especially around the New Year, and the village head had gone to great lengths to procure it.
After seeing them off, Su Su wasn’t surprised by their visit. Her house had recently become the go-to place for various activities, including literacy classes, because the village committee building was too cold. On top of that, neighbours frequently dropped by, keeping her busy all day.
When the village head and Lin Donghe arrived, she welcomed them warmly, opening the door to let out the smoke from the stove. “Come in, come in. I’ll air out the room a bit.”
“You’ve really worked hard,” the village head said, noticing her hoarse voice.
Lin Donghe glanced at Su Su. His initial impression of her had been poor, seeing her as an aloof city girl who looked down on everyone. He even suspected her of underhanded behaviour, such as secretly recording conversations. But now, watching her shoulder such a difficult task for the village, he had to admit she wasn’t as bad as he thought.
It wasn’t easy to manage this performance project, which he himself wouldn’t have dared to take on. The women in their village were famously tough to handle, but Su Su—a girl not even twenty years old—had managed to win them over.
“It’s not too hard. If we can win the competition, it’ll be worth it,” Su Su said with a smile, though she hesitated slightly, feeling embarrassed.
“I heard you wrote the lyrics for the performance?” Lin Donghe asked, curious. As a progressive youth, he admired literary and artistic work.
Su Su didn’t mind his question. After all, despite his faults, Lin Donghe’s devotion to the female lead wasn’t entirely wrong. If not for their meddling, she wouldn’t have married Lin Chuan so quickly.
She handed him her notes, saying, “It’s just something I scribbled together.”
Lin Donghe’s eyes lit up as he read the lyrics. Having completed high school, he had a fondness for writing himself and found her work impressive. It was not only creative but also aligned with national themes, emphasizing women’s empowerment and education.
“This is excellent,” he said sincerely, handing the paper back. “And your handwriting is beautiful too.” He had initially assumed Su Su was just a token graduate from a worker-and-peasant university, but now he realized he had underestimated her.
“It’s nothing,” Su Su replied modestly, surprised by his praise. Was the sun rising in the west today?
The village head noticed the shift in their dynamic and felt relieved that past misunderstandings seemed to be resolved. He stayed a while longer to discuss the upcoming event and asked Su Su if she planned to go home for the New Year.
The Lin family had kept her orphan status a secret to protect her from being ostracized in the village, but now that she was married, there was no need to hide it. Su Su replied calmly, “I’m an orphan, so I have no family to visit. This is my home now.”
The revelation shocked both the village head and Lin Donghe. They hadn’t expected someone so elegant and refined to be an orphan.
“Probably a war orphan,” the village head guessed, thinking back to the chaos of recent years.
Though neither man said much, they left with a newfound respect for Su Su. It was rare for someone with her background to have not only completed university but also maintained such a positive outlook on life.
Lin Donghe, in particular, felt a pang of empathy. He too had been an orphan but was fortunate enough to be adopted by the Lin family. He realized how superficial his earlier judgment of Su Su had been. He had assumed she married Lin Chuan for ulterior motives, but now he saw that she might simply have been drawn to the warmth of their family and Lin Chuan’s kindness.
Su Su, unaware of Lin Donghe’s overthinking, focused on the rehearsal. Once the group was ready, they set off for the commune, traveling on two donkey carts. To keep spirits high, Su Su encouraged everyone to keep practicing along the way.
The atmosphere was lively. Su Su didn’t want the women to feel too nervous—after all, it was just a performance.
When they arrived at the commune, the sheer number of participants surprised her, especially the many women who had come from surrounding villages.
The era’s atmosphere was palpable—disciplined and steeped in tradition.
After gathering, they were led into the auditorium, where they registered their program. Everything felt disorganized, but Su Su rolled with it. After submitting their line-up, they waited until it was their turn to perform.
The village head and Lin Donghe stayed busy running errands, proud that their village had managed to participate. They mentioned later that several villages couldn’t organize enough people and had been publicly criticized for it.
In this era, where honour was everything, such criticism could lead to public shaming even during routine commune visits. The village head and Lin Donghe’s pride in their participation was well justified.
Su Su, meanwhile, felt content just to have integrated into the group.
The performances themselves were simple, often clumsy, which made them unintentionally funny. It wasn’t a matter of looking down on anyone—it was just that the limited practice time led to all sorts of amusing mishaps. Watching them felt more like enjoying a comedy show.
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