Entertainment and culture in those days started with cultural propaganda teams.

Chapter 20 Arts and Literature Assessment

The small auditorium of the district cultural center was already quite full.

A dozen or so young faces were scattered below the stage; some were reciting their lines in hushed tones, while others were fidgeting with their fingers. A faint sense of tension permeated the air.

Zhang Dahe sat in the middle of the first row, next to two middle-aged men whom Xu Yang had never seen before. They were both wearing dark Zhongshan suits, and there were scoring sheets spread out on the table in front of them.

He Hui was also there, sitting in a seat near the aisle. When she saw Xu Yang come in, she nodded slightly to him.

The assessment will begin at 2:00 PM sharp.

Zhang Dahe stood up, briefly explained the rules, and then called out the first person's name.

Xu Yang sat against the wall, quietly watching the people in front of him go up on stage one by one.

Some of them sang folk songs, their voices crisp and clear like those of a lark in the mountains.

Some were playing the flute, their breath even, producing a clear and bright sound.

Another girl performed a poetry recitation; her voice was full and affectionate, so much so that a judge in the front row had to take off his glasses and wipe his eyes.

With each person who came out, the audience fell into a deeper silence.

None of those who come here to participate in the assessment are vegetarians.

When it was Xu Yang's turn, seven or eight people had already passed by.

"Next up, Comrade Xu Yang."

Zhang Dahe's voice wasn't loud, but the entire small auditorium fell silent for a moment.

Xu Yang stood up, took the harmonica out of his pocket, and walked onto the stage.

The stage lights shone on him, and he squinted slightly before nodding slightly to the audience.

"Good morning/afternoon, esteemed judges. The piece I will be performing is 'Katyusha'."

He brought the harmonica to his lips and took a deep breath.

When the first note was played, He Hui in the audience hissed softly.

She had heard Xu Yang play the harmonica.

During that hospital visit, Xu Yang played "My Motherland," his music powerful and heartfelt, like a great river flowing through the room.

But there was an element of "unexpectedness" in that shock.

After all, no one expected that a young man who had just been pulled from the river could play at such a high level.

But this time is different.

This time, she came with expectations.

Xu Yang's piano playing still gave her goosebumps from the very first note.

The melody of "Katyusha" flowed from the melodica, carrying a luxurious quality that was completely out of place on this cheap, domestically made melodica.

The sound of the piano was bright and deep, like a woman's voice singing softly in a birch forest in spring.

Each note was as full as a ripe berry, round, sweet, and with a slight echo.

When the chorus began, Xu Yang's breath suddenly intensified, and the piano music became more passionate, like countless Katyushas standing on the riverbank, watching their beloved go to the battlefield.

His piano playing perfectly captured that complex mix of sadness and heroism.

The two judges in the audience exchanged a glance, and one of them picked up a pen and wrote a number on the scoring sheet.

Zhang Dahe sat in the middle, his hands clasped on the table, his fingers unconsciously clenching and unclenching.

His expression seemed calm, but He Hui noticed his slightly reddened eyes.

This guy cried again because of the wind.

When the last note fell, the small auditorium was silent for a full five seconds.

Then Zhang Dahe was the first to applaud.

His slaps were thick and loud; after two claps, the others seemed to be awakened and joined in the applause.

The applause wasn't enthusiastic, but every clap was genuine, the kind of heartfelt applause without a trace of formality.

Xu Yang bowed and walked off the stage at a leisurely pace.

He Huichong gave him a thumbs up, her face beaming with undisguised pride.

With Xu Yang's performance, his selection is practically a done deal.

Xu Yang stepped off the stage and returned to his seat against the wall, his palms still slightly warm.

The assessment on stage was still ongoing, with three or four more people behind them.

There were people singing Peking Opera, playing the accordion, and a young man wearing glasses performed a clapper talk, his bamboo clappers clapping loudly and the rhythm was brisk, which made several judges in the audience smile.

Xu Yang's mind wasn't on the stage. He looked down at his fingers, the tips still tingling with the feel of the harmonica keys.

He knew he had played "Katyusha" quite well, but he was still unsure whether Zhang Dahe would approve it on the spot.

After all, he had no "identity".

In this era, class background, family history, and official records are all more important and weighty than talent.

"The last one is Comrade Wang Hongjun."

The young man playing the accordion on stage bowed and went off the stage.

Xu Yang then came to his senses and realized that the assessment was already over.

Zhang Dahe stood up, but instead of immediately announcing the results, he turned to the side and whispered a few words to the two judges next to him.

The scoring sheets in front of the three people were being flipped through repeatedly, with a hand occasionally pointing at them.

The dozen or so people in the audience held their breath, the air tense like a taut string.

A few minutes later, Zhang Dahe turned around and cleared his throat.

"Thank you all for your excellent performances today. After discussion by the judging panel, the shortlist has been released."

He paused, his gaze swept across the audience, and finally settled on Xu Yang.

Comrade Xu Yang.

Xu Yang's heart skipped a beat, and he looked up.

"Your harmonica playing is the best I've heard in recent years. Comrade He Hui has also given me a detailed introduction to your literary talent." Zhang Dahe's voice was loud and solemn, every word resounding. "Our Jiangcheng Cultural Propaganda Team needs talent like you. Welcome to join us."

All eyes turned to Xu Yang, some with envy, some with curiosity, and some with resentment. Xu Yang ignored those gazes, stood up, and bowed to Zhang Dahe and the two judges.

"Thank you, Director Zhang, and thank you to all the judges. I will definitely do my best and live up to the trust placed in me by the organization."

Zhang Dahe nodded in satisfaction, then read out the names of the other two selected individuals: one was the girl who sang folk songs, named Tian Chunmiao, and the other was the bespectacled young man who played the clapper, named Chen Zhiguo.

As the party ended, He Hui walked up to Xu Yang, unable to hide her smile: "I told you you'd be fine. Let Xiaoli order a few more dishes tonight, let's celebrate properly."

Xu Yang scratched the back of his head and chuckled twice: "Aunt Hui, we haven't officially started work yet, so let's not make a fuss."

He Hui glared at him, pretending to be surprised: "You're the one I recommended, and you've done so well. I'm proud of you, so why can't I brag about it? Alright, hurry back and tell Xiaoli the good news. That girl will definitely be even happier than you."

Mentioning Liu Xiaoli, Xu Yang's joy seemed to finally find an outlet, and it all surged up at once.

He said goodbye to He Hui, pushed his bicycle out of the cultural center, straddled the bike, and rode off towards the family compound.

The wind whistled past my ears, carrying the coolness of early spring and the aroma of scallion pancakes wafting from the roadside breakfast stalls.