Chapter Eighteen: Singing to the Motherland

The first Spring Festival after returning to her childhood felt rather stifling. Yu Qian remembered everything, and had long since lost interest in her grandmother’s family, so the farce that happened that day had faded from her memory. But for Wen Yu, what Yu Qian spoke of was all still in the future. She had been close to her natal family for more than twenty years, and only distanced herself for half a year, so the row on that day still left her feeling upset.

Father and daughter tried everything to cheer her up, but with little success. It wasn’t until after the Lantern Festival, when the couple prepared to return to the provincial capital for work, that Wen Yu finally regained a bit of spirit.

Worried for her mother’s state, Yu Qian quietly exchanged for a Heart-Calming Pill from the Supreme Lord, ground it into powder, and secretly mixed it into Wen Yu’s drink. As its name suggested, the Heart-Calming Pill was used by cultivators to elevate their state of mind. For an ordinary person, it wasn’t quite as effective, but it could certainly foster a more optimistic outlook.

Watching Wen Yu drink the medicated water, Yu Qian finally felt relieved. Wen Yu had always been pessimistic, expecting the worst in any situation. The effect of the Heart-Calming Pill was permanent—she would never be like that again.

After the Lantern Festival, Wen Yu and her husband went back to the provincial capital. Yu Qian borrowed high school textbooks from her sister and began her journey of self-study. From then on, Yu Qian visited her grandmother’s house once a month to deliver the living expenses, but unless her grandparents were ill, they no longer intended to involve themselves or worry about anything else.

Wen Sheng, seeing clearly that they were determined not to meddle further, stopped making a fuss and took his wife and children to the southern city for work. Wen Yuan, on the other hand, remained unconvinced. Losing a cash dispenser for no reason made life tough for someone as idle as him. But it was useless for him to stir up trouble; in the provincial capital, the moment they saw him, they would call the police, and in the county town, his niece was a tough nut to crack. After a few failed attempts, which cost him dearly, he gave up and went back to sponging off his elders as before.

Time passed, and soon it was Children's Day. As in previous years, the school planned an event, requiring each class except for the sixth grade to present two performances. Class One of Grade Four, as usual, chose a group chorus of “Singing of the Motherland.” For the second program, the homeroom teacher, expecting much from Yu Qian, asked if she wanted to perform something.

After some thought, Yu Qian decided that jazz dance might be a bit too much for this group of elementary students, and classical dance might be too quiet for their tastes, so she opted for a solo on the guzheng.

When word got out that she would play the guzheng, several close friends gathered around. “Qian Qian, when did you learn the guzheng?”

“Hm? How did you know I can play?” Yu Qian was surprised. Neither she nor the homeroom teacher had mentioned her performance to anyone yet.

“Oh, it's that Ge Lulu from Class Two—she saw our class’s program list in the office,” He Xiaoqing replied, sounding annoyed. Many in their class didn't like Ge Lulu from next door.

She had a princess complex, thought herself above everyone else, and was excessively dramatic.

Another girl, Guo Juan, leaned in, “She said you just want to show off, and that she’ll make you look bad. She wants you to know she’s better at instruments than you.”

“Yeah, she’s doing a solo too, but on the piano,” He Xiaoqing added, then asked worriedly, “Qian Qian, are you any good? I heard Ge Lulu has been learning the piano for two years and is actually quite good.”

Yu Qian just smiled and gave no guarantees. She honestly had no idea how well Ge Lulu played—who knew, maybe she really was a piano prodigy.

In the days leading up to Children’s Day, Yu Qian, by coincidence or not, ran into Ge Lulu and her group at least once a day. Every time, Ge Lulu would give her the look of a condescending noble, as if expecting Yu Qian to kneel and beg for mercy.

Yu Qian found it all rather helpless. She wasn’t even familiar with Ge Lulu—if not for this incident, she probably couldn’t have matched name to face.

On May 31st, there were no classes. Each class gathered at the county stadium to await the event. All classes wore identical outfits; Yu Qian’s class had red T-shirts—girls paired them with black tulle skirts, boys with black jeans. The homeroom teacher had used class funds for the outfits, and Yu Qian thought they looked nice—their teacher had better taste than the others.

Looking around, she noticed a class dressed head to toe in green, just a hat short of being called “green hats.” Seeing that sea of green, she couldn’t help but recall the “color of forgiveness” from her past life and shared a teasing comment about it in the group chat, much to the amusement of the immortals, who had never heard the saying before.

Next to them was another class in mustard yellow—their performance was “The Yellow River Cantata,” and their teacher thought yellow was fitting.

It was truly an assault on the eyes!

By comparison, her own class looked the best.

Holding the guzheng she’d borrowed from her interest class teacher, Yu Qian felt delighted. Children’s Day—she hadn’t celebrated in years. The thought of a week-long break made her want to jump for joy. She planned to ask the Sages for leave that night—she was going to enjoy her holiday!

Her mind was already racing with plans. She wanted to visit Zhongyan and the Three Sus to tour the places where Su Dongpo had studied and lived, and even livestream the tour for him—how fun!

She wanted to visit the Thatched Cottage of Du Fu, and of course, she’d livestream for Li Qinglian, letting him join her as they explored the haunts of his superfan, Du Zimei.

She wanted to go to the amusement park. In all her thirty-plus years across two lifetimes, she’d never been to one—not even once. What a pity!

Lost in her thoughts, it was already time for her class’s group singing. She stood up and handed her guzheng to the teacher for safekeeping.

“The five-starred red flag flutters in the wind, the song of victory rings so bright;
We sing of our beloved motherland, forging ahead toward prosperity and might.
We sing of our beloved motherland, forging ahead toward prosperity and might.
Over the mountains, across the plains, leaping over the surging Yellow River and Yangtze;
...
Our lives grow better each day, our future brilliantly bright.
The five-starred red flag flutters in the wind, the song of victory rings so bright;
We sing of our beloved motherland, forging ahead toward prosperity and might.
We sing of our beloved motherland, forging ahead toward prosperity and might.”

Yu Qian had always felt deep reverence for China, and after being taught by the Sages, her heart swelled with even more pride. For thousands of years, China had stood at the forefront of the world, but in the century before its founding, not only Yu Qian but every immortal and every person in the group had felt profound sorrow.

Fortunately, after enduring countless hardships, China had risen again.

Fuxi once said, the backbone of the descendants of Yan and Huang would never bend forever; the cultural heritage of thousands of years would not allow them to fall into decline. All that was needed was patience, for China would once more become the world’s center.

Yu Qian wholeheartedly agreed. She had promised everyone in the Goddess Group that she would study hard and bring them along to witness the resurgence of China.