Chapter Eighteen: A Step Away

December 31, 2001, the very last day of the year.

The senior class celebration was held in the multifunctional hall of No. 4 High School. Six classes, nearly three hundred students—aside from a few who took advantage of the event to skip class and sneak out, most were present. Many underclassmen from the first and second years had also hurried over to join the fun. The hall, not especially large, was packed to bursting; many had no seats and crowded the corridors, peering in.

“Dear seniors, this year is the most important year of your lives. You are about to face the college entrance exam. You have endured great pressure and worked hard. I firmly believe your efforts will be rewarded, and this period of senior year will become one of your most unforgettable memories.

So, on this day of bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new, I hope you can cast aside all your worries, reclaim the innocence and exuberance of youth, and fully enjoy this celebration!

Now, the 2001 Senior Graduation Celebration officially begins!”

The principal’s opening speech was met with thunderous applause. After concluding, the old principal took the initiative to leave the hall, followed by many veteran teachers, leaving just a handful of young teachers to completely hand the stage over to the students.

The first program: a choral performance from Class 1, singing “Ode to the Motherland.”

Forty-three young people in matching uniforms stepped into the center of the hall. Accompanied by stirring music, their voices rose together.

“The five-starred red flag flutters in the wind, how loud is the song of victory; we sing for our beloved motherland, moving toward prosperity and strength from now on... Climbing over the mountains...”

The opening lines were fairly in tune, but as the melody climbed higher, many found their voices couldn’t keep up; the chorus grew ragged, the pitch wavering wildly.

Artistry was never the point of such school celebrations—rowdiness was. As the chorus threatened to devolve into a cacophony, a few thick-skinned boys, Zhao Zejun among them, simply started bellowing at the top of their lungs.

“Over the mountains, over the plains,
Crossing the surging Yellow River and Yangtze;
This broad and beautiful land is our beloved home,
The heroic people have risen!
We are united, loving, as strong as steel.”

The melody faltered, but the energy soared higher than ever. A group of seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds, like young tigers, roared from the stage, rousing the entire crowd. Below, a sea of classmates burst into laughter, some even joining the shouting.

Their rock-and-roll rendition of “Ode to the Motherland” concluded, and someone yelled, “One more! One more!” Naturally, there was no encore. The next act was a solo from the little song god of Class 3, Lang Tao: “Don’t Be Afraid I’ll Break Your Heart.”

“A heart that loves you, spinning for you every moment, my love once deeply warmed your soul...”

The prince of love songs’ voice echoed through the vast hall, stirring bittersweet memories in many. A few girls who had long harbored silent crushes on Lang Tao blushed, their eyes dreamy.

One act followed another. Most were amateurish, but the atmosphere was warm and boisterous throughout: chatting, banter, cheers, and applause abounded. Sunflower seed shells and banana peels littered the floor. Some unlucky soul slipped and fell, sending the crowd into uproarious laughter.

The second-year students put on a performance, too: five girls in short leather shorts, their slim waists exposed, delivered a sizzling dance that brought the house down.

Seeing the triumphant grins on the second-year boys’ faces, the senior boys refused to be outdone. Suddenly, someone shouted, “Xia Yubing, give us a show!”

That set off a storm. One voice became dozens, then hundreds, all chanting together.

“Xia Yubing, give us a show!”
“Xia Yubing, give us a show!”

Even the senior girls joined in the uproar. They could accept being outshone by Xia Yubing, but would never allow a few second-year girls to steal the limelight.

The host from Class 4 stepped onstage with a microphone, smiling. “It seems everyone already knows, Xia Yubing will be performing a tango for us today. Her partner is a professional tango instructor from the city’s cultural center, and he’s every bit as handsome as the rumors say. Today, not only will the boys feast their eyes, but the girls as well. Now, let’s give our warmest welcome to Xia Yubing and her dance partner!”

A thunderous ovation erupted, shaking the ceiling. Hundreds of eyes turned toward the backstage entrance as the host, displaying perfect timing, dimmed the lights, a single spotlight illuminating the stage door.

A minute passed... two... three...

Four or five long minutes dragged by, but Xia Yubing still hadn’t appeared.

“Please wait a moment, everyone. Perhaps Xia Yubing is preparing a surprise for us,” the host, growing restless, ducked backstage to see what was happening.

Soon, the host returned to the stage.

“It seems good things come with setbacks. For some reason, Xia Yubing’s dance partner has not shown up...”

The announcement sent the hall into chaos.

Everyone had known for days that Xia Yubing would be performing a tango at the celebration. At least half the audience was here just for this grand finale! No partner? The dance canceled? What kind of cruel joke was this?

The second-year girls who’d just performed lifted their chins, regal and proud, like queens with new crowns, casting haughty glances around.

“Ahem, is there any boy here who can dance tango? Or a girl, even, to stand in as a partner?” The host, nearly booed off the stage, could only persist.

Who could dance it? No one. Twenty years ago, when ballroom and social dance were in vogue, most workers, officials, and students could manage a few steps—maybe plenty would have volunteered. But now, hardly anyone could even manage a slow waltz, much less a difficult, professional tango.

Zhao Zejun considered for a moment, then quietly slipped from his seat and headed backstage.

He was immediately greeted by the sight of Xia Yubing in a bold, revealing black gown with a high slit, a long, shapely leg glimpsed beneath the hem, a dangerously deep neckline, the curves at her back accentuated by crimson high heels.

Without a word, Zhao Zejun began stripping off his clothes.

“What are you doing?” Xia Yubing gasped.

“There’s no time to explain!” Zhao Zejun replied as he stripped down to his underwear, grabbed the prepared men’s dance costume and sized it up. “Hmm, just about the right size—good enough.”

Xia Yubing finally understood, and asked uncertainly, “You really know how to tango?”

“Why would I lie?” Zhao Zejun slipped on the loose batwing shirt, exposing his strong chest, and as he pulled on the pants, he asked, “What’s the music?”

“‘Por una Cabeza.’ Have you heard of it?” Xia Yubing replied, still dazed.

“Of course. Composed by Carlos Gardel, the king of Argentine tango. It’s featured in ‘Scent of a Woman,’ ‘Schindler’s List,’ and ‘True Lies.’ The structure is probably ABAB, right?”

Hearing him rattle off the piece’s origins and even use a bit of insider jargon, Xia Yubing’s confidence swelled. She nodded vigorously. “Yes, exactly! The choreography’s based on the ‘True Lies’ scene where Schwarzenegger and the female agent dance together. Can you manage it?”

“I’ll be fine for most of it. There are a few steps I can’t quite recall—just guide me a little,” Zhao Zejun said, now fully dressed in black. He grabbed some gel and sprayed it liberally on his short hair, then smiled at the dumbstruck Xia Yubing in the mirror. “Relax. No one but a pro will notice any mistakes.”

With that, he offered his arm gallantly. “Shall we, my lovely lady?”

Xia Yubing hesitated only a moment.

Then she beamed, stepping forward to take his arm.

Dressed in black, Zhao Zejun escorted Xia Yubing—the girl every boy in school dreamed of—onto the stage, both attired for the occasion, bathed in the spotlight.

In an instant, the entire hall fell utterly silent.

Many gazed at the stunning Xia Yubing, but even more eyes were fixed on her partner.

Wait—that’s Zhao Zejun, isn’t it?

Are they... together?

Before the crowd could process this, the violin’s high, restrained melody began to drift out.

The pair began to dance, gliding with elegance and poise, exuding an air of nobility. Xia Yubing’s movements seemed to both entice and resist her partner, yet the two were bound together, their chemistry undeniable. As the piano struck a forceful chord, it was as if they each took a breath before the next spin.

The tango’s unique tension only highlighted the harmony between the partners. In the B section, passion pushed both dancers and audience to a fever pitch before the music abruptly slowed, returning to the initial theme and concluding.

When the final notes faded, it seemed only a moment had passed.

Thunderous applause and whistles filled the hall, echoing through the night air above No. 4 High School for several minutes.

Some hearts were intoxicated, others broken.

Zhao Zejun’s 2001 ended to the strains of “Por una Cabeza.”

Almost simultaneously, the citywide crackdown on internet cafés in Yijiang finally began.

To coordinate the next phase, several municipal bureaus, including commerce, convened emergency meetings overnight.

“The 2002 Yijiang City Special Action for Internet Café Regulation has officially commenced. Departments of Culture, Commerce, and Public Security will conduct joint enforcement... Leaders of each unit are to take direct responsibility. We must strike hard, show resolve, and provide the citizens of Yijiang with a healthy, safe, and orderly online environment...”

With the slogan “The Internet is not above the law,” Deputy Director Yu Jin of the Commerce Bureau was named by the mayor to head the bureau’s special task force on internet café regulation.

Yu Jin was delivering a general mobilization speech when the head of the publicity department hurried into the meeting room and whispered something in his ear, causing his expression to shift.

“Comrades, we have just received notice from higher authorities: early yesterday morning, a clandestine internet café near a warehouse in Shanghai suddenly caught fire. Fortunately, people were evacuated quickly and there was no loss of life, though the owner suffered moderate burns. However, the fire spread to the warehouse, causing tens of millions in damages! This will be in the news tomorrow. The municipal authorities demand that, based on our existing plan, we expand the scope of inspections, increase their intensity, and extend their duration. Any illegal or noncompliant establishment found—no matter who is involved—will be dealt with without mercy!”