Chapter 38: The Jade Maiden of the Second Artillery

Chen Erpao gazed at Zhang Xiaoyu on the stage, appearing like a princess adored by thousands, and couldn’t help but recall that night; he seemed to still remember the faint, delicate fragrance that lingered on her. He had never imagined she was actually a famous star.

Standing before her passionate fans, Zhang Xiaoyu was visibly moved, her emotions surging as she spoke:
“Thank you all for your constant support and encouragement. For my next song, I’d like to invite one of you to join me on stage for a duet.”

The moment her words fell, the entire venue erupted. To stand beside Zhang Xiaoyu was already a dream come true for these fervent fans—let alone to share a song with her.

Zhang Xiaoyu wore a gentle, sweet smile, ethereal and untouched by the world, standing out in her grace and purity. Her clear, lively eyes swept across the crowd, and when they landed on Chen Erpao, she paused, as memories of that night flickered through her mind.

“I’d like to invite this gentleman to come up and sing with me.” Zhang Xiaoyu walked to the edge of the stage, stopping just a few meters from Chen Erpao, making a welcoming gesture toward him.

Wang Xuemei and Wang Xing both looked at Chen Erpao in astonishment. Wang Xing, especially, became even more convinced that there was something between the two.

“Sorry, I’m not a good singer. Maybe you should choose someone else,” Chen Erpao declined politely, leaving the audience dumbfounded. For everyone present, to stand and perform with Zhang Xiaoyu was a tremendous honor, yet Chen Erpao refused without a second thought.

“Go on! Just sing with her!” Wang Xuemei urged, eager to see the man she cared for take the stage.

The reason Chen Erpao turned down this coveted opportunity wasn’t out of arrogance, but genuine concern that he might not sing well. In the army, group singing was commonplace, but those were hearty, spirited military songs or old, dramatic ballads—not the kind of popular love songs performed today. Though he’d listened to them often enough, he’d rarely sung them, and now, with tens of thousands in the audience and a live broadcast, a poor performance would be mortifying.

Zhang Xiaoyu was surprised as well, not expecting Chen Erpao to refuse her. But she quickly smiled, a hint of slyness in her expression, as if wanting to pay him back for that night.

“It doesn’t matter if you sing well or not, right, everyone?” Zhang Xiaoyu said loudly into the microphone.

At once, the crowd roared in agreement: “Yes, yes, get on stage! Get on stage!”

Chen Erpao suddenly felt like a public enemy; with everyone staring at him, if he refused again, the collective disappointment of over ten thousand people might well drown him. He could only force a wry smile and slowly made his way onto the stage.

The duet chosen was “Our Story,” the love song that had launched Zhang Xiaoyu’s career. Though Chen Erpao wasn’t too familiar with it, he’d heard it a few times and remembered the lyrics well enough.

Zhang Xiaoyu began first, her rosy lips parting to release a voice as pure as a heavenly choir. It was Chen Erpao’s first time singing before such a massive audience, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. But he soon composed himself and followed her lead.

His voice was deep and resonant, a stark contrast to Zhang Xiaoyu’s light, melodious tones. Yet together, their voices created a unique and moving harmony. Gradually, Chen Erpao let himself go, performing alongside Zhang Xiaoyu as if they were truly living the story of “Our Story.” Some in the audience were even moved to tears, and later, many speculated that his appearance must have been arranged by the organizers, for the two sang together as if they’d been partners for years—though that’s a tale for another time.

As they sang, Zhang Xiaoyu was quietly astonished by how well they complemented each other. She could only describe their impromptu duet as “very good.” Unconsciously, she glanced at Chen Erpao, her gaze gentle, her voice tender, as if she’d been swept into the world of the song.

Chen Erpao, too, felt transported, gazing at Zhang Xiaoyu as though they were the protagonists of the song, sharing their touching tale with the entire audience.

Wang Xuemei was so enraptured by the performance, she didn’t even notice the chemistry between Chen Erpao and Zhang Xiaoyu on stage.

Wang Xing, on the other hand, muttered under his breath, “Adulterer and mistress—who knows how many times they’ve sung together offstage!”

Had Chen Erpao heard that, he surely would have been struck speechless.

When “Our Story” ended, the applause that erupted was even more thunderous than at the start. Chen Erpao had never imagined he possessed such a gift; if the security business ever failed him, perhaps he had a future in performance.

“Zhang Xiaoyu, I’d like to give you a hug. What do you all think?” Chen Erpao chuckled, thinking to himself, You insisted on pulling me up here—was it to make me this popular? Thankfully, I kept my composure and sang well, or my reputation would have been ruined.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Kiss her! That’d be even better!”

The last shout came from Wang Xing, who was waving his arms and cheering gleefully.

Zhang Xiaoyu must have heard it too, for a shy blush crept across her face, making her even more charming and gentle.

With a mischievous grin, Chen Erpao stretched out his arms, walked to Zhang Xiaoyu, and suddenly pulled her tightly into his embrace. Startled, Zhang Xiaoyu trembled, half afraid he might embarrass her in front of the crowd.

“We really are fated, aren’t we? Thanks for driving me that night, but I did pay the fare,” Chen Erpao whispered into her delicate ear.

Feeling his warm breath, Zhang Xiaoyu’s blush deepened, and a strange, inexplicable sensation rose within her.

With a satisfied smile, Chen Erpao knew when to stop, but as he let go, he couldn’t resist taking advantage of the moment. After all, she was the superstar adored by thousands—a chance not to be missed. As his large hand slid down her elegant back, he let it rest deliberately on her shapely hips, giving a gentle squeeze. It was soft and springy to the touch.

Inside, Zhang Xiaoyu was seething, wishing she could rush over and give him a piece of her mind. But on stage, all she could do was force a bright smile and utter a word of thanks.