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Chapter 121: A Grand Affair! Part 2
In his opinion, the funniest part of Legends of the Jianghu involved the villainous Judge forcing martial artists to take exams. Predictably, most failed miserably and met comical ends.
According to Tian Xiao, the judge character was modeled after Guan Qianzhuo’s homeroom teacher.
“Some parts are more engaging than others, Is the story written by one person?” Gu Lu asked.
“Of course not. We have three writers,” Tian Xiao coughed modestly. “Embarrassingly enough, I’m one of them.”
Gu Lu gave him a thumbs-up. Shortly afterward, he left the manga club, eager to explore the other fascinating booths scattered across campus.
“No. 8 High School’s festivities rival those of Japan’s cultural festivals. Before coming here, I assumed shows like Kaguya-sama and Hyouka depicted exaggerated versions of Japanese events. Turns out, I’m experiencing the real deal!”
Stopping intermittently, Gu Lu eventually arrived at the astronomy club.
Their setup was disappointingly mundane. A few planetary models hung from the ceiling, accompanied by dry explanations from club members.
Over in Class 5 of Grade 11, the Young Chef’s Club had roped in Wei Jiao (supporting a friend) and Zhou Lin (lured by snacks).
“Any updates on Model UN registration?” Gu Lu casually asked, curious about his reputation’s effectiveness.
“The president doesn’t want to accompany me to register for the Chongqing Model UN Conference. I’ll prepare the materials myself during the weekend,” Zhou Lin replied, munching on chicken feet.
Why did the Model UN president refuse? Clearly, fear of failure played a role. Adults avoided doomed endeavors, let alone students. Yet Zhou Lin displayed unwavering determination.
“Xuanrou, you’re actually in the cooking club?! Appearances can be deceiving. Your arms are thicker than spatulas—you might eat the club bankrupt!” Zeng Jie quipped, echoing Gu Lu’s thoughts.
After all, Ma Xuanrou, built like a shot put athlete, hardly looked the culinary type. More like someone who’d demolish a kitchen than cook in it.
“In Cooking Master Boy, Liu Maoxing’s mother founded Juexialou. Its real-life counterpart is Chongqing’s Chaotianmen-based Juxianglou,” Ma Xuanrou explained. “Do you know who started Juxianglou?”
His words stunned everyone present. Could it be?
“I don’t know who started Juxianglou,” Ma continued dramatically. “But my grandfather apprenticed there. The skills passed down to my dad, then to me.”
Real or fake? Sounded dubious.
The cooking club kept things simple since complex dishes couldn’t be prepared live. They served fries, fried chicken strips, vegetable salad, spicy lemon chicken claws, and braised chicken wings. The latter’s marinade, crafted by Ma Xuanrou, tasted surprisingly good, lending credibility to his claims.
From 1 PM to 3 PM, visitors enjoyed free rein to explore various club activities. By 4 PM, stage performances and speeches commenced, drawing even core members away from their booths.
The small auditorium buzzed with excitement—
“Amazing! Students still play the flute these days.”
“I saw my kid—they’re pushing dummies for the kendo club, but they look sharp.”
“Look at all the reporters snapping photos. Will we end up on TV?”
“Not just reporters—look, leaders are here too.”
Parents and students mingled freely, standing wherever space allowed. Their chatter blended regional dialects with Sichuan-accented Mandarin. Terms like “doggy” (meaning “beloved child”) flew around affectionately.
Distinguished guests and school leaders occupied reserved seats in the first two rows—the prime viewing spots. Next to Principal Liu sat Mo Huaiqi and local education officials, followed by Wu Du. As a faculty advisor instrumental in inviting Mo Huaiqi, Wu earned a front-row spot.
The Daily 630 crew positioned their cameras, ready to film. Print journalists had already captured ample footage earlier.
“Too bad we haven’t found Xiao Gu…” Wang murmured.
“What did you say, Wang? Speak up—the hall’s too noisy!” Miao shouted.
“Never mind. Keep filming and capture some great moments,” Wang instructed. Miao flashed an OK sign.
Truthfully, Wang kept scanning the crowd, but Gu Lu hadn’t arrived yet.
Two microphone checks later, the ceremony began.
“Welcome, esteemed teachers, students, ladies, and gentlemen, to No. 8 High School’s 74th anniversary celebration!”
The emcee, Yan Ting—a junior serving as Vice President of the Etiquette Modeling Club—spoke clearly, her Mandarin free of regional accents.
“Now, please welcome Principal Liu to deliver the opening remarks.”
Off went the emcee, and up stepped the principal.
“Seventy-four years ago, Chongqing No. 8 High School was founded,” Liu began. “Our mission rests on your shoulders. First, remember our growth history and become inheritors, practitioners, and promoters of the No. 8 spirit…”
“Second, embody steadfast faith and contribute to this era…”
Leadership speeches possessed a peculiar magic, lulling audiences into drowsiness. Moments ago, the auditorium buzzed with chatter. Now, silence reigned.
Following the principal, an education official spoke. Why did higher-ups speak after the principal? Certainly not due to oversight. During such events, even district heads deferred speeches to show respect. Municipal leaders…well, they’d arrive when needed.
“So many people!” Mr. Xiao squeezed into a tight spot.
Gu Lu's mother nodded. Designed for roughly a thousand attendees, the auditorium now held double that number.
“We’ve seen so many club activities, but not Gu Lu,” Mr. Xiao noted.
“He’s always been socially awkward, unlike Yang, who shines effortlessly,” Gu Lu's mother sighed.
Mr. Xiao frowned. If true, it reflected poorly on Gu Lu's mother’s parenting. Given Gu Lu’s writing talent, surely his communication skills weren’t lacking. So why the isolation?
Whispers filled the air as speeches concluded. The emcee returned to introduce the first act: the Hanfu Club’s Four Arts of the Scholar.
“Gu Lu, hurry up—we’re running late!” Li Guyuan urged, eyeing Gu Lu’s leisurely pace. The event had already started ten minutes ago.
“We’ll make it. Trust me, arriving now is perfect timing,” Gu Lu assured.
Fifteen minutes later, they jogged into the packed auditorium. Gu Lu’s claustrophobia kicked in amid the sea of bodies. Pushing through seemed impossible.
“Over here, Bro Gu Lu, Tang Yuan! Over here!” Thankfully, friends saved the day. Members of the manga club waved from a corner near the west wall.
Gu Lu and Li Guyuan squeezed through, led by the tall, muscular Tang Yuan.
“What act is this?” Li Guyuan asked upon reaching them.
“The first. The leaders just finished speaking,” Tian Xiao replied.
“See? I told you,” Gu Lu smirked. At these events, leadership speeches rarely lasted under twenty minutes unless illness struck.
After exchanging greetings, Gu Lu and Li Guyuan focused on the Hanfu Club’s performance. Blending dance and theater, performers showcased ancient Chinese arts—playing the guqin, practicing calligraphy, and playing chess. While painting involved mimed actions, the other three acts featured genuine skill.
Next, the Kendo Club performed sword dances, the Etiquette Modeling Club strutted down a catwalk, and the Dance Club delivered a high-energy routine. The Language Arts Club presented a bilingual crosstalk sketch heavy on English dialogue. Though not particularly funny, it highlighted impressive language skills, earning applause nonetheless.
The audience’s favorite, unsurprisingly, was the Dance Club. Seven consecutive years of winning gold medals at the school festival proved their motto: “I’m invincible; do as you please.”
“Why isn’t Qi Caiwei performing? I thought she specialized in dance,” Tian Xiao puzzled. “Though Lu Yi surprised us all with that final tumbling sequence—it was breathtaking.”
“That girl at the end—she’s from your class?” Guan Qianzhuo asked.
“Yes, our Class Monitor. Quiet in class, but wow, she dances beautifully,” Tian Xiao confirmed.
“Class Ten really has hidden talents,” Li Guyuan marveled, counting himself and Gu Lu among them.
Students and adults focused on different aspects. Parents discussed the bilingual crosstalk, marveling at the fluent English. Educational leaders praised the integration of classical culture in the Hanfu Club’s presentation.
“Old Wu, the performance you told me to watch—is it the grand finale?” Mo Huaiqi asked.
“Absolutely the finale. They’ve been training for months,” Wu Du replied with a confident nod.
Following the Instrumental Club’s act, The Tree People Literary Club was set to close the show. However, they needed some time to prepare the stage.
Once ready, Emcee Yan Ting announced:
“Please welcome The Tree People Literary Club’s original story, Park of Yesterday.”
Backstage, President Wan Bai and Vice President Zhang Liru rallied the cast.
“Cheer up! There are barely a thousand people out there. No pressure,” Zhang teased—or threatened.
“Enough talking,” Wan Bai interjected, calming the actors. “Just focus on the performance.”
Nervousness was inevitable. With reporters watching, stepping onto that stage felt like crossing a rickety bridge—once on, there was no turning back.
And so, the performance began—
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