Chapter Seventy-One: With a Thunderous Roar from the Sky, Lord Xin Makes His Dazzling Entrance!

Watching Qiao Hong repeat herself like a broken record, endlessly reciting what she’d already said, everyone felt a wave of awkwardness.

“Ahem,” Wang Hai cleared his throat, glancing at a staff member from the sports bureau who had accompanied Qiao Hong. “Section Chief Yao, Teacher Qiao… she’s fifty-six, right? Her memory…”

Yao Wenyuan from the veteran cadre section of the Rongcheng Sports Bureau noticed everyone’s eyes turn to him and shook his head helplessly. He lowered his voice and sighed, “When Teacher Qiao was young, she suffered a head injury during training. The medical conditions back then weren’t good, and since she was preparing for the Asian Games, the problem wasn’t properly treated. It left a lingering illness, and she retired because of chronic headaches.”

“You probably don’t know much about Teacher Qiao’s situation. Her husband was a geological engineer who died in an accident during fieldwork in 1985. They never had children. Before retiring, she kept herself busy, but ever since she left work, all the injuries from her youth have come back. She lives alone, and with nothing to occupy her, she developed Alzheimer’s.”

After Yao Wenyuan’s explanation, a heavy silence fell over the group.

Alzheimer’s… that’s senile dementia!

To see an athlete who once stood proud on the international stage, winning glory for the country, now reduced to this state—even Wang Hai, who cared only for profit, couldn’t help but feel a lump in his throat.

She’s only in her fifties!

Weren’t professional athletes supposed to have strong bodies?

It’s all because their youth was spent burning the candle at both ends!

A reporter nearby asked quietly, “Has Teacher Qiao received any treatment?”

Yao Wenyuan shook his head again, helpless. “This isn’t something that can be cured with treatment. Teacher Qiao’s condition isn’t too advanced yet. All we can do is help her slow its progress and make sure she can still take care of herself.”

He suddenly remembered something and whispered to everyone, “By the way, Teacher Qiao can’t take much emotional stress or overexert herself. Otherwise, sometimes she’ll… well, let’s speed things up, shall we?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Wang Hai nodded quickly, beckoning to Jiao Chendong beside him. “Director Jiao, when does the first scene start? Let’s get moving. After the first scene, have Xiaoxiao take a photo with Teacher Qiao. We’ll skip the opening ceremony here.”

Jiao Chendong, having heard everything Yao Wenyuan said, wouldn’t dare object. He nodded at once, “I’ve sent the assistant director to urge everyone. We’ll start right away!”

At that moment, the assistant director arrived with An Xiaoxiao—already in costume—and more than twenty young gymnasts from the Rongcheng youth team, who would serve as extras. The production had arranged a special moment for the star to present flowers to the real-life inspiration.

Cradling a huge bouquet of lilies and carnations, An Xiaoxiao, her eyes bright with excitement, approached Qiao Hong, bowed deeply, and said, “Hello, Grandma Qiao! My name is An Xiaoxiao. I play the female lead in ‘Flying Against the Wind,’ and in this film, I’ll be playing you!”

Seeing An Xiaoxiao’s appearance, Qiao Hong’s eyes grew confused. “Ah…”

She stared in a daze for more than a minute, then, her eyes reddening, she reached out with trembling hands to touch An Xiaoxiao’s. “Good child, such a good child. Do your best, all right?”

“I will!” An Xiaoxiao bowed again, full of determination. “Grandma Qiao, I’ll give it my all!”

After giving the old lady a big hug, An Xiaoxiao followed Jiao Chendong to the set, ready to begin.

Watching the graceful figure beneath those plain clothes, Qiao Hong dabbed at her eyes and murmured to Yao Wenyuan, “Look at her—so young.”

“Teacher Qiao, are you all right? Maybe we should head back to the hotel…” Seeing Qiao Hong a bit agitated, Yao Wenyuan crouched down beside her, concerned.

Her lips trembled a little, but Qiao Hong shook her head stubbornly. “No, I want to watch.”

“All right. If you feel unwell, you must tell me at once.” Seeing her resolve, Yao Wenyuan nodded and stood protectively by her side.

At that moment, as the slate clapped shut, the first scene of “Flying Against the Wind” officially began.

This scene depicted Qiao Hong hearing that the provincial team was coming for training in her small town. She ran from home and saw a group of peers in leotards, practicing gymnastics. Envy and inferiority welled up within her, strengthening her resolve to join the team—even as the coach made things difficult for her, she silently did a thousand stretches on the sidelines.

It was cold, but the young extras from the gymnastics team were all very professional—training hard in the middle of the set, bare-legged in the freezing air.

As the camera moved, An Xiaoxiao clutched the strap of her crossbody bag, her eyes shining as she watched the gymnasts.

“What are you doing here?”

The bit-part actor playing the gatekeeper delivered his line.

“Ah… Uncle, I just wanted to watch the training…”

On set, behind the monitor, Jiao Chendong watched An Xiaoxiao’s performance with growing delight.

Her gaze, her expressions, the subtle gestures—she controlled them all with precision. The sense of timidity and inferiority in young Qiao Hong, isolated and bullied, was vividly portrayed. Her screen presence and acting ability had improved a whole level since her audition.

A promising talent!

But then, noticing the red string on An Xiaoxiao’s wrist, Jiao Chendong frowned. That wasn’t in the character design, was it? Did she add it herself?

Thinking back to the original script, realization dawned on him. He couldn’t help clenching his fists in excitement.

The girl had initiative! She understood how to incorporate background into her portrayal, adding her own touches to the character—such talent!

Jiao Chendong, unaware that An Xiaoxiao had traded lessons with Li Shixin for oranges and bananas, was overjoyed. He felt as if he’d struck gold with his leading lady.

As An Xiaoxiao’s performance unfolded, everyone on set was drawn to her. No one noticed that, off to the side in her wheelchair, Qiao Hong was trembling from head to toe.

From the moment An Xiaoxiao timidly stepped into the gymnasium, Qiao Hong felt as if she had been struck by a wave of rose-tinted air—instantaneously, scenes from 1979 surged through her mind.

Was it morning?

The police had come once again to question her father. After they left, the neighbors whispered among themselves. She lowered her head and saw a newspaper on the ground.

On that dirty, greasy newspaper was an article about the provincial team coming to town for training.

Even the black-and-white photo on the page couldn’t hide its aura of glory. She ran from one end of her small town to the other.

The sunshine along the way was so warm.

The wind so gentle.

The ringing of bicycle bells echoed along the street, the dust kicked up by city buses seemed almost joyful.

Her shoelaces came undone, sweat rolled down her brow…

Bathed in a rose-colored world, she had run to the gymnasium, and then…

And then what?

There was something important, someone important.

What was it? Who was it?

Why couldn’t she remember? Why couldn’t she remember?!

Xiaohong, don’t forget! Whatever you do, don’t forget! It’s so important, so important!

With a shudder and a blankness, Qiao Hong’s memory broke off. Seeing the girl before her—who was nothing like herself—speaking words she used to say in her youth, Qiao Hong began to tremble violently.

How could I forget something so important?

She’s stealing—she’s stealing my memories!

Yes, that’s it—they’ve stolen them!

“No!!!”

Everything on set was proceeding in order when, suddenly, a shout echoed through the gymnasium.

As everyone jumped in shock, Qiao Hong tossed aside the blanket on her lap and, stumbling but swift, rushed toward the center of the set.

“Stop filming! Stop it! You’re stealing—you’re stealing my memories! These are mine, all I have left! Don’t touch them, don’t touch them anymore!”

Everyone was stunned by the sudden hysteria of the old lady.

“What the hell?!” Wang Hai gaped at Qiao Hong, who had shoved An Xiaoxiao aside and knocked over a camera tripod.

Yao Wenyuan slapped his thigh in regret. “Alzheimer’s! Degenerative disease of the central nervous system, memory loss, cognitive impairment, prone to emotional outbursts with stimulation! Quick, protect Teacher Qiao—don’t let her get hurt!”

Wang Hai sucked in a breath. “Section Chief Yao, why didn’t you warn us this could happen?”

Yao Wenyuan, frantic, waved people over to block Qiao Hong, wiping sweat from his brow. “She’s not always like this, only sometimes.”

Watching Qiao Hong wreak havoc on set, while the entertainment reporters snapped away with their cameras, Wang Hai stomped his foot in frustration.

Remembering the old man who’d clung to his pant leg days before, he smacked himself in the face.

Damn! Can’t learn a lesson, can you? You know how hard it is dealing with the elderly!

Wang Hai, Wang Hai, you’d better remember this! If you ever try herding old folks together again, you’re a fool!

“What are you all standing around for? Waiting for a handout? Protect Teacher Qiao, for heaven’s sake! We can replace broken equipment, but if she gets a scratch, I’ll dock your bonuses!”

He stomped his foot again and yelled at the stunned crew.

Only then did everyone snap out of it, scrambling to action.

Qiao Hong was in her fifties, her body battered by old injuries, but she was still a professional athlete. After more than a decade of gymnastics, her reflexes—even in a hysterical state—were as agile as a wildcat’s. Though surrounded by a dozen people, she darted and dodged like a lynx, impossible to catch.

Amid the chaos, Wang Hai and Jiao Chendong were in despair.

First day of filming.

An ill omen, a stroke of bad luck!

...

Li Shixin had just finished putting on his makeup and was walking down the stairs from the gym’s second floor when he saw utter chaos on set.

He saw a dozen young men from the crew playing what looked like tag with an old lady. He frowned.

What’s going on here? Not filming anymore?

“Stop! What’s all this?” His voice cut through the commotion, and all eyes instantly turned to him.

In the middle of the set, Qiao Hong—brandishing a chair—looked instinctively toward the sound. She saw a man in slightly worn sneakers, dressed in a gray-blue provincial gymnastics team uniform from 1976, a crimson turtleneck beneath, a whistle hanging from his neck.

His hair was streaked with white, his figure tall and imposing as he stood with his hands behind his back on the landing, his gaze stern and commanding.

That sharp look pierced Qiao Hong’s heart like an arrow.

With a clatter, the chair dropped from her hand.

It was as if the Monkey King had spotted the Buddha himself—she immediately straightened up, trotted over to the man.

To Li Shixin.

The old lady who had just thrown the set into chaos—fifty-six-year-old Qiao Hong—now stood before him like a chastened child, cheeks blushing, head bowed in embarrassment and shyness.

“Coach! Qiao—Qiao Hong reporting for duty!”