Seventys Glory We Shall Never Meet Again

The spotlight crashed down.

I didn't think. I threw myself over the props, and the metal frame split my head open. Blood flooded my vision instantly, hot and blinding.

Behind the curtain, Julian Henson was dabbing sweat from Madison Barnes's forehead and holding a water bottle to the junior dancer's lips.

My skull throbbed, each pulse sending fresh agony radiating down my spine. Cold sweat drenched my back. The world tilted, blurred at the edges.

The man I loved didn't spare me a single glance.

He was too busy kneeling beside Madison, gently kneading her ankle.

Later, perched on the back of his Flying Pigeon bicycle as he pedaled toward the hospital, I slipped my fingers into his overcoat pocket. They brushed against a small tinFriendship-brand snow cream.

Before I could speak, his hand shot back, clamping down hard.

"Don't touch that." His voice was sharp. Impatient. "It's for Madison. She needs to protect her hands."

Silence stretched between us.

I nodded once. Then I pointed toward the regiment commander's office looming ahead.

"Pull over. I'm getting off."

The marriage application. The paperwork I had been so eager to submit.

It was time to withdraw it.

Julian didn't stop. If anything, he pedaled harder, his voice dripping with that familiar, lecturing superiority.

"Penelope, can't you be sensible for once? Are you seriously throwing a tantrum right now? Madison twisted her ankle dedicating herself to the art. That is far more serious than a little scrape on your head."

Warm blood trickled from my temple, smearing across my left eye. It stung like hell.

I didn't argue.

When he slowed for the intersection, I didn't wait for a complete stop.

I jumped.

My landing was clumsytwo staggering steps before a wave of nausea slammed into me. The world spun.

Julian barely glanced back. A scoff. A command thrown over his shoulder.

"Don't think playing the victim will work on me. Since you're capable of jumping off bikes, you can walk to the clinic yourself. I have to get Madison to the hospital for an X-ray."

A powerful kick of his long legs, and he sped away. Gone.

I stumbled down the road until Tessa Nichols from the song-and-dance troupe appeared. Her hands flew to her mouth.

"Good heavens! Penelope, your face is covered in blood! Where is Julian?"

I forced the corners of my mouth up. The metallic taste of blood coated my tongue.

"Accident during rehearsal," I rasped. "Julian is busy. I can manage."

Tessa looked heartbroken, moving to support me, but I waved her off.

I had something to do.

The Director was sipping tea when I walked into the leadership office. On his desk lay a single sheet of paper stamped with a bright red seal.

His teacup clattered onto its saucer.

"Penelope! What happened? Medic! Someone get a medic!"

I shook my head. Blood droplets flung onto the floor. My trembling finger pointed at the paper.

"Director, did the approval come through?"

Misunderstanding my urgency, he laughed, relief washing over his face.

"Specially approved! Usually takes another two days, but I know you two are a perfect match, so I expedited it. You can pick up the certificate tomorrow."

"Thank you, Director."

I stepped forward and picked up the thin sheet.

There they weremy name, Penelope Norris, and his name, Julian Hensonbound together by that bright red "Approved" stamp.

"What's the matter? So happy you're stunned?" the Director teased.

Right in front of him, I gripped the edge of the paper.

And ripped it down the middle.

The tear echoed through the quiet office. The Director's smile froze. He shot to his feet.

"Penelope Norris! What are you doing? That is an official documenthave you lost your mind?"

"I'm not crazy, Director."

I pointed to my bleeding head.

"I just refuse to marry a man who, while my life hangs by a thread, is busy coaxing another woman to smile."

Back at the troupe, I pushed open the heavy doors of the rehearsal hall.

Madison Barnes was perched on a prop box, cradling my army-green enamel mug. She took small, delicate sips of the brown sugar water inside, her face a mask of contented sweetness.

That mug was a trophy Harrison Delgado had brought back from the battlefield three years ago. He had given it to me as a memento.

It was precious to me.

Julian stood beside her, peeling a White Rabbit creamy candy.

A treat I kept in my drawer. Saved for a special occasion. I could never bring myself to eat it.

Now, he peeled away the rice paper wrapper and gently held it to Madison's lips.

"Open up." Julian's voice was soft, coaxing. "Have some candy. It'll stop the pain."

Madison pouted, leaning into him, her voice dripping with sickly sweetness. "Julian, you're so good to me. And this cup... it's wonderful. It keeps the water so warm."

He turned. Spotted me in the doorway.

His expression hardened instantly, brows knitting together in annoyance.

"Penelope? What's with that look? Madison has low blood sugar. What's the big deal about borrowing your cup? Don't be so stingy."

I strode across the room.

Snatched the mug from Madison's hands.

Didn't look back.

Brown sugar water sloshed out, splashing her hand.

"Ah! It's hot!" Madison shrieked, tears instantly welling in her eyes.

I ignored her.

With a surge of cold fury, I hurled the mugalong with the remaining liquidinto the metal trash can.

*Clang.*

The sound echoed through the hall.

Julian froze for a split second. Then his face darkened. He shoved me. Hard.

"Penelope Norris! What the hell is wrong with you? It's just a damn cup! You scalded Madison! How can a woman be so vicious?"

The force sent me stumbling back. My shoulder slammed into the wall, and a fresh spike of agony shot through my bandaged head wound.

I didn't cry out.

I just stared at the trash can.

My silence seemed to unnerve him. He assumed I was guilty.

"Report!"

A communications soldier jogged in, breathless.

"Team Leader Henson! Comrade Penelope Norris! Urgent notice from headquarters!" The soldier glanced at the tension in the roomthick enough to cut with a knifeand flinched. "Tonight... there's a morale-boosting performance. High-ranking leaders will be in attendance. The scheduled solo dance, 'The White-Haired Girl'... the lead remains Comrade Penelope Norris."

Julian's hand, raised to point an accusing finger at me, froze mid-air.

Slowly, he lowered it.

He looked at Madison, dabbing at her tears. Then at me.

As soon as the soldier left, Julian grabbed my arm and dragged me into the corner.

"Penelope. Give tonight's solo to Madison."

A dry, disbelief-filled laugh escaped me. "Excuse me?"

"Madison's family is struggling." His voice dropped, low and urgent. "She's a temporary worker. She needs this performance to get regularized. You're different. Your parents are cadres, and you're already the star. You'll have plenty of chances. You don't need this one. Besides, look at youyou have a head injury. You'll make the troupe lose face."

"I won't give it up." My voice was steady. "I earned this role with my own sweat and blood. If she wants to be regularized, she can put in the work in the practice room. Shortcuts aren't my problem."

Julian's expression turned to ice. "Penelope, how can you be so selfish? This is Madison's only shot. Are you trying to ruin her?"

"Think what you want."

I wrenched my arm from his grip and turned to leave.

Behind me, Madison's voice wavered, thick with performative sobbing. "Julian, forget it. It's just my bad luck... I won't fight for it. As long as Penelope isn't angry..."

"Don't cry." Julian's voice was full of heartache. "I'm here. That lead role will be yours."

I hadn't eaten since morning. Between the blood loss and the stress, my stomach was a hollow pit.

Julian had mentioned earlier that the cafeteria had braised pork for lunch. That he'd save a portion for me. After all, despite everything, we were about to be married.

I thought, perhaps foolishly, that he still cared.

If he was willing to talk rationally, maybe Madison's situation could be discussed.

I walked into the cafeteria kitchen and found the stage design group's dedicated lunch box.

Empty.

"Wow, Penelope," a kitchen worker remarked, shaking his head. "Captain Henson didn't even rinse the bowl for you? That braised pork smelled amazing, too. He said you weren't eating and dumped the whole portion onto Madison Barnes's plate."

My stomach churned.

But not from hunger.

Backstage was a chaotic flurry before the evening performance.

I was *Xi'er*. I was the lead.

No one could take that from me.

I changed into my costume and sat before the vanity, picking up my red dance shoes.

Slid my foot in.

*Crunch.*

A sharp, piercing pain shot straight up from my sole, drilling into the bone.

"Hiss"

I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and ripped the shoe off.

Blood bloomed instantly on my white socka stark, spreading crimson stain.

I reached into the shoe. My fingers brushed against cold metal.

Two thumbtacks. Points facing up. Positioned to drive deep into the sole of my foot.

Under normal circumstances, I would have checked. Every dancer checks. But today, with my head throbbing and my vision swimming, I had been careless.

"What happened?"

Julian walked over, drawn by the commotion. He was tasked with props and stage design tonight.

His eyes flicked to the blood on my foot. Then to the tacks in my hand.

A sneer curled his lip.

"Penelope Norris. You really are willing to pay in blood just to keep Madison off the stage."

I stared at him. My mind reeled. "What did you say?"

"Pulling a stunt like this right before curtain call? Trying to frame someone?" He shook his head, disgust radiating from every pore. "Don't think I don't see through you. You put those tacks there yourself to garner sympathy. Well, if you don't want to dance that badly, then don't."

He turned to Madison, waiting in the wings.

Conveniently dressed in a substitute costume. Her face a mask of feigned worry.

"Julian... Penelope is bleeding. She can't dance like this. Maybe... maybe I should take her place? We can't keep the leaders waiting."

Julian nodded, waving his hand dismissively. "Fine. Madison, you're on."

He pointed a commanding finger at me. "Take off the costume. Let Madison wear it. It was tailored to you, so it might be loose on her, but we have no choice. Hurry up. Don't waste time."

I gripped the hem of my tunic.

I had altered this outfit myself. Stitch by agonizing stitch.

It was mine.

Seeing I wasn't moving, Julian stepped forward and grabbed my collar.

"Penelope! Have some sense of duty! Take it off! Stop holding everyone back!"

*Rip.*

He yanked hard, tearing one of the frog buttons from the collar.

Adrenaline surged. I shoved Julian away with everything I had left.

He wasn't expecting it. He stumbled back, crashing into a makeup table. Bottles clattered to the floor.

"What are you doing?!" he roared, his face flushing with embarrassed rage.

I ignored him.

Expressionless, I bent down and pulled the tacks out of the shoe.

Fresh blood stained my fingertips.

I shoved my foot back into the shoe.

Pulled the straps tight, binding the wound, trapping the pain.

Every movement sent fire shooting up my leg. But the coldness in my heart numbed everything else.

"The costume is mine. The role is mine." My voice was dead calm. "As long as I have breath in my body, no one else takes this stage."

I shoved past Madison and strode toward the wings.

The heavy velvet curtain parted. The lights blazed.

Fighting the vertigo and the searing pain in my foot, I danced. The most flawless performance of *The White-Haired Girl* of my life.

Spin. Leap. Land.

Every step was like dancing on knife blades.

But I smiled. Brighter than I ever had.

I was dancing to mourn the love I had foolishly fed to the dogs.

The final pose. I froze, statuesque.

Thunderous applause erupted, shaking the hall.

The curtain fell. The adrenaline crashed.

My vision went black, and I collapsed onto the floorboards.

Behind me, a trail of bloody footprints marked my path.

Through the haze, I heard a distant shout.

"Penelope's down! Get a medic!"

When I woke, the world was shaking. I was lying in the bed of a military truck.

Outside, thunder cracked, merging with the roar of heavy rain. The convoy was withdrawing from the performance site, heading back to the garrison.

"You awake?"

A colleague sitting nearby handed me a canteen.

I took a sip, my eyes scanning the truck.

Julian wasn't there.

The colleague saw me looking. He curled his lip, pointing toward the truck behind us.

"He's in the rear vehicle. Madison was crying her eyes out because she didn't get to perform. Team Leader Henson is back there comforting her."

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the cold metal slats.

Suddenly, the truck lurched violently.

Tires screecheda piercing, terrible soundfollowed by the sickening crunch of metal.

And screams of terror.

"Mudslide! The road ahead is gone!"

"Abandon the truck! Get to higher ground! Move!"

The truck bed erupted into chaos. Soldiers scrambled over the sides, boots slipping on wet metal, desperate to outrun the mountain coming down behind them.

My injured leg buckled with every step. The fresh gash on my forehead sent the world tilting sideways. I was half a beat too slow. By the time my boots hit the ground, muddy floodwater was already swirling around my calves, hungry and rising.

Not far away, Julian had Madison on his back. He was sprinting toward the ridge, sure-footed, never looking back. She clung to him like a second skin, her screams piercing through the roar of the storm.

"Don't be afraid." His voice was breathless but tender, infuriatingly gentle. "I've got you. You're safe with me."

"Julian!" My voice cracked, raw against the wind.

My bad leg betrayed me. The mud shifted, and I went down hard, plunging into the water. The flood surged instantly, icy and relentless, rising past my waist in seconds.

He stopped.

He looked back.

For one heartbeatone agonizing, flickering momenthesitation crossed his face. His body turned, almost like he might come for me.

"Julian!" Madison shrieked against his ear, burying her face in his neck. "The waterit's rising! I'm scared! Help me! *Save me!*"

The hesitation died.

His jaw hardened. Something cold slid behind his eyes, and when he shouted, it wasn't concern in his voice.

It was dismissal.

"Penelope! You know how to swim! Climb up yourself!"

"Madison is terrifiedshe can't handle the shock. I have to get her to safety first!"

He didn't wait for a response. Didn't spare another glance.

He charged toward the high ground with Madison safe on his back, and I watched him disappear into the grey curtain of rain.

The storm lashed against my face. I couldn't tell anymorewhere the rain ended and where my tears began.

*Rumble...*

The mountain screamed.

A deafening roar tore through the air as the mudslide came crashing down, carrying boulders the size of cars. The ground trembled beneath me.

Despair closed around my throat. I shut my eyes.