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Since Zhang Sushang went up, Alexei rolled his sleeves up and followed suit.
A little giant of 1.9m and a big guy of 1.8m fought together. In an era where the average height was only 1.65m, the two were like bulldozers. They finished the fight within two minutes with not a scratch on them.
As Zhang Sushang threw the last person away, Alexei approached the victim, wanting to help him up, but he was pushed away.
Only then could Zhang Sushang see this person. He looked around 30 years old, slender, with dark blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and delicate eyebrows.
He glanced at the two of them gloomily and reluctantly curled his lips.
“Thank you,” he said, then stumbled to his feet, obviously wanting to leave.
Zhang Sushang hurriedly blocked him. “You’re hurt? Do you want it looked at?”
“I don’t have money,” the man replied calmly.
Poor people couldn’t afford medical treatment, this statement was just as true in the early 20th century.
Blinking, Zhang Sushang dug into his pocket. Just as the man thought he was going to give him money and prepared himself to reject his kindness, he found that what the young man took out were several square white patches with a strong medicinal smell.
He handed them over. “I like to do sports and I sometimes sprain something. You should apply a cold compress first when you get back, then stick these on. It’s very useful.”
The paste used on the patches was made from a secret recipe passed down in Jiang Jinghu’s family, he only brought 50 to Russia yet almost all of them had been used by Zhang Sushang, causing Jiang Jinghu to search for the ingredients everywhere in order to make more — his dormitory neighbours thought he was practicing witchcraft.
Fortunately, Jiang Jinghu would usually treat them whenever they had headaches, fevers, and light injuries, so with his former patients’ support and another round of boasting about the Jiang family, he was able to avoid experiencing a top-notch sauna treatment on top of a bonfire.
The man took the patches, staring at Zhang Sushang, then turned and walked away.
When he was at least ten meters away, Zhang Sushang leaned an arm on Alexei’s shoulder with a smile. “You know him?”
“I don’t,” Alexei said, glancing at him, before he added, “but I know of him.”
The man’s name was Orlov, and he was once a member of Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes — yes, the same ballet company that Nijinsky was part of.
Before Russia’s rebirth in 1917, many ballet dancers were favoured by the rich and powerful. It was normal for them to be passed around as gifts, and they also had to pander to the wealthy elite in order to be sponsored for promotion. This was the dark underbelly of ballet’s hidden rules.
Take the ill-fated Nijinsky for example. After he graduated from dance school, he became the lover of Prince Pavel Lvov until the philandering prince tired of him; a Polish nobleman took him in; and finally, he was sent to the bed of the fat, 35-year-old Sergei Diaghilev.
Another example was Anna Pavlova, who was once beloved by a Tsar.
Diaghilev was a famous Russian artistic director who organised many European tours for his dancers, and founded his own ballet company, the Ballets Russes, in 1909.
He was overjoyed to obtain Nijinsky, and soon invited Debussy and Stravinsky to compose music for him, Fokine to choreograph for him, and Karsavina to be his dance partner… Until Nijinsky could no longer endure his violence and oppressive control, married a wife, had children, and left Diaghilev.
Zhang Sushang had been learning ballet since he was four years old so of course he knew these stories. He understood everything as soon as Alexei said that Orlov had been part of the Ballets Russes.
Bygone societies made people into demons. Nijinsky, who was once praised as a god, was confined to a sanatorium due to schizophrenia, though to say his madness wasn’t related to his life experience was obviously false. Orlov wasn’t as famous a dancer as Nijinsky, but he couldn’t escape the hidden rules either.
“After 1917, some dancers tried to escape from the nobles. Orlov and his wife opened a ballet studio, but he’s so good-looking that there are always people talking about his past,” Alexei explained.
He knew of Orlov because one of his classmates in the Faculty of Physics was Giselle’s younger brother — this person often said that his sister was dragged down by his brother-in-law’s reputation and they weren’t living well now, even though she was such a good choreographer back then.
“Then what you said before isn’t right. It isn’t that Orlov likes men but that he was forced by a man, he’s a victim– wait.” Zhang Sushang’s eyes lit up. “How much does Orlov’s dance class charge? Is his wife’s choreography expensive?”
“Huh?” Alexei asked in confusion.
The big bear found that his flatmate’s attention had never been on Orlov’s sexual orientation, he had only inserted himself earlier because he couldn’t bear to see bullies ganging up on someone. Now, his entire focus was on the choreography fees Orlov’s wife charged.
How could Alexei know these details? Zhang Sushang could only stamp his feet anxiously. “Oh, Misha’s going to participate in Worlds again this year but his program hasn’t been decided yet!”
Misha wanted him to choreograph one for him, but when had he learned how to do this?
Moreover, he asked Misha to join a ballet class to improve his body’s aesthetics, but most ballet teachers only taught children. Misha was already over 20 years old yet he was being asked to learn together with a bunch of children, it wasn’t a surprise to hear that he felt extremely ashamed every day. Although there were one-on-one private lessons available, to quote Zhang Sushang: the quality of those teachers wasn’t worth the price.
High-end ballet schools had entrance exams that were impossible for Misha to pass, Zhang Sushang was more likely to get better results there.
Therefore Misha’s ballet was still being taught by Zhang Sushang, but he also had to attend classes, write his novel, and translate textbooks, he couldn’t devote that much time to Misha. Just as he was worried, an Orlov and Giselle who came from the Ballets Russes fell out of the sky.
Zhang Sushang immediately turned and chased. “Orlov! Wait! Don’t go!”
“Chyushka! Your bike and bread are still here!”
Orlov had only walked half a street away when he heard someone shouting his name. When he looked back, he saw that it was the Chinese young man who helped him just now, and following the Chinese man was a little giant who carried a bicycle on his shoulders.
Orlov was almost scared into running away.
The next day, Misha was summoned to 38 Tamanya St. by his good coach. This place was very remote, if Zhang Sushang hadn’t given him a sense of confidence, he wouldn’t have dared to walk through such a dark alley alone.
“We’re here.”
Zhang Sushang stood in front of a dilapidated door which had a sign hanging next to it: Giselle’s Dance Studio.
“This place looks terrible, Chyushka,” Misha couldn’t help saying.
The conditions in this residential block were much worse than even where Zhang Sushang and Alexei lived, but Zhang Sushang only patted his chest and reassured Misha, “Don’t worry, the inside is clean, and the barre is very sturdy, the teacher put it up themselves. Their teaching ability is also very good, I checked it myself.”
Orlov and Giselle could only afford to rent a place like this as both their workplace and residence. Cooking could only be done in the single kitchen in the entire building, and there was also only one bathroom. Neither hygiene nor environment was ideal, but if they couldn’t attract any students, they wouldn’t be able to afford next month’s rent.
So, after Zhang Sushang finished talking with Orlov yesterday, he left behind half of the 2kg loaf of rye bread.
Misha had a lot of trust in Zhang Sushang. If he dared to say that this place was good, Misha dared to believe it. He pushed the rickety door open, and indeed, the floor was very clean.
Inside was a table, two stools, and a pot filled with withered yellow plants at the end of a narrow corridor. Orlov sat in front of a door. Seeing them come in, he hurriedly stood up, looking a little embarrassed. “Good morning,” he said.
Zhang Sushang introduced them. “Misha Platov, my student, a remarkable figure skater. Misha, this is Orlov, a very good dance teacher, and his wife Giselle is a former ballet dancer who can also choreograph. You try a class with them first.”
Trying out a class was an enrollment technique used by many training institutions in later generations. Students paid little to no money to attend their first class, and whether they could be retained depended on the teacher’s ability.
Zhang Sushang paid 10 kopecks as a trial class fee and asked Misha to put on his dancing shoes and go warm up inside the studio. As he said before, the hygiene inside the studio was fine, the mirrors on the wall were wiped free of dust, and the piano next to the window was old but well maintained.
Mrs Giselle was a blue-eyed brunette beauty who spoke in a soft voice as she politely invited Zhang Sushang to sit on the piano bench, then unceremoniously pointed out Misha’s flaws. “His neck sticks forward like a turtle’s, it’s so ugly.”
“This guy’s lazy, he’s always slouching unless he’s on the ice. I think he’ll turn into a hunchback when he gets old.”
“His hunched shoulders don’t help.”
“So I need your help to turn him into a swan.”
“Don’t hold out hope for a swan, you might be able to do it but not him. He’s better off aiming for a village goose.”
“That’s fine too.” The two weren’t polite at all. Zhang Sushang pressed a few piano keys. “Then let’s start with some barre work. Orlov, will you help Misha?”
With an upright posture, he placed his hands on the keys and a soft tune flowed out. Ballet practice was always accompanied by music because it made it easier for dancers to find a sense of rhythm.
Misha looked at him in astonishment. When Zhang Sushang taught him dancing before, he always shouted instructions or clapped his hands to the beat. He hadn’t expected his coach to have such a skill.
As the piano sounded, Orlov regained some of the feeling of being on stage and his expression calmed down.
Barre exercises meant holding on to the railing installed in the dance studio as you practised basic ballet movements such as the first and fifth positions, crouching, and high and low kicks.
It was a given that these movements were exceedingly boring to practice, but every dancer who ever excelled was built up from this basic training.
Due to the limitations of the time, the difficulty level of ballet movements today was far lower than those of later generations, and not even the parents of many eccentric dancers were born yet. However, all dance movements were inherently a combination of skill, rhythm, and emotion.
Orlov was elegant yet stable. Even his most basic actions revealed good control over his own body, and his foundation was as solid as a steel plate.
During the first set of barre exercises, Misha looked like a duck. During the second set, Orlov patiently adjusted his posture. His temper was much better than Zhang Sushang’s, and his patience and meticulousness made Misha feel the warmth of spring.
He had been completely conquered by this teacher’s style; of course, it would be even better if there were no two extraneous sharp-tongued people like Chyushka and Giselle criticising him as well.
The results of the trial class were naturally satisfactory. After paying for the first lesson, Misha was ready to make arrangements for more private lessons, only to be surprised when he asked about the price.
“So cheap?!”
“We don’t have many students so we can’t raise prices. Young man, your coach found you the most cost-effective ballet teacher in the whole of Russia,” Giselle replied amicably.
“Can it be cheaper?” Zhang Sushang asked.
Giselle glared at him. “Do you want us to starve? We’re all proletariats, why are you so devious?”
“Hey, when I was a kid, I always went out shopping with my family and got used to haggling for everything,” he said sheepishly.
Solving Misha’s problem let him put down a worry in his heart. It just so happened that a new tenant had moved in below his apartment, he was afraid that he might receive a threatening letter slipped underneath their door if he kept jumping around at home. Here, he had another place to practice dancing.
He also suggested something to Orlov and Giselle. “You have to take the initiative if you want students. Make some flyers and wait in front of a primary school, then give them to any parents you see with little girls. Remember to tell them that your first class only costs ten kopecks.”
Giselle took careful notes of his suggestions, but before they could be put into action, they welcomed their second student.
Luka, who once met Zhang Sushang at the ice rink, heard about this place from somewhere and also came for ballet lessons.
Orlov understood clearly: “This person is here to freeload off Chyushka’s classes.”
As Maxim handed over the class fee, he smiled earnestly. “How can you use the word ‘freeload’ to describe learning advanced skills?”
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