Wang Zhong heard the sergeant grumble by his side, “I must be dreaming, the princess… Her Royal Highness the Crown Princess is singing for me!”
He firmly said, “Because the world is secularized now, Her Royal Highness the Crown Princess is just an ordinary person like us!”
Sergeant: “Is that so?”
“Of course. Look, I’m just like you. We eat the same things every day, it’s just that my lunch is personally made by a little maid, while your lunch is personally made by a big mama…”
“That’s not the same at all!” a soldier said emotionally.
At that moment, the Priest looked over and said, “Shush! Quietly enjoy the music!”
Katyusha had finished singing, and the two august personages exchanged glances, then Olga, giving herself a very high start, began to sing coloratura.
The soldiers were all stunned—no, even Ludmila was stunned, and Wang Zhong was too.
Was this a competitive spirit?
Olga stood there, singing coloratura high notes so difficult that even Wang Zhong, an outsider, knew they were incredibly challenging, while maintaining a posture with her head held high, as if it took no effort to sing the song.
Especially since the princess was now wearing a corset, unless her waist was naturally that thin and she wasn’t torturing herself too much, the difficulty of the song would escalate by several degrees.
Wang Zhong gradually recognized the song.
It was supposed to be an aria from the opera “La Traviata,” and the reason Wang Zhong knew this was not because he often wore a tailcoat to the opera—how could that be possible, he didn’t have such refined tastes.
He knew it because the VUP he supported had won a singing competition with this song.
This song came from a Car—no, from a story “La Traviata” written by a Carolingian author Alexandre Dumas fils and adapted into an opera of the same name from Appeninia.
Enjoy reading at m v-lem-pyr
It was sung in the Appeninian language.
Wang Zhong was now sure that he didn’t understand Appeninian, and judging by the confused looks of the soldiers beside him, he guessed they didn’t understand it either.
But everyone could hear that the coloratura was truly impressive.
After finishing the song, Olga, as if showing off her still steady breathing, put her hands on her hips, striving to keep her breathing so subtle that outsiders could hardly notice any rise and fall in her chest.
Of course, it might also be possible that the armor was so thick it absorbed the movement from her breathing.
The soldiers were all stunned.
Ludmila: “Your Highness Olga, no one understood.”
At that moment, Wang Zhong caught on and led the applause, “Bravo! Well sung! Her Highness the princess sang wonderfully! It brought tears to my eyes!”
The soldiers quickly joined in with thunderous applause.
Olga smiled at Wang Zhong, then looked at Ludmila.
Ludmila smiled faintly and began singing “Tanya Tanyusha.”
As soon as Ludmila started singing, the soldiers joined in; by the time it reached the chorus, their voices even overshadowed Ludmila, “Tanya Tanyusha, my Takiyanne, do you still remember that fiery summer, I can’t forget that time, that time of impassioned love.”
There should have been whistling here, and then a dozen young men began to whistle together.
The soldiers continued to sing the following verses, but Ludmila stopped and looked at Olga, “Your Highness, next time you want to get closer to everyone, just sing this one.”
“I understand, thank you for your guidance,” Olga responded.
The two stood tall and faced each other, and although they didn’t glare and maintained ordinary postures, Wang Zhong felt as if he could hear the threatening hiss that two cats emit when they confront each other.
Mommy, he began to miss the nonsensical setup made up by the little maid: lovers and wife coexisting harmoniously—it really is impossible.
Wang Zhong stood up, beginning to carry water: “Exquisite art and folk songs are both great! Thank you, Her Royal Highness Olga, for letting us glimpse the palaces of art that we usually can’t see…”
Then someone looking for fun shouted, “Her Highness the princess finished singing, sister-in-law finished too, General, why don’t you give us one!”
Wang Zhong: “Ah? Me?”
Are you kidding me, they’ve just finished singing the aria from La Traviata, and I, utterly tone-deaf, should not embarrass myself.
Wang Zhong: “Better not, I’m not good at singing…”
“But you composed ‘The Holy War’!”
Wang Zhong was embarrassed, yes, this song was my copy, but when I hummed it myself, people laughed at me, okay!
He looked to Ludmila for help, but Liu Xia this time turned her face away, looking to the side as if to say, “You insisted on carrying water; figure it out yourself.”
Wang Zhong always thought that Liu Xia was like a sister who accompanied Olga in making mischief, but now he suddenly realized she was jealous—very jealous!
This was bad, what to do now.
Wang Zhong thought it over; he should stick to songs that didn’t require too much vocal skill, just something to get by.
Then he began to recall the Ante songs he had heard along the way.
He decided to sing “Setting Out.”
When he swayed and began to sing “Our journey is long and hard,” Olga suddenly shouted, “We don’t want to listen to this one we’ve already heard!”
Wang Zhong was caught off guard, the song cut off.
What the heck, Your Highness! Didn’t you say you wanted to be my little sister? Does any sister make her brother lose face like this?
Ludmila also chimed in, “We don’t want to listen to this one we’ve already heard!”
The surrounding soldiers were all young lads, and one of their traits was, if a pretty girl was leading the heckling, they would be particularly, particularly energetic, not caring about generals or anything.
“General, sing something we’ve never heard before!”
“Give us one!”
Left with no choice by the encouraging crowd, Wang Zhong could only search his memory for a song that was easy to sing, where shouting in a loud voice could still be moving, and with a simple melody—so he wouldn’t go disastrously out of tune.