When they returned to the banquet hall, the guests had already taken each other’s hands and stepped onto the dance floor, swaying and spinning with the music. It was as if the earlier incident was just a forgotten, insignificant interlude. A few glances lingered on them for a moment before moving away.
Lin Yiren searched for Shen Que’s figure in the hall. Looking around, she spotted the young girl with a glass of sparkling water at the bar. Shen Que noticed Lin Yiren as well, gave her a “Good luck!” gesture, and took a big swig from her glass.
To be able to drink the sparkling water here without changing expression—so brave. Lin Yiren cast her a look of respect and shook her hand to signal “see you later.”
She turned and followed Chen Zhaoyue into the dance floor.
***
The dance floor was the heart of the music; stepping in, she was submerged in gentle, wave-like melodies. The marble floor glowed with a halo of light, and pairs of dancers moved with a smooth grace, weaving rhythm and beauty into romance.
Lin Yiren grew nervous, remembering how stiff she had been a week ago. Her breathing grew unsteady.
But Chen Zhaoyue had already extended her hand. Lin Yiren took a deep breath and placed her hand in Chen Zhaoyue’s palm.
“It’s starting.”
“Mm.”
Lin Yiren held onto Chen Zhaoyue’s arm, moving her steps to the melody.
Chen Zhaoyue’s rising and falling movements guided her. Lin Yiren tried hard to recall the feeling from their practice sessions, and the light, flowing movements of the dancers around her only added to her pressure. She wanted to show her best side.
But instead of helping her perform better, the pressure made her movements frantic.
As the music reached a turning point, she and Chen Zhaoyue intertwined and crossed paths at the center, looping around each other. Chen Zhaoyue’s steps drew a beautiful arc, but Lin Yiren’s own steps were disordered, like a crooked, broken line.
It’s over, Lin Yiren groaned inside. Chen Zhaoyue’s moves were as flawless as during practice, but Lin Yiren was scuttling across the floor like a crab.
The music continued, but her mood fell. She lowered her head, seeing only the swaying legs.
She didn’t dare lift her gaze, fearing to meet anyone’s eyes.
Chen Zhaoyue had said she would pick out a dress for her, so others would know at a glance they were dance partners, but now their movements were worlds apart. Would people really see her as Chen Zhaoyue’s bodyguard, and Chen Zhaoyue as someone who had to just pull anyone up to dance with?
The question of whether she and the young miss were truly compatible had always lingered in Lin Yiren’s heart, and now it reared its head again.
***
The music climbed to a crescendo. She was supposed to spin while holding onto Chen Zhaoyue’s arm; if she were practiced, they would twirl lightly around each other, a beautiful step.
But could she really pull it off? Lin Yiren’s heart pounded like a drum.
Suddenly, her hand was enveloped in warmth. She felt someone gently squeeze her palm. Lin Yiren looked up at Chen Zhaoyue—those eyes, bright as peach blossoms, were now as gentle as water, soothing her flustered heart.
“Good luck.” Soft lips moved silently, the lipstick a vivid coral shade.
Suddenly, Lin Yiren felt this wasn’t some luxurious banquet hall, but that dance studio, where they danced together in the sunlight, cicadas singing outside the window.
Her gaze locked onto Chen Zhaoyue. She was guided into a spin—her movements not as good as those around her, but she found a trace of the right feeling.
Confidence welled up inside her. Her breath and her spinning gradually synchronized, her toes pointed, her waistline elegant.
The slight dizziness from dancing made the background blur, but Chen Zhaoyue only grew clearer in her eyes.
Their hands rested on each other’s waists, skirts blooming, hair flying.
After several times separating and coming together, Lin Yiren spun back to Chen Zhaoyue’s front like a bird returning to its nest.
The music softened again. Lin Yiren exhaled in small breaths, her whole body relaxed.
Her clear eyes met Chen Zhaoyue’s. They caught the tiny beads of sweat on each other’s foreheads, their lips curled up in a tacit smile.
After that small climax in the melody, their dance truly fell into place. They moved with each other, as if drifting in music.
In the dance floor, Lin Yiren spotted some familiar figures: Tang Chaoyun, Luo Qing, and the girl who had called Chen Zhaoyue away earlier. They had clearly noticed them for a while, and when Lin Yiren looked over, their eyes met and they exchanged a friendly smile.
She guessed they’d seen how awkward she looked at first. Lin Yiren gave a wry smile, but in her heart, she felt quite at ease.
The music entered its final stage, the rhythm rising and falling again.
People’s steps grew lighter, preparing for the final flourish.
***
Lin Yiren turned her head. The person beside her stood with a perfectly straight back, carrying off a black dress with grace and poise.
Lin Yiren’s mood suddenly surged. An irrepressible thought bubbled up in her heart—in this resplendent banquet hall, before Chen Zhaoyue’s friends, she wanted to dance a flawless finale with Chen Zhaoyue.
She felt it was a kind of expression—but of what, she couldn’t say.
Just then, Chen Zhaoyue’s eyes looked her way. At the end of a dance, partners are supposed to meet each other’s gaze, but in practice, they’d never looked at each other for so long, so… tenderly.
Lin Yiren’s heart fluttered wildly.
Chen Zhaoyue’s hand on her waist moved slightly, giving her a signal.
Lin Yiren let go of Chen Zhaoyue and spun under her guidance. The white hem of the girl’s skirt was soft yet full of strength. She wasn’t as precise as a professional dancer, but the taut curve of her body was breathtaking.
It was a multi-turn spin; she’d practiced it many times to get used to it, and now the results showed. Her supple body outshone most of the girls present.
Finally, her skirt fell back down, petals closing around a flower bud.
Lin Yiren was pulled into Chen Zhaoyue’s embrace. Supported by that strong arm, she arched her back in a stretch, neck forming a graceful curve.
The music ended.
Many girls on the floor straightened, exchanged glances with their partners, and then politely parted ways, bowing to each other.
Did we succeed? How did I do? Lin Yiren panted for breath.
She wanted to stand up and ask Chen Zhaoyue how she performed, and hoped someone would offer them praise.
What kind of praise?
“You two are the best pair.” That would be nice.
Lost in thought, Lin Yiren suddenly felt the arm at her waist gently lift her up. As she caught her breath and was about to ask—
Chen Zhaoyue’s arm suddenly tightened, pulling Lin Yiren softly against her.
The young girl was held close, like a pure white moon diving into the embrace of night.
Wait, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
Lin Yiren felt her blood boiling. At this moment, she was nearly cheek to cheek with Chen Zhaoyue, their breaths mingling, unable to utter a word.
Chen Zhaoyue leaned in closer.
No, it can’t be—is she going to…
As she saw those soft lips approaching, Lin Yiren’s face flushed with heat. She’d never imagined this, and the flood of emotions scattered her thoughts.
She instinctively wanted to close her eyes.
But Chen Zhaoyue’s face suddenly turned, brushing against her pink cheek and coming to rest on her shoulder. She felt a touch on her back as well.
It was a hug.
They held each other lightly, sharing their warmth.
Lin Yiren’s chaotic breaths slowly calmed. Feeling the warmth in her arms, the complex feelings in her eyes finally faded into a gentle smile.
A hug is fine too.
She hugged Chen Zhaoyue back.