"That's Gu Yanchen!" Zhou Weiwei lowered her voice, her tone full of excitement. "How about it, isn't he ridiculously handsome?"

Shen Nianxi remained silent, her gaze fixed intently on the figure. She watched as he demonstrated the spin, his toes as steady as a spinning top, his posture as upright as a pine tree, every detail precise and impeccable. That was the skill honed through years of arduous practice, the elegance refined from an ultimate love for dance.

Perhaps her gaze was too intense, for Gu Yanchen suddenly turned his head and looked in her direction.

The moment their eyes met, Chen Nianxi's heart skipped a beat.

His eyes were deep, dark, like a vast galaxy. When his gaze fell upon her, it carried a hint of inquiry, curiosity, and a subtle, almost imperceptible, amazement. His gaze was clear and pure, without a trace of impurity, like a mountain spring flowing gently through her heart.

Shen Nianxi quickly looked away, her cheeks slightly flushed, her heart pounding like a rabbit's. She lowered her head somewhat embarrassedly, staring at her toes, her ears burning red.

Zhou Weiwei chuckled softly and nudged her gently with her elbow: "Look, Gu Yanchen is looking at you! Our Nianxi is so beautiful and dances so well, she's probably captivated everyone's attention."

Shen Nianxi's face turned even redder. She gently nudged Zhou Weiwei's shoulder and said reproachfully, "Sister Weiwei, don't talk nonsense."

Just then, footsteps approached from afar. Shen Nianxi looked up and met Gu Yanchen's smiling eyes. He had already reached her, his steps composed and elegant, with the lightness unique to a dancer.

"Hello." He spoke, his voice clearer than before, with a slight Mandarin accent, gentle and refined. "I am Gu Yanchen. Are you a dancer from China? In your eyes, there is the purest love for dance."

Shen Nianxi was taken aback, not expecting him to greet her first, especially since he could speak Chinese. She composed herself, extended her hand, and said gracefully, "Hello, my name is Shen Nianxi. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Gu Yanchen took her hand in his; his fingertips were slightly cool, yet the touch was warm and smooth. His palm was large and strong, and he released her hand with a gentle squeeze, his manners impeccable. A faint smile curved his lips, like a spring breeze rippling across a lake: "Chen Nianxi, a very beautiful name. I've read your dance troupe's information; your classical dance is superb, especially that piece 'Peach Blossom,' which perfectly captured the gentle grace and agility of an Eastern woman."

These words struck a chord with Shen Nianxi. Her eyes lit up instantly, the embarrassment in them vanished, replaced by the joy of finding a kindred spirit: "Do you also like 'Peach Blossom'? I think the essence of this dance lies in the lively charm of 'a charming smile and beautiful eyes,' rather than simply pursuing complex techniques."

“You’re absolutely right.” Gu Yanchen’s smile deepened. “The soul of dance lies in the transmission of emotion, not in the accumulation of techniques. Many dancers have put the cart before the horse, pursuing only the difficulty of the movements while forgetting the most authentic meaning of dance.”

The two hit it off immediately, finding common ground in their conversation. From the graceful movements of classical dance to the techniques of ballet; from the subtlety of Eastern dance to the exuberance of Western dance; from the creative concepts of dance to their unwavering pursuit of art. Like two perfectly matched gears, they found resonance in the world of dance.

Zhou Weiwei tactfully stepped aside, watching the two chatting happily, a knowing smile appearing on her lips.

From that day on, Shen Nianxi and Gu Yanchen became inseparable friends.

They often stayed in the rehearsal hall until late at night, discussing the details of the dance and pondering the essence of the movements together. Gu Yanchen would patiently teach her ballet pointe techniques and help her correct her center of gravity when spinning; Shen Nianxi would explain the principles of classical dance to him and teach him how to convey emotions with his eyes. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating their figures standing side by side, warm and beautiful.

In their spare time, Gu Yanchen would take Shen Nianxi to explore the streets and alleys of Paris. They would go to the Louvre together, pausing before the Mona Lisa's smile to discuss the timeless charm of art; they would stroll along the Seine, walking in the afterglow of the setting sun, watching the Eiffel Tower reflected on the shimmering water; they would go to a street-side café, order a cup of fragrant coffee, and chat about their hometowns and their dreams.

Shen Nianxi then realized that Gu Yanchen's background was somewhat similar to hers. His parents were both scholars who had studied in France in their early years. He was born in Paris but grew up with his grandparents. His grandparents were famous Kunqu Opera performers from Jiangnan, who taught him to speak Chinese, sing Kunqu Opera, and write calligraphy. In his bones flowed the blood of a Chinese person, and he had a deep attachment to his homeland.

“I go back to China every year and stroll along Pingjiang Road in Suzhou.” Gu Yanchen looked at the Seine River with nostalgia in his eyes. “The cobblestone streets, white walls and black tiles, and the small bridges and flowing water are exactly the same as my hometown in my dreams. I always feel that my roots are in China.”

These words, like a pebble thrown into a still lake, stirred up a thousand ripples in Shen Nianxi's heart. She thought of her nephew's name—Shen Nianzu—and her brother Shen Nian'an's words, "Let him remember that his roots are here," and a strong resonance welled up within her. It turned out that, in a foreign land, there were others like her, harboring a deep longing for their homeland.

The day of the performance finally arrived as scheduled.

The theater was packed, with audiences from all over the world gathered to anticipate this collision and fusion of Eastern and Western dance. Crystal chandeliers glittered, and the red velvet curtain slowly rose, filling the hall with melodious music.

This chapter is not finished yet. Please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content!