Chapter 3

A week later, Feng Ling arrived at the Xihe Dance Club as usual. It was an early summer evening, and the breeze was slightly cool. She waited for over ten minutes, but Lian Jiajia still hadn't arrived. She called, but no one answered. She glanced at her watch; class was almost up.

"Why hasn't she come yet..." she muttered to herself. Lian Jiajia's absence made Feng Ling feel unprecedentedly hesitant downstairs at the Xihe Dance Club. The black door seemed like a barrier, clearly separating her from the "outsider." Without a companion to guide her, venturing alone into a world filled with unique personalities and experts required extraordinary courage.

Just as she was looking at her watch and hesitating, a gentle voice sounded from beside her, dispelling her uneasiness like a warm breeze.

"Waiting for a friend? It's almost time to start, why don't you go in first?"

Feng Ling looked up and met Qi Qi's smiling eyes. He was wearing a simple black T-shirt today, which made his shoulders look straight, fresh and upright.

"Ah...she might have been delayed by something." Feng Ling explained a little awkwardly.

"Then let's go up together." Qiqi opened the door for her naturally, his movements gentlemanly and casual.

"Oh... okay." Feng Ling saw that it was indeed too late, and thought that it would be better to go in with him than alone, so he nodded.

***

They were alone in the cramped elevator. Feng Ling had deliberately dressed for the occasion with a white T-shirt and pink overalls, a thin braid braided into her ponytail, trying to blend in. In the silence, she could smell the faint, refreshing scent of sun-kissed soapberries on the person beside her.

"Did you have any dance skills before?" Qiqi was the first to break the silence, her voice sounding particularly low and pleasant in the enclosed space.

"Well, apart from street dance, I haven't had much systematic exposure to it. I've learned some of the others." Feng Ling answered honestly, his fingers unconsciously twisting the backpack strap. "But the way street dance exerts force is completely different. It always feels awkward."

"If you have the foundation, it will be easy to find the feeling." He turned his head, his eyes sincere, "I will help you adjust it in class later, and you will find the feeling soon."

The confidence and kindness in his words sent ripples through Feng Ling's heart. When she wanted to thank him and habitually shouted "Thank you, teacher," Qiqi couldn't help but laugh out loud, her eyes curving into a beautiful arc.

"Just call me Qiqi," he said with a hearty laugh. "There aren't so many rules here."

At that moment, Feng Ling felt that this dazzling dancer possessed a rare and reassuring peace.

***

The class was still in full swing. Feng Ling consciously retreated to her "safe corner," only to find that the boy named An Hesu had already taken his usual position, like a silent statue. As the music started, Feng Ling threw herself into the class, stubbornly striving to conquer every beat.

Midway through, Qiqi clapped her hands and shouted, "Last row, move forward! Rows one to three, please step back."

Feng Ling could only silently lower her head and move forward. When she passed An Hesu, she subconsciously moved to the side to make more space, but she saw that he almost dodged to the other side at the same time, his movements were slight but swift, as if he was afraid of any unnecessary contact.

"This kid..." Feng Ling smiled helplessly in his heart, "He really avoids people like the snakes and scorpions."

Moved to the front row, the pressure doubled. A complex transition repeatedly stumped her, her movements becoming stiff. Just then, a figure stood firmly in front of her. It was Qiqi. Facing the mirror, he didn't look at her specifically, but spoke clearly to the entire group: "Pay attention to the coordination between the footsteps and the hips. It's not a forced rotation, but a natural swing driven by the core..."

His voice was calm, but his gaze, through the mirror, locked precisely with Feng Ling's. As he explained, his body performed extremely subtle and precise demonstrations. At that moment, Feng Ling seemed to have received a clear instruction, her body's memory awakened, and the awkward transition suddenly became smooth. Qiqi, through the mirror, gave her a quick but unmistakable look of approval, the corner of her mouth curling up imperceptibly.

A mixture of a sense of accomplishment and the warmth of being seen quietly surged into Feng Ling's heart.

***

By the end of class, Jia Jia hadn't shown up, and she hadn't replied to her messages. Feng Ling was left alone in the gradually emptying classroom, waiting for the locker room to become less crowded. She leaned against the wall, quietly stretching her legs to ease her sore muscles.

Across the empty classroom, An Hesu was still practicing in front of the mirror. He repeated an explosive movement over and over, sweat soaking his black vest. When he stopped to drink water, he casually set his water bottle on the ground, but lost his balance and it rolled to Feng Ling's feet.

Feng Ling looked at the rolling water bottle and hesitated for a moment. Thinking of his previous avoidance, she almost wanted to pretend she hadn't seen it. But in the end, she bent down to pick it up, walked over to him, and whispered, "Here you go." She was about to place the bottle on the ground at his feet.

Without even turning his head, he heard a cold voice: "No, thank you."

Feng Ling was stunned for a moment, then found it a little funny. She turned around to face him and explained gently, "Little friend, this is your water. It just rolled over to my side."

An Hesu paused and turned around, as if only then realizing it was her. He seemed to realize he had misunderstood her, silently taking the water bottle and muttering two words, "Thank you."

Feng Ling was about to turn around and leave when he heard a stubborn, clear voice with a youthful tone behind him:

"Besides, I'm not a kid."

Feng Ling felt that this childish rebuttal further solidified his "little kid" status, but she didn't argue. She simply turned her head, her gaze fixed on his sweat-soaked forehead and his tightly pursed, stubborn lips. She suddenly realized that this seemingly cold boy actually possessed an unusually sensitive self-esteem.

So, she gave him a defenseless, gentle, and somewhat tolerant smile. That smile was like the morning sun, gently penetrating the cold barrier around him.

"good."

Just one word, one smile. Ankhsu, however, felt as if burned by something. His fingers gripping the water bottle suddenly tightened, and he froze in place. The empty echoes in the classroom seemed to fall on his suddenly disordered heartbeat.