Yang Qinglan was elegant, noble, and beautiful, as pure and flawless as a snow lotus.

Bright red, light red, and silvery white peonies, each blooming as big as a plate, are a beautiful sight among the lush green leaves.

Li Changzhou thought to himself, "If there were a gust of wind right now, I would immediately put my arm around her waist."

But there was no wind.

He thought to himself, "If a petal were to fall right now, I would immediately take her hand."

No petals fell.

He thought again, "If there's no wind and no petals falling, I'll put my arm around her waist and hold her hand!"

There was no wind, and no petals fell.

Li Changzhou slowly clenched his fist, and after confirming that his hand was still alive and obedient, he reached out and gently placed it on Yang Qinglan's slender waist.

The sky-blue cheongsam, after the rain, outlined her graceful figure and gave off a captivating tactile sensation.

Li Changzhou's head was spinning.

They even forgot to take the next step, holding hands.

Yang Qinglan trembled slightly, turned around, and took the initiative to extend her hand to shake his.

Then she took a slight step forward, resting her head almost on Li Changzhou's shoulder, so that he couldn't see her face.

They could hear each other's heartbeats, feel the heat emanating from each other's cheeks, and hear each other's slightly trembling hands and breaths.

Li Changzhou barely managed to recall the dance steps he had recently learned. Holding Yang Qinglan's hand and putting his arm around her waist, he gently tapped his feet to the rhythm amidst the peony bushes.

Yang Qinglan could only see the peonies flashing before her eyes, her body moving in time with his rhythm.

"...Where's the song?" She snapped out of her daze.

"Oh, sing, sing what?" Li Changzhou asked.

Hearing how nervous he was, Yang Qinglan couldn't help but laugh. Just then, a gust of wind blew by, and his nervousness vanished instantly.

Feeling a sense of ease and comfort, she laughed and said, "How would I know about songs from 1928?"

"I don't know how either," Li Changzhou said sadly.

"No, I won't dance if there's no song." Yang Qinglan gently stopped.

Fearing she might be unwilling, Li Changzhou didn't dare force her at all and stopped as well.

"Let me think, let me think, don't rush, don't rush!" Li Changzhou desperately recalled the song he heard when he first arrived in 1928.

With his memory, he could recall it, but everything depends on his state of mind. At this moment, his mind was overwhelmed by Yang Qinglan's waist, hands, and the cold, moon-like fragrance.

Forget about songs, he's even forgotten his own name.

There's no other way; in critical moments, you have to rely on instinct.

Just as Yang Qinglan was about to let him go, saying that a song from a hundred years later would also be acceptable, she heard him nervously singing in her ear.

"The waves surge and flow, the mighty river never ceases its course!"

"Hahaha." Yang Qinglan laughed and leaned on his shoulder. "This is a song from 1980, 50 years from now!"

"No way? 50 years? Not this time?" With her melodious laughter all around him, Li Changzhou gradually relaxed and couldn't help but laugh.

"No," Yang Qinglan said, suppressing a laugh.

Li Changzhou released her hand and wrapped both arms around her waist.

Yang Qinglan gently punched him and put both hands on his shoulders.

"Qinglan".

"Um."

"No matter when you ask me, my answer will always be you. Only you, and that will never change."