Chapter 4

The rehearsal room on the third floor of the High School Activity Center was heated to high, and the air was filled with the waxy smell of old wooden floors and the slightly scorched smell of baked dust. A large mirror reflected the spaciousness of the room, as well as Zhao Jinglu, who was warming up alone. She practiced the basic movements she would soon learn in front of the mirror, her movements clean and precise, silently repeating the key points that Teacher Chen Ping had instructed: "Professional posture, clear instructions, and commanding presence."

The door was pushed open with a clang, and a cold wind rushed in, carrying several tall figures. It brought the cold air from outside as well as the unique smell of sweat and sports rubber from the basketball court.

"Teacher! The Grade 2 (7) Street Dance Team... uh, a makeshift team. We were supposed to have five people, but we're actually here... let's see how many of them are missing out..." Zhang Hao shouted the loudest, taking off his coat as he did so, his eyes curiously scanning Zhao Jinglu in the mirror. Several other boys followed in, giggling and jostling each other, clearly not taking this rehearsal seriously.

Ling Peng walked last, sporting a shoulder bag, his spiky hair a bit messy from the wind, but it only made him look more casually handsome. He glanced in the mirror at his "coach," who had turned around—a short girl with a simple ponytail, her cheeks flushed, perhaps from warm-up or shyness, her blue school uniform jacket a bit too big. A... middle school kid? His brows twitched imperceptibly, his already low expectations dropping even further.

Zhao Jinglu's heart started beating faster the moment the door was pushed open. He was there, the number 7. He was wearing blue school uniform trousers and a white fleece jacket. He looked taller than he did on the basketball court, over 1.8 meters tall. His face was expressionless, and he seemed a little nonchalant, even a little lazy, forced to work. She took a quick breath, suppressed her panic, and tried to make her voice sound calm and experienced: "Is everyone here? Let's get started. Let's warm up first." Zhao Jinglu walked to the audio equipment and connected her MP3 to the speakers. The rhythmic hip-hop music instantly filled the room.

Zhang Hao leaned over and said with a low, grinning voice, "Brother Peng, this young teacher is quite capable, isn't she? You said she..." Ling Peng nudged him away with his elbow and gave a neutral "hmm" as a response. He swayed his body as he watched her in the mirror, doing a few wide-ranging stretches that looked more like a pre-game basketball warm-up than a dance routine.

Warm-up over. "First eight beats, watch my feet and knees. Up, down, center of gravity needs to be moved cleanly..." She demonstrated and explained, her eyes sweeping over the five boys in front of her, all more than half a head taller than her. Some, like a boy with glasses, imitated diligently; others, like Zhang Hao, were clumsy, as if they'd just been installed. And Ling Peng...he followed suit, his movements large and powerful, but completely off-kilter. He straightened his knees when they should have bent, lifted them when they should have sunk, and there was a perfunctory, stiff, "I'm doing my job" air, a stark contrast to his agility on the basketball court.

"Classmate," Zhao Jinglu pointed at him, her voice not loud but clear, "your Down is not a squat, it's sinking your chest and causing your knees to bend naturally. Like this... find the feeling of your dribbling." She walked in front of him, slowed down the movements and demonstrated it again. From a close distance, she could smell the faint scent of sweat and laundry detergent mixed on his body, a very clean and vigorous scent that belonged to the court.

Ling Peng paused, looking down at the serious-looking teacher. Her eyes were focused, their crescent-shaped pupils now widening slightly, and a dimple on one side of her face was faintly visible as she pursed her lips. He suddenly felt a little amused, yet also a little impressed—such a tiny girl, yet she was actually quite capable. She even knew a little basketball, and her oversized school uniform made her look even more stylish as she danced hip-hop.

He tried it once as he was told and it felt better, but still a little awkward.

"Relax your wrists, don't clench your fists, you can grab the hem of your clothes." Zhao Jinglu subconsciously raised her hand and gently tapped his tense forearm muscles with her fingers.

Her fingertips were a little cold.

Ling Peng seemed to be startled by the gentle touch and the sudden approach of instruction, his movements stagnating for a moment. He looked down at his fist, as if realizing for the first time how stiff it was. He slowly loosened his fingers, grasped the edge of his shirt, and tried again. While it still wasn't quite the best, the brute force that had been fighting the music seemed to have dissipated, and it felt a little more interesting.

"Okay, keep going. Follow the music, five, six, seven, eight..." Zhao Jinglu turned to face the group, snapping her fingers and calling out the beat. She quietly rubbed the fingertips that had touched him on her pants—they seemed to still retain the scorching warmth and firmness of his muscles after exercise. An inexplicable, subtle panic passed through her heart like static electricity.

Ling Peng looked at the small but extremely serious figure in the mirror, glanced at his teammates who were dancing wildly around him, and sighed almost imperceptibly.