Chapter 10
The streetlights stretched and then shortened their shadows. Feng Ling's gaze remained fixed on An Hesu and the strange woman at the corner, a wave of questions swirling in her mind. Who was that woman? A family member? An agent? Why did the atmosphere seem... a little solemn?
"What are you looking at?" Qiqi followed her gaze and saw the scene. A flash of understanding flashed in his eyes, and then he gently touched Feng Ling's arm, "Stop looking, let's go."
"Who is that person...?" Feng Ling couldn't help but ask in a low voice.
"It should be his mother," Qiqi said calmly, as if accustomed to this. "Hesu's family has high expectations for him and is quite strict." He didn't say much more, but Feng Ling had already pieced together some of the sources of An Hesu's lingering pressure and alienation from this brief statement. She remembered Lian Jiajia's words about "trainee" and "future star," and she felt an inexplicable sense of understanding and sympathy for the silent boy.
In the days that followed, competition rehearsals took over her entire focus. The choreography became increasingly complex, demanding meticulous precision, dynamics, and expressiveness. Feng Ling gritted her teeth, practicing over and over the explosive movements Qiqi had meticulously polished for her. Sweat often soaked through her clothes, and her limbs ached like they were falling apart. But when she finally nailed the explosive moves that had once troubled her, the exhilarating feeling of breaking free from her constraints made all the hard work worthwhile.
As choreographer and instructor, Qiqi displayed unprecedented rigor. He would stop the entire group for a single mismatch in timing, and would repeatedly hone the fluidity of a single formation change. But beyond his rigor, his attention to Feng Ling became increasingly evident. When she reached her limit, he would quietly offer her water. When she struggled with a particular move, he would approach her, gently straighten her arm or shoulder, and whisper instructions on how to apply force. His touches were brief and expert, yet they always made Feng Ling's heart skip a beat.
Tiantian saw all of this and became increasingly silent during training, with her eyes occasionally looking at Feng Ling becoming increasingly complex. During a break, Feng Ling went to the bathroom and heard Tiantian whispering with another girl from the Jazz team outside the cubicle.
"...I don't know what Teacher Qiqi likes about her. Her dancing is just so-so, and she just pretends to be hardworking."
"They are college students, they are different from us..."
Feng Ling stood in the cubicle, the sound of running water masking her subtle breathing. She didn't step out to argue, but silently clenched her hands. A faint feeling of rejection surfaced, but it was quickly suppressed by a stronger fighting spirit—she had to prove herself worthy of this position.
***
One night, the team practiced late. Afterward, everyone was exhausted and quickly packed up to leave. Feng Ling was the last to emerge from the locker room. She found that almost all the lights in the dance club were off, with only their practice room still dimly lit. She walked over and saw Qiqi sitting alone in front of the mirror, headphones on, studying something on her phone. Her brows were slightly furrowed, and her silhouette looked a little lonely in the empty classroom.
She knocked gently on the doorframe.
Qiqi looked up and was surprised to see her. She took off one of her headphones and asked, "Haven't you left yet?"
"I was about to leave when I saw you were still here." Feng Ling walked over and asked, "What are you looking at?"
"Watch other teams' games from previous years," he said, turning his phone screen towards her, "to find inspiration and possible problems."
On the screen, a team was performing, their movements in perfect unison and majestic. Feng Ling sat down beside him and watched. As they watched, her attention was unconsciously drawn to the person next to her. His focused expression, his slightly damp hair, and the faint scent of sweat mixed with laundry detergent all gave her a strange sense of peace.
"Are you tired?" she asked softly.
Qiqi pressed the pause button, leaned against the mirror, let out a long breath, and smiled: "It's okay. I'm used to it."
"We will do our best." Feng Ling's tone was full of confidence.
Qiqi turned to look at her. In the dim light, his eyes seemed particularly deep. "Thank you for what you said that day," he suddenly whispered.
Feng Ling was stunned for a moment before realizing that he was referring to the words about "continue studying".
"I'm telling the truth." She met his gaze and said sincerely.
"I know." Qiqi smiled. That smile was a little tired, but also contained a hint of warmth of being understood. "So thank you even more."
The two of them were silent for a moment, the only sound in the classroom being the quiet breathing of each other. A quiet and subtle atmosphere flowed through the air. Feng Ling could even hear the sound of her own heartbeat, especially clear in the silent space.
Just then, there was a slight noise at the classroom door.
They both turned to see Ankhsu standing there, clutching a black backpack, as if returning to retrieve something he had left behind. His gaze swept calmly over the two people sitting side by side on the floor, his face expressionless. He simply nodded, a gesture of hello, then walked straight to a shelf in the corner, picked up a coat, and swiftly turned and left. The entire process was as quiet as a breeze.
But the look he gave her just now, which clearly showed no emotion, made Feng Ling feel guilty for no reason, as if she had done something wrong and was caught.
Qiqi looked at the direction where An Hesu disappeared, looking thoughtful. Then she stood up and extended her hand to Feng Ling: "It's really late. I'll take you back."
Feng Ling looked at the large, bony hand before her, hesitated for a moment, and finally placed her own hand on it. With a slight effort, he pulled her up from the ground. The warmth of their palms touching was brief but distinct.
"No need, you're tired too." Feng Ling shook her head. "I can go back by myself. It's very convenient."
Qiqi looked at her insistent eyes and didn't force it anymore: "Okay, send me a message when we get there."
"Um."
Walking back to the dormitory, the night breeze was cool, but Feng Ling's mind kept replaying the previous scene: Qiqi's tired and deep eyes, An Hesu's silent appearance and departure, and the fleeting warmth in her palm. She realized that in this dance club called "Xihe", she had gained more than just dance progress. Something more complex and more moving was quietly growing and spreading.
She took out her phone and sent two words to Qiqi:
"arrive."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com