Chapter 11
At dusk, the central square of Chaoge Park was bustling with activity, the dazzling lights illuminating the stage like daylight. At the finals of the group dance competition, the air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and hormones. In the waiting area, the members of "Xihe Hip-Hop Family" gathered in a circle, with Qiqi folding her hands in the middle, her gaze scanning each young, nervous face.
"Remember the rhythm, trust each other, and enjoy the stage." His voice was steady, with a calming power.
"Xihe, come on!" Everyone roared and pressed down heavily with their hands.
Feng Ling took a deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. However, her gaze drifted unconsciously to Anhesu again. Ever since warm-ups this morning, she'd noticed him occasionally placing his hand on his lower back. Though his movements were subtle and quick, the slight furrow of his brows didn't escape her notice. She recalled him practicing alone in the empty classroom late into the night, and a faint unease welled up in her.
"Next, let's welcome Xihe! 'Born'!"
The host's announcement ended, and the lights dimmed. Feng Ling shook off all distractions, followed the team onto the stage, and froze in his designated position.
The music began—a piece meticulously choreographed by Qiqi, a work brimming with power, technique, and storytelling. The opening was like a simmering undercurrent, the movements perfectly synchronized and brimming with tension. Feng Ling focused intensely, striving for precision in every beat and every turn. She could sense the audience's enthusiasm ignited, waves of cheers rising from her.
Everything was going smoothly until the complex multi-person lifting and transformation stage.
All team members were required to coordinate a transitional movement with Anhesu after he completed a difficult maneuver. Feng Ling was standing right next to Anhesu. As he leaped from the ground using inertia and leaned back to exert force, he clearly heard a short, painful groan from beside him, one that was suppressed but still escaped his lips and teeth.
Her heart suddenly sank.
My eyes glanced at him uncontrollably, and I saw that his arm movement, which should have been smooth, had an extremely slight stagnation. It seemed that his waist was unable to fully exert force, causing the strength to stand up to be half a point weaker and the rhythm to have an imperceptible delay.
It was this fraction of a second of hesitation and focus that caused Feng Ling's mind to go blank. The music's re-beat blasted clearly. According to the choreography, she should have joined everyone in a visually striking single-arm upward movement, echoing An Hesu's movements.
But she forgot.
Her hands froze at her sides, and a flicker of obvious panic flashed across her eyes. Although she reacted immediately and managed to keep up with the subsequent movements, that missing frame, amidst the otherwise perfectly aligned formation, was like a glaring blank that suddenly appeared in a perfect painting. Someone on the judges' panel frowned slightly.
For the next few dozen seconds, Feng Ling performed almost entirely by muscle memory. Shame, self-blame, and worry about Ankhsu's injury washed over her like a tide. She dared not look at the judges or her teammates, only staring intently at the blurry faces in the crowd below.
The music reached its final chapter, a finishing move that required everyone to fall to the ground in sequence and then suddenly stand up. When it was Ankhsu's turn, he almost forced himself to get down. As he stood up, the sharp pain in his waist made him stagger, and he couldn't mobilize his core strength instantly.
Just when he thought he was about to lose his balance, a warm and firm hand supported his elbow in time, giving him a subtle but crucial leverage point.
It’s Feng Ling.
They weren't supposed to interact at that moment, but she did, naturally and quickly, as if it were supposed to be that way.
An Hesu paused noticeably, looking at her in surprise. Feng Ling didn't avoid his gaze. There was no dejection from losing the match in her eyes, only pure concern and a calm, "I understand." He didn't refuse this unexpected support. He followed her strength and stood steadily, completing the final ending pose.
The lights freeze and the music stops.
The applause from the audience was still enthusiastic, but Feng Ling knew that that mistake was enough to create a crack in the perfection.
***
The result was no surprise.
When the host announced that the champion of the Hip-hop group was another team, Feng Ling lowered his head and dug his nails deep into his palms.
The runner-up trophy was taken by Qiqi. He still had a graceful smile on his face, but Feng Ling could see the disappointment that flashed across his eyes.
The atmosphere backstage was as heavy as ice.
"I'm sorry!" Feng Ling bowed deeply to all the team members, his voice choked with sobs, "It's me...it's me who forgot the moves. I'm sorry everyone!"
Xiaodi, Feifei, and the others opened their mouths, wanting to say something, but in the end, only sighs of helplessness came out. Days and nights of sweat, but because of a single mistake, they missed the championship. The loss was real.
Tiantian crossed her arms, looked at Feng Ling coldly, said nothing, and turned to pack her things.
Qiqi placed the trophy on the table and walked up to Feng Ling. Without blaming her, he patted her shoulder gently and said, "It's just a competition. Don't take it too seriously." His tolerance made Feng Ling's tears even more unstoppable.
At this time, An Hesu, who had been silent all this time, came over. His face was still pale, and his voice was not loud, but it was clearly heard by everyone:
"It's none of her business. My back injury relapsed, affecting my rhythm, and that's why she was distracted."
He paused and looked at Feng Ling with a complicated expression, "I should be the one to say sorry. I have implicated the team and... you."
Feng Ling looked up in shock, her eyes blurry with tears as she stared at him. She hadn't expected that this usually cold and distant boy would take the responsibility on her at this moment.
Qiqi looked at Anhesu, then at Feng Ling, and understood. He spoke again, his tone much firmer, "Did you hear everything? This isn't just one person's problem. We're a team, sharing honor and disgrace. If we lose this time, we can win it next time! Now, everyone, cheer up!"
His words were like a gust of wind, blowing away some of the haze.
Feng Ling looked at An Hesu. He had already turned around, walking towards the dressing room with his back straight, as if his apology had exhausted all his strength. The slight trembling of his arm as she helped him up, and the sight of him bearing the pain alone, deeply etched in her mind.
That golden championship trophy no longer seemed important. On this night of defeat, something was quietly changing, something heavier and more real than victory.
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