Sometimes he would find some bruises and wounds on her body, and he would lean on her shoulders and ask in a low voice: "Dancing is so hard, can you please stop dancing?"

She was silent for a long time, then smiled and answered him: "No, my mother has to work too. How can I make money if I don't dance?"

He said, "Then I will dance."

"I've watched your video tapes many times." He looked at her and said seriously, "I can dance now, too. I'll help you dance!"

"You're too young." She couldn't help laughing, "You can't dance. I was twelve when I first went on stage. How old are you?"

Twelve years old—he silently noted this age in his heart.

When he reaches this age, he can help her dance and she won't have to work so hard.

As the days went by, he began to secretly wear her women's clothes and put on her makeup when she went out dancing, and then imitate her dancing moves and expressions on the videotape.

He grew up slowly and became more and more beautiful.

The look she gave him began to become bewildered and flustered, and she would anxiously say to him, "Go roll around in the flower fields outside!"

"Get your face dirty!"

"Stop fooling around! Act like a man! Stop playing with these things!"

When he was eleven years old, he playfully put a flower on his head, turned around in front of her, tilted his head and asked her if it looked good. That was the first time she looked at him in horror and burst into hysterics:

"Didn't I tell you not to play with these girl's things?"

"You are a boy, not a girl!!"

He was frozen in place by the yelling, and the flowers on his head fell off and shattered into petals on the ground.

"I'm sorry..." She slowly squatted on the ground, covered her tearful eyes, and apologized softly, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you, I just don't understand, after telling you so many times, why do you still like to play with these girl things."

"You are obviously a boy..." She slowly put down her hands that were covering her eyes and looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"But I don't like being a boy." He pursed his lips and looked at her stubbornly, "I hate those men. They are not nice to you."

——Whether it was his bishop father or the people from the Vatican who came, their attitude towards her was so frivolous and arrogant. When their eyes swept over her, that kind of knowing smile was as if they were looking at something cheap.

He hated the way these people looked at her.

She is obviously the best person in the world and can dance the most beautiful dance in the world. These men are rubbish and deserve to look at her like this.

"I want to be like you, I don't want to be like them."

Her tears slowly fell, then she laughed again, sniffed, and then stretched out her finger: "It's my fault, I was wrong, you can do what you want - as long as you agree with me on one thing."

He asked, "What's the matter?"

She said softly, "Don't act like a girl when your father is at home."

He nodded in agreement immediately.

On his twelfth birthday, after confirming with her that his stupid bishop father had gone to a place called a castle in the sky and would never come back that day, he excitedly said to her: "Can I dance for you?"

"I've learned it all! I'll dance for you!"

"Is it so amazing?" She clapped her hands with a smile, "Okay, I'll wait and see."

He changed into all of her dance costumes from her youth, put on makeup carefully, put on a seven-layer veil, and imitated her dance moves in the video tape vividly in front of her.

"Do I look good?" He asked her with a smile, spinning around, his purple eyes sparkling with excitement, "Am I imitating her well?"

"Very similar." She looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes, and smiled as she praised him, "You are so handsome."

"You are more beautiful than I was back then."

"I think so too." A steady male voice with a hint of enthusiasm suddenly appeared. His bishop father, who had never come back, stood at the door, staring at him with a creepy smile, and said with a smile, "It's really beautiful."

"Twelve-year-olds are as beautiful as I had imagined."

This was the first time since he was born that he saw such a look of despair on her face.

The author has something to say:

This chapter is inspired by Salome