Chapter 13 His dance steps, domineering leadership
The afterglow of the first opening dance had not yet completely dissipated, and the atmosphere in the banquet hall was still lively. The soothing waltz melody was replaced by a more rhythmic dance with a slightly tango style. The drum beats beat the ears and quietly plucked some hidden heartstrings.
Su Wanqing had just finished dancing with a retired general with a genial smile and was about to take a break with a slight nod of thanks. A glass of water was handed to her. She looked up and saw Assistant Chen, who had quietly appeared without her noticing, his face still businesslike.
"Madam, the commander wants you to come over." Assistant Chen's voice was not loud, but it reached her ears clearly.
Su Wanqing looked in the direction Assistant Chen pointed. Huo Tingxiao wasn't in the crowd, but standing alone in a secluded corner at the edge of the dance floor. He stood straight as a pine tree, his dark blue dress gleaming coldly under the light. He held an untouched glass of champagne in his hand, his gaze calmly fixed on the dance floor. His profile was stern, as if the forced dance had never happened.
But he obviously noticed her and gave the order again.
Su Wanqing's heart skipped a beat. She took the water cup, took a sip to moisten her dry throat, then put the cup down and walked towards him.
The closer I got, the more I could sense the cold, unapproachable aura surrounding him. The surrounding clamor seemed to automatically create an invisible vacuum around him.
She stopped in front of him and looked up at him: "Chief."
Huo Tingxiao's gaze shifted from the dance floor to her face. His eyes, deep and devoid of emotion, lingered for a fleeting moment on her cheeks, which had flushed slightly from dancing. Then, he tilted his chin slightly toward the dance floor and said simply, "One more dance."
Not a question, not an invitation, but an order.
Su Wanqing was slightly startled. He didn't look like someone who was interested in dancing, let alone with her. The opening dance just now seemed more like a necessary task.
But she didn't ask any more questions, and there was no room for refusal. She nodded gently: "Okay."
Huo Tingxiao casually placed the champagne glass in his hand on the tray of a passing waiter and extended his hand towards her.
His palms were still broad, with distinct knuckles, and a sense of strength unique to soldiers.
Su Wanqing placed her hand in his. The moment their skin touched, the burning warmth and the slightly calloused texture of his palm were clearly transmitted to her again, causing her fingertips to curl slightly involuntarily.
He closed his fingers and held her hand firmly, while his other hand grasped her waist without any explanation and with unquestionable strength.
It was completely different from the gentlemanly, distanced support he'd given her during the first dance. This time, his palms were practically pressed against the curve of her waist, and through the thin layer of satin fabric, the scorching heat and firm control instantly assaulted all her senses.
Su Wanqing's body tensed instantly, her breathing stagnating for a moment. This overly intimate contact far exceeded the etiquette of social dancing, carrying an almost overbearing sense of possessiveness.
He seemed to notice her stiffness and looked down at her, his eyes still cold as he uttered only two words: "Follow."
Before he finished speaking, he had already slid her onto the dance floor.
This dance was a stark departure from the slow, gentle waltz. The tempo was faster, the steps more complex, the turns more numerous, and filled with force and pauses. Huo Tingxiao's guidance also became more direct and assertive. His arms were as steady as iron, his palms at her waist burning with strength. Every turn and every pirouette was executed with absolute control, leaving her no room for hesitation or retreat.
Su Wanqing needed to concentrate completely to keep up with his unpredictable pace and rhythm. He almost half-led, half-forced her to move and twirl around the dance floor. Her skirt fluttered, her hair brushed against her cheek. Her world seemed to be filled with only his stern face, his burning hands, and his irresistible guidance.
He danced beautifully, each step precisely on the beat, full of power and a cold beauty. But he had no expression, and he didn't look at her, his eyes fixed straight ahead, as if he was just completing a strict military drill.
However, the tight grip he put on her waist created a strange contradiction with his cold appearance.
The people dancing around them seemed to subconsciously keep a distance from them. Their combination was too striking, their aura too overwhelming. The sharp contrast between coldness and tenderness, compulsion and obedience, created a tension that was both eye-catching and intimidating.
After a rapid spin, his arms suddenly tightened, pulling her back towards him. Their bodies inevitably pressed briefly together. Su Wanqing could even feel the outline and warmth of his solid chest beneath the fabric of his suit, and the crisp, clear scent of his body, mixed with a faint hint of tobacco, overbearingly invading her breath.
Her heartbeat suddenly became irregular and heat rose uncontrollably on her cheeks.
He seemed unaware of anything, and the moment she stood firm, he loosened his grip and restored the perfect distance. Only his hand was still firmly clasped behind her waist, continuing to lead her to complete the next complex dance step.
Su Wanqing felt like a small boat caught in a whirlpool, passively following his rhythm. She tried to lift her eyes to meet his, hoping to glimpse a trace of true emotion from that bottomless pool, but he remained fixed on the front, his jawline set tight, giving no one a chance to peek.
This dance made her heart tremble with fear, and her whole body felt inexplicably hot.
For the first time, she clearly felt the man's almost brutal desire for control and powerful presence hidden beneath his cold exterior. He wasn't dancing, he was declaring his position, marking his territory in a silent yet extremely domineering way, regardless of whether he recognized her identity in his heart.
Finally, the music faded away.
As the last note fell, he had just finished a neat closing move with her. Her back rested slightly against his strong arm, her breathing a little unsteady, beads of sweat oozing from her forehead.
He loosened his hand, took a step back, and instantly regained that cold, distant feeling, as if the aggressive and controlling dance just now was just her illusion.
"You dance well." He looked at her, his voice flat and calm. It was hard to tell whether it was a genuine compliment or just a formulaic comment.
Su Wanqing panted slightly, adjusted her breathing, met his emotionless gaze, and tried to make her voice sound steady: "You are leading me well, Commander."
He raised his eyebrows imperceptibly, and said nothing more. His gaze lingered on her flushed cheeks and slightly moist eyes for a brief second before moving away.
"Excuse me." He said these two words, turned around and walked towards several senior generals who were talking, leaving her alone at the edge of the dance floor.
Su Wanqing stood there, watching his tall and cold back blend into the crowd. The scorching warmth and unquestionable strength of his palm seemed to still remain on her waist. Her heartbeat was still rapid and difficult to calm down.
This domineering dance, this contradictory intimacy and alienation...
What exactly does he want to do?
She found that she was increasingly unable to understand this iceberg.
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