Arriving at the Burning Point Dance Studio at 5 p.m. that evening, Pei Mozhi lowered the car window and looked through the dark glass at the brightly lit floor-to-ceiling window on the first floor.
The huge mirror reflected the swaying figures inside.
Among a group of figures dressed in tight-fitting dance costumes, sweating profusely, he easily spotted Zi Xi.
She wore a simple black tank top and skinny jeans, her hair tied up in a neat high ponytail, revealing her smooth forehead and beautiful neck.
Her movements were far less skillful than those around her, even showing the clumsiness and excessive force of a beginner, but her eyes shone brightly as she intently watched the teacher's movements and herself in the mirror.
Every jump and head shake carries an almost stubborn seriousness.
Sweat trickled down her temples and collarbone, soaking the fabric of her shoulders.
He thought she was a lonely orchid.
The driver silently opened the car door for him.
Pei Mozhi straightened his meticulously tailored suit cuffs, and with a hint of inquiry and subtle displeasure that he himself was unaware of, he walked into the dance studio filled with sweat and the smell of hormones.
The air conditioning was on full blast, but the smell of perfume, sweat, and the plastic floor mat hit him, causing his obsessive-compulsive disorder to subconsciously furrow his brow.
He chose a relatively quiet corner against the wall and sat down with his coat on it.
Expensive custom-made leather shoes looked out of place on the somewhat worn plastic floor.
His presence was so strong that even sitting silently in the corner, he was like a giant magnet, instantly attracting many eyes in the classroom, with a hint of barely perceptible prying.
Zi Xi naturally saw him too.
In the brief moment between turning around, her gaze met his through the throng of people.
There was only a fleeting look of surprise in his eyes, a hint of being disturbed, before he regained his composure, even becoming somewhat indifferent.
She quickly looked away, refocusing on the movements in the mirror as if he were merely an insignificant decorative painting on the wall.
Pei Mozhi's lips tightened; he felt as if he had been ignored.
Is it because he's trying to break into her circle?
This experience of accompanying a woman into such a place for the first time was both frustrating and extremely unpleasant for him.
But he remained patient, watching her repeat the tedious basic movements under the coach's instructions, and also watching the occasional relaxed, even somewhat contented, smile she showed while practicing.
Make him jealous.
Why couldn't he make Zhao Zixi show that smile?
The long ninety minutes finally ended, and the crowd surged toward the locker room.
Zi Xi wiped her sweat with a towel, her breathing still a little rapid, and slowly walked towards him.
She was steaming with the warmth of exercise, her hair was slightly damp, and her cheeks had a healthy blush. She looked like a fruit that had just been picked from the branch, still plump, fresh, and full of life.
"Mr. Pei? What brings you here? Doesn't your germaphobia make you uncomfortable sitting here?"
Her voice was slightly panting from exercise, but her tone was distant, as if she were addressing a neighbor she didn't know very well.
That phrase, "Mr. Pei," made Pei Mozhi even more annoyed.
He stood up and looked down at her, his tall figure casting a powerful shadow in the slightly crowded space.
"I'm just passing by, I'll wait for you to have hot pot together."
Pei Mozhi's voice was deep and cold as he tried his best to maintain a calm demeanor.
He would never so easily admit that he came here specifically for this purpose, like a stalker.
"Um."
Zi Xi nodded, seemingly not delving too deeply into the answer, or perhaps not caring at all.
She responded, picked up the water glass next to her, took a big gulp, and turned to leave.
A nameless anger suddenly surged up in his heart, burning his throat until it went dry.
The instant she brushed past him, Pei Mozhi reached out almost without thinking and gently grasped her wrist.
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