Zi Xi didn't say anything more, but just gave him a deep look before turning around and quickly walking into the dressing room.
Pei Mozhi was left standing alone in the corridor filled with the smell of sweat and the lingering noise, his expensive suit out of place with the surroundings.
After that incident, Pei Mozhi was plunged into an unprecedented wave of doubt.
How could Pei Mozhi utter such humble and clingy words?!
Like a persistent, obsessive pervert.
He tried to fill every gap with work, using one international conference after another and mountains of decision-making documents to dispel the image of himself who lost control and grabbed the other person's arm in the dance studio corridor.
He deliberately avoided picking Zixi up during her class time, stopped picking her up, and even reduced the frequency of his visits to Pei Garden.
It seems that as long as you stay away from her, the out-of-control, unrecognizable Pei Mozhi can be sealed back.
However, some things, once they break ground, can no longer be ignored.
A few days later, late at night.
As a video conference with a foreign country ended and the screen went dark, Pei Mozhi, as if possessed, once again opened the monitoring app.
But just before he was about to open it, Pei Mozhi hesitated for a moment and closed the monitoring app.
He's not watching anymore; he wants to go home.
The main lights in the hall were not on; only a floor lamp next to the sofa emitted a dim, warm glow.
In that warmly lit corner, Zi Xi was curled up in the large sofa, seemingly asleep.
Pei Mozhi stopped at the gate, as if he had been frozen in place.
All the weariness and the deliberate alienation that had been built up crumbled at this moment.
He almost held his breath, gently closed the door, took off his expensive suit jacket and casually draped it over the back of the chair, then silently approached the door barefoot on the soft carpet.
She was sleeping soundly, clearly exhausted.
She hadn't had time to change out of her classical dance practice clothes yet; the moon-white silk fabric made her skin look like jade, though the fabric was slightly disheveled, outlining her slender and graceful shoulders and neck.
Her head was resting on her arm, her profile softly nestled in the cushion, a few strands of her dark hair, damp with sweat, clung to her smooth forehead and slightly sweaty neck, rising and falling very subtly with her shallow, even breathing.
At that moment, she was completely unprepared, as fragile as glass that could shatter at the slightest touch.
Pei Mozhi's heartbeat began to spiral out of control without warning.
The heavy, rapid blows pounded into my chest, the sound like drums that seemed to be clearly audible in the quiet living room.
He stopped in front of the sofa, his tall figure completely enveloping her.
An almost bewitching impulse seized him, drawing him closer to her, just a little closer still.
He slowly and carefully bent down, his knee almost sinking into the soft carpet.
The distance closed instantly, and the scent of sweat and medicinal oil emanating from Zhao Zixi became clearly audible.
Normally, this unclean smell would be enough to trigger his severe mysophobia.
But at this moment, the scent acted like a strange catalyst, burning his nerves and making him completely ignore his physical discomfort. Instead, he greedily gazed at her sleeping face.
From her smooth forehead to the tip of her pert nose, her gaze finally settled on her slightly parted lips, glistening with a healthy pinkish hue. Her Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily, and an unprecedented thirst washed over her.
As if by some strange twist of fate, Pei Mozhi reached out his hand.
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