Chapter 62 Lifting the Siege
In the center of the dance floor, Huo Yanli's hand gently rested on Song Zhiyi's waist.
This was their first time dancing. Huo Yanli noticed that her dance steps were very standard—clearly she had received professional training; every step was precise, every turn was smooth, but there was no element of showing off; it was purely to fulfill the social etiquette of "dancing."
"You and the ambassador's wife..." Huo Yanli began, the music forcing them to stand very close.
“Four years ago in Beirut,” Song Zhiyi said calmly. “Her grandson’s school was attacked by an airstrike, and I was assisting the Red Cross at the scene. The child was seriously injured, but he was saved at the time.”
She looked straight at his shoulder as she spoke, without looking at him.
Do you experience these things frequently?
“On the battlefield, air raids are a daily occurrence.” Her steps paused naturally in time with the music, her profile appearing calm and clear under the lights. “However, not many can arrive in time to save them.”
Huo Yanli suddenly recalled the night Ji Yun's mother fell ill, and how Song Zhiyi rushed into the Ji family home—wet hair, black clothes, and an acupuncture kit in her hand. That focus and composure, the same person she was when she saved people on the battlefield, must be the same person.
The music was soothing, and their dance steps were perfectly synchronized. Huo Yanli noticed that she maintained just the right distance from him, neither stiff nor overly intimate. This was the standard posture for a diplomatic ball.
"Who taught you to dance?" he asked.
“It’s a required course for the Protocol Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs,” she replied. “All foreign affairs personnel must master basic social dance.”
It was work again. Huo Yanli found himself starting to resist this answer. He wanted to hear something more personal, even if it was just something like "what my mother taught me" or "what I learned in college."
Just then, an accident occurred.
A young woman in a peach-pink backless dress, carrying a full glass of red wine, "accidentally" stumbled and bumped into Song Zhiyi. The deep red liquid arced through the air, splashing precisely onto Song Zhiyi's front.
But almost simultaneously, Song Zhiyi turned sideways and stepped back. Red wine splashed onto her left shoulder and arm, immediately soaking a large area of her dark suit fabric.
"Oh dear! I'm so sorry!" the woman exclaimed, but there was little remorse in her voice. "I twisted my ankle in my high heels..."
A moment of silence fell. Everyone turned to look.
Huo Yanli's face darkened. He recognized the woman—Zhao Yuanyuan, the daughter of a building materials group owner, notoriously spoiled in the industry. This "mishap" was far too coincidental.
Ji Yun and Zhou Mubai immediately approached. Ji Yun's expression had changed: "Zhao Yuanyuan, you—"
“It’s okay,” Song Zhiyi interrupted him calmly.
She didn't look down at the stains on her clothes, but simply nodded to Zhao Yuanyuan, then turned to the nearest waiter and said in clear English, "Please take me to the nearest changing room; I need to take care of myself. Also, please bring me a glass of warm water and some salt, as soon as possible."
The waiter paused for a moment, then immediately understood: "Yes, ma'am, please come with me."
Song Zhiyi then looked at the French ambassador's wife not far away and quickly said a few words in French. The ambassador's wife nodded and gave her a reassuring look.
Finally, she looked at Huo Yanli and said softly in Chinese, "I'll take care of it and be back soon. Don't worry."
After saying that, she followed the waiter out of the dance floor. Her steps were steady, her back straight, as if the glaring red stain on her shoulder was just an insignificant stain.
The entire process takes no more than thirty seconds.
Zhao Yuanyuan remained standing there, her empty wine glass trembling slightly. The panic, embarrassment, and even tears she had anticipated did not materialize. Song Zhiyi, as if handling a work process, calmly arranged everything and then gracefully left.
“Zhao Yuanyuan,” Ji Yun’s voice turned cold, “you’d better really have been careless.”
"I... I just didn't mean to..." Zhao Yuanyuan's voice was a little weak.
Zhou Mubai adjusted his glasses, his tone calm but pressured: "Ms. Zhao, do I need to remind you? Intentionally damaging other people's property in public places can constitute a serious offense and warrant administrative punishment. The suit that Translator Song is wearing is a custom-made uniform from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; its value may exceed your imagination."
Zhao Yuanyuan's face turned pale.
Huo Yanli remained silent. He watched Song Zhiyi's figure disappear through the side door and suddenly realized that the impulse to "protect her" that had just surged within him was completely useless.
She doesn't need him to protect her.
She can handle everything herself.
Five minutes later, Song Zhiyi returned.
She changed into a spare white shirt—a habit clearly developed from years of business travel; she always carried an extra basic item in her bag. She held her dark suit jacket in her hand; the wet parts had been blotted with tissues, but water stains were still visible. However, she had neatly adjusted the collar, restyled her hair, and her pearl earrings shimmered warmly under the light.
She walked straight toward Zhao Yuanyuan.
Zhao Yuanyuan subconsciously took a half step back.
“Miss Zhao.” Song Zhiyi stopped in front of her, her voice not loud but clear enough, “Your heels seem a bit unstable. I suggest you choose a style with a more stable heel next time. Also, when holding a cup, pinch the handle with your thumb and forefinger instead of wrapping your whole palm around it; it will be more stable.”
She took a business card out of her purse—not her own, but from a well-known etiquette training institution: "This is my friend's etiquette school. You can contact them if you're interested. Mentioning my name will get you a discount."
Zhao Yuanyuan's face turned bright red; she didn't know whether to accept the offer or not.
Song Zhiyi placed the business card on the table next to her, nodded to her, and then turned to walk towards Huo Yanli.
Suppressed chuckles rose from the surroundings. Several older ladies exchanged appreciative glances.
"Is it all taken care of?" Huo Yanli asked.
"Hmm." Song Zhiyi draped her suit jacket over her arm. "The stains have been treated with salt water; a professional cleaning should remove them when we get back. I've changed my shirt, so it won't affect the upcoming activities."
She didn't even mention Zhao Yuanyuan's name, as if it were just a technical problem that needed to be solved.
Ji Yun couldn't help but give a thumbs up: "Miss Song, I admire your mental fortitude."
"Thank you." Song Zhiyi smiled slightly at him; the smile was faint, but genuine.
The music started again, but Huo Yanli was no longer in the mood to dance.
"Are you tired?" he asked. "Do you want to go back first?"
“If you’re tired, we can go first,” Song Zhiyi said, “but I’m fine.”
Looking at her calm face, Huo Yanli suddenly asked, "She was obviously doing it on purpose just now, aren't you angry?"
Song Zhiyi looked up at him, a hint of doubt in her eyes: "Why are you angry?"
"Because she wants to embarrass you."
“She did cost me a shirt and dry cleaning fees,” Song Zhiyi said. “But emotional fluctuations can affect judgment. On the battlefield, staying calm is essential for survival; here, staying calm is essential for avoiding rudeness.”
She spoke as if she were teaching survival skills.
Huo Yanli was silent for a moment, then said, "Let's go, I'll take you back."
"good."
They bid farewell to their host. As they left, Huo Yanli overheard Ji Yun saying to Zhou Mubai behind him, "See that? That's what you call a dimensional reduction attack. Zhao's little tricks are nothing but child's play in front of Miss Song."
Huo Yanli got into the car and started the engine. The car was quiet.
Song Zhiyi sat in the passenger seat, already on her phone, checking her emails.
"Today..." Huo Yanli began, then stopped.
Song Zhiyi looked up from her phone screen: "Hmm?"
"Thank you for today," he finally said. "Not just for accompanying me, but for... everything."
"It's my pleasure," she said, then paused, "and thank you for picking me up today."
This was the second time she had thanked him, though her tone remained calm.
The car drove into the night. The lights of Chang'an Avenue flowed across the car windows.
Huo Yanli looked at her in the rearview mirror. She had already looked down at her phone again, the screen's light reflecting on her face.
He wanted to ask her many questions—about the battlefield, about the people she had saved, and about how she remained so calm.
But in the end, he didn't ask anything.
The car was parked downstairs in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs dormitory building.
Song Zhiyi unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door. After getting out, she stood by the roadside, waiting for Huo Yanli's car to drive away.
But Huo Yanli didn't leave immediately. He rolled down the car window: "Saturday night, Ji Yun organized a gathering with familiar friends. He wants to formally thank you for saving his mother. Are you... free?"
Song Zhiyi thought for a moment: "If there are no urgent tasks, it should be fine."
"Then I'll come pick you up."
"good."
She turned and went into the building.
Huo Yanli watched her disappearing figure but didn't leave immediately. He sat in the car, watching the warm yellow light from the window, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes.
In my mind, I pictured Song Zhiyi tonight—calmly dealing with envoys from various countries, gently comforting the ambassador's wife, and calmly handling the wine incident.
And finally, the look in her eyes when she said to him, "Thank you for picking me up today."
It remained calm.
But something is definitely different.
Huo Yanli knew that it wasn't that she had changed.
He was beginning to truly see her.
I saw the doctor who saved lives on the battlefield, the diplomat who was fluent in eight languages, and the woman who was calm and composed, with the world in her heart.
He started the car and drove into the night.
Meanwhile, in the third-floor window, Song Zhiyi had just finished showering and was checking the stains on her shirt. The red wine stains, treated with salt water, had faded considerably and should be washable.
She soaked the shirt in water and then went to the window.
The car downstairs just drove away.
She stood there for a while, looking at the night view outside the window.
Then I went back to my desk, turned on my computer, and started preparing for tomorrow's work.
For her, the party was over for the night.
But what she didn't know was that in some people's hearts, her story was only just beginning to be read.
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