The sudden explosive sound made Tang Tianman’s first instinct to flee.
But Zheng Xiyu wrapped an arm around her back. Her lips moved slightly, and Tang Tianman understood her meaning.
Don’t move.
That was what Zheng Xiyu was saying.
Tang Tianman’s heart raced with anxiety, but she trusted Zheng Xiyu completely, so she stayed put.
Zheng Xiyu’s hand slid down from her back and gently rested on her waist. She leaned in close to Tang Tianman’s ear and whispered, “In a normal situation, wouldn’t we have to dance?”
Tang Tianman caught on. Yes, in a normal situation, wouldn’t they have to dance?
Running away now would just look suspicious.
Tang Tianman coughed lightly and straightened her posture. She placed her hand on Zheng Xiyu’s arm, enduring the gazes from all around.
The crowd inexplicably began to applaud.
The music suddenly changed, shifting from a lively, upbeat tune to a romantic, lingering melody. Zheng Xiyu was still leaning in, smiling as she said, “We’re doomed.”
“Hm?” Tang Tianman looked up at her.
“I actually don’t know how to dance,” Zheng Xiyu admitted. “I’ve only practiced for a day.”
“Pfft.” Tang Tianman burst out laughing and scooted closer to her. “No worries. If you can’t dance, just hold onto me.”
“Mm.” Zheng Xiyu pulled her into her embrace.
Cheers erupted from the crowd once more.
A large area of their bodies pressed together. With such a big height difference, proper dancing would be backbreaking—especially the close-up neck strain from looking up, a feeling all too familiar to Tang Tianman.
So she gave up on dancing properly. Her hands slid down to circle Zheng Xiyu’s waist, making the already slim, elegant curve even narrower. The line from waist to hips was stunning, and quite a few onlookers pulled out their phones.
Tang Tianman lowered her head and leaned it against Zheng Xiyu, just like in the movies—protagonists swaying gently together in a hazy, romantic atmosphere.
Zheng Xiyu’s hands hovered awkwardly before finally settling on Tang Tianman’s shoulders, gripping them lightly.
The scene perfectly fulfilled the students’ fantasies of what a dance should be.
Soon, everyone else paired up and began swaying intimately.
Li Tong finally broke away from the main group and approached Ruan Ruan.
“Why aren’t you dancing?” Li Tong asked her.
Ruan Ruan jerked her chin toward the crowd. “Dou’er.”
“I saw,” Li Tong said. “That’s Tall One she’s dancing with, right?”
“Yeah,” Ruan Ruan replied.
“They don’t look like they have any issues,” Li Tong observed. “No idea what they’ve been fighting about lately.”
“No issues?” Ruan Ruan countered.
That stumped Li Tong. She tiptoed for a better look, squinting as she said, “Hm… it feels… kind of sad?”
Ruan Ruan said nothing.
“Yeah, it’s a sad feeling!” Li Tong clenched her fist, her mind spinning a full story. “Dou’er must have recognized Tall One, but Tall One didn’t recognize her. Dou’er changed her look to fool Tall One into dancing with her, savoring a beautiful moment that isn’t hers—no, one that used to be hers but isn’t anymore… Damn, that’s heartbreaking!”
Ruan Ruan: “Why don’t you cry right here?”
Li Tong rubbed her eyes. “Damn, I’m actually about to.”
“It’s sad because the music’s in a minor key,” someone said suddenly from behind them.
Ruan Ruan and Li Tong turned, startled.
The girl was quite distinctive. While everyone else wore masks, she’d painted one directly on her face.
Her clown makeup was a garish mix of red, blue, and white, with a grinning bloody maw that looked downright terrifying.
Ruan Ruan frowned. “Hasn’t anyone told you eavesdropping isn’t what good kids do?”
The clown grinned wider, nearly to her ears. “You were talking too loud.”
Li Tong: “You were standing too close!”
The clown bowed and extended her hand to Li Tong. “Then, may I have the honor of this dance?”
Li Tong slapped her palm hard. “No!”
The clown looked to Ruan Ruan, who answered promptly: “Me neither.”
The clown raised an eyebrow, still smiling, unperturbed.
She gave them two exaggerated, elaborate bows, then slipped right between them and walked straight ahead.
“She’s nuts,” Li Tong said.
“Didn’t someone just pull you away?” Ruan Ruan asked.
“I couldn’t help it,” Li Tong spread her hands. “She dances pretty well—super fun being led by her. And she’s mute, right? Hasn’t said a word the whole time. Rare as a barber who only focuses on cutting hair, like Tony.”
Ruan Ruan’s laugh was deeply meaningful. “So why’d you come back?”
“Well, I was worried about you,” Li Tong said. “I couldn’t just leave you alone…”
She didn’t finish before someone else whisked her away.
“She’s not alone,” the newcomer said.
The voice was clear, steady, and cool. No need to see the face to know who it was.
Ruan Ruan turned, intending to repeat to Jiang Xue what she’d said to the clown, but her eyes widened and the words stuck in her throat.
Jiang Xue had somehow gotten a white dress, pristine silk adorned with golden sequins that sparkled like a galaxy poured over her.
Her mask matched the outfit—a large-eyed European cat design with feathers.
“Damn…” Li Tong muttered weakly.
“She came with me,” Jiang Xue told Li Tong.
“Damn…” Li Tong repeated.
“Who…” Ruan Ruan started, then swallowed her words.
Of course she’d come with Jiang Xue. She’d lost a bet and had to show her around.
“Alrighty then.” Li Tong waved. “You two have fun. I’m off to find my Mute Tony.”
She turned and left before Ruan Ruan could stop her.
Jiang Xue stood before her, perfectly upright. “Dance?”
Ruan Ruan glanced at her hands, hanging motionless at her sides with zero intention of dancing, so she turned away. “No.”
“Mm.” Jiang Xue said nothing more, just stood quietly beside her.
The two of them watched as pairs of guys and girls passed by hand in hand. Ruan Ruan alone was fine, but with Jiang Xue next to her, she felt like some kind of disciplinary officer.
She took two steps back and sat in the nearby rest area.
Jiang Xue sat on the same bench, half a person’s width between them—not too close, not too far.
“Your brother called you home for dinner, so just go,” Ruan Ruan said suddenly, aiming to poke at Jiang Xue.
“It’s my uncle’s house, not mine,” Jiang Xue replied.
“Same thing—family,” Ruan Ruan said. Then something occurred to her, and her eyes widened at Jiang Xue. “You don’t just drink plain water at home, do you?”
“Not at my uncle’s,” Jiang Xue answered.
“So you do at yours?” Ruan Ruan stared into her eyes. The mask covered part of her face, but a beam of light overhead let Ruan Ruan see them clearly.
“We only drink plain water at my house,” Jiang Xue said, answering straightforwardly.
Ruan Ruan didn’t respond and turned back to watch the dancing.
But Jiang Xue’s gaze stayed fixed on her from the same angle.
A while later, as the music changed songs, Jiang Xue repeated, “We only drink plain water at my house.”
“I heard you,” Ruan Ruan said.
“It’s always been that way,” Jiang Xue emphasized.
“I heard you,” Ruan Ruan said, growing impatient.
Jiang Xue leaned closer. “What I mean is…”
“Ah!!!” Ruan Ruan shouted.
Jiang Xue fell silent.
Ruan Ruan pointed toward the stage, stomping her foot. “Damn, I knew she looked familiar—it’s that tattoo, tattoo, tattoo girl! Damn, Xiao Ji!!!”
Jiang Xue looked at the stage. The short-haired girl in clown makeup stood at the mic stand, gripping the microphone.
“One a.m., New Year’s, in whose arms do you open your eyes? Eyelashes flutter—another day. Can’t remember that girl’s face…”
“You like her?” Jiang Xue asked, frowning.
“Who likes her? Damn,” Ruan Ruan said, utterly shocked. “Why’s she here? I have a bad feeling about this. My Dou’er…”
Ruan Ruan stood to rush forward, but Jiang Xue yanked her back. “What are you doing?”
“Going to warn my roommate about the Big Gray Wolf,” Ruan Ruan said.
“Isn’t she just here to sing?” Jiang Xue said. “She seems serious.”
“Yeah, she’s singing now, but who knows what she’ll do later,” Ruan Ruan struggled.
Jiang Xue’s grip was ironclad when she wanted it to be. “Then just watch what she does later.”
“That’s logical and all…” Ruan Ruan turned to her. “But what’s it to you? Why are you holding me back?”
“I didn’t finish talking,” Jiang Xue said.
“Go ahead,” Ruan Ruan said offhandedly.
“Sit down,” Jiang Xue said, staring at her.
“You’re actually a Russian spy???” Ruan Ruan waved her hand. “Making such a big deal to talk. Want to lock me in a dark room for it?”
“Why won’t you listen?” Jiang Xue stared.
Ruan Ruan’s wandering gaze snapped back. She glared at Jiang Xue. “Listen to what?”
“Me explain,” Jiang Xue said. With a firm tug, she pulled Ruan Ruan back onto the bench.
This stool was just a temporary long bench hauled over, not some real sofa for an actual dance party. Ruan Ruan’s butt banged against the edge of the stool, sending a piercing pain through her—the intense agony made her anger flare up in an instant: “What the hell do I need your explanation for! What misunderstanding do we have that needs explaining! Isn’t it just that you’re so noble and elegant, used to drinking plain boiled water, thought the bottled water was dirty and gave it back to me! What’s there to explain!!!”
Jiang Xue froze.
Ruan Ruan shook off her hand and looked up at her: “Is there anything else you need to explain?”
“You know.” Jiang Xue said, “You’ve always known, haven’t you?”
Ruan Ruan let out a breath, feeling that exhilarating rush of catharsis like she’d been bottling it up for eight hundred years and finally let it all out: “Yeah, is it that hard to guess? Your germaphobia is so damn obvious.”
Jiang Xue reached up and pulled the mask off Ruan Ruan’s face, then took off her own.
Ruan Ruan looked at her and tugged at the corner of her mouth: “In TV dramas, people always say the line while looking into my eyes—’say it again.’ Do you need to look at my face to say it again?”
She pouted and added: “Say it again and it’ll still mean the same thing.”
“It’s not that it’s dirty—the water isn’t dirty. I’m just not used to it.” Jiang Xue said.
“Missy, I get it. You don’t need to say it so many times.”
“And I don’t despise you.” Jiang Xue stared straight at her. “I’ve never despised you.”
“Missy, I get it. You don’t need to…” Ruan Ruan let out a breath, suddenly feeling a wave of sadness crash over her now that the rush was gone. She turned her eyes away, looking at the wall pillar not far off. “I really understand what you mean. You don’t need to feel guilty or beg for my forgiveness. I was pretty pissed at the time, but later I stopped being mad at you.”
“You ignored me…” Jiang Xue said.
“You ignored me too.” Ruan Ruan turned back to look at her. “When we first met, remember? I kept bumping into you and talking to you every day—what was your attitude like?”
“I…”
“I know, I know—you’re just like that. You’re like that with everyone.” Ruan Ruan spread her hands. “So I figured it out later. It’s such a simple thing: you’re not used to drinking mineral water, not used to eating junk food, and not used to being friends with someone like me.”
Ruan Ruan paused, looking at Jiang Xue, her tone quite serious: “Then just keep not getting used to it, fairy. Don’t come down to the mortal world.”
