Chapter 101: I Think I Like You Part 1

Ming Li didn’t pay much mind to the news of Shen Lideng joining the Jing’an National Theater.

It wasn’t something that required her attention.

With New Year’s Day approaching, the grand theater’s schedule was packed. Unlike Ming Li, who was essentially a freelancer, most of the dancers performing in Thorn Crown had to rehearse several different productions simultaneously. Consequently, the time allotted for Thorn Crown was scarce.

Fortunately, the chemistry they had built during their previous tours was sufficient. After a brief rehearsal session, Ming Li prepared to head out while Sun Xihan stayed behind for another production.

Ming Li changed her clothes and stopped by the theater to say goodbye to her friend before leaving.

As she did, she caught a glimpse of their rehearsal for Song of Chang’an.

This was a dance drama choreographed many years ago by a legendary dancer. In its prime, the popularity and prestige of Song of Chang’an far surpassed even today’s Thorn Crown. Many audience members used to say that watching the performance felt like being transported back to the Tang Dynasty, witnessing the height of its civilization firsthand—a truly soul-stirring experience.

Because of this legacy, it remained the headlining show for the first day of the new year.

Ming Li had once loved this production dearly. A major reason she had initially aspired to join the Jing’an Grand Theater was for Song of Chang’an.

What had the recruiter told her back then?

“Two years at most, and you’ll definitely be dancing a lead role in Song of Chang’an.”

Ming Li had done the math. She would graduate at twenty-one, reach that goal by twenty-three, perform for a few years, and by twenty-five or twenty-six, she would have the capability to choreograph her own works.

Yet now, having reached that age limit, she was merely an understudy in someone else’s production.

Even that opportunity had been a gift from others.

The events that had transpired since then were never part of her original plan. One could only conclude that life simply cannot be planned.

Thinking about it now, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia and a lingering sense of loss.

As Ming Li walked out of the theater, she saw the large LED screen on the building scrolling through the theater’s upcoming shows.

The promotional poster for Song of Chang’an was the largest. Sun Xihan’s period costume was as stunning as any actress’s, her gaze perfectly capturing the essence of the character.

Ming Li stood there, lost in thought. After a moment, she withdrew her gaze, exhaling softly to suppress the stirrings in her heart. Just then, she felt a pair of eyes fixed on her.

Following that sensation, she turned her head and saw someone staring at her from a short distance away.

The gaze wasn’t malicious, but it wasn’t friendly either; it was a casual, mundane observation.

It was Shen Lideng.

She wore a white beret and a long, light-colored wool coat with only one toggle button fastened. Her long hair fell obediently over her chest, making her look exceptionally demure.

It was a completely different style from the previous times Ming Li had seen her, but a specific image of the woman had already become fixed in Ming Li’s mind.

For some reason, while one’s first impression usually defines someone, the image Ming Li associated with Shen Lideng was the scene from the night of Shen Chu’s wedding—hiding in a corner, smoking and crying.

Shen Lideng had been complex that day, possessing a strange, fragile beauty. Yet, only minutes later, she had stood on stage dancing with a mix of arrogance and grace.

Yes, arrogance and grace—two entirely different qualities that blended perfectly within her.

Ming Li had no desire to investigate her, yet curiosity forced her to look twice.

The moment Ming Li retracted her gaze, Shen Lideng spoke in a dry tone. “Hi? Beautiful.”

It was a cliché pickup line, delivered with a deliberate, comedic cadence. “Are you alone?”

Ming Li froze. She glanced around and saw that while there were few pedestrians, everyone else was hurrying past. She was the only one standing still.

Shen Lideng took a few steps toward her. “I’m talking to you.”

Ming Li looked at her in bewilderment, thinking, Are we even close?

The next second, Shen Lideng asked, “Want to grab dinner? I’m a bit hungry.”

Ming Li’s usually impeccable composure failed her. Doubt and confusion nearly burst from her eyes. Are we on speaking terms?

Actually, that wasn’t the right question.

“Do I know you?” Ming Li asked as politely as possible.

“Hello, I’m Shen Lideng,” she replied. “Don’t you know me now?”

Ming Li: “…”

“I’m sorry,” Ming Li said. “I’m not interested in making friends.”

“I wasn’t trying to make a friend,” Shen Lideng said. “Just a meal. At most, we’d be… dinner buddies for today.”

Ming Li didn’t know her intentions, nor did she care to find out. To her, she and Shen Lideng should be two parallel lines that never intersect. They could acknowledge each other’s existence, but they should never meet; they should only watch each other from a distance.

Ideally, they shouldn’t run into each other at all.

However, Shen Lideng’s unabashed approach made Ming Li feel like she was the one being overly stiff.

“I have no interest in finding a dinner buddy either,” Ming Li rejected her calmly, showing great patience.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Shen Lideng asked. “After rehearsal, you should be hungry enough to eat an entire cow.”

Ming Li was hungry. She hadn’t eaten much at lunch, and her current state was exactly as Shen Lideng described.

But if she ate with Shen Lideng, she was afraid she’d end up with indigestion.

Ming Li shook her head. “I’m not.”

Shen Lideng shrugged. “It’s not like I’m some monster that’s going to eat you.”

“I hope you can respect my personal wishes,” Ming Li said.

Shen Lideng stared at her intently, then laughed brightly.

Ming Li frowned. “Has anyone told you? You’re being very rude.”

Shen Lideng nodded. “More than one person has said that. But there’s one person who says it the most.”

Ming Li guessed immediately. It had to be Gu Qingshuang.

Sometimes Ming Li felt she was too clever—how could she pick up on the subtext so quickly? She really should be more obtuse so people couldn’t get their way with her.

Pretending not to know, Ming Li gave a faint “Oh.”

Unwilling to entangle herself further, Ming Li turned to leave. Shen Lideng called out, “Thank you.”

Ming Li: “…?”

A moment later, Shen Lideng caught up and walked alongside her. Ming Li frowned in annoyance. “This is stalking. It could even be considered harassment. I can call the police right now.”

Shen Lideng beamed. “Suit yourself.”

Ming Li restrained herself, waiting to see how far she would go. But the next second, Shen Lideng chuckled. “You two really are alike.”

Both were pampered Young Misses who didn’t even know how to properly scold someone.

Ming Li didn’t understand what she meant, nor did she ask.

“When dealing with someone persistent like me, you have to start with a verbal warning and follow up with a physical threat,” Shen Lideng said as they reached Ming Li’s car. “You’re both just too kind.”

Ming Li had reached her limit. How was this any different from stalking?

Just as she pulled out her phone to call the police, Shen Lideng added, “So kind it makes me want to bully you.”

Ming Li: “…?”

She had already dialed half of the emergency number. Shen Lideng finished her sentence, got into the car parked right next to Ming Li’s, buckled her seatbelt, and smiled at her through the window.

Ming Li’s hand stopped. Shen Lideng rolled down the window. “Forgot to mention, my car was parked here. Walking with you was just on the way.”