After winding through several streets, the roadside scenery shifted a few times. It seemed they were moving away from the quaint, ancient town, and Nan Qi clearly sensed something was off.
She gave Tang Lian’s fingers a squeeze and asked in confusion, “Did we take a wrong turn—?”
The question had barely begun when Tang Lian cut her off hastily.
“No.” Her voice was stiff and cold, her gaze never once landing on Nan Qi.
A strange feeling immediately stirred in Nan Qi’s heart.
Soon, Tang Lian caught herself. She quickly adjusted her expression and shook Nan Qi’s arm in a childish manner, smiling brightly as she said, “I found another entrance. Big Sister, just follow me!”
“Alright.” Nan Qi suppressed the unease in her heart, figuring it must have been her imagination earlier, and quietly let Tang Lian lead her along.
Until—
Tang Lian brought her to the front of a grand, imposing theater and came to a halt.
Nan Qi looked up and saw a neon sign beside the ticket booth boldly announcing the evening’s performance: Principal Dancer Bo Ranying of the Linxi Dance Troupe in Romeo and Juliet. A string of fine print followed with details.
Nan Qi’s gaze froze. She stared at the announcement in stunned disbelief, and at that familiar name.
The oddness she had felt all evening now had an explanation.
She turned her head slowly, her voice thick with bewilderment. “Why did you bring me here… Was everything tonight part of your plan all along?”
She had no desire to watch Bo Ranying’s performance. She planned to minimize contact with Bo Ranying as much as possible. Before the trip, Tang Lian had indeed mentioned wanting to see a show, but after that, she had never brought it up again. Nan Qi had assumed she had dropped the idea.
Only now did she realize Tang Lian had never let it go.
Tang Lian met Nan Qi’s eyes frankly, a resolve in her gaze like someone burning her bridges. “I saw Miss Bo’s tour info on Weibo. One of the stops was Luo City, which lined up perfectly with our travel plans. Since it happened to coincide, why not check it out?” She said it lightly, as if it were truly just a coincidence.
With that, she pulled two slightly wrinkled tickets from her handbag—clearly handled many times over—and handed them to the staff for inspection.
Once cleared, she tilted her head and smiled at Nan Qi. “Let’s go in.”
Nan Qi let herself be pulled forward without protest.
They were already at the theater. Could she really just turn around and leave? Since Tang Lian wanted to see it, Nan Qi would treat it as keeping her company.
Still, she only believed two percent of Tang Lian’s earlier words. More likely, Tang Lian had looked up Bo Ranying’s tour cities first, then deliberately routed their trip through Luo City to make this “coincidence” happen.
By the time they entered, the performance had been underway for a while. Lights flickered in alternating shades across the stage inside the venue. The audience below held their breath, eyes fixed intently on the show. Few noticed the late arrivals. Only the crowd they passed while heading hand-in-hand to the reserved front-row seats spared them fleeting glances, inwardly grumbling that someone would dare miss out on Principal Bo’s performance before turning back to the stage. Beneath the venue’s calm surface simmered a vibrant energy.
Their tardiness caused only a faint ripple, like a single drop falling into water—quickly absorbed, as if it had never happened.
The dancers on stage remained fully immersed, unaffected in the slightest. Their professionalism shone through.
Even that fleeting moment was caught by Ye Xingyu. Bo Ranying’s attention drifted to the audience below, to that front-row seat that had stayed empty for so long.
Every tour performance, the instant Bo Ranying stepped onto the stage, her first glance always went to the seats she reserved upfront for friends and family—to check if anyone was there—before she threw herself fully into the show.
Time and again, it ended in disappointment.
Lately, Bo Ranying had been in poor shape. She barely spoke, lost weight rapidly, and threw herself into silent, grueling training. She was a far cry from the vibrant woman she had been months ago. Ye Xingyu had seen it all.
Worried that this senior—who had looked out for her since she joined the troupe—might ruin her health and mind if she kept going like this, Ye Xingyu kept a close eye on her, anxious to prevent any mishaps.
Even after witnessing Bo Ranying’s heartbroken expressions so many times—uncontrollable in her disappointment—Ye Xingyu still felt moved every time. She couldn’t bear to watch, hoping the person Bo Ranying longed for would finally appear in the audience and spare her senior more pain.
Just when Ye Xingyu thought today would be the same, that long-vacant seat welcomed its occupant.
And in that instant, Bo Ranying seemed to drink in endless vitality. Her wilted demeanor vanished, replaced by the radiant principal dancer she was meant to be—shining brightly, dazzling all.
Confident. Beautiful. Full of life.
Ye Xingyu was thrilled for her.
In the turn of her dance, Bo Ranying’s gaze drifted inadvertently to the audience.
She knew it was futile. Her tour had run several shows already, and that person still hadn’t come. It foretold the rest. Even Xie Tong, her steadfast supporter, had gently warned that Nan Qi might avoid showing up due to her new relationship… to steer clear of suspicion.
Yet Bo Ranying couldn’t help it—that stubborn urge to search.
Nan Qi had said she wouldn’t miss any of her performances. If obstacles arose, she would do everything to overcome them.
As long as Bo Ranying waited, she would come, right?
This time wouldn’t be different.
She always clung to that slim hope.
Her lashes lowered lightly onto that spot, and without warning, she caught sight of a familiar figure.
The joy hit her like rain after a long drought. Her breath trembled, eyes stinging with the threat of tears. She bit her tongue hard to hold it back.
She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t ruin the show.
Heaven knew how badly she wanted to rush offstage, throw her arms around Nan Qi without a care, and confirm she was real—not some figment of her imagination.
She knew it… She knew Nan Qi would come.
From high school to now, Nan Qi had always cared deeply about her affairs. Nan Qi wouldn’t abandon their bond so easily.
She was right—Xie Tong’s analysis was off. Nan Qi wouldn’t distance herself just because she was dating. Little Qi wouldn’t fall for someone else.
Her stubborn convictions spread like weeds that refused to die out—wild and relentless. The more she dwelled on it, the more convinced she became. Her version of the truth was the right one.
Even though she saw the woman sitting beside Nan Qi.
The two were intimate, Tang Lian leaning sweetly against Nan Qi despite the space between their seats—just as she had said when inviting Nan Qi, coming to watch together.
Bo Ranying ignored Tang Lian’s presence. In her eyes, there was only Nan Qi.
Her lips curved in a sweet, self-satisfied smile.
Nan Qi and Tang Lian found their seats smoothly. Amid the crowded front row, two glaring empty spots stood out.
Nan Qi led Tang Lian to them and sat down.
She gathered her thoughts, a thousand questions swirling in her mind. She had so much she wanted to ask Tang Lian, to talk about.
The venue buzzed with noise. To hear each other clearly, they had to lean in close. So Nan Qi turned toward Tang Lian and called softly to her girlfriend, “Lianlian.”
Tang Lian sat rigidly, her back ramrod straight, posture as if she were perched on a ticking time bomb. Dim, shifting lights played across her profile, casting sharp shadows.
Her eyes were fixed intently on the girl in the long skirt dancing gracefully on stage.
To Tang Lian, Bo Ranying and Nan Qi were like a function and its equation—inextricably linked, neither complete without the other.
She couldn’t shake that.
Could she truly have Nan Qi all to herself? Tang Lian didn’t know.
She heard Nan Qi calling her, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from Bo Ranying. This was her domain. The girl on stage shone so brilliantly, drawing every eye.
Darkness clouded Tang Lian’s eyes. She leaned toward Nan Qi, breathing in her familiar scent, and forced out words that didn’t ring true. “Miss Bo dances so well. Don’t look at me—you’re not babysitting a kid. I can take care of myself. Big Sister, don’t miss Miss Bo’s show.”
Nan Qi frowned slightly. She reached out, gently stroking Tang Lian’s silky hair in a soothing caress, until her fingers brushed a small bump—the elastic band.
It suddenly hit her: Tang Lian had styled her hair into an intricate updo before they left, adorned with delicate rhinestone clips scattered artfully, and black elastics tucked discreetly throughout. Nan Qi couldn’t mess it up, or Tang Lian would complain it ruined her photogenic look.
She withdrew her hand awkwardly and looked up, cautiously studying Tang Lian’s face.
Surprisingly, Tang Lian didn’t mind her touch at all.
This was the sort of thing that would normally set her off like a firecracker, yet now she was utterly calm.
Bo Ranying’s dancing commanded even more of Tang Lian’s attention.
She only stole glances at Nan Qi from the corner of her eye, using them to test the question that haunted her midnight thoughts.
Who did Nan Qi care about more—her, or Bo Ranying?
Influenced by Tang Lian, Nan Qi subconsciously followed her gaze, which landed on Bo Ranying.
The girl was performing a solo dance, portraying the heroine’s budding feelings for the prince.
Soft golden light cascaded from above, encircling Bo Ranying’s figure like the Luo Shen descending to the mortal world, weaving herself into a tale of romance as fleeting and beautiful as spring blossoms and autumn frost. It was a sight so breathtaking that it left everyone holding their breath, afraid to disturb this ethereal beauty.
Her performance effortlessly captivated the audience below.
Everyone was immersed in this magnificent spectacle. Bo Ranying’s dancing was objectively pleasing to the eye—anyone who had ever seen her perform found it hard to forget. One could say it hooked them instantly.
In that moment, Nan Qi set aside her complicated reluctance toward Bo Ranying and threw herself fully into appreciating the show, just like any ordinary spectator. She didn’t think about anything else; she simply watched the performance.
Unexpectedly, Bo Ranying seemed to have a radar for her, precisely catching the moment Nan Qi looked her way. Across the sea of people, the distance between stage and seats, their eyes met.
Nan Qi jolted in surprise and was about to look away when she saw Bo Ranying make that familiar little gesture toward her. In an instant, it pulled her back to that early summer years ago.
She stared blankly ahead, forgetting to avert her gaze, oblivious to the dazed look in her girlfriend’s eyes beside her.
That year in high school, she had skipped evening self-study and stumbled upon Bo Ranying practicing dance alone.
