Tingfeng Alley was a commercial pedestrian street, with clothing, entertainment, dining, and various training schools inside—counted as a small commercial district. The driver parked the car outside, and Meng Yanxi got out, holding his sister’s hand as they walked in.

Meng Zhuxi was unwilling, awkward and resistant.

But there was no helping it. The past week was Meng Yanxi’s birthday week, and even Grandpa and Dad were indulging him—there wasn’t a single person willing to speak up for her.

Ten-year-old Meng Zhuxi was pink and tender, her skin fair and soft, so delicate it seemed you could pinch water from it. Because of last night’s strenuous performance—no, her grief-stricken crying—her eyes were still a little red, making her look pitiful.

She was dragged along by Meng Yanxi, tilting her head to study her brother.

The youth who would turn seventeen next week was already one meter eighty tall. A black windbreaker, a pair of long legs, a bag slung over one shoulder—inside were her dance costume and dance shoes. One hand held onto her, the other reached into his pocket to take out his phone, lowering his head to check the time.

Meng Yanxi did not like being late, but Meng Zhuxi very much did.

A private dance lesson lasted one hour; Meng Zhuxi was willing to be late by an hour and a half.

“I don’t like dancing.” The little girl reiterated her wish.

Meng Yanxi’s gaze passed over the crowd, searching the distance, and he responded absentmindedly, “I know. Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, I know—don’t say it out loud.”

Meng Zhuxi: “……”

How could there be such a hard-hearted brother?

“You like dancing so much, then why don’t you go learn it yourself?”

Meng Yanxi glanced back at her. “Do you think I don’t want to?”

“…?”

Enraged by his impervious attitude, Meng Zhuxi stamped her foot and asked sharply, “Meng Yanxi, when your biological parents dumped you at our doorstep, did they leave any clues? I can help you look for your family, okay?”

“There were.” Meng Yanxi nimbly weaved through the crowd. Lifting his eyes, he saw Jin Zhao ahead beneath the Sky Street.

She was wearing her dance dress underneath, with a long, thin down coat over it. Noticing him, she smiled and waved at him.

Meng Yanxi quickened his pace; little Meng Zhuxi had to jog to keep up.

His eyes were on Jin Zhao, yet that didn’t stop him from retorting to his sister: “You’re the clue. You came with me back then, did you forget? Oh right, you were just a month old then. You really weren’t old enough to remember.”

Meng Zhuxi: “……” Crazy!

No matter how much she argued, she could never win. Meng Zhuxi was so angry she wanted to roll on the spot.

Jinghong Dance Studio was on the second floor. They had agreed to meet by the elevator and go up together.

As soon as Jin Zhao arrived, she saw the siblings approaching from afar. The little girl looked around ten, obedient and well-behaved, held by her one-meter-eighty brother, so small in comparison. When they drew closer, Jin Zhao realized how much the siblings resembled each other—especially their eyes, almost carved from the same mold. Only their expressions differed: Meng Yanxi’s gaze was clear and coolly distant, while the little girl’s was soft and gentle, her eyes cute and doll-like, making one want to hold her and give her a kiss.

Meng Yanxi pulled the girl in front of her to introduce her. “My sister.” Then he tilted his head toward Meng Zhuxi. “Greet her.”

This girl, Meng Zhuxi, had one good quality—she never redirected her anger. She was very good at sympathizing with the innocence of the person being snapped at. So even though she was extremely, extremely angry at her brother’s unreasonable behavior, she still sweetly greeted his classmate: “Hello, Sister Jin Zhao. Sister Jin Zhao is so beautiful!”

When it came to pleasing people, Meng Zhuxi was practically a prodigy. As long as she wanted to, there wasn’t a single heart she couldn’t soften—especially since Jin Zhao really was good-looking. She praised her brother’s classmate in a sweet voice, her large, pretty eyes curving into two crescent moons as she smiled.

Sure enough, Jin Zhao’s heart melted at once. She bent down slightly and smiled as she greeted the little girl, “Hello, Xixi. You’re very pretty too.”

The three of them entered the elevator together and went up to the second floor. Stepping out of the elevator, the logo of Jinghong Dance came into view.

Jinghong Dance was the largest dance school in the city. Just in the Tingfeng Alley location alone, there were thirteen classrooms—eight large ones and five small ones. Jin Zhao had arranged to meet Teacher Yuyu in Classroom Four.

Teacher Yuyu was a young female instructor, her appearance fitting every stereotype people had of a dance teacher: fair-skinned and beautiful, tall and slender, a swan-like neck and straight shoulders, every gesture elegant and outstanding. She had come to Jinghong Dance right after graduating from the dance academy and had been here for eight years—coincidentally, she had also taught Jin Zhao for eight years. Even now, she often joked that Jin Zhao was her chief senior disciple. It was a pity Jin Zhao hadn’t chosen the path of an art student; otherwise, if she went to a dance academy in the future, she would surely stand out.

Teacher Yuyu was already waiting in Classroom Four. Like all dance teachers, when idle she stayed idle by stretching her body. Jin Zhao went in and called out, “Teacher Yuyu,” and the latter rose from the barre at the sound of her voice.

“Lingling!”

Jin Zhao came less and less often these days. Every time Teacher Yuyu saw her, she would chat for quite a while—asking how she’d been recently, sharing popular choreography with her, and telling her amusing stories about the cat she kept at home.

While the two were talking, Meng Zhuxi lightly tugged at her brother’s clothes and whispered, “Do you think if I lie down right here and start crying and making a scene, she’d still take me as a student?”

The little girl’s face was full of innocence, yet the words she spoke were utterly wicked.

Unfortunately, one thing always had another to counter it. Without changing his expression, Meng Yanxi took out his phone and aimed the camera at her. “Go ahead. I opened a livestream account overnight yesterday. If the tips reach five thousand, I’ll buy you a phone.”

Meng Zhuxi: “……”

Thankfully, Jin Zhao promptly pulled her over in front of Teacher Yuyu; otherwise, Meng Zhuxi would probably have jumped up on the spot to beat her brother.

Jin Zhao introduced the Meng siblings to Teacher Yuyu, directly skipping over the “crying and making a scene” part Meng Yanxi had mentioned, and instead told Teacher Yuyu that the little girl really wanted to learn dance from her.

Young teachers always liked hearing people say they liked them. Jin Zhao’s round of praise on her behalf coaxed Teacher Yuyu into blooming with joy. The more she looked at Meng Zhuxi, the more she liked her, and she asked, “Do you really like dancing that much?”

This was simply a question straight to the soul.

Meng Zhuxi silently glanced at her brother and, in the end, chose to uphold blood ties in front of an outsider.

“I like it.” The little girl nodded, speaking against her conscience.

Meng Yanxi shot his sister an approving look, then turned and left generously to pay the tuition at the front desk.

This lesson was very easy for Meng Zhuxi. Mainly, Jin Zhao was the one taking class, while she watched from the side—just getting a basic understanding of classical dance was enough.

After paying the tuition, Meng Yanxi added Assistant Teacher Xiao Feng on WeChat.

For any dance institution, someone like Meng Yanxi—who casually bought an entire year of private lessons with one wave of his hand—was a major client. What’s more, he had chosen the gold-medal teacher, Teacher Yuyu, whose price was three times that of a regular private-lesson annual pass. Assistant Teacher Xiao Feng had simply lucked out to be at the front desk at the time; such a huge order falling from the sky was damn lucky. Wanting to maintain such a big client, he eagerly dragged Meng Yanxi into a long string of idle chatter.

By the time Meng Yanxi finally managed to get away and return to the dance classroom, the lesson was already more than halfway through. Conditioning, basic skills, and body rhythm were finished, and Teacher Yuyu was now giving Jin Zhao guidance on a repertoire.

They were dancing the professional piece Wang Qian Nian. This dance was very difficult. Jin Zhao had actually learned it long ago, but at her level, dance no longer pursued quantity—it sought a breakthrough in quality. Teacher Yuyu demonstrated several spots where Jin Zhao’s handling wasn’t good enough, then had her run through the entire piece once.

From afar, Meng Yanxi could already hear the young female teacher’s raised voice. Teacher Yuyu possessed the domineering lung power common to dance instructors, overpowering the speakers with her own voice, clapping forcefully to mark the rhythm as she called out, “Yes, slow it down! Don’t rush! Fast! Turn! Expression! Watch your expression! Good! Go!”

Meng Yanxi reached the classroom doorway.

This classroom wasn’t very large. The front was an entire wall of mirrors. In the center of the room stood a girl, dressed in a light green han-inspired outfit, a folding fan held in her hand.

More brisk and forceful than the dance she had performed back in Jue Town, the rhythm was sharper, the music vigorous. She twisted her waist and turned in broad, powerful movements, the skirts of her costume pouring and cascading like flowing water. As the music surged into its climax, the drumbeats suddenly quickened; she tapped lightly on her toes and leapt, her figure like a startled swan piercing through clouds, the folding fan tracing an arc of fleeting brilliance as it spun with her.

By the classroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows hung rolling blinds. Whether stirred by the wind raised by her swirling skirts or by the sweep of the fan, the breeze lifted the blinds again and again, then let them fall. If one listened closely, beneath the grand, expansive music came the soft patter of light impacts—pa pa pa.

At last, she struck a final pose. In the bloom of her youth, the girl turned her back, spreading the fan, then tilted her head to glance back.

A face fan lightly veiled, one glance spanning a thousand years.

The one-hour lesson passed quickly. Teacher Yuyu was very satisfied with Jin Zhao’s performance today and left an extra fifteen minutes afterward for Meng Zhuxi.

And after watching Jin Zhao’s dance, Meng Zhuxi’s mindset had completely changed—from resistance to eager anticipation. She had never known that when girls danced, they could be this beautiful, as if the entire person were glowing. Yet it was not a dazzling, cutting brilliance, but a quiet compassion emanating from within, a kind of divine radiance.

She didn’t know whether every girl danced like Jin Zhao, but she wanted to be like her.

Of course, the first lesson could not reach that level. With Jin Zhao accompanying her, Meng Zhuxi practiced lifting and sinking, then simply learned the basic hand position for holding a folding fan.

When they left the dance classroom, Meng Zhuxi’s eyes were sparkling. No more crying, no more fussing, no more rolling on the floor. Tugging her brother’s hand, she said excitedly, “I finally understand why the men in historical dramas all love watching beauties dance! Forget them—I love watching too. Sister Jin Zhao dancing was really too beautiful, oh my god!”

Meng Yanxi didn’t make a sound; Jin Zhao was so praised she grew embarrassed.

Downstairs, Jin Zhao said goodbye to them, pointing in the opposite direction from where they had come. “I’m going to catch a ride over there.”

Meng Yanxi looked at her. Two seconds later, he gave a light nod. “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Beside them, Meng Zhuxi sweetly added, “Thank you, Sister Jin Zhao! See you next week, Sister Jin Zhao!”

Jin Zhao smiled and bent slightly to meet her gaze. “I won’t be coming next week. You’ll have to keep coming to learn on your own later, okay!”

Meng Yanxi looked at her.

Noticing his gaze, Jin Zhao felt her face grow warm and lifted her head to explain, “It’s the second semester of eleventh grade. I need to study hard.”

Meng Yanxi nodded. “Mm.”

Reluctant to part, Meng Zhuxi thought for a moment and said, “Then next time you come, Sister Jin Zhao, can you tell my brother? I’ll have my brother schedule it so you come together.”

Jin Zhao smiled.

In fact, there were only three lessons left on her dance card. After today’s class, two remained. After that, she would probably be extremely frugal with them—she likely wouldn’t come again for the rest of the year.

She didn’t want to deceive the little girl, so she naturally shifted the topic. “Oh right, that clay-painted doll—do you still like it?”

Meng Zhuxi froze. “A doll? What doll?”

Meng Yanxi’s brow twitched.

Jin Zhao looked at Meng Yanxi in confusion and asked, “The clay figurine from Jue Town—did your brother not give it to you?”