Chapter 15: Dance Practice

Su Nianmei’s eyes fluttered open, her face scrunching up as she parted her lips to let out a startled sound.

Quick as lightning, Gu Xichao clapped a hand over her mouth.

Warm, humid breaths escaped from her half-open lips, pooling in his palm one after another, tickling his nerves like a cat’s gentle scratch, setting his heart racing.

A faint, crisp fragrance mingled with the hint of medicine lingered under his nose.

Unconsciously, Su Nianmei licked her lips, and Gu Xichao’s hand pulled back as if electrified.

Her mind buzzed as a surge of warmth rushed to her head. She clutched the corner of the blanket, trying to compose herself, wishing she could bury herself right under it.

Yet Gu Xichao simply turned his back to her, lifting his shirt up over his shoulders.

His lean waist and a hint of abs were partially visible from the side.

Moonlight spilt into the room, casting a cold, hazy glow like a veil of light.

A gentle breeze wafted through the open window, cooling the room’s sudden intensity.

Seeing the scene before her, Su Nianmei blinked twice, inhaling deeply as she silently chanted to herself: Prosperity, democracy, civility, harmony…

She suddenly felt something wasn’t right and quickly squeezed her eyes shut.

Just then, she felt a small bottle being pressed into her hand. She opened her eyes again.

Gu Xichao was crouched on the floor, holding up his shirt with one hand and exposing the upper half of his back. Though it had been treated, the scars remained fierce and rugged.

Clearing his throat slightly, Gu Xichao said, “I couldn’t reach the top. Just apply the medicine there for me.”

Su Nianmei sat up, dipping a cotton swab into the medicine and gently applying it to the wound.

She asked, “How did you get hurt?”

“I was helping a comrade block an attack and accidentally got scratched by a branch.”

Perhaps to ease her worry, he quickly added, “It’s just a minor injury; it’s nothing serious.”

The medication felt cool against his skin, but her fingertips were warm, touching him gently and fleetingly.

It was like a dragonfly skimming the water’s surface—just a brief contact before darting away.

Although Gu Xichao spoke lightly of his injury, Su Nianmei’s hand, as it continued to apply the medication, became much gentler. She was careful, afraid of causing him pain.

She followed up with another question. “What mission are you on?”

Suddenly, Gu Xichao’s body tensed up, and Su Nianmei sensed that something was off.

Some tasks might involve military secrets, and she shouldn’t have asked. Her hand paused momentarily before resuming its motion as if to indicate nothing had happened.

Gu Xichao’s breathing was tight, and Su Nianmei’s careful application of the medicine felt almost like a gentle tickle, stirring something within him.

“We’re responsible for rescue efforts after the recent earthquake in Jinbei,” he said.

Upon hearing about the earthquake, Su Nianmei’s heart sank. “Is it dangerous?”

Gu Xichao lifted his gaze, his eyes drifting toward the window where the branches swayed slightly in the wind.

He calmly replied, “It’s manageable.”

Su Nianmei let out a light laugh. “As long as it’s fine.”

Gu Xichao responded with a simple “Mm.”

After applying the medicine, Gu Xichao instinctively moved to sleep on another bed.

Su Nianmei lay back down, perhaps influenced by the people she had encountered in her past life, who were mostly cunning individuals. She had seen plenty of couples engaging in their own schemes; they appeared to be a loving couple, but there was often a layer of deception between them.

Love was something too short-lived. One could swear eternal devotion today, only to scatter in different directions the next day.

She had never thought she would experience such love.

Now, her relationship with Gu Xichao was within her comfort zone and acceptable.

Moreover, Gu Xichao seemed like a decent person.

Su Nianmei idly pondered this and soon fell asleep.

On the other bed, the person who had been asleep suddenly opened his eyes.

He turned to look at Su Nianmei and Gu Xiaobao. This was the first time he felt so exhausted after completing a mission, with his son injured and not being by his side, relying on his eighteen-year-old wife to manage the household.

Gu Xichao understood that when he put on his military uniform, he was first a soldier, then a husband, and a father.

A cold wind brushed against his back, bringing a chill. The wound on his back throbbed with a faint itch.

If he hadn’t pushed Xiao Fang and taken that hit, that child might have died.

Having witnessed many separations and deaths, one naturally learns to cherish life.

Natural disasters, personal tragedies, the separation of spouses and children, the destruction of families—all these things can happen in an instant.

Being alive means learning to appreciate what they have even more.

Gu Xichao struggled to express his feelings; he could only prove them through actions. When his little wife almost threw herself into his arms today, he wanted to hug her. Unfortunately, he feared it would frighten her, so he restrained himself.

He thought about the shy and timid look in his wife’s eyes, and a smile crept onto the corner of Major Gu’s mouth.

He glanced at his sleeping wife and son, wishing them a night filled with sweet dreams.

—o—o—o—

At eight in the morning, Gu Xiaobao was still asleep.

Su Nianmei left the hospital, and, following the address given by Ma Fang and the original owner’s memories, she arrived in front of a dilapidated old building.

The walls were yellowed.

This was the old building of the art troupe, which had been standing for decades. Later, the military built a new one, leaving this building abandoned.

However, Ma Fang mentioned that the equipment here was still relatively intact. Su Nianmei wanted to come here today to get a feel for the place.

Although she didn’t have much professional acting experience, her family pressured her to study dance for a while when she was younger, so she still had some foundational skills.

Later on, she occasionally took weekend dance lessons when she had a job. She had developed some ideas for the Mid-Autumn Festival performance and needed to see their feasibility.

The morning sunlight was pleasant as she entered the building, and the first floor was bright. The narrow corridor, however, had a somewhat eerie feeling.

The floor was covered with wooden planks, and due to years of neglect, they creaked underfoot. In some places, the plaster on the walls was slightly peeling.

Su Nianmei was not easily frightened; she stepped boldly inside while murmuring the room number Ma Fang had mentioned—Room Three on the first floor.

As she stood in front of the door, her feet hesitated. The old iron door was covered in dust, but the doorknob gleamed brightly.

When she opened the door, a blinding white light burst forth. The curtains were drawn open, and the mirrors surrounding the room shone brilliantly.

In the center stood a person with their hair styled in a high bun, dressed in a military green short-sleeve shirt, and wearing a pair of yellowing white soft-soled dance shoes. They danced gracefully in the middle of the room.

A folding fan was held in their hand, embodying both strength and tenderness.

At times, their movements were elegant; at others, they were passionate.

However, Su Nianmei felt that something was off.

Upon closer inspection, she noticed a slight lack of coordination in their right leg.

At the height of their passionate performance, the folding fan was deftly opened, the surface lightly tapped. The character “柔” (meaning “gentle”) was elegantly written with a brush on it, and the person’s loose hair danced with their movements.

Su Nianmei raised her eyes to the mirror before her, and her gaze met that of the person reflected in it.

The reflection was androgynous, with a pair of deep, sparkling eyes and a smile that radiated confidence and vitality.

Upon seeing Su Nianmei, the person turned, spun gracefully two or three steps, pinched the fan with two fingers, and closed it smoothly.

The fan twirled in their hand for a moment before landing lightly in their palm. They held the handle with their right hand, bringing it to rest against Su Nianmei’s neck and lightly tilting it.

A melodious voice emerged from their lips. “Fair lady, what name do you go by?”