The stage exploded with energy once again. Ruan Yu was so captivated by Da Hua’s windmill moves that she couldn’t even blink. Under the spotlights, this ordinary-looking man truly bloomed like a large flower, radiating intensity. Street dance has a soul. No matter how unremarkable a person might seem, once they possess such a free and focused spirit, they become dazzling.

Ruan Yu couldn’t help but applaud enthusiastically. The sound of her clapping caught Teng Yi’s attention, who turned to look at her with an amused expression. Looking around, she realized that no one else was clapping – everyone expressed their excitement through cheers and a finger-waving gesture. She was the odd one out. Ruan Yu bit her lip, her applause growing weaker until she clasped her hands together and lowered them sheepishly.

“Like this,” Teng Yi suddenly grabbed her wrist, raising it and waving it back and forth. Through her thin cardigan, she felt the warmth of his palm. His thumb pressed against the end of her lifeline, skin touching skin.

Ruan Yu quickly pulled her hand away from Teng Yi. Her face must have turned red again, but fortunately, the lighting here would conceal it.

“In street dance battles, many hand gestures have special meanings, like this…” he flicked his hand, “means the performance was brilliant, absolutely killer.”

“Like this?” Ruan Yu mimicked his action, raising her arm and flicking her hand with her pinky and ring finger slightly bent.

“Yes.”

Ruan Yu thought for a moment, then extended her hand in front of him and repeated the gesture.

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t get to do this for you earlier, so I’m making up for it now,” she said with a sincere expression.

Teng Yi gazed at her. The lights swept back and forth above them, making the earring on her earlobe alternately sparkle and dim, like a small fish swimming before his eyes. Her hand remained in front of him.

Teng Yi suddenly felt the urge to grasp that delicate white hand.

“Brother,” Teng Hao called out.

Teng Yi snapped back to reality.

“What is it?”

“Bi Chengjie doesn’t seem as impressive as we imagined.”

Teng Yi remained silent, turning his attention to the stage.

Da Hua’s performance had ended, and now it was Bi Chengjie’s turn to dance. As the champion from the past two years, Bi Chengjie’s dance skills should have been outstanding, but today, his performance showed no particular improvement compared to the previous years.

He had neglected practice this year. Indeed, compared to the glamorous entertainment industry and the thrill of chasing fame and fortune, practicing dance was boring and monotonous. But as a street dancer, one must never forget their roots as a dancer.

Ruan Yu couldn’t discern so many nuances; she only heard Bi Chengjie’s fans screaming their support for him at the top of their lungs.

Suddenly, Da Hua made a sweeping gesture toward Bi Chengjie.

Ruan Yu didn’t quite understand the meaning of this gesture, and just as she was about to ask, Teng Yi voluntarily explained.

“He’s taunting him.”

Da Hua’s gesture was a silent question, asking Bi Chengjie if he could dance any better.

Such taunting was common in street dance battles. Bi Chengjie remained unaffected, maintaining his rhythm, but his fans were dissatisfied.

“Who do you think will win?” Ruan Yu asked.

“Hard to say,” Teng Yi’s answer was conservative.

In the end, Bi Chengjie won.

Even a lean camel is still bigger than a horse.