“You need to learn the footwork first, because every dance is made up of basic steps. String these steps together, and you have a complete dance. Let me teach you the footwork first.”

Ye Zhen had brought Jiang Xiaoyi to a professional dance studio. The floor-to-ceiling mirror was large and bright, reflecting Jiang Xiaoyi’s figure after she’d changed into her dance outfit—

Jiang Xiaoyi wore the wine-red dance dress she’d bought earlier. Though it wasn’t as dazzling as the true-red one, the wine-red still set off her bright eyes and white teeth, giving her an alluring grace.

Ye Zhen stood beside her. He hadn’t changed into a special dance outfit—he’d merely taken off his suit jacket and loosened the top button of his collar, which was normally fastened meticulously to the neck.

Jiang Xiaoyi was used to seeing Ye Zhen’s fastidious, almost rigid bearing on ordinary days. Now, seeing him look slightly unrestrained and languid, she found herself somewhat unsettled—it was an uncommon sight, with none of his usual polished, distant elite air, carrying instead a hint of untamed wildness.

He demonstrated the dance steps to Jiang Xiaoyi.

It didn’t look difficult to watch, but Jiang Xiaoyi found her mind wandering—

Had Ye Zhen’s legs always been this long, this straight?

“Jiang Xiaoyi, have you got it? Try it yourself.”

Ye Zhen’s voice startled her out of her daze. She composed her gaze, cleared her throat, and began to imitate the steps as best she could.

Ye Zhen’s demonstration hadn’t looked hard, but Jiang Xiaoyi had overestimated her own limb coordination.

She didn’t even need to look at Ye Zhen’s increasingly indescribable expression—just catching a glimpse in the mirror of her own chaotic footwork out of the corner of her eye was embarrassing enough. She cleared her throat and tried to save face—

“I have no dance foundation, so I probably have no talent for it either. After all, everyone’s talent is limited—I might have used up my quota on pottery and cooking?”

“Don’t put yourself down. You’re actually quite talented.”

Was this… encouragement?

Jiang Xiaoyi looked up in some surprise, about to thank Ye Zhen for his tolerance, only to see the man continue, expressionless: “To be able to dance the steps into that shape—how is that not talent? An ordinary person simply couldn’t manage it.”

“……”

Fortunately, perhaps because of Ye Zhen’s competitiveness on Jiang Lin’s behalf, he found himself unable to stop and patiently corrected Jiang Xiaoyi again and again. Though she still danced only passably, she’d finally gained a bit of a feel for it.

“Emergency training—I won’t ask too much of you. After all, in ballroom dance, besides footwork, posture, bearing, and dance etiquette all complement each other. If your footwork has a slight shortcoming, making up for it elsewhere should still barely get you a passing grade.”

……

How was this “barely passing”! Jiang Xiaoyi felt she’d nearly become a professional dancer! Even Ye Zhen’s standard for “barely passing” was absurdly high!

After nearly a full day of intensive training, Jiang Xiaoyi felt she’d made rapid progress, going from a complete novice to someone who could at least fool people.

During a brief interval when Ye Zhen stepped out of the studio to take a call, Jiang Xiaoyi danced alone in front of the mirror. The more she danced, the more she felt she had a certain flair, growing rather pleased with herself.

The moment Ye Zhen returned to the studio, Jiang Xiaoyi couldn’t wait to share the good news: “I think I’ve learned pretty well. That’s enough for the first day.”

Ye Zhen looked utterly unconvinced: “You’ve learned it well? I don’t believe it. Not unless I see it with my own eyes.”

“It’s true!” Jiang Xiaoyi pouted. “I’ll dance it for you!”

She struck a pose, ready to dance, but before she could even start the music, Ye Zhen stopped her.

“Dance with me.”

“…? That’s not necessary, is it……”

Ye Zhen pressed his lips together. “Besides mastering your own technique, dancing also requires learning how to match your partner’s rhythm. At the final banquet, won’t you have to dance with other male guests anyway? And didn’t you just claim you’d learned it well? Then I’ll inspect it personally.”

Fine, a personal inspection it was. Jiang Xiaoyi did feel that after practicing for most of the day, her dancing could barely pass.

And yet……

As the waltz music began, Ye Zhen’s arm circled her waist, his long, slender legs stepping smoothly and elegantly through the familiar sequence, and Jiang Xiaoyi’s mind suddenly went blank—she couldn’t remember anything.

Having just crammed the footwork by rote for hours, all that carefully memorized information seemed burned away, like a short-circuited computer, the moment Ye Zhen’s faint, elusive scent drew near.

With the two of them dancing, the distance between them was simply too close—close enough that Jiang Xiaoyi felt a spike of danger and instinctively wanted to pull away. Ye Zhen shot her a fierce glare.

The man warned her in a low breath: “Cooperate.”

Jiang Xiaoyi had to suppress the urge to flee, biting her lip and forcing herself to keep dancing.

But the more nervous she got, the worse she performed.

Though Jiang Xiaoyi had no idea what she was even nervous about—there wasn’t even an audience present, this wasn’t some pass-or-fail ballroom exam, and there was certainly no danger of ceding territory and paying reparations if she lost—yet Ye Zhen’s gaze, so close at hand, left her hands and feet with nowhere to settle.

“You stepped on me with your left foot.”

Ye Zhen’s eyes were dark and intensely focused, his lips thin and elegantly shaped—a very handsome mouth—and now those beautiful eyes were fixed on Jiang Xiaoyi, while what came out of that mouth was a grinding, gritted accusation—

“Right foot—the right foot stepped on me too!”

The waltz’s melody was elegant, interspersed with Ye Zhen’s low grunts of pain.

Yet though the man wore an expression of utter suffering from being stepped on, he still kept his arm around Jiang Xiaoyi and continued the dance.

Without doubt, Ye Zhen was handsome on ordinary days too, but Jiang Xiaoyi had never known that a man who could dance could be so graceful—even carrying a faint, elusive charm.

Amid the interweaving steps, Ye Zhen maintained absolute composure, his fine features looking both handsome and dignified, carrying a solemn nobility, yet moving with an agile, dashing grace when dancing—every gesture perfectly placed, carrying a gentlemanly air that stirred the imagination, along with an earnest, focused passion.

No wonder people in the entertainment industry said that acting newcomers who sparred with acclaimed veteran actors could often be guided into the story and thereby improve their skills—dance was the same. A novice like Jiang Xiaoyi, guided and led by Ye Zhen, overcame her nervousness and the initial awkwardness of adjusting to each other, and continuing on, she gradually found her groove.

Whether it was the exertion of dancing or something else, having weathered the initial clumsy, nervous steps and gradually caught up to Ye Zhen’s rhythm, Jiang Xiaoyi’s heart was still beating fast.

Ye Zhen had a sharp tongue, yet while dancing he showed a strange gentleness and patience. He quickly identified the flaws in Jiang Xiaoyi’s footwork and adjusted the rhythm to match her. Even though Jiang Xiaoyi still danced somewhat clumsily, under Ye Zhen’s guidance and coordination, the two complemented each other well enough to avoid another embarrassing bout of foot-stepping.

Jiang Xiaoyi had no experience attending any balls; in the past she’d always been too busy scraping by to know much about dance. Like most people, she’d carelessly harbored a bit of prejudice against men who danced, thinking such men tended to be glib and philandering. But now, she realized her mistake.

Dance was a form of bodily expression. Though dance partners didn’t converse, the interplay of gazes and the coordination of movement were also a kind of silent communication—dancing with a man let you roughly sense his temperament and character.

Ye Zhen might look like trouble, but what his dancing conveyed was a gentle consideration—though he’d frown at Jiang Xiaoyi’s clumsy steps, his movements carried no impatience, and there was no sense that he truly looked down on her. When Jiang Xiaoyi, flustered, failed to steady herself during a turn and nearly twisted her ankle, Ye Zhen naturally and smoothly caught her waist, giving her support. The man’s expression stayed rather cold, but his movements were gentlemanly and refined.

Dancing brought the two of them to an ambiguously close distance. In the instant their eyes met, though they’d already found their rhythm together, Jiang Xiaoyi’s heart still skipped a beat. Fortunately, she managed to warn herself not to misstep—yet in the end, it wasn’t she who erred, but Ye Zhen—

This man, whose dancing was elegant and flawless, stepped on Jiang Xiaoyi’s foot.

Jiang Xiaoyi had only been able to dance in harmony because of Ye Zhen’s lead; the moment he made a mistake, she immediately fell into disarray too. The two of them promptly began stepping on each other, and what had been a decent dance turned into something resembling two rivals brawling.

In the flurry, Jiang Xiaoyi’s skirt caught on something, throwing off her balance, and she pitched forward. Yet once again, even off-balance himself, Ye Zhen almost instinctively reached out and caught her. His grip was strong, and pulling her up nearly sent him toppling instead—luckily, there was a wall right behind him.

In the end, driven by the momentum, Ye Zhen’s back slammed against the wall. Jiang Xiaoyi didn’t need to feel it herself to know it must have hurt from the force of the impact, but Ye Zhen didn’t cry out—he only frowned faintly.

The melodious music played on, but Jiang Xiaoyi and Ye Zhen had both already stopped. In the chaos just now, Ye Zhen now leaned against the wall, while Jiang Xiaoyi, trying to keep her balance, had braced both hands against the wall on either side of him—effectively forming a pose that trapped Ye Zhen within her embrace.

Jiang Xiaoyi knew she shouldn’t let her thoughts wander, but staring at Ye Zhen’s face so close at hand, in their current position, she felt—bracing herself so domineeringly on either side of Ye Zhen’s body, staring him down, was actually rather empowering, giving her a taste of what it felt like to be a domineering CEO.

Ye Zhen clearly sensed what Jiang Xiaoyi was thinking, and so, as she stared at him, he refused to back down and stared right back, saying fiercely: “What are you staring at me for?”

“Then what are you staring at me for?”

Ye Zhen frowned. “You move away first.”

“You first.”

She didn’t know why such a childish standoff had begun, but inexplicably, Jiang Xiaoyi’s competitive streak had been provoked—or perhaps it was to cover up some other flustered emotion—and she glared at Ye Zhen even more fiercely.

Whoever looked away first would be admitting defeat!

Though Ye Zhen had quite the presence, she was now his boss—she absolutely could not show weakness!

In fact, a minute later, Jiang Xiaoyi already regretted it.

This was so stupid.

She looked at Ye Zhen, and he looked back at her. At this distance, their breaths intertwined; Jiang Xiaoyi could even see her own reflection in Ye Zhen’s dark, bright pupils. In this staring match, each of them had eyes only for the other.

Jiang Xiaoyi’s heart was a tangle of flustered agitation.

She must not be in her right mind, to be locked in such a childish contest with Ye Zhen over something so trivial. She needed to find some dignified excuse to end this awkward staring match, because knowing Ye Zhen’s stubbornness, he’d never admit defeat first……

Yet just as Jiang Xiaoyi was racking her brain for an excuse, Ye Zhen surprisingly looked away first.

“Fine, I’ve looked away. Don’t look at me anymore either.”

Perhaps because of the dancing just now, a very faint flush had crept over the man’s face, and his voice carried a hint of unnatural stiffness.

He had already looked away completely, even turning his head to the side, taking the posture of one conceding defeat, as if he could no longer bear to hold her gaze.

“Jiang Xiaoyi!” —?

Ye Zhen turned his head back again, looking somewhat exasperated: “Don’t look at me with that blatant expression.”

Blatant??? How was it blatant???

Blatantly wanting to win???

Ye Zhen ignored her reaction, merely clearing his throat and, somewhat awkwardly, gently pushing off Jiang Xiaoyi’s restraining arms before straightening his collar: “Your eyes are affecting my teaching. Next time, either close your eyes yourself, or wear a blindfold, or cover your eyes—only then can I continue teaching you to dance.”

“Huh?”

This was simply absurd! Who dances blindfolded?

“I—how am I affecting you?”

“Your eyes are too noisy. They’re bothering me.” ——???

“That’s it for today. We’ll practice again next time.” Ye Zhen said, glancing at Jiang Xiaoyi once more. “Keep your eyes in check.”

With that, he strode off, leaving Jiang Xiaoyi speechless behind him.

Her eyes, noisy and bothering him? If her eyes really were noisy, then they were surely cursing Ye Zhen out!