The last time Shang Zhitao danced was during her freshman year when a school club organized an activity and she was forced to participate. After stepping on her classmates’ feet several times, they wouldn’t let her dance anymore. If she couldn’t dance, she still had to make an appearance somehow, right? Later, Shang Zhitao was washing clothes in the laundry room when club members passed by and heard her humming. It turned out that Shang Zhitao had a beautiful singing voice—something even she didn’t know. So she was compelled to sing on stage once or twice.

Shang Zhitao didn’t like performing in public. She clearly remembered how, during holidays as a child, when family and friends gathered, children were always asked to perform. Shang Zhitao had no talents, so each time she would bring a brush, ink, paper, and an inkstone. When it was her turn, she would stand there and say, “I’ll perform calligraphy for grandpa, grandma, uncles, aunts, and everyone!” Calligraphy took time—by the time she finished writing, half the meal was already over.

Now, she had no talent for dancing and always struggled to keep up with female colleagues who had been dancing since childhood.

Kitty, as the choreographer, was somewhat dissatisfied with Shang Zhitao and said while looking in the mirror, “Flora, are you having trouble keeping up?” She was still upset. That afternoon, Shang Zhitao had organized a project communication meeting with various departments, and Kitty’s progress was a bit slow, leading to criticism from Luan Nian during the meeting.

“Sorry, sorry,” Shang Zhitao wiped away sweat and apologized to everyone.

“Let’s try again.”

Everyone danced in front, while Shang Zhitao mimicked the movements in the back. Her dancing ability seemed truly broken—completing one dance routine nearly killed her. The other female colleagues laughed, and someone understanding said, “Don’t make it hard for Flora. Flora, would you like to hold the signs instead?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

Shang Zhitao was finally rescued from the sea of dancing misery. Holding signs was easy, and she wouldn’t need to practice anymore. So she went out to arrange dinner orders for everyone. When she returned, she found they had already decided on hairstyles and costumes—pigtails and sports skirts, which Shang Zhitao had purchased earlier. Any hairstyle would do for her, as long as she didn’t have to dance. Practice continued until ten in the evening. Shang Zhitao synchronized the next day’s venue, time, and precautions with everyone before they dispersed.

Friday night, nightlife began. Shang Zhitao somewhat wanted to go to Luan Nian’s place, but he hadn’t invited her, and she didn’t want to ask, fearing she would appear too eager—though she truly was eager. She had discussed this state with Sun Yu, wondering if she had developed some kind of sex addiction. Was that considered an illness?

Sun Yu laughed at her overthinking, saying, “When my ex-boyfriend and I first started dating, I wanted to spend all twenty-four hours a day together. Would you say I had an illness?”

“No.”

“Then that settles it!”

After arriving home and seeing only Sun Yu there, she changed into her cheerleading outfit to show her. Shang Zhitao usually dressed conservatively, but the short skirt exposed her long legs completely. Her two legs glowed white under the light. With her hair in pigtails and her eyes sparkling, she had a somewhat striking presence.

Sun Yu examined her carefully from all angles and mysteriously said, “I bet you won’t be coming home tomorrow night.”

“Hmm? If I don’t come home, where would I go?”

Sun Yu laughed mischievously, “Your cold boss probably won’t be able to resist.”

Shang Zhitao finally understood what Sun Yu meant, her face turning slightly red. “He won’t. His partner in Guangzhou is extraordinarily beautiful; his ex-girlfriend is also extraordinarily beautiful… He’s seen too many beautiful women.” The word “partner” was cleverly used. She didn’t know what relationship Luan Nian had with Zang Yao, but someone who entered his room in the middle of the night—their relationship couldn’t be simple, right?

“Who cares! Just enjoy your youth!” Sun Yu patted her shoulder.

Shang Zhitao practiced holding the sign in front of the mirror for a while before going to sleep.

The next day, she arrived at the basketball court early. After handling the logistics, people from both sides gradually arrived. Both companies were industry leaders, and the basketball players all had decent physiques. The cheerleaders were young and beautiful. Having this group of men and women together was truly a pleasing sight.

When the cheerleaders came out of the changing room, someone blew a whistle on the court.

Employees cleared the court, and the Sanda cheerleaders took the stage. The Sanda cheerleaders were all beautiful. After finishing their dance, the lead dancer ran to Luan Nian and hung the ribbon in her hand around his neck. Everyone was teasing them, and Luan Nian stood there, smiling unusually. His gaze swept over Shang Zhitao with her pigtails—among all the girls, she was the fairest and had the brightest smile. Luan Nian was amused by her silly look. It was the first time he had seen a cheerleader holding a sign so seriously.

And then, in his consciousness, he tore off her short skirt. Luan Nian suddenly became serious, disliking himself for such thoughts.

Shang Zhitao thought his smile was truly beautiful—if only he smiled more often. At Lingmei, Shang Zhitao diligently held up her sign. After the cheerleaders finished dancing, she stood there recalling what Sun Yu had said the night before—that Luan Nian might not let her go home tonight. She secretly glanced at Luan Nian, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was talking with people from Sanda. During a break in the conversation, he glanced at Sanda’s lead dancer.

Shang Zhitao withdrew her gaze and stopped looking at him. She finally endured until the end of the event. While changing clothes, she heard Kitty say, “Luke just told me that Grace and I will attend tonight’s dinner, so we won’t be going back with you all.”

“Oh, oh, oh.” Everyone seemed unsurprised. After a few more words, they dispersed.

Shang Zhitao changed and left the locker room. She saw that Luan Nian had already changed and was talking with people from Sanda, with the lead dancer standing beside him. The two looked somewhat compatible.

Someone like Luan Nian truly had a way with women wherever he went.

Leaving the gymnasium, Shang Zhitao somewhat regretted canceling her meeting with Long Zhentian that morning. She felt she had overthought things and vowed never again to disrupt her study schedule because of her random thoughts.

She returned home. Sun Yu wasn’t there. She watched some American TV shows on her computer, then went downstairs to eat. She was a bit distracted, with thoughts constantly emerging: Would Luan Nian bring her home? Then ask her: Do you have a boyfriend? Would you accept a one-night stand? Just as he had asked her.

After casually eating some noodles, she went back to sleep. The weekend passed in a daze.

On Monday morning, she encountered Luan Nian again in the elevator. They stood on opposite sides. Shang Zhitao greeted him with good morning, and then, just like before, said nothing more. Luan Nian also remained silent.

The two exited the elevator, walking one after the other. Shang Zhitao went to her workstation, and Luan Nian went to his office.

Shang Zhitao found it somewhat unbearable. Over the weekend, she had realized something—Sun Yu was right. She wasn’t the type of person to have casual one-night stands. She had been intimate with Luan Nian because she liked him. That affection had been well hidden; she simply hadn’t noticed it before. It was after the basketball game ended, when Luan Nian and the others went to dinner with those beautiful girls, and Luan Nian’s gaze swept over Sanda’s lead dancer a few times, that Shang Zhitao felt a twinge of sadness in her heart. Only then did she realize that her feelings for him were greater than she had imagined.

She felt a bit helpless, not knowing how to handle this situation. She remained distracted, and distraction led to mistakes. The brief she sent out contained errors, which she failed to notice.

The week was truly busy. By Thursday, Shang Zhitao felt discomfort in her stomach. Checking her calendar, she realized her period had arrived. Unlike others who suffered from severe menstrual cramps, she experienced diarrhea during her period. She made several trips to the bathroom that day and felt exhausted by evening. Sitting at her workstation, she struggled internally for a long time before finally deciding to go home and rest.

This was the first time since starting work that she had left on time. In the previous months, the first day of her period had always fallen on weekends.

Arriving home, she found Sun Yuanzhu was there.

They hadn’t seen each other for a long time, and Shang Zhitao was very happy. She sat on the living room sofa, chatting with Sun Yuanzhu.

Seeing her clutching her stomach, Sun Yuanzhu asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Shang Zhitao felt embarrassed to explain.

But Sun Yuanzhu understood and said to Shang Zhitao, “I’m going downstairs to buy some food. Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t.”

“Then wait for me. We’ll eat together when I get back.”

“Let me give you money.”

“No need.”

Sun Yuanzhu went to buy food and returned after a long time with several boxes of dishes, saying to Shang Zhitao, “Starving, aren’t you? Come eat.”

Shang Zhitao was very grateful and thanked Sun Yuanzhu, “Thank you so much.”

“No need for formalities.”

Zhang Lei and Sun Yu hadn’t returned, so the two ate face-to-face, discussing work matters. Shang Zhitao mentioned that she had recently taken on an independent project, and Sun Yuanzhu was genuinely happy for her. He praised her, “I knew you were great.”

He was sincerely happy for Shang Zhitao.

After finishing the meal, he got up and went to the kitchen. There was a clattering sound, and after a while, he brought out a bowl of brown sugar water: “Drink some of this. I don’t know if it will help. During school, I heard female classmates say it works.”

Shang Zhitao’s eyes reddened, and she took a sip. It was very tasty.

“It tastes great.”

“That’s good.”

Sun Yuanzhu sat beside her, and neither spoke for a long time. Shang Zhitao felt that Sun Yuanzhu seemed somewhat sad, though she couldn’t say why. Perhaps because she had been ordinary since childhood, she paid extra attention to others’ emotions.

“Are you feeling down?” she asked Sun Yuanzhu softly.

“Why do you ask that?” Sun Yuanzhu was somewhat surprised. No one had ever asked if he was happy; everyone assumed he was. But Shang Zhitao had asked, warming his heart.

“I can’t say why, I just feel like you’re not happy.”

“I’m very happy.” Sun Yuanzhu smiled at her. Shang Zhitao liked seeing Sun Yuanzhu smile; his smile was clean and bright.

“That’s good.”

Shang Zhitao drank the sugar water made by Sun Yuanzhu while chatting with him. Sun Yuanzhu told her stories from his student days, about his colleagues, books he had read—they discussed everything under the sun. The anxiousness in her heart seemed to be healed by him.

“Are you going on a business trip tomorrow? If not, can I treat you all to dinner this weekend? I often eat at your expense.”

“No business trip.”

“Then shall we have hotpot?”

“Sure. But could we eat at home?” Eating out would be more expensive, and Sun Yuanzhu was concerned about Shang Zhitao’s wallet. She had just started working, worked hard every day, and earning money wasn’t easy.

“But I don’t know how to cook.” Shang Zhitao felt a bit dejected.

“How about having a barbecue at home? My company recently gave out electric griddles, which can be used for grilling meat.”

“Great!”

Shang Zhitao chatted with Sun Yuanzhu for a while longer. Zhang Lei and Sun Yu still hadn’t returned. So they said goodnight and each went to their rooms.

Shang Zhitao’s mood had improved somewhat. Although she had been waiting for Luan Nian to message her—about anything, work, life, even telling her to end their relationship would be fine—Luan Nian hadn’t sent any message at all, as if in his heart, she wasn’t worth even a single message.