Jian Zhi smiled.
In front of someone who truly loves you, it’s impossible to hide anything.
“Grandma,” she said, linking arms with her grandmother and leaning against her shoulder. “I want to go abroad to study. What do you think?”
Grandma was the only person she could speak her true feelings to…
Upon hearing this, Grandma’s eyes sparkled. “That’s wonderful! Grandma has some savings, so don’t worry.”
Jian Zhi’s eyes grew warm with emotion as she wrapped her arms around Grandma’s waist. “Grandma, I have money now.”
Only Grandma would always support her like this…
“Good, I know my Zhizhi has money, but Zhizhi’s money is Zhizhi’s. Grandma has set aside money for you too!” Grandma gently stroked her head as she spoke softly.
“Grandma…” Jian Zhi basked in this affection, though worry crept into her heart. “But if I go away, it might be for several years. What will I do when I miss you?”
“Silly child, just video call Grandma whenever you miss me. I’m still young and will stay right here at home, not going anywhere. When the time comes, if my Zhizhi returns after completing her studies, I’ll be waiting for you. If Zhizhi wants to settle abroad permanently, Grandma will follow you. But you mustn’t find Grandma troublesome!”
“Grandma! How could I!” Jian Zhi quickly responded. “In the future, I’ll take you to many, many places. We’ll travel the world together!”
“Wonderful!” Grandma laughed while holding her, patting her back gently just like when she used to lull her to sleep as a child. “Grandma will wait for Zhizhi to take me traveling around the world.”
That night, Jian Zhi slept with Grandma. In the middle of the night, it began to rain again.
Jian Zhi suddenly understood why she always slept so soundly to the sound of rain – because during rainy nights in her childhood when she slept with Grandma, Grandma would always pat her like this while telling stories. The rainfall and Grandma’s gentle whispers would accompany her into slumber.
Later, Grandma never asked her about Wen Tingyan again, or whether they had argued.
She thought that although Grandma asked nothing, she probably understood everything.
She slept so peacefully that she didn’t wake until the sun was high in the sky.
No alarm clock had disturbed her.
Then she remembered – her phone hadn’t been charged last night and had probably run out of battery.
But she didn’t feel particularly inclined to turn it on either. At this moment, being disconnected from the world felt comfortable and liberating.
After raining all night, despite the clear morning sky, the air still carried the moist scent of earth – that unique fragrance of countryside air.
Grandma wasn’t home, probably out buying breakfast?
She walked into the courtyard and took a deep breath of the air.
In the courtyard stood a sunroom, completely empty except for a ballet barre.
This was where she used to practice dance. She hadn’t entered it for five years now – it had probably become a storage room, right?
Now that she no longer resisted memories, she couldn’t help but walk over and open the door.
Instantly, she froze in place.
Inside was clean and spotless, completely free of dust or any clutter, exactly as it had been five years ago.
She touched the barre – not a speck of dust came off on her fingers…
Had Grandma been cleaning this every day?
It was a glass room with a high ceiling that allowed her to practice aerial moves freely – Grandma had specially hired someone to build it for her…
She couldn’t resist drawing open all the curtains. Sunlight poured in from all directions as she stood before the barre, muscle memory surging through her.
Finally, she lifted her injured leg and placed it on the barre…
A resonance from the depths of her soul surged violently within her body. Tears welling in her eyes, she suppressed the trembling in her limbs…
Some things, once interrupted, could never truly begin again…
She had lost count of how many times she’d fallen, unable to spin and leap as she once could.
When she collapsed yet again, sharp pain shooting through her body, she lay prone on the floor, sweat and tears streaming down her face together.
Finally, she surrendered.
Jian Zhi, it’s impossible. The doctors said five years ago you could never dance again. Five years have passed, your body has grown stiff as bamboo—how could you possibly dance now?
Suddenly, she sensed someone outside.
Looking up, she saw Grandma standing outside the floor-to-ceiling window with a man who turned out to be… Jiang Shifan?
Why would Grandma be with him?
Had outsiders witnessed her in such a wretched state?
Panic seized her…
“She used to dance, but now she’s a cripple—what good is she?”
“What can she possibly do for you? Can’t handle social occasions, and even serving tea at home risks spills. A Yan, have some water… Like this, like this, is this how it’s done?”
“A Yan, A Yan, A Yan, drink water. A Yan, ah—she fell down. A Yan needs a hug—”
The mocking voices of Wen Tingyan’s friends echoed like cursed melodies in her ears. Terrified, she scrambled to the window, frantically drawing the curtains before collapsing behind them, hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her sobs.
“Zhi Zhi? Zhi Zhi?”
Grandma’s voice called from outside the door.
“No! Grandma! Don’t come in! Please, don’t come in!” She struggled to control her voice, hiding the tears that flooded forth uncontrollably.
She couldn’t bear for Grandma to see her so vulnerable, let alone for outsiders to witness her humiliation and shame.
But against her wishes, the door opened from outside.
Sunlight cast the figure’s shadow across the floor, stretching it long and thin.
It was Jiang Shifan.
Sitting on the floor, Jian Zhi shook her head through tears, scooting backward. “Don’t come near! Stay away! Get out! Get out!”
But Jiang Shifan didn’t retreat.
Instead, he strode toward her, placed his phone on the floor, and extended his hand.
“What are you doing? Get out!” Her defenses activated, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, curling into a ball.
Without a word, Jiang Shifan lifted her up. Simultaneously, his phone began playing “Butterfly Lovers.”
Muscle memory took over. Supported by his lift, her body naturally unfolded, arms and legs moving like wings.
“Butterfly Lovers” was a duet—the very dance that had won her awards in school…
Though her feet failed her, the movements remained etched in her mind forever…
With Jiang Shifan’s support, she stumbled through the dance. Though her form was distorted and filled with errors, it was the first time in five years she had completed a full dance…
As the music faded, she stood in the center of the practice room, dazed as if in a dream.
“Senior, dancing is a state of mind. If you want to dance, you can take flight.” Jiang Shifan stood before her, eyes shining brightly. “Senior, does that sound familiar?”
Jian Zhi finally remembered—the underclassman who was the understudy for the duet “Butterfly Lovers,” the one who always struggled with the choreography and even dropped her during a lift. That day under the tree, when he was wallowing in frustration and self-blame, it seemed she had said these exact words to him.