Titanic: True Love Forever

Chapter 6: Standing

I took a deep breath out of habit, which seemed to have become my signature move forever. Every time I needed to fix something, or before I went on stage, I would do this with my lips pursed in death, my eyelids half-lidded, and take a deep breath.

I could smell the sea water and the paint that hadn't quite dissipated from the hull of the ship. The power of my breath begins to revitalize my tired muscles, my body, like a begonia that is opening quietly in the dead of night, makes a sound too small to be heard, my bones waking up in time with the incoming oxygen. I stood up lightly, placing my hands in my pockets and responded coldly and provocatively, "That's too easy, I'll make a move you'll never be able to do, any bets?"

Jack looked at me curiously, as if he wanted to see me through from the inside out, he spread his hands, "Fine, what's the bet?"

"Tomorrow the Titanic will dock in the port of Queenstown to take on Irish passengers, and the loser goes ashore. One of us can win the same lucky ticket twice, can't we?" I began to skip broken steps in place with ease, the feel of my feet on the ground giving me confidence that my feet were already finding a rhythm.

"That's a big bet." Jack frowned in embarrassment as he followed my example of sticking his hands in his pockets and took a few hesitant steps in place, then whistled after a few seconds of contemplation, "It's a bet, life's a betting game, wish me luck. Wait a minute, that bet is pretty damaging, no matter which one of us makes it to shore."

Meeting me is the luckiest thing you'll ever do in your life, please believe that this bet is both detrimental and self-serving.

I didn't give him time to respond back, turned around and blurted out, "Promise and then back out you're a puppy."

Jack pouted and immediately said nothing.

I walked over to the aft railing and eyeballed the distance, the height of the railing coming up to my waist. Beyond the railing was the black hull of the Titanic, with the propellers underneath. A gust of sea breeze blew by, lifting my long, fluffy hair in loose waves, making me want to wash my hair.

By the railing was the flagpole, the same one the heroine had grabbed to jump overboard. And now, the place I intend to conquer is the railing here, the difference being that the heroine is going to die, and my purpose in climbing up there is to live.

I looked sideways at the sunset in the distance, an even more distant view behind the sunset. I recalled every hard floor in the practice room, those boards with a seam-like straight line down the center, and I had both feet on it before I was sure of where I was dancing. I lift myself high on my bony feet, my bones are as hard as the planks here, but I soften all the bones in my body because I have to become soft as hell. I have to command every bone in my body, every muscle, every emotion. I must dance, this is my whole life.

Balancing is a dangerous skill, and I once stood on a narrow stone bar on a rooftop with the ground six stories below. I stood on one foot and had to be steady as a rock at first, to experience your center point. Humans stand with only one center of gravity no matter what, turning themselves into a straight line, into a soft stone, without a trace of doubt trembling, alone.

My eyes from the distant memories back to reality, Titanic's railing is a very narrow cylinder, white railing estimated that only seabirds can be steady as a mountain to stand on it. And outside the railing, is more than ten meters high water, this height if the posture is not right can also jump dead. I think this kind of dangerous place, even the best acrobats in this world have to hesitate to perform well without safety measures.

My footsteps changed, my toes stretched forward taut, my body straight, my hands hanging down naturally, my head tilted slightly upward eye level. This body is only soft and passable, I spent three months to press and soften this body which has never danced before, that process of violating the natural growth law, desperately pinching my bones from hard to soft is very painful, so painful that it makes me feel the weight of the word alive.

I love that feeling.

Reaching out and grabbing the railing, strength builds, and my feet step on it, one by one. The soft soles of my feet measure the width of the railing; didn't those Irish workers know they should have widened those meticulous iron bars a bit?

Jack froze as he suddenly spoke up to stop me, "That's too dangerous, maybe we can play poker, Hi, get down."

I didn't want to play poker with a constant winner, not with that kind of luck and skill.

The last railing ...... My hand gripping the railing suddenly burst with strength, veins protruding from my skin, my hands grabbing the railing the whole person upside down, my feet stepping into the void, my head facing the ground. This action was my memory instinct and had nothing to do with my body, as I hadn't done any inversion training since I reawoke.

With the toes taut and facing the sky, this was simply a difficult movement for the Olympic uneven bars, which weren't more than a dozen meters high.

"You're a genius." Jack exclaimed in surprise, and then immediately drew out his sketchbook, his eyes dead set on me as he took out a section of charcoal in his hand and swished and drew in the book.

I was already in the zone, my muscles were trembling, but there wasn't a single disturbance in my heartbeat, it was beating calmly like the depths of an empty desert.

I'm searching for the final center of gravity, the feeling of balance that belongs only to this body, where even if you stand on a single grain of sand with only one toe, you will never fall.

Because you are a dancer and your feet are your soul. Your soul stands and your body will be immortalized.

Yes, I am a dancer.

So I must be standing.

Slowly, yes, you understand this spasm of reaching the limit and barely being able to hold the movement of your body, your physiology reminding you that no one else can do this move, including you, and that you can't stand still.

This body is still too green, and I lower my eyes impassively, and on the other side of the railing is the ocean setting, my long blonde hair falling over the outside of the railing because I'm upside down.

I couldn't breathe, so tight that I was close to collapsing, and as soon as I let go of a breath I would instantly shatter into pieces from my rigid state. Biting my lower lip, cold sweat slid down my forehead into my hairline.

Jack looked at me incredulously as he rushed to say, "Enough is enough, I'll never be able to do this, you're just too good."

Finding my center of gravity, you're a straight line, I finally close my eyes and move my skyward facing feet down a little at a time, as if I've given up everything to get back to the ground. As my toes touch the topmost railing, my eyes snap open and the last breath of air is exhaled from my chest - letting go, straightening my body and spreading my arms wide for balance.

I stand with my toes at the very top of the railing, my head tilted slightly upward and my arms straight out to my sides. The sea breeze is in my face, my vision is obscured by my hair, and in the gaps in my hair I see the fragmented sunlight of the distant sea.

The world was as silent as if I were standing in the center of it.

I'm the king of the world.

My soul stands at last.