Chapter 5
1486 Words
The first thing Xu Mei did when she got home was dye her hair back to black.
She wasn't exactly a professional, so the job was a bit rough. It looked mostly black… just with a hint of green under the light.
“Well, if you want to get through life, you’ve got to wear a little green on your head,” Xu Mei thought cheerfully. Not bad, actually.
Her main task now was still learning to dance.
In those transmigration novels she'd read, the heroines always inherited the original body's memory and skillset. But her case? The memories came and went, and as for skills—better not get her hopes up.
She searched online for beginner dance tutorials and was instantly overwhelmed.
Sure, she knew great dancers were rare, but she’d still been hoping basic moves wouldn’t be too hard. After all, even grannies in public squares could dance, right?
She didn’t ask for much. Just enough not to get expelled.
But the search results crushed her: dancing required coordination from head to toe, emotional expression, and countless complex movements—splits, kicks, stretches, hooks, circles… she couldn’t even memorize the names.
Xu Mei’s head was spinning.
She shut the laptop and decided to test the flexibility of her new body.
Her original body had been stiff and unbalanced. She prayed those flaws hadn’t traveled with her.
She attempted a split and backbend—surprisingly easy.
According to the book, the original owner’s mother had been a professional dancer, and the girl had real talent. The body itself was excellent; it was Xu Mei’s consciousness that couldn’t keep up.
She couldn’t remember the moves, couldn’t control the flow—there was only one solution: practice.
With no money for a dance school, Xu Mei resorted to free online videos. One move at a time.
She trained for nearly four hours straight, collapsing in exhaustion, her training clothes soaked through. But the results? Barely visible.
Her body and mind weren’t in sync. She could almost feel the body judging her.
This was harder than she’d imagined.
Lying flat on the carpet, bruises on her arms and legs, Xu Mei stared at the ceiling before dragging herself up to shower.
She had to move forward—there was no other choice.
After her shower, hunger hit her like a truck.
Knowing dancers needed to keep their figure, she avoided greasy food and made herself a pot of eight-treasure congee. She also thawed some tart shells to make snacks.
No matter the situation, you had to treat yourself well—Xu Mei lived by that principle.
When she moved in yesterday, she noticed Xu Zhongya hadn’t stayed here, but everything was well-stocked. The kitchen was larger than her previous one, and all kinds of appliances were cleaned and ready.
So she’d bought ingredients to make some pastries.
She poured the custard into the tart shells. Just as she popped them into the oven, her congee finished.
She’d meant to eat lightly—but she was so tired and hungry that she ended up devouring three full bowls.
The egg tarts came out golden, but she couldn’t eat another bite.
Full and re-energized, she changed into her dance clothes again, turned on the TV, and resumed her battle with choreography.
Summer weather was always unpredictable.
As she danced, a flash of lightning lit up the sky. Xu Mei glanced out—rain was coming.
In that moment of distraction, her left foot tripped over her right and she slammed hard onto the carpet.
She hit the back of her head, right where Xu Zhongya had injured her.
Pain exploded. Xu Mei clutched her head, dizzy for a few seconds.
“F*, that hurts!”**
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, letting all her frustration out in sync with the thunder.
This was a villa district—neighbors were far apart. Probably no noise complaints.
She forgot one detail: she had a neighbor.
Fu Shuyang, having finished his last beer, was heading to the shower when he heard the sudden scream through the storm.
It sounded familiar. That girl next door?
Then everything went quiet.
Was she scared of thunder?
Or… did something happen?
Fu Shuyang moved to the window. Wind howled, rain lashed the trees until they bent like they would snap. Lightning flashed nonstop.
Far in the distance, one house remained lit—lonely in the dark.
He lowered his eyelids, stood still a moment, then grabbed an umbrella and walked out.
—
After the scream, Xu Mei picked herself back up and resumed practicing.
When the music ended, there came a loud bang bang bang on the door.
Someone outside was in a rush—knocking with force like they’d kick it down next.
Xu Mei, still sweaty, shivered from the sudden chill.
Who would knock in this storm?
She didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood. Not even the neighbors.
Could it be something… supernatural?
BANG BANG BANG! The knocking intensified.
The message was clear: Open up, or else.
Xu Mei took a deep breath, crept to the security monitor.
On screen stood Fu Shuyang, holding a huge black umbrella. His clothes were half-drenched, and his expression darker than the storm.
If he exploded now, it wouldn’t be rain—it’d be hail.
At least she knew him. He helped her out earlier. That calmed her slightly.
She threw on a coat and, just in case, grabbed a vase before opening the door—only a c***k.
She peeked out to see Fu Shuyang raising his hand. “Fu-ge? What’s… going on?”
He paused, lowered his arm, and softened his expression a little. “Do you have salt?”
“…Huh?”
“I'm cooking. Out of salt,” he said, clearly not wanting to talk, but forcing himself to explain. “It’s raining too hard to go out. I saw you bought some today. Can I borrow a bit?”
Salt. He was just borrowing salt.
Xu Mei exhaled and quietly stashed the vase behind the door. “Sure! Wait a sec.”
She hesitated—didn’t close the door, but didn’t open it fully either.
With Fu Shuyang’s temper, she didn’t want to risk angering him. So far, he was civil. No need to poke the bear.
If he meant harm, he would’ve forced his way in already.
She poured salt into a container and saw the untouched egg tarts. Might as well.
When she returned, Fu Shuyang was still outside, polite, eyes down, not peeking into her home.
When he saw the bag in her hand, he looked confused.
“These are egg tarts I made. You probably haven’t eaten yet—take them. Thanks for helping me earlier.”
He hesitated, then took the bag. His gaze briefly scanned her—dancewear under her coat, music still playing inside.
Was she… dancing?
Not screaming because she was scared?
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
He nodded and turned away, catching a glimpse of the carpet in the center of her living room.
Definitely dancing.
She’d been a dancer in her last life, hadn’t she?
He said nothing and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Xu Mei called out.
He looked back.
“I saw someone lurking around your house earlier today. Don’t think he was your friend. Be careful.”
He paused, then said, “I don’t know him. But thank you.”
Xu Mei smiled with relief. “Good, I was worried I’d offended someone important.”
The next few days, Xu Lang didn’t show up again. Xu Mei focused on dance practice and grocery runs.
It was summer—hard to hide bruises. One day, a security guard noticed and kindly asked if she needed help.
Another day, she overdid a stretch and ended up limping. Fu Shuyang, drinking in his yard, saw her.
But he didn’t react like the guard—no curiosity, no concern.
Xu Mei didn’t mind. His concern would’ve been more terrifying.
Thankfully, few people lived in the neighborhood. Otherwise, rumors would fly.
A few days later, Xu Mei finally mastered one routine. She felt proud.
But unsure how it looked, she recorded herself and watched it back on her computer.
And was instantly devastated.
She thought she’d nailed it—but the video showed distorted, awkward moves. No grace, no beauty.
All her hard work… wasted?
What now?
Just then, her phone rang.
Her first call since arriving—aside from delivery guys. It was an unknown number.
“Hello?” she answered.
A sweet voice replied, “Hi! Is this Miss Xu Mei? I’m calling from Spirit of Dance Studio.”
Xu Mei straightened up. “Yes? How can I help you?”
“We’re holding a promotional event. The winner gets free one-on-one training with our top coach. Would you be interested in participating?”
- Writer
