There were too many people, and the small Polo couldn't fit everyone, so Xiao Shun drove a delivery van out of the garage. Even after 10 PM, Beijing's Third Ring Road was still brightly lit like a ribbon of lights. Extending south from Jianguo Road, the numerous and magnificent buildings presented an endless expanse of prosperity.
The young customer service representative in the same car looked at him with starry eyes and said dreamily, "I guess even if I work half my life, I can only afford a toilet here."
Another person pointed to the high-rise building, "The price per square meter in this building is already 200,000 yuan. Several celebrities live there. It is said that the privacy is excellent."
Xiao Shun, driving the car, casually replied, "Why don't you ask Sister Xi? She's a resident here."
The young girls were seeing Zhao Xiyin for the first time. Her clothes were simple and ordinary, but her temperament was truly pleasing to the eye. When Xiao Shun'er said that, they couldn't tell if it was true or not, and all their eyes turned to her.
Li Ran reached out first, bent her finger and pretended to tap Xiao Shun'er on the back of the head, "Fake!"
Xiao Shun grimaced in pain, and everyone started chatting and laughing again. A few minutes later, Li Ran secretly turned her head and glanced at Zhao Xiyin in the back seat.
The person who had been dozing woke up and was looking out the window at some point. The car was just coming out from under the overpass, and the light and shadow poured down, and in that instant when the light came on, Li Ran saw that her eyes were wandering and full of meaning.
It was almost 11 p.m. when Zhao Wenchun got home. He was sitting on the sofa reading when he heard the door open. He took off his reading glasses and asked, "You're back?"
Zhao Xiyin, slipping on her slippers, made the clinking sound of her keys as she put them down. "I'm not asleep yet."
"I'll leave the light on for you, I'm not sleepy either. Are you hungry? I'll make you a bowl of noodles with soybean paste." Zhao Wenchun was already walking towards the kitchen.
Zhao Xiyin grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back to his original spot, saying, "I won't eat, I won't eat."
As soon as Xiao Zhao let go, Lao Zhao turned around again, saying, "I want to eat, I want to eat."
Zhao Xiyin didn't stop him anymore. She changed her clothes, came out, picked up a book from the sofa, and flipped through it. Zhao Wenchun was a Chinese literature professor. This copy of *Guan Zhi* (Anthology of Classical Chinese Prose) had worn pages and handwritten notes between paragraphs. The handwriting was gentle and soft, just like his personality. It was a pity that Zhao Xiyin hadn't inherited her father's literary talent; she had always struggled with writing essays, which dragged down her Chinese score in the college entrance exam. But she could still recite several chapters from this book fluently.
Zhao Xiyin put down her book and looked up to see several boxes of fruit on the ground to her right. Large, bright red cherries were neatly arranged, and there were two baskets of white strawberries next to them. Zhao Wenchun came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of hot noodles. Seeing her standing there looking at it, she said, "Qishen came to visit a couple of days ago, and he brought all this."
The noodles were placed on the table, and Zhao Wenchun took off her apron. "I saw that these were all your favorites, so I left them."
Zhao Xiyin sat back down at the table, using her chopsticks to pick at the scallions on the noodles, moving them from the middle to the right and then slowly back to the left.
“You’ve been away from Beijing for almost two years, and he’s come to see me every month. He never comes empty-handed. I don’t accept the expensive things, but he still takes a few packs of cigarettes because he’s addicted.” Zhao Wenchun doesn’t hide anything and says whatever comes to mind.
The two, one old and one young, were perfectly matched in their birth charts. When they first met, there was no awkwardness like meeting the parents; instead, they felt an instant connection and became close friends despite their age difference. Although Zhao Xiyin and Zhou Qishen had been divorced for a long time, she had cut ties cleanly and decisively, never contacting him again. However, whether intentionally or out of nostalgia, Zhou Qishen remained respectful and courteous to Zhao Wenchun.
Seeing that her daughter seemed unhappy, Zhao Wenchun said, "If you mind, then don't open the door for him next time."
Zhao Xiyin lowered her head and ate her noodles, her voice a little muffled: "Don't accept anything from him anymore, it's not appropriate."
Zhao Wenchun nodded. "I'll remember."
After a moment of silence, he spoke again: "After you left during the day, I also went to the school. I ran into your Uncle Yao on the way, and he told me something."
Zhao Xiyin ate a peppercorn, and her tongue felt numb. She quickly drank some water.
"Teacher Dai has undergone surgery and is currently hospitalized."
Zhao Xiyin choked on the water, the spicy aftertaste churning in her throat, and she coughed incessantly. Zhao Wenchun handed her a tissue and said, "No matter what, she's still your mentor, Xiao Xi. You can't forget that kindness. If you have time, go see her tomorrow."
A teacher and student share a bond that includes gratitude for being recognized and nurtured, as well as the kindness of being taught and guided.
Zhao Xiyin studied dance and has been dancing seriously for twenty years.
At ten years old, she went to watch a children's dance competition with her training class, but she slipped out after ten minutes. It was summer, the sun was blazing and bright, and Xiao Xiyin was squatting by the flower bed watching ants move their nests, until someone asked, "Why didn't you go watch the competition?"
Zhao Xiyin looked up, her eyes squinting into slits from the bright light. Dai Yunxin, her eyes hidden behind glasses, her face like a peach blossom, her high heels accentuating her aloofness. Little Xiyin showed no fear, her smile innocent and pure, "Because they don't dance as well as I do."
At that time, Dai Yunxin had just won the international competition and had represented the Ministry of Culture and Tourism abroad for study and exchange several times. She was famous and in the prime of her life. She started to teach Xiyin to dance once a week, without charging tuition, just like playing around.
When she was sixteen, she said to Dai Yunxin, "Master, I have a gift for you."
Dai Yunxin laughed when she heard this. "You're just a kid. What kind of gift do you need if you have money?"
Zhao Xiyin turned on the music, looked at it with a smile, and took three steps back.
This was the first dance she choreographed herself. Her young body was like a ship carrying dreams, full of passion, generosity, and sincerity. Her spine grew straight, and as she spun and leaped, her spirit soared, as if she had grown wings that reached the sky.
As the song ended, sweat condensed on the tip of Zhao Xiyin's nose and fell to the ground half a second later.
Dai Yunxin's eyes welled up with tears as she said to her, "You were born to do this job."
Two years later, Zhao Xiyin was admitted to the Beijing Dance Academy after taking the college entrance examination. In her senior year, she was recommended by the school to participate in a competition in France. Everyone thought that this top-level dance competition was just a stepping stone for her, and that she would become famous overnight and her life would soar to new heights.
However, Zhao Xiyin had an accident during the competition. She fell while performing a difficult jump and broke her right foot.
Zhao Xiyin went there full of confidence, but returned covered in injuries. Such a major performance accident couldn't be ignored by her superiors. Zhao Xiyin cried and tried to explain, but no one believed her. Even if there were other reasons, it was only her own fault for not checking carefully. That day, two leaders talked with her in her hospital room for over an hour; the content of their conversation remains unknown.
Dai Yunxin rushed back from the United States, saying that she had contacted the best rehabilitation therapists abroad and that she was sure she could dance again.
Zhao Xiyin told her, "Master, I'm not going to dance anymore."
The six words, as pale as her face, were calm to the point of being cruel.
What was initially thought to be just a momentary outburst of frustration turned into a year-long recovery period. Zhao Xiyin packed up all her dance shoes and costumes and donated them to charity, her once flowing long hair now a mess of dyed hair. She stopped watching her diet, eating KFC for late-night snacks and Haidilao for daytime meals, gaining a full ten pounds during that time.
Dai Yun was heartbroken and tried everything, from playing the good cop to the bad cop, but Zhao Xiyin remained unmoved.
The annual dance competition was being broadcast live on television, and her classmate Lin Lang was representing her this year. The stage was magnificent, the dancers were graceful, and the music was melodious and resonant.
Zhao Xiyin lowered her head, her fingers curled and twitched slightly, and finally said, "My legs hurt whenever I dance."
Whether it was heartfelt advice or a lack of logical reasoning, it's hard to say. But Zhao Xiyin truly stopped dancing. Dai Yunxin left in anger, and the rift between master and disciple was never mended.
The past is long gone, and it troubles the heart. Zhao Xiyin was lost in thought, and it took Zhao Wenchun calling her twice to bring her back to her senses.
"There are too many cherries for you to eat. Take two boxes and give them to Teacher Dai. I'll write down the address for you."