Next day Mira handed him a pale purple envelope with an invitation: “It’s from the literary salon. You’re expected to attend.”
Jiang Yi frowned as soon as he saw it was a dance invitation. The theme made it impossible to refuse, and he groaned inwardly. Even someone as composed as Jiang Yi had weaknesses—he had no talent for dance. He’d made a fool of himself at his college graduation ball and had refused to embarrass himself again since. He avoided all dance invitations.
When Fang Yuming found out about this weakness, he’d rejoiced: “When Jiang Yi shows up, all the beauties flock to him, leaving the rest of us single guys with no chance. He’s already the most sought-after genius designer in social circles—if he were also a great dancer and singer, what chance would the rest of us have? God shouldn’t be so unfair.”
Jiang Yi’s reply: “I’m not planning to join showbiz. You’re safe.”
The S City Literary Salon was a prestigious club run by the respected cultural figure Lian Aiqian. Every season, they held a dance at a high-end venue, inviting the city’s elite and celebrities for emotional and cultural exchange. No one turned down an invitation. As someone new to the city who’d already been invited, Jiang Yi couldn’t refuse. On the night of the ball, it was customary for newcomers to dance with Madam Lian. The date was only three days away.
“Mira, are you free tomorrow night?”
“Want to ask me out? Too late, boss. I’m taken.” Mira smiled, already guessing his intent.
“Oh—” Seeing their usually overconfident boss slump in his chair with a sigh was a rare sight. Even Ali leaned in to see what was up.
“What’s wrong?”
“Jiang Yi wants to learn ballroom dancing, but I’m meeting my boyfriend’s parents tomorrow night and taking my nephew to the amusement park the day after. I can’t change the time.”
“I’m not much of a dancer, but maybe we can find someone else,” Ali suggested. “Call Carrie and see if she’s free.”
Jiang Yi perked up and was about to dial when Mira poured cold water on the idea: “Carrie’s mother’s in the hospital. She and her husband are taking turns on night watch. I doubt she has time.” She smiled at Jiang Yi. “Boss, you’re brilliant and quick to learn. You can handle a few dance steps—you just need a good teacher. But you’re so lazy, you never bothered to learn. Cramming at the last minute is the worst.”
“When would I have had time to learn?” Jiang Yi grumbled.
“Romantic men are getting rarer. My boyfriend hasn’t danced with me either.”
Ali chimed in: “You say Jiang Yi’s lazy, but your guy isn’t much better.”
“Go on! If a husband could dance, he’d be out dating other women. It’s better to be a bit dull.”
“That’s a contradiction, isn’t it?”
Listening to their banter, Jiang Yi fell into thought.
As soon as work ended, he thought of asking Liang Menghai for help, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was afraid of upsetting the delicate balance, so he gave up. At eight that evening, he decided to help himself. He bought a ballroom dance DVD and practiced at home. Desperate, right?
Jiang Yi didn’t do many foolish things, but this was definitely one of them—and the most foolish. Imagine a handsome man, barefoot on the wide loft floor, arms raised, awkwardly following the dancers on the TV screen. It was…
“Shorten your steps. Keep your waist lifted. You’re still too tense.” After a clumsy half-turn, Jiang Yi met Ouyang’s eyes—and couldn’t miss the faint smile on his lips. The sudden comment made Jiang Yi feel extremely embarrassed.
“I’m such an idiot.” Jiang Yi couldn’t think of a better word for his behavior. He quickly turned off the TV, silencing the awkward commentary. He’d been so focused he hadn’t noticed Ouyang standing behind him. He packed up the DVD and prepared to flee—he couldn’t bear to embarrass himself in front of Ouyang Jinghui.
“You have a good attitude toward learning.” If that was a compliment, Jiang Yi would rather he hadn’t said it.
“Just pretend you didn’t see anything, OK?” Jiang Yi gave a helpless, bitter smile, which Ouyang found oddly satisfying. He was so used to seeing Jiang Yi confident or aloof that seeing his true self made him seem adorable. When a man could be described as “adorable,” maybe the way you saw him had changed.
As Jiang Yi was about to retreat to his room to “lick his wounds,” Ouyang, who’d been standing still, suddenly spread his arms and lightly blocked his way. “Why stop? Or is it—you don’t have a good teacher?”
“Come on, Ouyang, don’t tease me. If the music bothered you, sorry.”
“Teasing you doesn’t do me any good. Besides, why do you always say sorry?” Ouyang took off his shoes, tossed his jacket aside, rolled up his sleeves, and stepped onto the floor. With a deft movement, he pulled Jiang Yi into his arms. “Come on, I’ll teach you. If you wait to teach yourself, the ball will be over.”
“Hey, you—” Jiang Yi was genuinely flustered, leaning back. “You’re serious?”
“Is my word so unreliable? Do you really want to spend all night with the TV?” Ouyang looked at him with amusement.
If he refused such a generous offer, it would be truly awkward. Jiang Yi lowered his head, thought for a few seconds, then looked up at Ouyang Jinghui. “If I step on your foot, it’s definitely not on purpose.”
Ouyang, seeing he agreed, let him go and picked out a slow dance CD from the shelf. As the music filled the room, Ouyang slowly approached Jiang Yi, took his left hand, palm to palm. Jiang Yi instinctively placed his right hand on Ouyang’s left shoulder blade, his wrist supporting Ouyang’s left arm. Jiang Yi might not dance well, but he had good posture. Ouyang Jinghui, considerately, took the woman’s part.
Ouyang could see Jiang Yi was at a beginner’s level and patiently explained: “Just focus on switching between closed, open, and outside positions, and turning your steps until it feels smooth.”
“How long will that take?” Jiang Yi’s first question was practical
“How many days do you have to practice?”
“Three.”
“Well, you’ve got no choice, then.”
Jiang Yi had seen Ouyang dance before—he was truly skilled. His body moved with grace and beauty, and with his tall frame and focused expression, he was almost irresistible. He was especially good at the waltz.
Jiang Yi didn’t think a man needed to know how to dance. Personal charm could shine outside the ballroom, but in certain situations, you had to adapt—like at Madam Lian’s salon.
Some moves looked simple but weren’t easy to master. When their bodies were half-turned, right sides lightly touching, chins slightly raised, Jiang Yi went from awkward to composed within half an hour. His progress was obvious. With his looks and build, he was naturally impressive, and his slightly clumsy steps and turns didn’t diminish his appeal.
“You’re a smart student, and your movements are very coordinated,” Ouyang said. He’d never danced with a man before, so it felt strange—but not unpleasant.
“Have you ever taught anyone to dance?” Jiang Yi, now relaxed, showed his true self.
“No, you’re the first.” Ouyang said seriously, “So, as my star pupil, you can’t let me down.”
In Jiang Yi’s memory, he’d never had the chance to spend time with Ouyang Jinghui so peacefully and without ulterior motives. The feeling was subtle. Beyond conflict and misunderstanding, their relationship was more than just a partnership—it was like friendship, or like rivals who admired each other but didn’t dare express it.
Jiang Yi laughed spontaneously, completely unguarded, with an innocence and charm he didn’t know he possessed. It was as if he’d shed all the unnecessary barriers he’d built up over the years. Jiang Yi’s laugh was naturally open and pure. He rarely laughed sincerely unless he was carefree and willing to get close to someone, and Ouyang Jinghui easily brought out this side of him.
He’d never realized dancing could be so enjoyable. They moved together and apart, communicating with their eyes and bodies, their fingers interlaced, their bodies brushing constantly. The warmth between them, mixed with a hint of playful testing, was more intimate than mere closeness—it made him want to dance forever. Their palms grew sweaty, their toes occasionally touched and then parted, and when they were close, they could even feel each other’s breath.
He didn’t know who started it, but their eyes locked. Ouyang’s hand slid up Jiang Yi’s arm to his shoulder, then slowly down to his waist. With a gentle pull, their bodies pressed together, leaving no room for hesitation. Jiang Yi’s hand, too, tentatively found its way to Ouyang’s neck and shoulder, and they embraced as they danced.
Gradually, he couldn’t tell whose breath was whose. When their lips met and their tongues touched, it was like a bomb exploding, the aftermath enveloping them. It felt as if a whirlwind had swept through the room—there was no escape, no turning back, because it had already happened.
Honestly, Jiang Yi had already let go. Though it had taken time, he’d truly thought he’d put everything behind him. Without this dance, without the lingering music, without the steady arm sending warmth through him, his self-control shouldn’t have been so weak—not so weak that he couldn’t resist a meaningful look.
Every time he and Ouyang Jinghui locked eyes, Jiang Yi tried to forget who he was and what his position was. He tried to avoid being seen by Ouyang, or at least to avoid seeing him. Since their first meeting at Arches, he’d been lost in confusion, and he still hadn’t found his way out. Sometimes he felt his own infatuation was foolish and unfair. Ouyang was successful, handsome, and had a devoted girlfriend. He didn’t need Jiang Yi’s interference—not at all.
Maybe he’d already planted Ouyang in his heart without realizing it, unable to measure the depth of his feelings. During their time together, Ouyang’s concessions, his gentle corrections, his occasional kindness and indulgence, and the invisible pull between them, had gradually drawn Jiang Yi in.
And now, they were doing things only lovers would do. For the first time, Jiang Yi enjoyed being embraced by a chest broader and stronger than his own. He loved the overwhelming sensation, more thrilling than any romance he’d ever experienced.
A low gasp startled them both. The images in their minds overlapped with the fire of desire. Now they were truly playing with fire.
Ouyang Jinghui was the first to come to his senses. “This is a disaster” was the only thought in his mind. His brain went blank. Jiang Yi, too, realized his efforts had been in vain. He hadn’t resisted Ouyang—he’d truly fallen for this man. When Ouyang pulled away at the last moment, Jiang Yi felt an even deeper sense of defeat than before.
How much longer are you going to torment me? He wanted to ask, but didn’t.
He stepped back gently, the warmth of the other man’s body suddenly gone. “You’re a great teacher. I think… I’ll be able to manage. Thank you. Good night.”
Ouyang’s expression grew complex, a deep melancholy settling over him—uncharacteristic, but honest. It made his face look unusually sensitive. “Jiang Yi!” His voice wasn’t loud, and it carried a note of comfort. He stepped forward and gently embraced Jiang Yi from behind. “Tell me what to do.”
Jiang Yi wasn’t a saint. He hadn’t cultivated that kind of detachment. Ouyang’s soft question almost made him surrender immediately. He took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to…”
In the haze, he felt Ouyang’s lips kiss his jaw, swallowing his words.
“Jiang Yi, don’t you want me?” Ouyang murmured, his voice bewitching.
At this moment, it was up to Jiang Yi. If he wasn’t afraid of heartbreak, if he didn’t fear complicating things further, he could gamble everything. If not, he didn’t have enough chips to play.
Whether Ouyang had such inclinations or not, this might be his only chance to have him. Ouyang’s fondness for him was undeniable, but had it reached the point of intimacy? Probably not. It might just be a one-night stand. Was it worth it? Could he bear the loss if he got what he wanted and then lost it?
“Jiang Yi, tell me how you feel about me.” Ouyang’s words, both gentle and stubborn, dissolved Jiang Yi’s defenses.
Ouyang’s suggestive gaze, his intimate touches, his relentless advance—all shattered Jiang Yi’s rationality. He felt something surging inside him. When their burning chests pressed together, the long-suppressed desire flared up fiercely. When his lips were sealed, Jiang Yi closed his eyes tightly. He surrendered. His iron will was no longer enough.
Chapter 09
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