CITM - 10

Bai Wenfu stepped in front of Ye Yun, replacing Zhou Hao’s position. Ignoring Ye Yun’s startled expression, he turned his head toward Zhou Hao and asked coolly, “No objections?”

Although Zhou Hao had never interacted with Bai Wenfu before, he had heard rumors about him. Now, under the weight of Bai Wenfu’s sharp, icy gaze, how could he possibly voice any objection? To avoid conflict, he reluctantly relinquished his dance partner.

Bai Wenfu withdrew his gaze and looked down at the flustered woman before him. Ye Yun was already losing her composure; she glanced up at him briefly before quickly lowering her head again, her eyes darting anxiously.

Bai Wenfu lightly held her fingers, his other arm loosely supporting her waist as he guided her into the rhythm of the dance. His towering figure loomed like an immovable wall, almost enveloping Ye Yun entirely.

Already unfamiliar with the steps, she grew even more disoriented, repeatedly stepping on Bai Wenfu’s feet. The more mistakes she made, the tenser she became.

Noticing her anxiety, Bai Wenfu adjusted their distance and slowed his pace to accommodate her. As they blended into the crowd, he leaned down and asked, “Do you enjoy dancing?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

His voice was devoid of emotion, giving Ye Yun no way to gauge his mood, which only heightened her unease.

The low, magnetic sound of his voice reverberated above her once more, striking her heart: “To meet people?”

Bai Wenfu’s question was direct. After all, young men and women came to the dance hall for one of two reasons: to immerse themselves in music and dance or to seek out companionship. At Ye Yun’s age, it wasn’t hard to imagine that loneliness might creep in with Wenbin far away.

Ye Yun’s mind raced as she hastily denied, “No, I’m just… here with Lü Ping to experience it.”

Bai Wenfu tilted his chin slightly, revealing a chiseled jawline, a strong neck, and an upright frame. Every aspect of his masculine vigor and ruggedness hit Ye Yun like a wave. Never had she so acutely sensed the raw masculinity that emanated from Bai Wenfu.

“In that case,” he said, “let’s continue the experience.”

He raised his arm over her head, and Ye Yun, her thoughts chaotic and bewildered, instinctively followed his lead, spinning in place.

Her skirt brushed against his calves, the fitted fabric accentuating her supple waistline. She had fashioned a wide hairband from scraps of light blue fabric, and as she spun, her smooth black hair fanned out behind her. Despite her awkwardness, she shone like spring blossoms.

However, this particular move didn’t come easily to her. Spinning in ballroom dancing required skill—control of the waist, balance, and timing all played crucial roles.

Clearly, Ye Yun hadn’t mastered these yet. When she spun back, her body tilted slightly, nearly throwing off her steps. Bai Wenfu steadied her promptly, pulling her close with a gentle tug. Lowering his gaze, he murmured, “Don’t rush.”

Ye Yun’s mind felt like a clock whose mainspring had snapped. Bai Wenfu’s crisp scent mingled with the intoxicating aroma of alcohol seeped into her consciousness, halting her thoughts. All her attention focused on the hand holding hers. His palm was broad, his bones clear and strong, almost completely enveloping her own. There was no escape. This sensation was entirely different from Wenbin’s—foreign, powerful, leaving her feeling helpless.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ye Yun noticed a girl shyly resting her head on her partner’s shoulder. The woman’s unbothered demeanor struck Ye Yun deeply, but glancing around, she saw no one else reacting strangely.

She realized that within the unspoken rules of partner dancing, whether acquaintances or strangers, male or female, a silent understanding formed among participants. They shed their work titles, familial roles, and age differences, immersing themselves solely in the fleeting music, enjoying brief moments of freedom—regardless of what identities awaited them after leaving the hall.

Lü Ping danced freely with her colleagues, and another girl who had arrived with them began dancing hand-in-hand with a man she’d just met. To them, such interactions were nothing unusual. In Ye Yun’s eyes, Bai Wenfu was both a familiar face and family, so it should have felt natural—but instead, she felt an inexplicable discomfort. It was the ethical constraints ingrained in her mind that kept her from relaxing.

Though Lü Ping danced with her colleague, her eyes remained fixed on Bai Wenfu and Ye Yun. Her male partner glanced over curiously: “Didn’t they say Bai Wenfu’s leg was bad and he doesn’t dance?”

“That depends on whether he wants to,” Lü Ping replied indifferently, turning her gaze away.

As the music changed, Lü Ping lost interest and returned to the sidelines. Zhou Hao approached her and asked, “What’s going on? Does Bai Wenfu know the girl you brought?”

Lü Ping turned around, leaning casually against the railing with her arms crossed, glancing toward the dance floor. “They’re family.”

Zhou Hao was taken aback. “That girl is Bai Wenfu’s wife?”

“She’s his younger brother’s.”

Another male colleague chimed in, teasing Zhou Hao: “No wonder he wouldn’t let you touch his sister-in-law. With his brother away, he’s keeping a close eye on such a beautiful sister-in-law. Forget about dancing with her.”

Zhou Hao smirked awkwardly, defeated.

The music softened, and the lights dimmed, casting an ambiguous, dreamy atmosphere over the room. Gradually, Ye Yun became more accustomed to the rhythm. Bai Wenfu’s right leg was impaired, so his steps were slow and measured, while Ye Yun’s inexperience limited her to slower tempos. In this particular song, they became each other’s most harmonious dance partners.

As the dance progressed, their distance fluctuated—now close, now distant. The arm Bai Wenfu loosely held around Ye Yun’s waist occasionally pressed against her with subtle firmness before retreating again, leaving behind fleeting sensations like scattered heartbeats. The vibrant lights of the dance hall and the intoxicating music wove these moments into something ephemeral.

Ye Yun seemed to grasp the joy of dancing—a dynamic interplay akin to a kite and its string, pulling, suspending, drifting, then suddenly tightening.

When their eyes met, Ye Yun’s gaze fell into Bai Wenfu’s deep, enigmatic pupils. She asked softly, “Have you danced with other women?”

His eyes lingered on her delicate face. “Why do you ask?”

Because he was a masterful guide—as inexperienced as Ye Yun was with partner dancing, she could still sense the difference between him and Lü Ping. If Lü Ping had taught her how to step forward and back, Bai Wenfu had led her into the rhythm of the music itself. He made her feel not just mechanical steps but the effortless stirring of her very cells, immersing her completely.

Perhaps before that terrible incident Wenbin had mentioned, Bai Wenfu had been like the other youths in the dance hall—freely indulging in the vibrancy of youth. Of course, this was only Ye Yun’s speculation.

But soon, her guess was confirmed.

“When I was your age, I spent some time in Hudu.”

Hudu—a city so grand it was beyond Ye Yun’s wildest imaginings. Even from her remote village, she’d heard tales of its dazzling nightlife and legendary allure.

Bai Wenfu hadn’t directly answered her question, yet somehow, he had already told her. He carried a mysterious past, one that likely shaped the inscrutable aura surrounding him.

Yet all stories eventually come to an end. As the music faded, Bai Wenfu released her and gazed at her flushed cheeks, asking, “Had enough?”

A thin layer of sweat clung to Ye Yun’s nose and hair. She nodded.

With both hands tucked into his pockets, he said, “I’ll be at the entrance.”

He didn’t rush her departure, but Ye Yun knew it was time to go home.

Approaching Lü Ping, she said, “I’m heading back first.”

Lü Ping wore a faint smile and remarked cryptically, “I thought Big Brother Wenbin didn’t dance. Turns out he just doesn’t dance with outsiders. Go ahead and leave; we’ll plan another outing next time.”

________________________________________

When Ye Yun stepped out of the dance hall, the sunset clung to the horizon. Bai Wenfu was indeed waiting by the entrance—but he wasn’t alone. Several unfamiliar men stood beside him. Hesitant about whether to leave on her own, Ye Yun glanced at Bai Wenfu. Their eyes met briefly, and the lingering amusement in his gaze anchored her in place. Unsure whether to walk away or wait for him, she stood rooted.

She had never seen this side of him—his robust figure carried none of the usual heaviness but exuded a carefree, unconventional charm instead.

After a moment of deliberation, Ye Yun decided to head toward home. Soon, footsteps echoed behind her. Turning around, she saw Bai Wenfu following at a leisurely pace.

Slowing down, she asked, “Did you drink alcohol?”

Bai Wenfu raised an eyebrow. “That obvious?”

The scent of alcohol wasn’t particularly strong, but under its influence, his relaxed demeanor differed slightly from his usual self.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a candy, popped it into his mouth, and glanced sidelong at Ye Yun as she observed the colorful wrapper between his fingers. Catching her gaze, he fished out another piece. “Want one?”

Ye Yun accepted it with a quiet “Thank you.”

The candy had a unique flavor, its sweetness melting in her mouth—a fruity hard candy. She examined the shiny, multicolored wrapper, unable to decipher the foreign script printed on it.

“What kind of candy is this?” she asked.

Bai Wenfu replied, “From the Soviet Union.”

Ye Yun had never encountered imported candies before. The wrapper was too beautiful to discard, so she folded it carefully and held it tightly in her palm.

“I know what hippies are,” she declared.

An unusual spark of interest flickered across Bai Wenfu’s face. “Let me hear it.”

Standing straighter, Ye Yun explained earnestly, “They were a group of young people in the 60s who rebelled against tradition. They opposed war, criticized restrictions on civil rights, defied societal norms, and sometimes acted contrary to mainstream values—a form of liberalism.”

“Sounds like you have a positive impression of them.”

Ye Yun hesitated for a moment. “Not entirely. It seems they were accused of many things—some improper, even illegal or immoral acts. Many called them the ‘lost generation.’ I’m not sure how to define them.”

A hint of mockery crossed Bai Wenfu’s lips. “That’s just how the world works—it always presents two starkly contrasting sides.”

Ye Yun noticed the disdain in his eyes as he spoke, though the topic wasn’t pursued further.

As they neared home, Ye Yun slowed her pace and ventured tentatively, “Big Brother, can I… go ahead and return first?”

She didn’t want Tong Mingfang to see her returning with Bai Wenfu. Though avoiding suspicion might not be strictly necessary, Ye Yun felt an added layer of caution.

Bai Wenfu said nothing, stopping to light a cigarette. Ye Yun quickened her pace and hurried home.

Tong Mingfang hadn’t seen Ye Yun all afternoon, and now, watching her return bathed in the glow of the setting sun, she muttered during dinner, “Where did you run off to today? You’re so late.”

Head bowed, Ye Yun replied weakly, “To… Liangsi Street to read books. I lost track of time.”

Her voice lacked conviction. She hadn’t coordinated with Bai Wenfu beforehand—he wasn’t Wenbin, and there was no reason for him to cover for her sneaking out to have fun. She couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t expose her lie.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Ye Yun quickly glanced at her brother-in-law. Bai Wenfu sat across from her, expression unchanged, offering neither confirmation nor denial.

“How far is that? Did you go alone?” Tong Mingfang pressed.

Ye Yun’s heart raced, growing increasingly uneasy. She had never been to Liangsi Street; Lü Ping always brought her books after work. She didn’t even know the way from Erwei Alley to Liangsi Street.

Thinking quickly, she deliberately ignored the first question and replied directly, “I went with Lü Ping.”

At the mention of Lü Ping’s name, Tong Mingfang’s face darkened. “You should keep away from that girl.”

Ye Yun froze awkwardly at the table, the atmosphere tense. Bai Wenfu slowly lifted his gaze, frowning at Tong Mingfang. “Eat.”

The two syllables carried an unspoken weight.

Tong Mingfang shot a glance at her eldest son and dropped the subject.