Most boarding students chose to go home after school on Friday. Zhang Yingxuan said he was staying, and Zhou Ping, hearing this, also decided to stay. In their words, traveling back and forth was too tiring.
Simon lamented that children nowadays were more homebodies than the last generation. When he was in school, it wasn't like now where you could attend classes online without leaving the house. In his previous life, he had to run around to tutoring classes on Saturdays, Sundays, and even during winter and summer breaks. Through the cold and heat, his feet measured every street in the city. At the time, he comforted himself with the hardships of studying as described in "A Farewell to Ma Sheng of Dongyang," believing that every bit of knowledge gained was precious.
The strange phenomenon now is that the more convenient transportation becomes, the less people want to go out.
Su Xiangli, however, had a reason she had to go back: dance class.
Simon also had a reason he had to go back: Su Xiangli.
The dance class teachers all liked Simon very much because his traditional Chinese medicine-style grip could effectively relieve muscle fatigue. So, whenever Simon sat in the Rest Area, it often turned into a TCM consultation.
Of course, the dance studio itself had massage services, including massage beds and medicated oils, but the masseurs were robots. Although their technique was quite skillful, it depended on who you compared them to. Even the best robots were only at the level of a typical massage parlor. Simon's skill had legendary achievement certification; it was truly so comfortable it could make one feel like their soul had left their body.
Initially, when the teachers and students of the dance studio asked Simon for a massage, he refused. However, thinking that Su Xiangli was still practicing dance there, he offered five slots each time and didn't charge any fees, just to prevent Su Xiangli from being gossiped about.
What made Xiao Lu feel somewhat comforted was that the dancers all had very healthy physiques, not overly plump or overly muscular. Each one had well-proportioned muscles and bones, soft, elastic, and resilient. Massaging them was quite relaxing and increasingly addictive.
Su Xiangli, covered in sweat, moved a chair. She straddled it, facing the backrest, and sat next to Simon. She leaned on the backrest, turned her head, and glared at him coldly. Xiao Lu quickly patted the person sprawled on the bed, "Alright, alright, you're done, don't fall asleep." The other person groggily got up and left, not forgetting to politely say "Thank you."
Simon formally saw the person off, then turned back to Su Xiangli with a smile, "Come on."
Su Xiangli didn't move; she was exhausted. She whispered, "Carry me."
Simon was stunned, utterly shocked. He quietly replied, "What?"
Su Xiangli buried her face in her arms, her face already crimson, whether from the blood rush after ballet or an unspoken shyness in her heart. She whispered again, "I don't want to move."
Simon walked behind her, already flustered. A cold current permeated his fingertips, freezing his arms. He lifted them, then lowered them. Su Xiangli's back was slender, her black pure cotton practice clothes comfortable and snug. She was like a violet skiff slowly cruising through the night sky, stirring the starlight. What courage would he need to be the Heavenly River to carry her?
Su Xiangli turned her head, her profile facing Simon. Her eyes were hidden beneath her resentful eyelashes, making her inscrutable. Simon didn't know why she was like this, but he felt she looked very forlorn, like a lone goose separated from its flock, which pained him.
The people in the dance studio were still dancing. They, in the resting area, were silent, like two different worlds.
Su Xiangli suddenly laughed, "You don't dare, do you? Hmph, hmph, you always act so mature and call me a little kid, but you're no different."
Once she showed such a teasing expression, Simon could no longer perceive her emotions. He cast aside his genuine and feigned worries, placed his hands on his hips, "I just think you're too heavy! Get up, get up, lie down properly on the bed."
Su Xiangli lazily stood up, "Yes, yes, yes, great doctor, whatever you say is fine, I must listen to you, hmph, hmph."
There were only three massage beds. Simon had specifically left one clean, unused since the beginning of the day. Su Xiangli had a slight Mysophobia, a common trait among most modern people. Even if the massage bed sheets were disposable, she simply disliked the feeling of someone else having been there.
As Su Xiangli leaned down and lay still, Simon gently stroked her shoulder.
The familiar body, every texture of the sculpture, every crack in the tree trunk, every ripple of her thoughts—Simon saw the swan once again.
But this time, he was no longer the hand enclosing her; he merely stood as an observer in a void. Rain poured down like a deluge, washing over the earth. The swan drifted in the rain, unstoppable by any storm, only transforming into a mist in her spread wings, covering him, already drenched.
Simon stopped moving.
In the illusory realm of nothingness, he opened his arms.
Su Xiangli turned her head, looking at him, confused.
The swan circled, then flew towards him.
Simon leaned down, gently resting on her neck, but the warmth of his breath caused tiny goosebumps to form on her skin.
Simon embraced the swan.
"I didn't not want to hold you; I just couldn't believe it." Every word he spoke made her tremble. Su Xiangli was anticipating Simon's intimacy, but he merely straightened his back again.
"Alright, class is over. Let's go home. I'll take you home."
The illusion ended.
Outside Su Xiangli's front door, they said goodbye, but neither moved for a long time.
Su Xiangli opened her arms and pouted, "I want a hug."
Simon's tense expression finally vanished. He stepped forward and gently embraced the girl, but quickly let go.
"I'm realizing now, you really are such a gentleman, not like before, not bad-bad anymore." Su Xiangli gently pressed her right index finger to her lips, a gesture she increasingly liked, conveying a private and demure sense of a whisper. And every time she did this, Simon's expression was always amusing.
He answered awkwardly, "People always have to grow up..." He screamed internally: I'm not a child at all! Do you know how strange it is that I like you so much!
Su Xiangli tilted her head and sniffed her shoulder, where Simon's scent lingered—a faint scent of soap, permeating her blue vest. She examined herself, her attire very masculine. A bold emotion suddenly welled up in her heart; a free-spirited Su Xiangli told herself not to keep thinking about him.
So she turned around and waved to him, "Grown-up man, then I have to go. Remember to pick me up tomorrow."
When she walked up the high steps and looked back, she could only see Simon's retreating back as he turned to leave.
Inside the house, Baiyang Yangzhen greeted her, "Madam instructed you to practice your dance well. Also, she said she wouldn't dwell on yesterday's incident and asked you not to continue sulking." The appearance of honorifics within the impatient and arrogant phrasing, conveyed by a robot, felt awkward.
"Oh, please." Su Xiangli casually replied. Just then, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She hesitated for a moment, then opened it to an unread email.
10:42 "Simon: I will. As long as you're willing."
Ding, another email arrived.
10:42 "Simon: Also, I like you."
Ding, the sender recalled an email.
What the heck, not a shred of sincerity, she hugged her phone and quickly fled back to her bedroom.
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