The orchestra transitioned and the violins elongated the long notes when the lights dimmed slightly, leaving the sparkling chandeliers like stars. A hush fell over the ballroom as the master of ceremonies spoke to the audience.
"And now, we invite our lovely young lady, Zhang Lihua, onto the floor for the traditional father-daughter dance."
There was clapping, gentle and polite, as I realized the entire room was looking at me. My father smiled proudly, offering his arm, beaming. "Shall we, sweetheart?"
"Yes, Baba," I breathed, resting my hand on his.
The crowd parted as we moved into the center. The orchestra played a timeless, slow, sweeping music. My father moved with heedless grace, confident and sure, over the beautifully polished dance floor.
"Put your chin up higher, Lihua," he panted. "You're radiating tonight."
I smiled softly, trying to glide into the beat. For an instant, my nerves settled. For an instant, I was nothing more than a daughter dancing with her father under the flashing lights.
The moment passed.
As the music moved toward its climax, a ripple passed through the throng. It was initialy slight—a shift of stance, a susurration of voices. My father's brow furrowed as his eyes flashed past my shoulder.
I felt it before I saw it: that same intangible pull, as if the air was growing tangular around me.
And then he was standing in front of me.
Xu Jianyu.
He did not hurry. He did not have to. Every step he took into the circle opened space, as if even the most forward of guests felt too afraid to get in his way. The orchestra did not skip a beat, but tension in the room thickened and hung in anticipation.
As the final note died away and applause started, Jianyu already stood at the edge of the dance floor, his gaze on me.
He bowed—respectful, intentional, but with a hint of something else. "Zhang Lihua," he murmured, his voice low and liquid, slicing through the crowd of faces. "May I have the next dance?"
A murmur swept through the ballroom.
My father froze, his shoulders squaring. "This is a family tradition," he warned cautiously, not unkind but wary. "It is not customary for guests to—"
"Customs bend," Jianyu interjected softly, never taking his gaze from mine. "As music bends to its conductor."
My own breath froze. Silence enveloped us, dense with half-hoped-for options. Everyone was waiting for me.
My father hunched over me, his gaze roaming my face as if calculating whether to merely say no. But I knew how to decline a Xu. Even without words, their authority was clear.
"It's just a dance," I said to him quickly, my tone more even than I was. "Baba, it's okay."
He released my hand at last, his expression a mask.
Jianyu came up, offering his own hand. His were cold against mine, firm but kind, as he brought me into the center again.
The orchestra began again with another tune—slower, darker, the sort that curled around the room like smoke.
We began to dance.
You stand well," Jianyu murmured, his voice so low it was almost drowned out by the music. "Better than the others."
I shot a glare at nothing in particular over his shoulder, not wanting to look at him. "Is that a compliment?"
"It's an observation." His tone was calm, unflustered. "You don't quite pull off the look of pampered heiress as well as the others. That makes you. noticeable.".
My heart skipped a beat. He did not know—he could not know. He was talking about impressions, not secrets. But his tone caused my flesh to shiver nevertheless.
"I did not know that I was trying to get attention," I said lightly, hiding my unease behind sarcasm.
"Most aren't." He leaned in, close enough for his breath to caress my ear. "But those who are different rarely get to choose it. The world makes the choice for them."
I was pounding in my chest. I smiled, as best as I could, though it felt fake. "That seems rather ominous for a dance."
"Perhaps," Jianyu said, sweeping me gracefully into a turn, "but dances, like conversation, speak more than most people realize."
The room melted at the periphery—the sequined evening gowns, the suspicious looks, the low hums buzzing like bees. The only thing that made an impression was the man before me, his expression unyielding, his eyes serene and unblinking.
Each movement was deliberate, each step measured, but beneath the surface, I knew there was something held back—power, quiet but unyielding.
"You're memorable, Zhang Lihua," he said at last, his words deliberate, carrying a weight that made my breath falter.
The song ended.
Applause erupted, polite but edged with shock. Jianyu released me with a bow as smooth as silk, his eyes never leaving mine until the last second.
Then, as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared back into the crowd, leaving whispers behind like ripples on water.
I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, hands trembling slightly against the material of my gown. My father returned to my side, protecting and reserved, but even he could not eradicate from my mind the look that Jianyu had left behind.
A Xu had asked for the honor of a dance.
And I knew—this was not chance.