Su Lu thought about the incidents involving Jing Qiao and Song Boyuan that she had heard from Bo Jingshen.
She couldn’t help feeling some sighs of emotion.
If, if it hadn’t been for Song Boyuan’s stepmother meddling back then, if Jing Qiao’s child could have been saved, Song Boyuan would have been a good father.
He was so affectionate towards Jing Qiao’s nephew; how much more would he cherish a child born of Jing Qiao and himself?
The soak in the hot spring actually didn’t take too long; after all, the weather was hot, and no one wanted to linger in pool after pool of hot water.
So after a whirlwind bath, they went to the hotel for some cold desserts.
Zhao Xiaole, spoon in mouth, asked Jing Qiao, "Auntie, when will you dance for me?"
Jing Qiao smiled and said, "I’ll dance after you finish your ice cream."
Zhao Xiaole hastily finished the ice cream and then excitedly pulled at Jing Qiao’s hand, which was a little messy from eating the dessert.
But before he could touch Jing Qiao’s hand, he was intercepted by Song Boyuan, who methodically wiped Zhao Xiaole’s fingers clean with a wet tissue, one by one.
Jing Qiao glanced sideways at Song Boyuan but said nothing.
Shortly after, they went to the dance studio. Upon arriving, Zhao Xiaole felt a bit scared and wanted to flee,
remembering the bitter state he had been in during yesterday’s basic training.
Yet he still wanted to see his aunt dance; Zhao Xiaole’s eyes shone brightly.
Su Lu couldn’t resist pulling out her phone and turning on the video recording function.
Jing Qiao quickly changed and emerged, not in a ballet skirt but in regular practice attire, which still highlighted her slender and supple figure.
Jing Qiao pursed her lips, connected her phone to the speaker, then sat down at the edge of the room, pulled out a pair of ballet shoes, and began to wrap the ribbons around her ankles unhurriedly.
Her fingers were deft and agile; for someone who truly loved dancing, even the steps of putting on dance shoes were a pleasure to relish.
Zhao Xiaole, watching Jing Qiao dressed in the practice outfit and ballet shoes, couldn’t help but whisper to Su Lu, "Mom, Auntie is so beautiful."
"Yes, she really is beautiful," Su Lu also admired.
Zhao Xiaole thought about how to describe his aunt’s beauty, and after a moment, he said, "She’s as beautiful as when Mom is painting."
A mother knows her child best; Su Lu understood what Zhao Xiaole was trying to express.
When people are focused on doing something they love, they exude a unique beauty that is solely their own.
She experienced it while painting, and of course, Jing Qiao did while dancing.
The melodious music slowly started playing.
Jing Qiao began to dance lightly, moving towards the center of the room.
She spun, stretched...
Like a fluttering Little Butterfly.
Aside from the initial moments which revealed a slight unnaturalness in her legs, it gradually became difficult to notice.
Jing Qiao performed flawlessly, at least in the eyes of non-professionals like Su Lu and Zhao Xiaole, it was perfection indeed.
Su Lu glanced at Song Boyuan out of the corner of her eye; the man was observing from the shadows, as silent and focused as when he’d watched Jing Qiao cook, his eyes burning with a hidden fire, like a predator watching its prey.
However, now the dark fire in Song Boyuan’s eyes seemed even more evident, so intense it was almost spilling out.
Song Boyuan watched Jing Qiao with a burning gaze, watching her figure dance gracefully...
In an instant, memory seemed to pull him back to the past.
It was a period before he prepared to marry her, when the old man’s health had already deteriorated, and he was busy consolidating the family business to avoid it falling into the scheming hands of Liu Jiarong and those three good-for-nothings. So, it could be said he was rather preoccupied.
The old man had insisted that no matter what, he should meet that girl from the Jing Family to get to know each other. It was always better than getting married to a stranger.
So despite his busy schedule, he still had his secretary contact Jing Qiao to arrange a meeting.
The secretary brought back a ticket for him.
A very simple ticket, not even for a major venue’s performance, it looked more like a school recital.
He had no interest in it at all, a meeting, a dinner party, anything was more meaningful than watching this school recital.
But just so happened, on that day, he had no engagements.
No meetings, no dinner parties.
An entirely free day — just by coincidence.
So he went, and it was the first time he saw Jing Qiao dance.
It was the first time he felt that this woman was like a gracefully fluttering Little Butterfly.
Because she was outstanding enough, her performance was scheduled as the finale. After she finished dancing, the show ended.
Song Boyuan didn’t like to leave with the crowd, so he stayed seated, planning to wait until most of the audience had left before he would stand up.
Before the audience had fully departed, a beautiful woman in a ballet tutu descended from the stage, made her way to him, "I’m Jing Qiao, are you Mr. Song?"
Later, Song Boyuan would often dream about Jing Qiao’s smile and candidness at that time, along with the unmistakable astonishment in her eyes.
"Goodness, you are really handsome," she laughed, eyes crescent-shaped, covering her mouth lightly with her hand, her laughter tinged with shyness and a hint of slyness. "Does this mean I’ve made a profit?"
Song Boyuan was naturally cold, and he couldn’t manage a polite smile in response to Jing Qiao’s half-joking words; he simply said in a bland voice, "I am Song Boyuan."
Realizing his indifference, Jing Qiao seemed somewhat awkwardly to purse her lips, "I’m sorry... I was just joking..."
She hadn’t finished speaking when the incredibly handsome but cold-faced man stood up, his towering height imposing.
His face remained expressionless, his voice, though metallic and as indifferent as before, made the content of his words cause Jing Qiao to pause.
"You have indeed made a profit. So why not pay me back by dancing in the future."
At that time, he thought his Little Butterfly could continue to fly joyfully for many more years.
He never considered what would come later.
And now, Song Boyuan silently watched Jing Qiao’s dancing figure, which seemed to finally slowly blend with that of the girl who once spun and stretched on the stage.
After the piece had ended.
Jing Qiao sat down on the ground, breathing lightly.
Sweat had soaked through the back of her clothes; she felt the muscles in her legs cramping and trembling, her toes seemed to scream in pain, and those places that had once been fractured, those wounds, as if by a psychological effect, seemed to ache all at once.
But in her heart, she felt exceptionally exhilarated.
Exceptionally exhilarated.
She lowered her head, raised her hand to wipe off the sweat, and also cleared away the tears that had unknowingly filled her eyes.
Jing Qiao thought of what Su Lu had said; yes, she had the confidence to be capricious, so... why not do what she liked? There was no escaping Song Boyuan anyway, so why continue to live so constrained?
"Song Boyuan," she called out.