Chapter 60: PAST-EIGHTEEN.
The hallway outside the studio was crowded with quiet conversations, the shuffling of feet, the buzz of vending machines. Parents and friends milled about, waiting for their kids, their classmates, their loved ones. Amidst it all sat Hua Rong on a bench, arms crossed, her foot tapping restlessly against the tile floor.
"How long do we have to wait?" Jiang Zemin asked for the third time, sprawled beside her like a bored child at the dentist's office.
"You can leave if you want," Hua Rong replied flatly, eyes still glued to the studio door.
Jiang raised an eyebrow. "And let you bike home alone in the dark with your sad little mood swings? Pass."
Without a word, she held up her hand and mimed two fingers walking across her palm. "I have legs."
"And the stamina of a wounded squirrel," he muttered under his breath, earning a glare.
Before she could come up with a retort, the door opened—and Xu Lingwei stepped out.
His hair was slightly damp from the effort, sticking to his forehead in soft waves, and his cheeks were flushed from the performance. But it was his smile—broad, bright, utterly unguarded—that made Hua Rong turn fully toward him.
He didn't stop walking. He jogged.
And then, without warning, he pulled her into a tight embrace, arms locking around her like he feared she might disappear. Her eyes widened, stiff as a board in his hold.
"I'm really happy," he whispered near her ear, his voice a shaky breath against her skin.