Chapter 58 - The Girl Who Danced
Minhwa stepped out of Madam's office and headed toward the dining hall.
The corridor was quiet.
Halfway down the hall, she saw her.
Jianhe. Standing awkwardly to the side, fingers twisting together, clearly waiting.
When Jianhe saw Minhwa, she immediately rushed forward.
"Minhwa!" she called softly. "I—I wanted to apologize."
Minhwa did not stop walking. Jianhe hurried to block her path.
"I'm sorry about earlier," she said quickly. "I didn't mean for things to turn out like that. I only cried because I was frustrated. I didn't think Min Ke would—"
"You didn't think?" Minhwa finally spoke.
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
Jianhe swallowed. Minhwa stepped closer.
"You chose where to cry."
Jianhe blinked. "W-What?"
"You went to cry in front of Min Ke," Minhwa continued evenly. "Not anyone else."
"That's just coincidence—"
"Is it?" Minhwa asked softly.
She took another step forward. Jianhe instinctively stepped back.
"There was no reason for you to cry," Minhwa said. "I answered you. I didn't insult you. I didn't touch you."
Step.
Jianhe stepped back again.
"But you cried," Minhwa continued. "And you happened to cry where Min Ke could see. Then blamed me for it."
Jianhe's breathing grew uneven.
"I didn't— I wasn't trying to—"
"You wanted sympathy," Minhwa finished for her. "And you knew exactly whose sympathy to seek. But for what, why me?. Is it to ruin me?. To ruin my reputation?."
"That's not true!" Jianhe denied quickly.
Minhwa's eyes did not waver.
"If Min Ke and Yun Luo knew you deliberately manipulated their emotions…" she said softly, "…what do you think they would feel?"
Jianhe's face paled.
"I didn't manipulate anyone!" she insisted.
Minhwa moved closer again. Jianhe's back nearly touched the wall now.
"You're clever," Minhwa said quietly. "But not clever enough."
Jianhe shook her head, her eyes beginning to redden.
"You're wrong," she whispered.
Minhwa studied her.
"At least you're strong," she added calmly.
Jianhe looked confused.
"Right now, I am truly bullying you," Minhwa continued, her tone almost clinical. "Yet there are still no tears on your face."
Silence.
Jianhe's eyes burned red instantly. Her lips trembled.
Minhwa held her gaze for a second longer. Then she stepped aside.
"Move."
Jianhe hesitated before shifting out of the way.
Minhwa walked past her. After a few steps, she paused.
Without turning around, she spoke.
"Before you left the room earlier, you said you didn't like me."
Jianhe's fingers tightened at her sides.
Minhwa's voice remained even.
"Let me tell you this."
She finally turned her head slightly.
"I don't like you either."
A brief pause.
"So stay away from me."
Then she continued down the corridor, leaving Jianhe standing there alone.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Minhwa returned to the dining hall quietly.
Most of the earlier commotion had already faded. A few girls still whispered among themselves, casting curious glances her way, but no one dared approach her.
Just as Madam had ordered, the kitchen prepared another simple meal for her.
She sat down and ate without hurry.
The rice was warm, the vegetables lightly seasoned. Nothing luxurious, but enough to fill her stomach. By the time she finished, the hall had grown quieter as more girls left for their classes.
Minhwa wiped her lips with a cloth, stood, and headed toward the dance hall.
Fortunately, when she arrived, she saw no sign of Jianhe, Min Ke, or Yun Luo.
The large training hall was already filled with girls younger or older than her practicing their steps. The wooden floor echoed softly with the rhythm of their movements. At the front stood three instructors, watching the students carefully.
The moment Minhwa stepped inside, one of them noticed her immediately.
He was a thin middle-aged man with narrow eyes and a long moustache that drooped slightly at the ends. His robes swayed dramatically each time he turned.
This was the head dance instructor of Hanshen Ge.
Master Du Dufu.
His name had earned him quiet amusement among the girls over the years. Some whispered that his parents must have been poets who admired great scholars too much.
Master Du Dufu tilted his head as he examined Minhwa.
"You must be the new girl Madam mentioned," he said, stroking his moustache thoughtfully.
Minhwa bowed slightly.
"Yes, Master."
He gestured toward the open floor.
"Come here. Let me see how you move."
The surrounding girls slowed their practice, curious.
Master Du clapped his hands lightly.
"Simple beginner steps," he said. "Follow me."
He demonstrated a short sequence of traditional Chinese dance movements—soft footwork, flowing arm rotations, and a graceful half-turn meant for beginners learning balance.
Minhwa watched once. Then she moved.
Her steps were light. Her posture straight.
Her sleeves flowed through the air as if the movement belonged to her body naturally.
The sequence ended perfectly.
A small murmur spread through the room.
Master Du's eyebrows lifted.
"Oh?"
He circled her slowly, studying her stance.
"You've danced before."
It wasn't a question.
Minhwa said nothing.
Master Du rubbed his chin thoughtfully before waving his hand toward the other instructors.
"Master Li Xiaoqian, Master Huang Meilin—take over the class for now."
The two instructors nodded and stepped forward to guide the rest of the students.
Meanwhile, Master Du returned his full attention to Minhwa.
"Let's test something else," he said.
He demonstrated a slightly more complicated sequence.
"Level Two."
Minhwa followed immediately.
Her feet moved lightly across the floor, each step landing exactly where it should.
Again, flawless.
Master Du's eyes brightened.
"Interesting."
He moved again.
"Level Three."
Minhwa repeated it smoothly.
"Level Four."
Still perfect.
"Level Five."
The movements became faster now, the spins sharper and the footwork more demanding.
Minhwa completed it without hesitation.
The surrounding students had completely stopped pretending to practice.
Every pair of eyes was now fixed on her.
Master Du stared at her for a long moment.
Then he said quietly,
"Level Six."
This time the sequence was far more complex.
The dance required faster turns, precise foot placement, and careful balance.
Minhwa followed.
Her steps remained graceful.
But near the final turn, her foot landed a fraction too early.
And during the final extension, her arm lifted just slightly off rhythm.
The mistakes were small.
Almost invisible.
But Master Du noticed. He nodded slowly.
"Enough."
Minhwa stopped.
Master Du folded his arms behind his back.
"For your first day, that was more than impressive."
He studied her posture once more before announcing calmly,
"You will begin in Level Six."
The girls around the hall gasped softly.
But Master Du seemed completely certain.
"You have the foundation of someone who has danced for years," he said. "Follow me "
Minhwa bowed slightly.
"Yes, Master."
.
.
.
.
.
Minhwa followed behind Master Du Dufu as he led her across the training hall.
The girls practicing at the lower levels watched her with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. Starting directly at Level Six , and so young was rare. Very rare.
Master Du walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his long moustache swaying slightly with each step.
"The Level Six to Level Ten class trains in the inner hall," he said as they walked. "The movements are more complex. Balance, flexibility, and control are essential."
Minhwa simply nodded.
They passed through a side doorway that led deeper into the compound. The distant rhythm of practice drums echoed faintly from the larger training courtyard ahead.
Neither of them noticed the pair of eyes that had just been watching from above.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Forty minutes earlier.
A carriage rolled to a quiet stop in front of Hanshen Ge. The horses snorted softly as the driver pulled the reins.
The door opened.
A woman stepped down.
Her robes were elegant but not overly extravagant, the kind worn by someone whose authority did not need to be announced with jewels.
It was the Queen.
A young boy no less than twelve stood beside her in silence. His robes were embroidered with subtle golden dragons.
The Crown Prince.
Their arrival had not been announced beforehand. There were no attendants, no ceremonial guards lining the gates.
Only one of the Hanshen Ge guards noticed them.
The man immediately hurried forward and dropped to one knee.
"Greetings—"
The Queen raised a hand calmly.
"You may rise."
The guard stood quickly, clearly flustered.
"I will inform Madam at once—"
He turned to rush inside.
"Stop."
The Queen's voice was gentle but carried unmistakable authority.
"There is no need to announce our arrival."
The guard froze and turned back.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
She stepped past him and entered the compound. The guard quickly moved ahead to guide the way.
But after only a few steps, he realized something.
The Queen was already walking toward Madam's office.
Without asking. Without hesitation.
She moved through the familiar corridors of Hanshen Ge as if she had walked them many times before.
The guard silently followed, now acting more as an escort than a guide.
Soon they arrived outside Madam's office.
The Queen stopped.
For a brief moment, she looked at the door quietly. Then she turned to the guard.
"Take care of the prince while I speak with Di ah."
The guard bowed.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Queen gently pushed the door open and entered without knocking.
The door clicked softly behind her.
The guard straightened and looked down at the boy beside him.
"If Your Highness would like, I can show you the back garden while we wait."
The Crown Prince nodded absentmindedly.
The two of them began walking along the wooden corridor that overlooked the training courtyard below.
The sounds of dancing drifted upward—soft footsteps against wood, the rustle of silk sleeves, the occasional clap of a teacher correcting posture.
Halfway down the corridor, the prince suddenly stopped.
The guard halted as well, confused.
"Your Highness?"
The prince didn't answer. He was looking down.
The guard followed his gaze.
Below them, in the training hall, the students were practicing under the supervision of Master Du Dufu.
One girl stood at the center of the floor. She moved.
The guard assumed the prince had simply become curious about the dance practice.
But the prince stepped closer to the railing.
Leaning forward slightly. Watching.
If anyone had asked him later what he saw in that moment—
He would have said he saw an angel.
The girl spun gracefully across the wooden floor. Her sleeves flowed like drifting clouds.
The colors of her clothes twirled with every movement, catching the sunlight that streamed through the open windows.
For that brief moment, it felt as if the entire world had gone silent.
As if everything existed only to frame that single dance.
The prince's gaze did not move. Everything else faded from his view.
The other dancers. The teachers. Even the guard standing beside him.
All of it disappeared.
There was only her.
And the strange, unfamiliar feeling in his chest as his heart began beating faster.
He didn't know how long he had been standing there.
His quiet trance ended when Master Du Dufu suddenly approached the girl and spoke to her.
A moment later, the teacher began leading her out of the training hall.
The prince straightened slightly.
His eyes followed her until she disappeared from sight.
Then he turned toward the guard.
"Who is that?"
The guard glanced down at the hall.
Thinking the prince meant the instructor, he replied immediately.
"That is the dance teacher, Master Du Dufu."
The prince frowned.
"No," he said with slight frustration. "I'm not asking about that old man."
He looked back toward the direction where the girl had disappeared.
"I'm asking about the young girl who was dancing."
The guard blinked.
"Oh. Her."
He scratched the side of his head awkwardly.
"I don't know, Your Highness. I've never seen her before. She seems new."
The prince was silent for a moment. Then he looked once more toward the training hall.
Something had quietly begun forming in his young heart.
And so began the journey to find the girl who had captured his gaze.
And perhaps, one day— His heart.