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Join the ServerAdrian took Xu Zhou’s fingers, which were reddened from too much effort, as the grand piano at the far end of the hall played a slow waltz.
Leather shoes made faint scraping sounds on the highly polished oak floor.
Xu Zhou let Adrian pull him half a step to the side.
Adrian’s warm, dry fingertips rested lightly against the back of his hand, with perfect tact.
It was neither rude nor intrusive, and it just as neatly cut off the line of sight between Ethan and Gu Yanli.
“Don’t tense up.” Adrian looked down at his shoe tips. “That last step wasn’t your fault.”
Ethan lifted his gaze.
Adrian didn’t look at him. Instead, he adjusted Xu Zhou’s stance.
“He led too fast.”
Ethan stood still, a clear white crease pressed into the blue register cover by his long fingers.
He raised his eyes to Adrian, his voice devoid of warmth.
“Adrian, rehearsal time is limited.”
“Then all the more reason not to rush.”
Adrian smiled.
“If you hurry, he’ll only step on you.”
Xu Zhou: “…”
That was a tactful way of putting it.
Joey crouched behind the back-row bench, the cold light of his phone screen illuminating most of his face.
He typed rapidly on his phone, and clearly, the red urgent posts on the anonymous wall were refreshing at ten per second.
Adrian stepped back half a step.
“Left foot.”
Xu Zhou obeyed.
“Slower.”
Xu Zhou was half a beat slow.
Adrian turned him at an angle, not really touching his back, only using his wrist to block when he started to lean off.
The practice sounds in the hall gradually resumed.
But some people still glanced over.
Those looks weren’t offensive, just landed briefly and moved away.
People at St. Lester’s even observed etiquette when watching a spectacle.
Ethan spoke. “Adrian.”
Adrian stopped with Xu Zhou.
“President?”
“Go back to your position.”
Adrian looked at Xu Zhou, not letting go right away.
“Continue, or go back?”
Joey buried his face behind his phone at the edge of the bench.
Xu Zhou pulled his hand out of Adrian’s warm palm and slowly smoothed the wrinkles on his sleeve.
“Can I go sit in the back for a while?”
He looked at them, his eyes showing genuine annoyance.
“If we keep practicing, the forum server might crash tonight.”
The hall fell silent for three seconds.
Adrian looked at his now-empty palm, stepped back half a step first, and laughed.
“You’re right. Let’s take a break.”
Ethan glanced at him.
Adrian pretended not to see.
Xu Zhou turned and walked toward the back-row bench.
Joey immediately slid over, leaving half a seat for him.
“You’re actually sitting?” Joey whispered.
Xu Zhou sat down. “I’m observing.”
Joey looked at him.
“You observe like you’re planning to transfer schools.”
Xu Zhou didn’t respond.
He shoved the hand Adrian had held into his pocket.
His fingertips touched the edge of his phone; it was cold.
Up ahead, Ethan was watching him.
Two seconds later, Ethan turned.
“Regroup.”
The student council member beside him was stunned.
“Now?”
“Now.”
“But the list was already locked once.”
Ethan didn’t speak, just looked at him.
The student council member clutched the tablet and immediately lowered his head to make changes.
Joey slowly turned his head.
“Did he just rearrange the pairings for you?”
Xu Zhou: “That was for rehearsal efficiency.”
“Do you dare say that again while looking me in the eye?”
“I don’t dare.”
Joey: “…”
The rehearsal list on the big screen refreshed.
The first line remained unchanged.
Cecil Xu / Xu Zhou paired with Ethan Hawthorne / Ethan Hawthorne
Joey had just let out a sigh of relief when a note column popped up afterward.
Practice Rotation: Adrian Sinclair / Adrian Sinclair
Joey’s breath caught.
“…It’s over.”
Xu Zhou saw it too.
He sat up a little straighter.
Ethan stood in front of the screen, his expression blank.
Adrian looked up, saw his name, and raised an eyebrow.
Gu Yanli also looked over.
Bai Qi stood beside him, his smile fading slightly.
Someone in the formation spoke in a hushed voice.
“Adrian is rotating in too?”
“Who added him?”
“The president, probably.”
“Didn’t he just tell him to go back?”
Joey handed his phone to Xu Zhou.
The anonymous wall had refreshed.
[Rose Hall rehearsal scene: Adrian added to Xu Zhou’s rotation.]
[Did Ethan add him?]
[Didn’t Gu Yanli speak up just now?]
[With Bai Qi and Gu Yanli in the middle, Xu Zhou has three people around him.]
[Who made this year’s ball list? Come out and take the blame.]
Xu Zhou handed the phone back.
“You type fast.”
Joey: “Can you have a normal reaction for once?”
“No.”
Bai Qi stood alone in the center of the dance floor.
He stared at the big screen.
The third round was originally free practice, and his schedule printed clearly:
[Round 3: Clarence Bai / Bai Qi paired with D.Gu / Gu Yanli]
But now, under everyone’s gaze, that line had been crossed out by an automatically refreshed black horizontal line.
The system didn’t delete it; it drew a black line through it to invalidate it.
Immediately after, a green-background confirmation line refreshed below:
[Round 3: Cecil Xu / Xu Zhou paired with D.Gu / Gu Yanli]
“Wasn’t the third round Bai Qi’s?”
A girl nearby whispered, her tone tinged with incredulous sympathy.
Bai Qi clenched his teeth so hard his eyes were red, but he still forced his usual gentle, composed expression.
He watched Gu Yanli close the process manual in his hand and walk step by step toward the back-row bench, the sound of his leather shoes on the floor steady and ruthless.
Gu Yanli didn’t look back at him.
Bai Qi folded the manual in his hand into a quarter of its size, the paper edge pressing into his nail beds, leaving deep white marks.
He stood on the dance floor, an old ornament the rules had legitimately cast aside.
Gu Yanli stopped in front of Xu Zhou’s bench and slapped a signed discipline office special-approval document onto Ethan’s podium, the red stamp glaring.
He bent down slightly, extended a long, clean right hand to Xu Zhou, and his voice was low.
“Third round.”
He looked at Xu Zhou, his dark eyes churning with a cold but intensely controlling light.
“I’ll take it.”
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