...
Just as they had satisfied their ears, someone's eyes got greedy, shouting, "What's that? Our Brother Ning is all-around talented."
"Exactly! And he's an even better dancer!"
Ning Ci had just put down the microphone, thinking, "Are these people never satisfied?"
Dance... Cheng Buxi was slightly stunned.
"Dance! Dance!"
Someone started the chant, and soon everyone joined in.
The lights were dim and seductive. He was pushed to center stage, completely worn down by his friends. He figured, why not? He might as well go all out.
Since he was already on stage, he didn't let his brothers down nor show any fear. He went for it.
The DJ music was explosive, full of magnetic, addictive beats. He seemed to have learned some street dance or jazz before; this kind of boy band dance was a piece of cake for him. And true to someone who had been playing ball since childhood, he had excellent control over his body. His moves were indescribably relaxed, bold, and thrilling.
He was still wearing the same clothes from the evening: a black hoodie. When he danced, he pulled up the hood, his wild, soft black hair peeking out from the brim, half-covered his face, leaving only a pair of untamed eyes lazily sweeping the room. His legs were long and muscular, framing his waist.
He was the spitting image of a male fox spirit.
Cheng Buxi's ears turned bright red. He was dancing right in front of her—such a big space, but he had to stand right before her. She wondered if he was doing it on purpose.
"Brother Ning! Brother Ning! Brother Ning!"
"Red beans grow in the south; Brother Ning is a male model!"
"Who's a male model?"
Haozi shouted, "You are!!!"
Ning Ci didn't let it slide: "Say that again and I'll throw you out."
"Don't, don't!!!! I'm telling the truth! Who's lying?! Am I wrong?! You guys, say something?!"
The whole room ignored him. Haozi was about to cry from frustration.
Cheng Buxi hadn't drunk much water all night. Now her mouth was dry, so she picked up the sparkling water in front of her and gulped down several mouthfuls.
The next second, a shadow fell over her—Ning Ci.
He had finished dancing and came back to sit beside her. He reached out and naturally took her nearly empty cup, his gesture somewhat domineering.
Placing the cup back on the coffee table, his expression was indescribably focused and possessive, with a hint of reproach and dissatisfaction: "Drinking so much?"
"And it's iced."
"Are you still uncomfortable?"
Cheng Buxi timidly looked up, meeting his gaze. She couldn't help but recall his dance just now.
If he was a male model, he'd be the top one in the troupe, costing at least five figures per booking? Hmm... probably even more.
She was startled by her own thoughts, realizing how improper they were. If she dared to hire a male model, her brother would surely chop off her hands and feet. Just the thought sent cold sweat trickling down.
She was, after all, a young girl with thin skin. Just as she was about to nod, she shook her head instead.
Ning Ci didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He had no idea what to do with her, half fake-annoyed, half secretly amused, a low chuckle escaping his throat: "What's with you."
Then he plopped down beside her, pressed right up against her.
"It's too cold. Don't drink that. I asked for room-temperature drinks," he said.
So that was why he kept checking his phone—was he asking the owner to send room-temperature drinks? Cheng Buxi was slightly surprised.
"At dinner, you said you should avoid cold stuff lately. In just this short time, while I wasn't here, you drank so much iced water. Not allowed."
He was a nag, always worrying.
Cheng Buxi mumbled, "You sound just like my brother..."
Ning Ci laughed, asking, "What?"
Cheng Buxi guiltily stared at the big screen, avoiding his eyes: "No, nothing."