Woman In Irish Linen Shirt

Chapter 107:

"Oh, Kexin! It's an honor to meet you." I haven't had time to digest the huge amount of information in her words, "may I know which ‘Ong’ it is?"

"Well, ‘Weng’." She drew her hand in the air twice, and switched to Mandarin, "It’s not the king, it’s Weng. A ‘male’ and a ‘feather’, the male of the company, the feather of feathers."

I heard that I was a Singaporean, so I smiled and nodded, still speaking English: "Now I know. Weng Kexin."

She shrugged her shoulders. She has a brilliant smile, I thought, and she has a darker complexion, maybe she really likes surfing or something.

"You learn from Sonia? Is she very good?"

Weng Kexin supported her chin and groaned for several seconds before saying, "She is very powerful."

"but?"

"But," she glanced toward the center of the classroom, "Sonia is not the most powerful person in this room."

Hearing what she said, I couldn't help but look at Peter: Is he so good?

Of course, in my eyes, I can't tell how good a dancer is. I just think Peter is very powerful. They are still warming up at the moment, but his hip exercises can also be done like a locomotive's engine mechanical transmission, which changes naturally up and down, left and right, which makes people feel right. , And don’t know how he did it.

The two high school students are still dancing. Miss Pan De may be moving her legs or ankles, but I don’t quite understand why she does it while standing on high heels, and it takes several minutes to do it. There is no beauty at all, but I can see it. Lost God: In her eyes, there is nothing else.

"What is Sonia doing for practice?" I asked the person next to her, "I know her feet..."

"Yes." Weng Kexin took a breath. "Because she always concentrates on practicing for a long time a day. If she doesn't do enough activities beforehand, the injured area can easily induce inflammation. You heard her say that she was injured. Thing?"

"She said she was on the way to the show?"

"That's it. I don't know whether to practice before the game or the formal performance," Weng Kexin wrinkled her nose, "I was quite young back then—"

"Um, sorry?" I interrupted her, "You are also very young now."

She doesn't seem to be twenty years old at all.

"Okay." Weng Kexin spread his hands, obviously knowing what I care about, "Of course you are also very young!"

"Thank you!" I never refuse others to praise me for being young.

"But you are indeed very different from what I imagined." She went on, "You know, when I listen to them talking about you..."

I nodded calmly.

That’s why Miss Pande said I don’t need to introduce myself? Am I quite famous in her circle of friends?

This accidental discovery made me very... unexpected.

Of course, accidental discovery cannot constitute an accidental discovery if it is not accidental-I don't know how to say it, I just think Miss Pan De is not the kind of romantic relationship that tends to talk to friends prematurely about instability. People.

I didn't expect that she would make friends like Weng Kexin... this kind of friends.

"Because I'm so curious, I begged Peter to tell me. Then—you won't believe—" She blocked her hands in front of her, as if surrendering. "Peter described you as a very skinny , A girl with deer eyes."

Very good, I thought he was staring at a wolf, but he thought I was like a deer.

Co-authors are not people.

"I wasn't that thin at the time, right?" I frowned. "Maybe I was a little thinner by Western standards, but I would also exercise regularly at that time."

"Um..." Weng Kexin stood up, took off his coat, and slid his hand from the left side of the shoulder to the right side of the shoulder, "Or it may not be the Western standard."

Wow, her shoulder and neck lines, and her upper chest muscles with a high degree of separation, she really knows she is a professional dancer at a glance.

I slowly said, "Now I understand what you mean. Okay, I'm just skinny."

"Don't say that." Weng Kexin smiled and shook her head. "He is a dance mad, but the world needs multiple beauty."

The warm-up seemed to be over. Peter waved to his two students and walked over and said, "Can you beat her for a while? Then prepare to warm up. I will end it in half an hour."

"Okay." Weng Kexin put down her coat and said to me, "I will come to you later, and we will continue to talk."

I waved to her.

Several people started practicing. The strange thing is that when the warm-up was over and the training officially started, they stopped playing music. Peter whispered the "one or two" command and brought two high school students with their hips twisted, his hands on his chest, as if he was driving a cow. From time to time, I snap my fingers—beautiful is beautiful, that is, it's not the same as I imagined.

It seems that people still can't believe their imagination too much.

Miss Pande was a little... beyond imagination.

She put her hands on the wall, her face facing the wall, and she danced solo. Because there is no music, I can't guess the theme of this dance, maybe there is no theme at all, or maybe the theme is solo dance against the wall.

Because she deviated from the audience, her posture lost the scrutiny of others, her back and forth, her stumbling together, defined by herself, and calibrated by herself.

Only her legs seemed to dance. The high heels are no longer eye-catching. They are still dazzling, but they have become part of a larger whole, the tip of the knife under the precise control of Miss Pan De. She dives, floats, rises up in waves, and occasionally expands her territory to the left and right like a spider, occasionally dripping past like a dragonfly.

But it's not just the legs. Both hands and the entire upper body were clearly restricted to the wall, but there was no doubt that something was dancing with her. Is it the crotch relationship? I can't see clearly. Sometimes I feel that the beat outside the field of vision is in control of the overall situation, but because her changes are all on the spot, sometimes I feel that she is catering to the rhythm.

The generous T-shirt wanted to cover up, and I suddenly realized that it was her core. It is the core that controls the dance.

She is the counterattack.

I don't know how long I watched it. Miss Pan De's legs were originally very beautiful, and such dance steps simply showed her beauty too much. I watched attentively, and kept returning to my mind. I always have to exercise restraint and decent... Now that there are outsiders on my side, it is impossible for me to expose my wolfish ambitions.

It's just that a deep jealousy fills me: I'm jealous of that wall.

The beat stopped, Miss Pan De smiled gratefully at Weng Kexin, and took a small sip from the water on the ground.

Weng Kexin walked up to her: "The back of your instep—wow—that control—"

"Not so good." Miss Pan De shook her head, "I slept too little yesterday, and I haven't come back in physical condition yet."

"No!" Weng Kexin interrupted her firmly, "You have to face your strength, okay? Your control of the instep is perfect!"

Peter didn't turn his head back: "Practice again." After speaking, he snapped his fingers again, "One or two..."

When Miss Pan De heard the sound, she immediately put down the water, walked to the wall, and looked back at Weng Kexin.

The beat rang occasionally again, and the whole process lasted about fifteen minutes.

Peter: "Do it again. Waist."

His teaching here has come to an end. After talking to the two students, they went out again with things in their hands. The movements were very brisk, and it didn't feel like the end of get out of class was coming. Maybe you went to another classroom or something? At this moment, there are only three and five of us left in the entire classroom.

I feel that I may not even count as "point five". As Miss Pan De said before, since they all entered the state, my sense of existence may not be as good as the air.

Peter took over Weng Kexin's job midway, and she had already warmed up nearby. Her warm-up movements are very simple, neither dancing nor slow dancing. After holding her knees to move for a while, there are two sets of high legs. Then, she pulled the railing on the mirror side and started to do some elegant basic skills exercises, like ballet. Like an actor.

Speaking of which, Miss Pan De was born in ballet, why is her warm-up step so strange?

"Stop." Peter called to a halt. "Where is your waist?"

Miss Pan De akimbo: "Here."

Peter turned his back to me, but his expression was imaginable, because Miss Pande's face was not very good. It was the first time I saw her put on a stinky face. At this moment, I just felt novel, and I didn't think about where her waist was missing.

In my opinion, her dance is very perfect. It requires aesthetic meaning and sense of power as well. But I can't even count as a "point five", I'm afraid I can only cheer her on mentally.

No one spoke any more, and the two of them stood in a stalemate there for about two or three seconds. Miss Pan De's face was sour, she grabbed the hem of her dress and tied it above her waist.

"Give me a rhythm." Miss Pande returned to the wall.

I really saw her waist this time.

Miss Pan De's movements were much more deliberate and exaggerated than just now, and her hips were sent in a large range, so her waist showed a constant sense of stability in the changes. But this exercise didn't last long. After a while she stopped, her face still stinky: "Where is my waist?"

"I apologize." Peter was silent for a moment, "but why are you wearing such a big T-shirt?"

I couldn't help laughing.

The three of them all looked at me.

"I'm sorry." I turned my head.

Miss Pende rolled her eyes just now. I never saw her do this.

"I have to change it anyway. I want to wear this before I start to sweat a lot. I hate heat." It was Miss Pande's voice, "Is it too much action?"

"One thing. It makes it difficult for me to give you corrective advice..."

"I don't need that."

Peter was silent for a while, but he sounded confused: "Are you angry?"

Miss Pan De did not speak.

I looked over quietly, and she lowered her head and kicked the floor with her toes.

"Why?"