The day after they went public with their relationship, Dong Enze returned to the dance company according to his original schedule.
At seven thirty in the morning, the car arranged by the hotel was already waiting in the underground passage.
The night before, the dance company's administrative department and Weiran's company had repeatedly reminded them to avoid entering or leaving through public entrances alone whenever possible. The hotel had also tightened visitor controls on the long-term guest floors. Even food-delivery workers weren't allowed to go directly upstairs; every meal had to be confirmed first by a dedicated butler.
Enze wasn't used to arrangements like these.
He had been interviewed by the media before because of the dance company's tours and productions. After becoming principal dancer, his opportunities to appear in public had only increased. Before and after performances, he could stand in front of a row of cameras and clearly explain the concept behind a production and the training process, even answering overseas reporters' questions in foreign languages on the spot.
But that was work.
He knew the boundaries of every question, and he knew what he was supposed to say on behalf of the dance company.
Now the media weren't interested in a new production or the overseas arts festival that was about to begin.
They wanted to know when he and Xu Weiran had started liking each other, how long they had been dating, whether they had already bought a home together. Some people had even compiled tables of the times the two of them entered and left the hotel, trying to determine what time they returned to their room together every day.
This was no longer an interview he was familiar with.
Even less was it the kind of thing he could answer by following materials prepared by the dance company.
Enze had lain in bed for a long time the night before, reading the news.
Once the initial absurdity and bewilderment had passed, all that remained was an exhaustion he couldn't quite put into words.
He didn't regret going public.
But it wasn't until he actually left the hotel that he realized going public didn't mean the matter was over. On the contrary, the statement was merely the starting point for turning outsiders' speculation into even more questions.
As the car drove out of the hotel's underground passage, Enze instinctively glanced back.
There really were two unfamiliar cars parked outside the exit.
The cameras followed through the car windows, only gradually disappearing behind them after the car turned onto the main road.
Weiran had left earlier that morning.
Before leaving, he had stood by the entryway and checked Enze's schedule three times.
“Text me when you get to the dance company.”
“Got it.”
“Don't leave through the front door alone.”
“Got it.”
“If there are reporters outside, let the administrative staff handle it.”
“I know, I know.”
Enze was starting to feel helpless from all the nagging. As he bent down to put on his shoes, he glanced back at him.
“You weren't this long-winded before.”
Weiran stood behind him, his expression calm.
“Before, no one was waiting to corner you.”
“I won't go anywhere with them.”
“Don't go out alone anyway.”
“Mm-hmm.”
After putting on his shoes, Enze stood and reached over to straighten Weiran's coat collar.
“You too.”
“What?”
“Don't face the reporters alone.”
“I have people from my company.”
“I have people from the dance company too.”
Weiran looked at him.
Enze immediately added, “I'll call you if anything happens.”
Only after hearing that did Weiran stop giving instructions.
“Text me when you get there.”
“Got it.”
Enze kissed him on the lips, then quickly opened the door and walked out before Weiran could react.
Now, sitting in the car, he remembered Weiran's slightly stunned expression and couldn't help the corners of his mouth lifting again.
The dance company's driver in the front seat saw it in the rearview mirror but didn't ask. He simply drove onto the road leading to the dance company.
When the car arrived at the dance company, it didn't enter through the usual front entrance.
An administrator had called ahead and instructed the driver to head directly to the rear entrance for work vehicles. The underground loading area was normally opened only when sets, lighting equipment, or large costumes needed to be moved. The entrance was narrow and concealed, and few outsiders knew about it.
Enze thought this would let him avoid the reporters.
He hadn't expected the dance company's administrative assistant to hurry over as soon as the car stopped.
“There are a lot of people outside.”
Enze paused halfway out of the car.
“Reporters?”
“Mm-hmm. More than a dozen at the front entrance, people at the side entrance too, and a few across the street at a coffee shop.”
“How did they know I'd be here today?”
The assistant wore an exasperated expression.
“The rehearsal period for the new production isn't a secret. After yesterday's statement was released, someone found out that today was your first return to the dance company since going public.”
Enze frowned.
“Has this affected anyone else's ability to get in and out?”
“Several company members were stopped and questioned this morning. Someone even followed a staff member into the lobby. Security escorted them out, but there have been people waiting at the front entrance ever since.”
When he heard that someone had already entered the dance company, the last bit of ease vanished from Enze's face.
He wasn't the only person here.
The dance company rehearsed different productions simultaneously every day. There were also administrators, costume designers, orchestras, and outside creators invited in for work. None of these people should have to be stopped because of his private life, much less questioned about something that had nothing to do with them while they were at work.
“Where's the director?”
“He's in a meeting with public relations. He told you to go upstairs first and not enter the lobby.”
Enze nodded and slung his rehearsal bag over his shoulder.
He followed the service corridor into the building and took the freight elevator directly to the rehearsal floor.
When the elevator doors opened, familiar music and footsteps drifted from the other end of the corridor. Some people had already begun warming up in the rehearsal room, while others clustered by the windows, secretly peering downstairs through the gaps in the blinds.
The vice-captain spotted Enze first.
“You're here?”
Enze gave a low Mm-hmm and set down his bag.
“What does it look like outside?”
“A lot of people.”
“They were questioning us when we came in this morning,” one company member said, stretching on the floor, his voice still full of disbelief. “I told them I was just your coworker, and they asked if I'd known for a long time.”
Someone else immediately chimed in. “Someone asked if Producer Xu often came to pick Enze up.”
The vice-captain looked at Enze.
“I said yes.”
“Why did you say that?”
“Because it's true.”
“What else did they ask?”
“They asked how long you two had been dating, where you lived, what district the new house was in, and whether we'd ever seen you two being intimate at the dance company.”
Enze's brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” The vice-captain's joking expression disappeared. “The administrative department told us yesterday not to accept interviews privately.”
The captain emerged from the equipment room with the notes for today's rehearsal in hand.
“Forget about outside for now. Public relations will handle it.”
He glanced at the time.
“We start in ten minutes.”
Enze nodded.
He knew he shouldn't let his private emotions affect his work.
The new production was scheduled to premiere in two months, and this week was the first full-company rehearsal. He was responsible not only for the main dance sections but also for part of the choreography. Today they had to confirm the formations and layering for the ensemble. They couldn't cancel just because there were a few extra cameras outside.
Enze changed into rehearsal clothes and stood in front of the mirror.
Once the music started, he quickly entered work mode.
The first section began with all twelve dancers moving at once. Their bodies slowly tilted to one side with the low strings, then split into three groups when the beat changed. Enze stood at the front of the line and led everyone through the entire sequence once.
“Stop.”
The music cut off.
He walked to the two company members in the back row and adjusted their positions.
“This isn't everyone moving backward together. The right side retreats half a beat first, then the left follows. That's what gives the image a sense of tension.”
He demonstrated it himself.
“Don't let the shoulders move first. Start the force from your waist.”
The two dancers followed him through it once.
Enze stared at the image in the mirror.
“Slower.”
The second attempt was clearer than the first.
“Good. Move on to the next section.”
The music started again.
Before long, the rehearsal room held nothing but breathing, feet striking the floor, and the rustle of fabric.
Enze had thought he could simply ignore the reporters outside.
That was until the first section ended and a sudden commotion came from the hallway.
Someone shouted his name.
Even through the rehearsal room's heavy door, the voice came through clearly.
“Mr. Dong Enze! Could you answer a few questions?”
Everyone stopped moving at once.
The music was still playing.
The captain immediately went to turn it off.
The rehearsal room fell silent, making the voices outside even clearer.
“When did you and Mr. Xu Weiran start dating?”
“Was going public part of the promotion for the new production?”
“Have the two of you been living together for six years?”
“Did Mr. Xu Weiran pay for your shared residence by himself?”
The questions came one after another.
Then came security ordering them to leave, along with the faint, continuous clicking of camera shutters through the door.
Enze stood in the center of the rehearsal room, his chest still rising and falling from the movement.
Sweat slid from his temple to his jaw.
His expression, however, grew darker by the second.
“How did they get upstairs?” the vice-captain asked.
The captain had already taken out his phone to contact the administrative department.
Soon, security escorted the reporters away.
The hallway grew quiet again.
But the focused atmosphere in the rehearsal room had been completely broken.
The younger company members looked uneasily toward the door, while others picked up their phones from beside the wall to check whether new reports had appeared.
Enze stood where he was, suppressing the irritation building inside him.
It wasn't as though he had never faced the media.
During tours, people often waited by the stage exits. When a production won an award or became embroiled in controversy, reporters followed them to airports and the dance company's entrance. Enze knew how to remain polite, and he knew how to stay silent when it wasn't appropriate to answer.
But at least those questions had been related to work.
He could represent himself, and he could represent the dance company.
Now he had no idea how a simple answer would be written up.
If he said their relationship was going well, the media might continue pressing for more private details.
If he refused to respond, people would interpret it as a sign that their relationship had changed after going public.
More importantly, this was the rehearsal room.
They hadn't interrupted only Enze's time.
The entire dance company's rehearsal had been forced to stop.
“Public relations said they'll assign more security,” the captain said after ending the call. “Those people followed an outside costume assistant inside. They weren't registered.”
Enze raised a hand and wiped the sweat from his jaw.
“Were the other rehearsal rooms affected too?”
“The second floor is fine. It's more obvious on our floor.”
“Are there any outside people coming in today?”
“The stage design team is coming this afternoon.”
Enze fell silent.
Even if the reporters were kept downstairs, they would still stop anyone who might be connected to him. Today it was company members. This afternoon it might be designers. Tomorrow it could be completely uninformed visitors.
He didn't want the dance company to keep dealing with this trouble on his behalf.
The captain walked over to him.
“Take a break first.”
“I'm fine.”
“You don't look fine.”
Enze looked at himself in the mirror.
His brow was deeply furrowed, his lips pressed into a straight line. This wasn't the seriousness he wore when rehearsal wasn't going well. It was obvious irritation, already affecting him.
He took a deep breath and turned to the others.
“You guys rehearse first. I'm going to make a call.”
The vice-captain asked, “To public relations?”
“No.”
Enze picked up his phone from beside the wall and left the rehearsal room.
He didn't head toward the lobby. Instead, he followed the safety corridor to the stairwell. Once the heavy fire door closed, the rehearsal music and hallway noise were cut off together, and the area finally grew quiet.
There were no windows in the stairwell.
The white fluorescent lights made the walls look cold, and the air carried a faint smell of disinfectant.
Enze sat down on the stairs and opened his contacts.
He didn't contact the dance company's public-relations team first, nor did he call the director.
It wasn't because he didn't trust them.
It was simply that over the past six years, whenever he truly encountered something he didn't know how to handle, the first person he thought of had always been Xu Weiran.
When work wasn't going well, it was Weiran.
When he was injured during a performance, it was Weiran.
Even when he'd mistakenly thought Weiran was going to move out, he'd instinctively waited for him to come downstairs and take him home after getting drunk.
Enze pressed the call button.
The phone was answered after two rings.
Weiran's end was quiet, apart from the occasional click of a mouse.
“You're there?”
His first sentence was still checking Enze's schedule.
Hearing the familiar voice, Enze's tense shoulders relaxed slightly without him realizing it.
“I'm here.”
“Why didn't you text me?”
“I forgot.”
There was half a second of silence on the other end.
“You only remembered now?”
“No.”
Enze looked down at the toes of his shoes, his fingers absently picking at the edge of the step.
“Weiran... There are a lot of reporters outside. What do I do?”
His voice was lower than he'd expected.
“What should I say? They're affecting rehearsal.”
Weiran quickly realized the problem wasn't simply that there were people outside.
“They got inside the dance company?”
“Someone just came to the rehearsal room.”
“What about security?”
“They've taken them away, but there are still a lot outside. They've also been questioning the other company members, and this morning they followed staff into the lobby.”
Weiran paused for a moment.
“Where are you now?”
“In the stairwell.”
“Alone?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Does public relations know?”
“They know. They said they'll handle it, and they've added security.”
“Then did you call me because you want to go out and answer them?”
Enze didn't answer right away.
He wasn't sure himself.
The situation outside had already affected rehearsal. If he never appeared, the reporters might continue blocking the way. But if he actually went out there, he had no idea how much he should say.
“I want them to leave,” he said at last.
“They won't leave because you answer one question.”
“Then what do I do?”
“Don't go out yet.”
There was no hesitation in Weiran's voice.
“But there are so many of them outside.”
“That's for security and public relations to handle.”
“They're questioning the company members too.”
“That's even more reason you shouldn't respond privately.”
Weiran temporarily stopped the work in front of him.
“If you go out now, they'll only ask more. They get one answer today, then they'll block you again tomorrow.”
Enze knew he was right.
But the disrupted rehearsal and the uneasy looks from the company members still weighed on him.
“But this is because of me.”
“No.”
“How is it not?”
“They're the ones following you, and they're the ones who broke into the dance company.”
Weiran's tone turned slightly heavier.
“You going public doesn't mean you agreed to let anyone enter the rehearsal space and disrupt work.”
Enze leaned against the wall behind him.
The fluorescent light overhead gave off a faint electrical hum.
“Then what should I say?”
“If public relations arranges for you to respond, say only three things.”
“What three things?”
“First, the statement hasn't changed. We're in a relationship.”
Enze listened quietly.
“Second, our relationship is private, and we won't answer any more questions about the details.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Third, this is the dance company's workplace. Please don't affect the other company members or the rehearsal of the production.”
Weiran paused.
“Say it and leave. Don't answer follow-up questions.”
“What if they ask about the house?”
“Don't answer.”
“What if they ask how long we've been dating?”
“The statement already addressed it.”
“It didn't say how long.”
“Then they don't need to know.”
“What if they ask who confessed first?”
There was silence on the other end for two seconds.
“You want to tell them?”
Enze answered immediately. “No.”
“Then don't answer.”
“But would refusing to answer be rude?”
“The people who broke into the rehearsal room are the rude ones.”
Enze froze for a moment.
The emotions that had been wound tight all morning finally loosened a little at those words.
“Are you angry?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Because they came inside?”
“Also because you tried to handle it alone again.”
Enze instinctively protested, “I called you.”
“So listen to me now.”
“Tell me.”
“Go back to the rehearsal room and wait for public relations to arrange things. If they don't arrange anything, say nothing.”
“What about the reporters?”
“I'll have my company contact the dance company. The two sides will issue a formal notice together.”
As Weiran spoke, he reopened his work phone.
“If someone breaks in again, that's not an interview. It's trespassing in a workplace. Have security document it, and call the police if necessary.”
Enze frowned slightly.
“Isn't that too serious?”
“They've already affected rehearsal.”
“But—”
“Enze.”
Weiran's voice lowered.
“Protecting your work isn't making a mountain out of a molehill.”
The stairwell fell quiet again.
Enze lowered his head and only responded after a long moment.
“Mm-hmm.”
Weiran could tell he was still somewhat unhappy.
“Still bothered?”
“Not by you.”
“I know.”
“I just want to rehearse.”
“Then go back and rehearse.”
“There are so many people outside.”
“Don't look.”
“They keep shouting my name.”
“Wear headphones.”
“How am I supposed to rehearse in headphones?”
Weiran fell silent.
Enze heard a very soft sigh from the other end.
“Are you deliberately giving me a hard time?”
“No.”
“Then have the captain turn up the music.”
Enze couldn't help laughing.
“That'll disturb the other rehearsal rooms.”
“Figure it out yourself.”
“You're the one who told me to call you.”
“I already told you what to do.”
Holding the phone, Enze finally felt the irritation with nowhere to go slowly settle.
Nothing had been resolved immediately.
The reporters were still outside, and there might be more trouble ahead.
But at least he knew he didn't have to judge every question alone. He didn't have to rush outside and face all those cameras simply because he was afraid of burdening the dance company.
“Weiran.”
“Mm?”
“Are you busy?”
“I was in a meeting.”
Enze sat up straight.
“Then why did you answer?”
“You called.”
The answer was so simple it made the question seem meaningless.
Enze's chest warmed slightly, followed by a pang of guilt for interrupting his work.
“You should go back to your meeting.”
“Wait.”
“What is it?”
“Tell me what you're going to do now.”
Enze knew he was making sure Enze wouldn't hang up and sneak outside to face the reporters.
“Go back to the rehearsal room.”
“And then?”
“Wait for public relations to handle it. Don't go out by myself.”
“Anything else?”
“If I really have to respond, I'll only say the three things you told me.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Don't answer questions about our relationship.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Enze thought for a moment, then added, “If someone breaks in, call security, and call the police if necessary.”
“That's right.”
“You sound like you're teaching a child.”
“At least a child would remember to text after arriving.”
Enze was silenced again.
“I'll remember next time.”
“See that you do.”
“What time are you coming home tonight?”
“I'm not sure yet.”
“I'll text you when rehearsal ends.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Will you come pick me up?”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Weiran seemed to be checking his schedule.
“Sure.”
Enze's mood instantly improved.
“Then I'll wait for you.”
“Don't come out through the front entrance.”
“Got it.”
“Have a staff member accompany you.”
“Got it.”
“And don't tell the reporters I'm coming.”
“Why would I tell them?”
“I'm worried they'll ask you two questions and you'll tell them everything.”
Enze frowned.
“Do you think I'm that stupid?”
“Who was it that wanted to explain the laundry in yesterday's statement?”
“That was a fact.”
“Go back to rehearsal.”
Weiran stopped arguing with him.
“Call me when you're done.”
“Okay.”
Just as the call was about to end, Enze suddenly called his name again.
“Weiran.”
“What now?”
“Thanks.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“Tell me when you get home.”
The call ended.
The screen returned to the lock screen.
The wallpaper was the first picture the two of them had taken in their old apartment. Enze was grinning as he pinched Weiran's face, while Weiran wasn't looking at the camera. He was frowning at Enze instead.
Even after the news appeared, they still hadn't made that picture public.
Like the slippers in their hotel suite, the clothes mixed together, and the hugs they shared before bed, it belonged only to them.
Enze looked at it for a few seconds, put away his phone, and stood from the stairs.
By the time he returned to the rehearsal room, everyone had already resumed practicing.
The vice-captain was leading the ensemble through its formations, while the captain stood in front of the mirror recording problems. When Enze entered, the music didn't stop immediately. Only a few gazes briefly landed on him.
Enze walked over to the captain.
“What did public relations say?”
“They're contacting Mr. Xu's company.” The captain handed him his phone. “They'll issue interview guidelines together this afternoon. If a response is needed today, the director will go out with you.”
Enze nodded.
“I won't answer alone.”
The captain gave him a look.
“Mr. Xu said that?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I knew it.”
“What does that mean?”
“Whenever you don't know what to do, you look for him, and afterward you're more normal.”
Enze instinctively touched his face.
“I wasn't normal just now?”
“You looked pissed.”
The vice-captain happened to pass by.
“Like you were about to go chase the reporters out yourself.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
Enze looked at them both.
“Are you two going to rehearse or not?”
The captain and vice-captain immediately scattered.
Enze returned to his place in front of the mirror and clapped twice.
“Start from the group positions.”
All the dancers quickly returned to their original marks.
“Right side retreats first, left side half a beat slower. Don't turn too quickly. Keep the force in your waist.”
He looked at the company member controlling the music.
“Ready.”
The music began.
This time, no shouting came from the hallway.
Even though reporters were still gathered downstairs, security guarded the heavy rehearsal-room door strictly. The sounds from outside were temporarily shut away from work, leaving only the music spreading across the floor.
Enze stood at the center of the mirror and turned his attention back to the dance.
At least inside this rehearsal room, he wasn't the person in the news photos with Weiran's arm around his waist, entering through the hotel's side entrance.
Here, at least, he was still the dance company's principal dancer and the choreographer working to complete a new production.
The mirror reflected twelve dancers moving at once.
The front row retreated as the back row crossed forward. After repeated adjustments, the initially chaotic image gradually formed the layering Enze had envisioned.
“Good.”
For the first time, he didn't call for a stop.
“Keep going.”
By one in the afternoon, the dance company and Weiran's company had formally sent a joint notice to all the media present.
The notice didn't explain their relationship again. It clearly established the boundaries for interviews.
Their statement regarding their private relationship had already been made public. Neither side would answer any further questions involving their address, financial arrangements, daily schedule, or intimate details. The dance company was a workplace for artistic work. Anyone who hadn't registered was forbidden from entering the rehearsal floors, intercepting or following unrelated company members and staff.
If anyone violated these rules again, the dance company would revoke all eligibility for formal interviews going forward and reserve the right to pursue legal action.
The reporters waiting outside didn't leave immediately after the notice was sent.
But at least no one tried to enter the building again.
At three in the afternoon, the dance company director asked Enze what he thought.
“There are still eight media outlets outside. They hope you'll say a few brief words. You can refuse, and public relations will respond on your behalf.”
Enze had just finished an intense solo. His chest was still heaving, and his black rehearsal clothes were nearly soaked through with sweat.
He took the towel offered to him and wiped his face.
“If I say something, will they leave?”
“I can't guarantee it.” The director was honest. “But we'll first require them to ask only about how work has been affected. No relationship details.”
Enze remembered what Weiran had said.
They get one answer today, then they'll block you again tomorrow.
But he didn't want to have to enter and leave through the underground passage forever, nor did he want every member of the dance company's staff to change their routes because of him.
“I can say something,” Enze answered at last. “But only once.”
The director nodded.
“Public relations will prepare first.”
The brief response was arranged in a small press area on the first floor of the dance company.
It wasn't outdoors, and the media weren't allowed to crowd around freely. Every reporter had to register again, and the cameras were restricted to the area behind a marked line.
Enze showered in the changing room first, then changed into a simple black shirt and pants.
While fixing his hair in front of the mirror, he took out his phone and texted Weiran.
—Public relations arranged for me to respond once.
Weiran replied almost immediately.
—Someone with you?
—The director and public relations are here.
—Only three things.
—Got it.
Two seconds later, another message appeared.
—Don't be nervous.
Enze stared at the four words.
He wanted to reply that he wasn't nervous.
But his fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before he honestly typed:
—A little.
Weiran replied:
—Look at public relations while you speak. Don't look at the cameras.
Enze couldn't help smiling.
—Are you treating me like this is my first interview?
—Your first time answering questions about dating.
It really was his first time.
Enze put away his phone and followed the director and public-relations staff toward the first floor.
When the door opened, the camera lights came on at the same time.
The shutter clicks merged into one continuous sound.
Even though free questioning had been prohibited in advance, someone still called his name from a distance.
“Mr. Dong Enze!”
“Can you talk about Mr. Xu Weiran?”
“When did you two start dating?”
Enze's steps faltered slightly.
The public-relations staff member beside him reminded him quietly, “You don't need to answer. Just walk to your place.”
He nodded and continued forward.
There were no chairs on the small platform.
Enze stood in front of the microphone, with the director and public-relations staff on either side. The camera lights fell across his face, colder than stage lights and even more impossible to hide from.
Public relations spoke first.
“Today, Mr. Dong Enze will briefly respond to the media's disruption of the dance company's work. No follow-up questions will be taken.”
The room gradually quieted.
Enze gripped the microphone.
He instinctively looked toward the public-relations staff member rather than at the cameras directly ahead.
“Regarding yesterday's public statement, nothing has changed. Mr. Xu Weiran and I are currently in a relationship.”
The shutter clicks immediately grew denser.
After a brief pause, Enze continued.
“We're grateful to everyone for their concern and well wishes, but our relationship is part of our private life. We won't respond to any further questions about how long we've been dating, our shared address, or other details of our daily lives.”
Someone raised a hand, apparently wanting to interrupt.
Public relations immediately gestured for everyone to remain quiet.
“The dance company is preparing a new production, and today's rehearsal has already been interrupted multiple times by interviews. The other company members and staff have nothing to do with this matter. Please don't intercept or follow them, and don't enter work areas without permission.”
Enze looked ahead.
This time, his gaze truly landed on the cameras.
“If you have questions related to the production, we'll answer them fully at the official release. But for now, please let us rehearse in peace.”
When he finished, he lowered his head slightly.
“Thank you.”
Public relations immediately announced the end of the response.
But before Enze could turn around, a reporter shouted, “Is Mr. Xu Weiran coming to pick you up today?”
The room erupted again.
Enze's footsteps paused.
The director thought he was about to answer and was preparing to stop him.
Instead, Enze merely looked back toward where the question had come from and said calmly, “That's a private schedule.”
There was no impatience in his voice, and he said nothing more.
After answering, he turned and left.
Half an hour later, the reporters gathered outside the dance company gradually dispersed.
A few remained, but they no longer stopped everyone entering or leaving. The stage design team that arrived in the afternoon could finally enter normally through the front entrance.
When Enze returned to the rehearsal room, all the company members were watching a clip from the livestream.
On the phone screen, he stood before the microphone. His final sentence—“Please let us rehearse in peace”—had already been turned into a headline by the media.
He stopped in the doorway.
“Didn't I say you had ten minutes to rest?”
Everyone looked up at once.
The vice-captain quickly put away his phone.
“Two minutes left.”
“Put your phones away.”
The youngest company member couldn't help asking, “Is Producer Xu really coming to pick you up?”
Enze looked at him.
“Do you want extra rehearsal too?”
“No.”
Everyone immediately returned to their positions.
The captain came over and patted Enze on the shoulder.
“You said that well.”
Enze lowered his head and tightened his wrist guards.
“Weiran taught me.”
“The last line too?”
“Which line?”
“That's a private schedule.”
Enze paused.
“That one was mine.”
The captain smiled.
“Getting better.”
“I used to be that bad?”
“You used to answer every question seriously.”
Enze remembered his first major press conference after becoming principal dancer. No matter how far a reporter's question strayed from the production, he had tried to give a complete answer, worried that refusing would make him seem unprofessional.
Only now was he slowly beginning to understand that being professional didn't mean having no boundaries.
Being willing to make his relationship public didn't mean the outside world was entitled to know everything.
“Let's keep rehearsing,” he said.
The captain nodded.
“Where do we start?”
Enze looked at the dancers already in position in the mirror.
“From where we were interrupted this morning.”
The music began again.
Afternoon light fell through the high windows and moved slowly across the wooden floor. Everyone adjusted their movements again and again until the full outline of the ensemble was finally settled as the sky gradually darkened.
At eight in the evening, rehearsal officially ended.
Enze sat on the floor with his back against the mirror, too exhausted to move for a moment.
The other company members gradually began gathering their things.
The vice-captain passed in front of him and nudged the toe of his shoe.
“Your boyfriend's here.”
Enze immediately lifted his head.
“How do you know?”
“Administration notified us. The car's in the underground parking lot.”
“Oh.”
His voice sounded calm, but his movements visibly sped up.
He grabbed his towel and water bottle and stuffed everything into his backpack.
The vice-captain watched from beside him.
“Could you be any more obvious?”
“What?”
“You looked half-dead a minute ago. Now you're packing faster than anyone.”
Enze zipped the bag shut.
“Because I'm going home.”
“Back to the hotel.”
“The hotel is home too.”
The vice-captain was momentarily at a loss for how to respond to such an obvious statement, then could only wave him off.
“Hurry up and go.”
Enze didn't leave through the front entrance.
He took the freight elevator back to the underground loading area, with an administrator accompanying him all the way to the parking lot. A photographer was still waiting in the distance, but with security blocking him, he could only take pictures from far away.
The familiar black car was parked in the innermost spot.
Enze opened the front passenger door.
Weiran was in the driver's seat, still wearing the dark shirt he'd worked in during the day. A cup of coffee sat on the center console, beside a bag of convenience-store food.
He looked at Enze first.
“Does your foot hurt?”
“No.”
“You're walking slowly.”
“I'm tired.”
Weiran frowned.
“How long did you rehearse?”
“All day.”
“Did you eat lunch?”
“Yes.”
“What did you eat?”
Enze paused for a second.
“Salad.”
“Just salad?”
“And chicken breast.”
Weiran's expression didn't relax.
He handed over the paper bag beside him.
“Eat first.”
Enze took it. Inside were still-warm rice balls and milk.
“How did you know I was hungry?”
“You're hungry after every rehearsal.”
Weiran reached over, pulled the seat belt across, and fastened it for him.
When they drew close, Enze no longer stiffened as he had at first. He simply raised his arms and hugged Weiran naturally.
Weiran's movements stopped.
“What is it?”
“Today was a pain.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And I'm exhausted.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“The reporters kept asking about you.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Enze buried his face against his shoulder.
“But I did what you told me.”
Weiran raised a hand and touched the back of his head.
“I saw.”
“The livestream?”
“My company sent it to me.”
“Did I sound really good at the end?”
“You did okay.”
Enze immediately lifted his head.
“Just okay?”
“What else?”
“The captain said I did great.”
“Then have the captain come pick you up.”
Enze stared at him, then suddenly laughed.
“Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“You obviously are.”
Weiran pushed him back into his seat.
“Sit properly.”
Enze didn't keep teasing him, but before Weiran pulled away, he leaned over and kissed his cheek.
A camera flash happened to flare in the distance.
Weiran turned toward the other end of the parking lot.
Security immediately moved forward to block the lens.
Enze saw it too.
“Did they get a picture?”
“Probably.”
“What do we do?”
Weiran turned back.
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
“Then there's nothing to do.”
Weiran started the car.
“Fasten your seat belt.”
Enze glanced at the already-fastened belt, then looked at him.
“You fastened it for me.”
“Then eat.”
The car slowly pulled out of the parking spot.
The reporters in the distance still held up their cameras, but no one could get any closer.
Enze opened the rice ball and took the first bite.
He suddenly felt that tomorrow's news might contain another photo.
The headline might say that Xu Weiran had personally come to pick someone up, or it might describe the two of them as intimate inside the car.
But that was no longer what mattered most to him.
Today, he had clearly stated his boundaries in front of all those cameras.
The outside world could know that he loved Xu Weiran.
But that didn't give anyone the right to break into the dance company, interrupt rehearsal, or demand that he surrender every detail of his private life.
And whenever he truly didn't know what to do, he could still call the person most familiar to him, just as he had every time over the past six years.
“Weiran.”
“Mm?”
“Will they come again tomorrow?”
“Possibly.”
“What if they interfere with rehearsal again?”
“Call security.”
Enze frowned.
“Not you?”
Weiran glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
“Call security first, then call me.”
“Oh.”
“Not satisfied?”
“No.”
Enze lowered his head and continued eating the rice ball, but the corners of his mouth slowly lifted.
The car drove out of the dance company's underground passage and merged into the city's nighttime traffic.
The lights outside the window receded one by one.
The hotel still wasn't their real new home, and there was no guarantee tomorrow would be completely peaceful.
But as long as the person beside him was still there, no media outlet needed to define the road home for him.
It was simply the end of a day's work, with Xu Weiran coming to pick Dong Enze up and take him home.
That was all.