Chapter 28: The Firefly Beauty

The hardest favor to accept in this world is that of a beautiful person. The red-haired, freckled foreigner had never experienced such special treatment in the last twenty years as he did today. Almost at the same time, two hands reached out in front of him. One belonged to Su Ziceng, and the other to a "Black Pearl" girl. This "Black Pearl" girl had a set of charming white teeth, which were now clenched in what seemed to be a stream of English swear words aimed at Su Ziceng. "I asked first!" Su Ziceng didn’t plan on backing down, especially since she couldn’t understand the African-accented English anyway. "Sorry, I like chocolate." Su Ziceng watched mournfully as the "chocolate," whom she had assumed to be the daughter of an African tribal chief, snatched away her dance partner. The two joined the dancing crowd, moving elegantly to the rhythm. "Could I pretend to have a bout of diarrhea or become weak, or..." Su Ziceng’s mind raced with numerous thoughts. The same ideas had formed in Qiu Zhi’s mind ten days earlier. "If I can’t secure an invite from Mai Mai, I’ll just pretend..." Qiu Zhi’s small eyes quickly darted around the grand hall of Eve Hotel, looking for an excuse to find the restroom. His intentions were quite clear, which instantly infuriated Su Ziceng, a fellow woman. Strutting in her three-inch high heels, Su Ziceng blocked Qiu Zhi’s path. "What are you trying to do?" At the crucial moment, Qiu Zhi blurted out in his mother tongue, dispelling the awkwardness between them in a spark of understanding. Qiu Zhi’s expression vacillated between that of a virtuous woman being violated and a frustrated young widow, as he was almost dragged to the dance floor by Su Ziceng. Things turned out better than Su Ziceng expected; at least the plump man in front of her could dance well. She held on tightly to his sweaty hand, which was effeminate in its softness and smoothness, reminiscent of a woman’s touch. "Su Ziceng." As the music shifted from grandeur to a deep and slow tempo, their footwork gradually synchronized. The ball would need another evening to unfold fully. The dance partner in her hand had become her accessory—a tool that she must utilize wisely. Only by knowing both herself and the opponent could she emerge victorious. In the soft lighting, Su Ziceng engaged Qiu Zhi, who had been silent all along, with the most understanding tone she could muster. "Nouveau riche Su Ziceng!" To her surprise, she was rather famous. Su Ziceng pursed her lips, but the next words from the plump man ignited within her the urge to twist off his shiny white head. "My grandma said to avoid contact with vulgar nouveau riche like you. It would only lower the reputation of our Qiu Family," said the plump man, who was old enough to attend the Eve Ball, implying he was at least eighteen. Yet the words that tumbled out of his mouth were childlike, reminiscent of a six-year-old forbidden by his parents to eat sweets. "The Qiu Family?" The mention of the surname startled Su Ziceng, causing her blood to rush to her head, "The Qiu Family and the Wen family: The Two Jewels of Mo City." Mo City is a coastal city nestled between mountains and the sea, home to two historic families: the Qiu Family and the Wen Family. The relatively newer families, Su, Hang, and others, are known as The Four Talents of Mo City. The established families view the rising clans as young and vigorous but lacking in resilience and too blunt in their approach. The patriarch of the Wen family and the matriarch of the Qiu Family have both openly criticized The Four Talents of Mo City for their extravagant style and for corrupting the customs of Mo City on more than one occasion. This brief exchange had barely started when it was abruptly ended by the rising crescendo of music. Upon learning Su Ziceng’s identity, the plump Qiu Zhi decidedly played the role of a dud firecracker, saying nothing and just kept on glancing over at Wen Maixuonin on the dance floor. As the lights flickered, the dance floor filled with colorful pairs, each adding vibrance to the scene. On the dance floor, Su Ziceng and Qiu Zhi caught attention due to their awkward pairing, while another duo from Mo City, Wen Maixue and Pello, attracted interest due to their perfect match. No matter if the dance led to a trough or rose to a climax, they adjusted their steps smoothly, making time seem to stand still within their dance, as everyone’s gaze unconsciously lingered on that pair of figures. Wen Maixue couldn’t help but notice the pair of eyes that kept hovering within her field of vision; she feigned indifference, focusing intently on the man before her. Every move Pello made was just right, his dance steps as orderly as a computer-programmed sequence, and he responded to her deliberate conversation with polished courtesy. Maixue’s hand was still in Pello’s grasp, his grip firm yet gentle, seemingly in full control while also giving the impression that he might let go at any moment. Wen Maixue still remembered when she first met Pello; he was just a poor student in others’ eyes, yet his gaze lacked any trace of humility. She wasn’t wrong about him; whether on the dance floor or during the kidnapping that changed both their fates, Pello always responded swiftly, effectively vanquishing his opponents. And that lake-green brooch, all of these were enough to capture the heart of this immensely proud young woman. "Pello, did you really want to accompany me to this ball?" Wen Maixue rested her head on Pello’s shoulder, and in the slowly dimming lights, she wanted nothing more than to fully indulge herself. This was her very own eighteenth birthday celebration. By her side, she had the most outstanding dance partner; everything she had must be the most dazzling. Without waiting for Pello’s answer, a wave of gasps suddenly filled the surroundings, as if a drop of water had just splashed into a sizzling oil pan. The dance floor, left with only colorful lights, now had a graceful figure added to it, like a Moonlit Beauty suddenly awakened in the night—numerous roses swayed gently, their firefly-like brilliance etched in everyone’s eyes. Su Ziceng was about to enjoy the astonished expressions of those around her when she heard exclamations: "Your... your dress is glowing, like a golden beetle, no, like a firefly." The disruptive "drop of water" retorted, "Shut up, or I’ll chew on your hand as if it’s a pig’s trotter." That thing only glows at the rear, okay? Qiu Zhi’s words took away Su Ziceng’s good mood entirely; he was such an uncultured fellow. Su Ziceng had forgotten that when she first saw clothing that could glow, she too had the expression of a heart attack. Sister Mu’s creativity was first-class; the "Angel’s Broken Wings" she designed for Su Ziceng not only utilized the intricate double-sided embroidery stitches from Z country, showcasing the exquisite craftsmanship of East classical embroidery to everyone present and the whole world, but also boldly incorporated the latest international fabric lighting technology. Naturally, fabric cannot glow; the secret lay in the over one hundred roses Sister Mu had adorned with a tiny battery capable of powering them for hours, thus creating an astonishing effect on the dance floor. The envious gazes of the other girls made the sparkling dance floor lights seem hotter. Su Ziceng laughed heartily. Shee had to thank Sister Mu for making her eighteenth birthday so spectacular. The next moment, however, Su Ziceng noticed a flicker of disappointment on Qiu Zhi’s face; his gaze dimmed amid Wen Maixue’s repeated indifference and the twirls of her dance steps. She had forgotten that Qiu Zhi was also only eighteen, and this coming-of-age celebration should belong to him as well.