Why did the system take my request to take photos with a cosplayer seriously?

Secondly, it cannot cause any damage to my reputation. For example, it cannot involve the release of any indecent videos or photos, to the point that I am blacklisted by the entire dance industry.

After she finished speaking, she stared at Ding Heng, waiting for his response.

Ding Heng was stunned for a moment, slightly surprised.

"Just these two points?"

"Just these two points!"

Hua Qing nodded, her tone resolute.

Ding Heng remained silent for several seconds.

During the time Hua Qing remained silent the whole way, he guessed that she must have gone through all sorts of possible scenarios in her mind.

Those disgusting, unbearable images made her scalp crawl.

After thinking for so long, I only made these two requests.

It cannot harm the body, nor can it damage the reputation.

As for the rest, those things she herself dared not even think about—she actually accepted them all?

Ding Heng leaned back in his chair, suddenly feeling a little like laughing.

It's not mockery.

It was the kind of laugh that comes after being shocked, helpless, and not knowing what to say.

In the past, when he read martial arts novels, he always found it hard to understand those characters who were almost fanatical about superior martial arts skills.

For example, Ouyang Feng, and Kumārajīva.

With their strength and status, wouldn't it be better for them to live a carefree life in a secluded corner?

Why bother vying for the title of the best in the world, and instead fighting over the Nine Yin Manual and the Six Meridian Divine Sword?

Hua Qing is a living example now.

A "dance fanatic".

The winner of the Lotus Award Gold Medal was highly sought after by the Beijing Dance Academy, and her family was also well-off.

Even if she never dances again, with her family background, looks, and resume, she can find a good husband, open a training institution, and live a peaceful and stable life.

But in order to continue dancing, she actually put herself in such a state?

Ding Heng sighed softly: "Are you sure?"

Hua Qing took a deep breath: "I'm sure!"

Ding Heng didn't say anything more and opened the car door.

"Get off the bus."

Hua Qing sat in the driver's seat, watching Ding Heng's back as he walked towards the hotel entrance.

He walked away calmly, without even glancing back at her.

Hua Qing was still trying to calm herself down, but her body didn't lie. She started sweating, her thighs went weak, and her heart was beating faster and faster.

Several seconds later, she let go of his hand, opened the car door, and followed him.

The entrance to the Chujiang Hotel is magnificent and grand, with dazzling crystal chandeliers overhead.

Hua Qing stood at the doorway, looked up, and gazed at the revolving door.

What lies beyond that door might be a strange, unknown, and unimaginable hellish world for her.

but……

Hua Qing adjusted her breathing, mustered her courage, and stepped inside.

Everything for dance!

Chapter 64: Cloud-like Hair, Flower-like Face, Golden Hairpin

Ding Heng arrived at the hotel reception: "Have all my requests been arranged?"

The receptionist smiled slightly and handed over the room key with both hands: "Everything is arranged, sir. The 27th floor, please go up."

Ding Heng took the room key and turned to look at Hua Qing.

Hua Qing stood a few steps away, her hands hanging at her sides, standing ramrod straight.

But Ding Heng could see that she was trembling slightly.

"Let's go."

He waved the room key in his hand, signaling Hua Qing to follow him, and entered the private elevator of the presidential suite.

The enclosed space, the soft lighting, and the mirrored walls reflected the figures of the two people.

Hua Qing stared at the numbers constantly changing on the elevator door.

1, 2, 3, 4...

Her heart pounded.

Each beat is faster than the last.

It was so fast it almost popped out of my throat.

"Would you like to eat something first?"

Ding Heng's voice suddenly rang out.

Hua Qing was taken aback and turned to look at him.

Ding Heng leaned against the elevator wall and said casually, "Senior, you haven't had dinner yet, have you? Do you want to grab something to eat first?"

"Need not……"

Hua Qing's voice was dry and hoarse.

Ding Heng nodded: "Okay, then let me know when you get tired and I'll have them bring it up."

tired?

Hua Qing's heart skipped a beat again.

What does "tired" mean?

Does it mean it will last a long time?

She didn't dare to think any further.

The elevator stopped on the 27th floor.

The door opened to reveal a wide corridor, at the end of which stood a heavy, double-leafed, ornately carved door.

The moment Ding Heng swiped his card and pushed open the door, Hua Qing was suddenly stunned.

It wasn't because of the luxury of the presidential suite.

Rather, it's because—

In the center of the living room, in the open space in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, stands a clothes rack.

A dance dress hung on the clothes rack.

Hua Qing seemed to be nailed to the spot, and it took her a while before she slowly walked over, step by step.

The pupils are dilating.

My breathing is becoming shallow.

It was a Tang Dynasty-style dance dress.

The color scheme is an extremely gorgeous blend of crimson and gold, and the skirt is composed of a large-sleeved blouse, a hem skirt, and a shawl, forming a standard style.

The outer layer of the long-sleeved shirt is a semi-transparent, purplish-red gauze, as thin as a cicada's wing, with gold thread embroidered with intertwined peonies along the edges. Each petal is embroidered so vividly that the gold thread shimmers with tiny sparkles in the light.

The inner skirt is a deep pomegranate red, and the embroidery on the chest is the most intricate, with large blooming peonies surrounding a phoenix with outstretched wings, interwoven with gold, silver, and colorful silk threads, and tiny pearls adorning the flower stamens.

The skirt flares out from below the chest, with fine pleats, each pleat concealing a hidden pattern that shimmers with light as you walk.

The most eye-catching item is the shawl.

A length of crimson gauze, about ten feet long, with gold-threaded peonies embroidered at both ends, was hanging down from the hanger like a frozen sunset.

The accessories were neatly arranged on the low table next to it.

Golden floral ornaments, hairpins, and earrings.

There was also a pair of satin shoes with upturned toes, the tips adorned with pom-poms.

Hua Qing walked to the clothes rack and stretched out her hand.

Her fingers touched the thin veil.

Soft, cool, and smooth to the touch.

It was like touching a long-forgotten corner of my memory.

For Hua Qing, there are two most important performances in her life so far: one is "Asking the Sword Across Heaven and Earth" selected for the Lotus Award.

Another one...

When she was twelve years old, she participated in her first formal competition, dancing "The Drunken Beauty of Yu Huan".

The dance dresses from ten years ago weren't this gorgeous; the material was ordinary, and the embroidery was rough.

But she still remembers the day of the competition.

The backstage area was chaotic, with young girls huddled together doing makeup, stretching their legs, and memorizing choreography; some were so nervous they were crying.

She wasn't nervous.

She just stood there, looking at herself in the mirror.

She wore a not-so-glamorous dance dress, and her hair was styled in an ancient-style bun by her mother, adorned with cheap plastic hair ornaments.

As she stepped onto the stage and the music began, she completely emptied her mind.

Only actions.