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

Only rhythm.

Only what flows in the body, something hotter than blood.

The dance is over.

There was a two-second silence in the audience.

Then applause broke out.

The judges looked at him as if he were a monster, utterly shocked.

Her mother rushed onto the stage and hugged her, crying so hard that her makeup was ruined.

"Hua Qing! You are your mother's pride!"

That was the first time in her life that she found meaning.

It's not as simple as "I want to dance".

Rather—I was born to dance!

Hua Qing's fingertips tightened slightly, gripping the thin veil.

My eyes feel a little hot.

She took a deep breath and turned her head.

Ding Heng stood not far away, looking down and fiddling with the camera in his hand.

She opened her mouth, but after a long while, she managed to utter a sound: "You...why did you prepare this dress?"

Ding Heng raised his camera and showed her the angle: "Senior, do you still remember how to jump?"

Hua Qing was stunned.

Do you remember?

How could I not remember?

Those movements are etched into her bones; she can't forget them even if she doesn't dance them for ten years.

but……

Ding Heng didn't urge her, and waited quietly.

Hua Qing turned back to look at the dancing dress.

The light fell on the skirt, making the gold threads flow and the peonies bloom.

It's so much prettier than the one she wore when she was twelve.

It's as beautiful as a dream.

So beautiful that she...

Suddenly I feel like crying.

It wasn't because I was moved.

It's because she knows that the moment she puts on this dress, the meaning of this dance will be completely changed for her.

What will it become?

She became a tool to please men.

To become a commodity in this transaction.

It became her bargaining chip in exchange for the ointment.

"Ding Heng".

She spoke, her voice a little hoarse: "Could we change to another dance?"

Ding Heng looked at her without saying a word.

Hua Qing pursed her lips and, for the first time, pleaded, "I'll dance something else for you, or whatever else you want to see—classical dance, folk dance, modern dance… I can do any of the popular dances on Douyin!"

She paused, almost humbled to the point of being insignificant.

"Can we not jump this part?"

Ding Heng smiled knowingly, as if he were looking at something interesting, and then raised his camera again, pointing the lens at Hua Qing.

"Sorry, senior, this is what I want to see."

Three days after the mission was announced, Ding Heng began preparing for today.

Because of his True Sight Eyes, he could read all of Hua Qing's information at will, including the most precious parts of her heart.

Many people have covered or danced the same routine, and videos of it can be found online.

As for clothes, she could just ask Hua Yue again. She didn't even realize that Ding Heng had given her cousin's body measurements, and just assumed that he had hooked up with some new girl again.

Hua Qing stood still, motionless.

one second.

two seconds.

Five seconds.

ten seconds.

Then she walked to the dance dress, reached out, and took it off the hanger.

Ding Heng reminded him, "The dressing room is over there."

"Need not."

Hua Qing shook her head, her voice soft and filled with despair.

"You'll see it sooner or later anyway."

After saying that, he began to take off his clothes.

First, there was that wooden hairpin.

Hua Qing raised her hand and pulled out the wooden hairpin.

Her long hair, now unbound, cascaded down like a black silk ribbon, reaching her waist.

Then came the palace sash.

The dark blue silk ribbon was wrapped around her waist twice and tied in an exquisite knot.

Her fingers were slender, and her movements were so slow that every detail was clearly visible.

The knot is untied.

The silk ribbon slipped off.

She untied the side ties and slipped the pale yellow chiffon blouse off her shoulders.

clavicle.

Shoulder.

Arm.

It was revealed inch by inch.

Her skin is very fair.

It wasn't a pale white, but a white like mutton fat jade, with a warm and lustrous sheen.

Her body, honed through years of dance training, has not an ounce of excess fat.

"Click".

A very soft click of the shutter.

Her fingers paused for a moment, then continued.

The belt of her horse-face skirt was tied at her waist, and she fumbled to untie it.

The navy blue skirt slipped down and piled up at her feet.

Her long hair was draped down, covering half of her face.

"Click".

Another shutter click.

Her eyelashes trembled.

Then he bent down to pick up the Tang-style dance skirt.

When she bends over, her long hair slips down from her shoulders and falls to her chest.

The fabric of the bellyband was slightly stretched, outlining the curve of the back.

The spine groove is deep, running down from the shoulder blade and disappearing into the edge of the underwear.

She straightened up and unfurled her purplish-red and golden-gold dance skirt.

She wore a pomegranate-red herb skirt with intricate embroidery on the chest.

She held the skirt close to her body and checked its position.

Then, reach your fingers behind your back and begin tying the strap.

When tying the straps, she had to stretch her arms backward.

Her waist was so slender it could be grasped in one hand.

The shoulder blades sway slightly with the movement, and the curve of the back is more pronounced because of this posture, like a butterfly flapping its wings.

After fastening her kimono skirt, she picked up the deep purple wide-sleeved blouse and draped it over her shoulders.

The sheer fabric fell over her shoulders, its semi-transparent texture revealing glimpses of the moon-white bodice beneath.

The wide sleeves hung down, covering the arms and only revealing a slender wrist.

Finally, there is the shawl.

She draped the ten-foot-long crimson gauze over her arm, the ends hanging down like a wisp of sunset.

She bent down and put on the pointed-toe shoes.