novelraw Chapter 11: Buying a House Smoothly, Rehearsal Anecdotes
Chapter 11: Buying a House Smoothly, Rehearsal Anecdotes
During the second period in the afternoon, Li Si'an was listening to the teacher talk about music theory while lying on her desk when the classroom door was pushed open from the outside.
The homeroom teacher leaned in halfway and waved to Li Si'an: "Li Si'an, your uncle is here, waiting for you at the school gate."
Li Si'an paused for a moment, closed her textbook, and went out through the back door.
At the school gate, Zhou Weidong leaned against a nearly new Santana, a cigarette between his fingers, his expression neither serious nor anything else.
He was wearing a dark gray jacket, and his hair was neatly combed, making it seem as if he had come directly from his workplace.
"Uncle," Li Si'an walked over, "What brings you here?"
Zhou Weidong stubbed out his cigarette, threw it into the nearby trash can, and looked him up and down.
"Your mom called me and said you want to buy a house, and that you have over 120,000 yuan on hand."
Li Si'an did not respond.
"Tell me where this money came from?" Zhou Weidong stared at him. "Don't tell me it's royalties. 120,000 yuan. You couldn't earn 120,000 yuan even if you wrote until your hands were ruined."
Li Si'an leaned against the wall, hands in her pockets, not avoiding his gaze.
"Of course. I saved more than 20,000 yuan from the royalties, and the rest I earned by selling magnetic cards."
"Magnetic card?"
"Telephone cards," Li Si'an said. "I know a classmate whose dad works at the Xicheng Post Office. He can get discounted phone cards from the employees."
I buy them and resell them to hotels and convenience stores, making a profit on the difference.
How much can you earn in a month?
"Since July of last year, I've been earning a little over ten thousand every month."
Zhou Weidong tapped his fingers twice on the car door, but didn't say anything.
Li Si'an continued, "Over the past nine months, we've accumulated nearly 100,000 yuan on the magnetic card. Adding the 20,000 yuan in royalties, the total is over 120,000 yuan."
Zhou Weidong remained silent for a long while. He took out another cigarette from his pocket, lit it, took a drag, and slowly exhaled.
His monthly salary is 420 yuan, and with bonuses, he only earns a little over 6,000 yuan a year. His nephew, who is sixteen years old, earns more in a month than he does in a year.
"Who did you hire for your magnetic card business?"
"My classmate's father, Zhang Yuanxiao, is an official at the Xicheng District Post and Telecommunications Bureau. He's a reliable person; he gets his goods from post and telecommunications bureau employees, so the channels are secure."
Li Si'an said, "I contacted Sister Nan for sales. You know Sister Nan, she lives near my grandfather's house, she's Chen Dong's sister. She's a master at developing distribution channels."
Zhou Weidong thought for a moment and nodded: "Old Chen's daughter? Okay, I'll ask her about it sometime and see if you've been lying to me."
"Ask me anything," Li Si'an said with a smile.
Zhou Weidong put the cigarette in his mouth, glanced at him, and his eyes held something indescribable—a reassessment that seemed to say, "I may have underestimated you."
"Okay," he said. "Where's the house? Take me to see it."
Li Si'an led him to the street opposite the school and stopped in front of the second to last storefront at the far west end.
Zhou Weidong stood at the entrance and first looked at the gate of the Affiliated High School of Beijing Dance Academy diagonally opposite, then Minzu University to the east, and Capital Normal University further ahead.
He looked at the building again—a two-story building with gray bricks, shops on the ground floor and living quarters upstairs, located directly opposite the road leading to the school gate.
"This location," he nodded, "is not bad."
The roller shutter door was locked, and he couldn't get in without the key. But just by looking outside, he already knew what was going on.
"You bought this house, you live upstairs yourself, and the downstairs is just sitting there empty?"
"We can't leave it empty," Li Si'an said. "We have to open a shop."
"Have you decided what kind of car to open?"
Li Si'an opened her mouth, and a thought suddenly flashed through her mind.
My uncle has worked at the Cultural Bureau for so many years. The Cultural Bureau is in charge of audio-visual products. He has connections for everything, from licenses to legitimate goods, smuggled goods, and confiscated goods. Isn't this a ready-made loophole?
"Uncle," he said, "how about we open a music and video store together?"
Zhou Weidong was stunned for a moment.
"I'll provide the building and storefront, and I'll be in charge of managing the shop," Li Si'an said, getting more and more comfortable with his words. "You'll be in charge of sourcing the goods. Since you're in the Cultural Affairs Bureau, it's easier for you to deal in audio-visual products than for others."
"You have connections through legitimate channels, smuggled goods, and confiscated items. We'll split the profits."
Zhou Weidong looked at him, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
But that "laughable and exasperated" feeling only lasted two or three seconds. He looked into Li Si'an's eyes—those eyes didn't show the guilt of a sixteen-year-old talking big, nor the impulsive enthusiasm.
She just looked at him calmly, as if they were discussing a serious business deal.
Zhou Weidong stubbed out his cigarette, leaned against the car door, and thought about it seriously.
He knew about the royalties, but he didn't know about the magnetic card, and he knew even less about the 120,000.
This kid quietly saved up 120,000 yuan, then called his mom and said, "I want to buy a house." He planned every step carefully, and he accomplished every step of the way.
When he says he wants to open a shop together, he might not be joking.
"Let me think about it," Zhou Weidong said. "If you're really interested, I'll ask about sourcing the goods for you later."
Li Si'an smiled and said, "Okay."
Zhou Weidong opened the car door, got in, and started the car. He rolled down the window and leaned out to look at Li Si'an.
"I won't give you the money directly. I'll go with you when you transfer the property, and we'll give the money directly to the other party without you having to lift a finger."
"OK."
The Santana drove away, and its exhaust fumes dissipated in the air at the end of April, slowly disappearing.
This has potential.
Li Si'an stood on the curb, hands in her pockets, looked around for a while, then turned and went back to school.
The third period in the afternoon is a rehearsal class.
When he arrived at the rehearsal hall, Tang Yun was already there. She was squatting by the barre, stretching her legs. She wore an old sweatshirt over her leotard, with the zipper all the way up, completely covering her neck.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up, saw it was him, and then looked down again.
Li Si'an didn't say anything, threw her schoolbag into the corner, and started warming up.
Rehearsals for "The Butterfly Lovers" are now in their mid-stages, with more and more pas de deux sections. Lifts, spins, lifts followed by spins—the two dancers walk through the rehearsal hall again and again.
The teacher stood beside them, calling out the rhythm, his pencil clapping loudly on the music stand.
The first lift. Li Si'an's hands were on her waist, pushing her upwards with force. The fabric of her workout clothes was slippery, and her palms couldn't stay on.
He instinctively shifted upwards, trying to find a more stable foothold—his fingers slid along the side of her ribs and touched the lower edge of her breasts.
It wasn't intentional. It happens often in dance; the clothes slip and ride up.
But Tang Yun reacted differently. Her breathing suddenly became erratic, and the fingers gripping his shoulders tightened abruptly, her nails digging into his flesh through his T-shirt.
When she landed, her legs visibly buckled, her body swayed, and she almost lost her balance.
Li Si'an helped her up.
"Are you alright?"
"It's nothing." Her voice was tense, and the tips of her ears were bright red. She turned her face away, refusing to look at him.
Her chest was still heaving, her breathing was shallow and rapid, but her expression was calm, without anything superfluous.
Li Si'an didn't think much of it. He assumed that she had just touched a place she shouldn't have, and the girl was embarrassed.
Rehearsals continue.
The second lift. His hands were still on his sides, but this time he deliberately raised them a little higher to avoid touching the spot where they had touched before.
But the practice clothes were still slippery, and as he continued, his palms kept slipping upwards. He quickly tried to pull them back down, but still managed to brush against the edge.
Tang Yun trembled again. This time it wasn't a sudden tension, but a slight tremor throughout her body, as if someone had gently pushed her from behind.
Her breathing became erratic again, and her face flushed, but she said nothing and didn't even glance at him.
Li Si'an's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't show it on her face and completed the action as usual.
The third time. His hand landed on her waist, this time firmly nestled in the hollow of her back, not daring to move. But she still tensed up, the tips of her ears still turned red, and her breathing still became erratic.
And—he felt it—her body was leaning slightly forward.
It wasn't intentional; it was a very, very slight forward lean, so subtle that if his hand weren't pressed against her body and he couldn't feel the movement of her muscles, you wouldn't even notice.
Her expression remained unchanged; she didn't even look at him. But her body moved forward, pressing against his palm.
It wasn't because he touched any sensitive spot. It was simply because his hand was there.
Li Si'an suddenly remembered a concept she had seen online in her previous life called "tactile sensitivity"—some people are born with a much stronger sense of touch than the average person.
What others perceive as a light touch might be magnified tenfold in them. This sensitivity can sometimes bring discomfort, and sometimes pleasure.
Tang Yun might be that kind of person.
She didn't become like this because he touched her. She's always been like this.
No one had ever touched her before, so she didn't know it. Now that someone has touched her, her body is reacting, and she can't control it. She doesn't know how to deal with it.
So her body was trembling and she was leaning forward, but her expression was flat; she didn't look at him or push him away.
She was struggling with herself.
But Li Si'an said nothing. He lifted her up when necessary and let go when appropriate. His movements were clean and efficient, without touching her an inch more.
I just kept it in my mind.