PNB Chapter 12 Tang Yun's Special Physique
Chapter 12 Tang Yun's Special Physique
By the time the rehearsal ended, it was already dark.
Li Si'an quickly ate a couple of bites of rice at the school cafeteria before heading out of the school gate to the street across the street. Before leaving, he called Aunt Zhou to arrange to view the apartment at seven o'clock that evening.
When he arrived, Aunt Zhou was already standing at the door.
He was in his fifties, with permed hair, wearing a maroon thin jacket, and holding a bunch of keys in his hand.
Seeing him get off his bicycle, she looked him up and down, her eyes showing a hint of surprise—she probably hadn't expected that the person calling to inquire about the room was actually a teenager.
"Are you the one who called this afternoon?"
"Hello Aunt Zhou, it's me."
Aunt Zhou didn't say anything more, turned around and unlocked the roller shutter door. The metal door slammed up, and a musty smell of fabric and dust wafted out.
Come in and have a look.
Li Si'an followed her inside. The first floor was over eighty square meters, completely empty, with dents left by a sewing machine on the floor, and a few scraps of cloth and empty spools of thread piled up in the corner.
The walls were yellowed in some places, but overall they were fairly clean. The north-facing side had glass windows that faced the road in front of the school.
Aunt Zhou led him up to the second floor. The stairs were made of cement, and the handrails were welded iron pipes, making a hollow sound when stepped on.
The second floor is divided into two rooms. The north-facing side facing the street has two windows, which lead directly out to the gate of the Beijing Dance Academy Affiliated High School, the playground wall, the roof of the teaching building, and the bustling street.
There is a small balcony facing south. Pushing open the door, you are greeted by a lush green canopy of trees—the trees of Zizhuyuan Park. On a late April night, you can't see the colors clearly, only a dark expanse of tree shadows.
Li Si'an stood on the balcony for a while, and already had a plan in mind.
Aunt Zhou leaned against the balcony door frame, took out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, lit one, and glanced at him.
"How old are you?"
"sixteen."
"Buying a house at sixteen?" Aunt Zhou squinted at him, a cigarette dangling from her lips. "Where are you going to get so much money?"
"My mom gave it to me. She's in Hong Kong."
Aunt Zhou nodded and didn't ask any more questions. They're from Hong Kong, their family isn't short of money, so it makes sense for them to buy a house for their child in Beijing.
"Are you a student at the Affiliated High School of Beijing Dance Academy?" she asked.
"Yes. I'm in music, and I'll graduate next year."
Aunt Zhou glanced at him again, this time with a more relaxed look in her eyes.
The students from the affiliated high school of Beijing Dance Academy are right across the street; they can run away, but they can't hide. Selling this house to him means you don't have to worry about any future problems.
"My son got married in the US and is bringing me over." She took a drag of her cigarette, exhaled, and looked at the empty house. "The shop is closing down, and the house has to be sold too."
"How much?"
"I was originally planning to sell it for 160,000. If you pay in cash and quickly, it'll be 150,000, no bargaining."
Li Si'an mentally calculated: 150,000 yuan, 120,000 yuan on hand, 50,000 yuan from her uncle, making a total of 170,000 yuan. 150,000 yuan for the house, leaving 20,000 yuan for renovations and working capital. That's enough.
"150,000 is fine too. You can cover all the transfer fees and other miscellaneous expenses, is that alright?"
Aunt Zhou glanced at him, put the cigarette in her mouth, thought for a moment, and nodded.
"OK."
"My uncle will go with me when the property is transferred."
"That's even better." Aunt Zhou stubbed out her cigarette and nodded. With an adult present, things would be much more stable.
When can the property be transferred?
"I'll go with you to get it done whenever you've raised enough money."
May 10th.
Aunt Zhou took out a business card from her pocket and handed it to him: "This is my phone number. Call me when you have enough."
Li Si'an took it and glanced at it—Zhou Xiulan, followed by a landline number.
"Okay. Aunt Zhou, I'll be going now."
"Wait a minute." Aunt Zhou called out to him, took the key out of her pocket, removed it from the key ring, and handed it to him.
"Here, take this one. Anyway, I'm not living here anymore, so you can come over anytime to take measurements and find someone to renovate."
Li Si'an took it; a small red string, faded from washing, was still hanging on the key.
"Thank you, Aunt Zhou."
Aunt Zhou waved her hand and didn't say anything more.
It was almost nine o'clock when Li Si'an rode her bike back to school.
He went upstairs back to his dorm. Some of his roommates were playing cards, others were reading. Zhang Xiaojun was lying on his bed flipping through a copy of "Story Collection." When he saw him come in, he looked up and asked, "Back so late?"
"Something came up." Li Si'an took off her coat, draped it over the back of the chair, went to the washroom to wash her face, and then went back to bed.
The lights were off. The dormitory fell silent, save for Liu Feng's snoring and the sound of the wind on the distant playground.
Li Si'an lay on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts.
The house deal is settled, the money is almost done, my uncle has agreed to help, and things are looking promising with the record store. Everything is moving forward.
But that's not what's on his mind right now.
It is Tang style.
Her physical reactions during today's rehearsal kept replaying in his mind.
The first time he touched the lower edge of her chest, her whole body tensed up, her legs went weak, and she almost fell over; the second time, she didn't dodge, but leaned forward slightly and pressed her body against his palm; the third and fourth times, it was the same every time.
She didn't say anything, and her face showed nothing, but her body spoke. With every touch, her body seemed to say—I want it.
Li Si'an rested her arms behind her head, her eyes open in the darkness.
He had seen beautiful girls before. In his past life, he had seen many beautiful women on screen, some even more beautiful than Tang Yun.
But he had never seen anything like it before—a mixed-race face, a height of 1.72 meters, a slim waist and long legs, and a physique that was excessively perfect for his age, taut under his training clothes. Just those features alone were enough to make it impossible to look away.
But what truly fascinates him is not these things.
It was her body's reaction to being touched.
That kind of tactile sensitivity, that quality of the body being more honest than the heart, and desire being more honest than reason, he had only seen in online posts in his previous life.
Some called her a "natural beauty," others said she was a man's treasure. He thought it was just something a writer made up. Now he knows there really are such people. Tang Yun is one.
He took his hands off the back of his head, turned over, and faced the wall.
Zhang Xiaojun rolled over on the lower bunk, mumbled something indistinctly, and fell asleep again.
Li Si'an closed his eyes, and the image flashed through his mind again—Tang Yun in the rehearsal hall, her hand on his shoulder, her body leaning slightly forward, her breathing shallow and rapid, and the tips of her ears bright red.
Her expression was indifferent, even a little cold, but her body was pressed against his palm. That contradiction, that tearing between body and reason, made him feel as if something was scratching at his heart.
He set a goal for himself: no matter what, he had to win Tang Yun's heart.
It's not because of her face, nor because of her figure—though those are also significant factors. It's because of her body.
What would that reaction be like in bed?
Thinking of this, Li Si'an smiled in the darkness.
Damn, I can't think about it anymore. If I do, I won't be able to sleep tonight.
He pulled the blanket up, covered his head, and forced himself to count sheep. When he reached thirty-something, his consciousness began to blur. Liu Feng's snoring drifted over from the opposite bunk, and the sound of the wind on the distant playground gradually faded away.
Before I fell asleep, the last thought in my mind was: the property transfer will be on May 10th. Less than two weeks to go.