Lin Yutong's life seems to have been pressed. In winter, he is a busy ski instructor in the snow resort. The sound of the blade cutting through the snow is clear and crisp. In the milder season, he turns around and walks into the dance classroom, and he becomes a substitute teacher with a cool aura. She is contradictory and lively, always strict about teaching, her shouts are clear and powerful, and there is an unconcealable liveliness in her eyes, but she always remains a bit distant when she is close to others, as if her passionate soul only wants to stretch out in the snow and dance.
Pan Yu's temperament is calm and reserved, like a deep pool of water. She can get involved in everything, but she can't be said to be proficient in anything. She can outline outlines in painting but has no charm. Even when learning to dance, she only moves slowly according to the beat, and her limbs are as stiff as unoiled gears. She is used to being a backdrop in the crowd, indifferent, neither competing nor taking the initiative. She thinks that learning to dance this time is just another "taste" experience in life.
During the first class, Lin Yutong noticed this particularly "slow" student. While others were sweating to the rhythm, Pan Yu always stood silently in the back row, imitating calmly with eyes, but always made mistakes when turning around. Lin Yutong was a little lively and impatient at first, tapping the beat, "Stretch your waist a little more, and keep your steps to the rhythm!" Pan Yu just nodded lightly. , Adjusted, there was no impatience in her eyes, but I don't know when Lin Yutong's eyes forgot to fall on her. She would slow down her speech to explain the movements, pass a bottle of warm water during breaks, show a rare soft smile when Lin Xiang finally found the rhythm, and quietly leave a glass of warm milk when Huayang practiced dancing until late at night...
The mirror in the dance studio reflected two figures, one as hot as flames and the other as calm as water. There is no vigorous intersection, only the distance gradually approaching in the beat, the touch of fingertips when hand-to-hand movements, and those hidden in ordinary daily life, the most touching encounters are never deliberately forced, but just in time when you and I play.
Intention: growth