Breeze

Chapter 16 - Peace

The anticipation in the air was palpable as the lights dimmed in the auditorium, signaling the beginning of the performance. The audience, filled with students, professors, and invited guests, murmured in excitement. Everyone knew of Wang Yibo’s incredible dancing skills, but tonight was special—not just for him, but for Xiao Zhan too. Their collaboration had stirred curiosity and excitement across the entire university.

Backstage, Yibo stood silently, adjusting the cuffs of his military uniform, his mind racing with both nerves and determination. He could hear the low hum of the crowd from behind the thick curtains. This was it—the culmination of weeks of preparation, countless rehearsals, and emotional strain. Tonight, they were not just telling a story; they were bringing history and spirits to life.

As Yibo focused on his breathing, steadying himself, Xiao Zhan excused himself to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” Zhan said, offering Yibo a reassuring smile before stepping out of the dressing room. Yibo nodded, watching him go, feeling a strange tug of emotions. This performance mattered to both of them, not just for the university, but because it carried something much heavier—a sense of closure, not just for Yiye and Ruolai, but perhaps for themselves as well.

Once Zhan disappeared, Yibo took a deep breath and faced the mirror one last time. The reflection staring back at him was no longer just Wang Yibo. The sharp lines of the military uniform, the medals, the stoic expression—it was Ruolai. He had slipped fully into the role, and in a few moments, he would step onto the stage, ready to let go of the weight that had been hanging over him ever since they first started this journey.

He heard Zhan return, moving quietly behind him, but Yibo didn’t turn around. He was too focused, too deep in Ruolai’s mindset. Zhan, now in his costume as Yiye, stood beside him. They exchanged a brief look, a silent understanding passing between them.

"Ready?" Zhan asked softly, adjusting the fabric of his uniform.

Yibo nodded. “Let’s do this.”

As the two stepped onto the darkened stage, the lights slowly brightened, revealing the set designed to resemble an old war camp. Sparse, desolate, with the faint sound of wind whistling in the background. The auditorium fell silent as all eyes locked onto the two figures now standing center stage.

The scene began.

Yibo, as Ruolai, moved with a slow, deliberate grace—his every movement carrying the burden of a soldier lost in time. His footsteps echoed in the silence, and his face was a perfect mask of calm, hiding the turmoil beneath. As he approached Zhan, playing the role of Yiye, the two characters were reunited, meeting in a quiet, tension-filled moment.

Their movements were intricate, every step and gesture conveying emotions they couldn’t put into words. The choreography was a dialogue in itself—Ruolai’s hesitation, Yiye’s longing. The audience could feel the weight of everything that had gone unsaid between the two characters, hanging in the air like an unspoken confession.

Then came the pivotal moment.

Ruolai, dressed in his military uniform, stood in front of Yiye, his eyes filled with a conflict that ran deeper than the war they had fought. Zhan’s performance was captivating, his body language exuding vulnerability as Yiye, a man who had waited too long for a truth he never received. As the soft music swelled, Zhan, as Yiye, stepped forward, his hand reaching out to touch Ruolai’s chest, where his heart would be.

Yibo’s heart raced as he played his part, feeling the intensity in Zhan’s eyes, the connection that transcended the characters they were portraying. He took a step back, hesitating, as if Ruolai were torn between duty and the love he never had the chance to fully acknowledge.