𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ||

ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ

Lost in my own frustration, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "What!" I screamed, turning to see Mrs. Wang staring at me with concern. "What's wrong with you, flower?" she asked, her voice laced with worry. Ignoring her, I continued to bang my head on the

table.

"Your grandson asked me to the Qixi Festival, and I said yes," I blurted out, the words pouring out without filter. Mrs. Wang couldn't contain her excitement. "Really? Oh my god!" she exclaimed, breaking into a spontaneous dance right in front of me.

"No, Mrs. Wang, I'm not sure why I said yes," I confessed, feeling a mixture of confusion and vulnerability. Tears started to well up in my eyes, but Mrs. Wang continued to dance, seemingly oblivious to my distress.

"You're not helping, Mrs. Wang," I said, my frustration growing. She stopped dancing and smirked at me. "You and my grandson are a perfect pair," she declared, causing me to groan in disgust.

"No, we're not," I protested, but Mrs. Wang seemed determined to ignore my objections. "Later, you should dress beautifully and style your hair just like that. You two should have a lot of fun together at the festival, maybe even share a kiss or more," she suggested mischievously, leaving me behind as she entered her office.

Mrs. Wang continued to chant, "Buddha, Buddha, make them kiss tomorrow night," as I groaned in disbelief. It was clear that she had no intention of letting me off the hook easily.

I hurriedly walked towards Mr. Han's house, feeling a sense of urgency. As I reached the front door, I swiftly removed my jacket and hid it in a pot, hoping Mr. Han wouldn't notice.

"Mr. Han," I called out, noticing him working on his car. However, he didn't seem to hear me. I tried again, raising my voice slightly, "Mr. Han?" This time, he turned to look at me.

"May I come in?" I asked, hoping he would allow me entry. He nodded in response, and I quickly made my way into the house.

Sensing his curiosity, Mr. Han questioned, "Where is your jacket?" I decided to lie, not wanting to reveal that I had hidden it. "I left it in the house," I replied, hoping to avoid further scrutiny.

"Go take it," Mr. Han instructed, returning his attention to his car. I let out a frustrated groan and reluctantly headed back to retrieve the jacket from its hiding place.

My "training" had begun, and I wore a bored and angry expression on my face as I returned to the backyard. "This is not right," Mr. Han commented, noticing my demeanor.

"I'm doing it right," I retorted silently, convinced of my own correctness. But Mr. Han seemed to see through my facade. "No, there's something missing," he said, approaching me with a discerning gaze.

"Nothing is missing," I grumbled, my voice filled with annoyance and a hint of defiance. Mr. Han didn't back down and reached out to take the jacket from me. "You forgot this," he said, hanging it up with a smile.

"Attitude," he stated, breaking free from his emotionless expression. I accepted my jacket back from him, trying my best to mimic his smile with a forced one of my own. "Attitude," he repeated, walking away.

I rolled my eyes and couldn't help but bang my head against a nearby pole in frustration. "I'm having a bad day. First Cheng, now Mr. Han. Who's next?" I mumbled, growing increasingly exasperated. The pole seemed to offer no solace as I continued to bang my head against it.

Mr. Han interrupted my self-inflicted torment, advising, "Don't bang your head and hang the jacket with attitude." I groaned in response, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing down on me.

As the hours passed, my frustration only grew, and I glared at Mr. Han with anger in my eyes. "I told you, I understand it, okay? Be respectful, I got it! I've put on and taken off my jacket a thousand times, okay!? This is silly, I'm done!" I declared, turning to walk away, grabbing my sweater before I made my exit.

"You know why you only have one student? Because you don't know kung fu!" I shouted in frustration, clenching my fists tightly as I stormed off. However, Mr. Han's voice called out, "Shao [name]!" Startled by his tone, I turned to face him.

"What!?" I yelled back, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. "Come here. Jacket on!" he ordered, and I stared at him as if he were insane.

"Mr. Han, I already—" I began to protest, but he interrupted me, firmly stating, "Jacket on!" He held my gaze, his eyes determined. With a swift motion, he slapped the jacket out of my hands as I tried to put it on.

"Mr. Han?" I questioned, confusion evident in my voice. "Jacket on!"

he repeated, his intensity unwavering. I picked up the jacket once more, attempting to put it on, but Mr. Han swiftly slapped it away again.

He firmly grabbed both of my hands, slapping his palms together. "Firm. Remember, always be strong. Jacket off," he commanded, releasing my hands. His eyes widened as he immediately began to swing his hands and legs in a rhythmic fashion.

"Left foot back! Right foot back! Left foot back! Pick up your jacket!" he directed, each movement calculated and precise. This time, I managed to avoid his attacks by keenly observing his hands.

"Wow, Mr. Han, I—" I started to say, but he cut me off sharply. "Focus!" he yelled, his voice commanding my attention. We continued the training, and I followed his lead, pushing myself harder with each passing moment. He held my hands firmly, and together we went through the motions, his breath growing heavier.

"Good, but no face, [name]," he commented, nodding approvingly. "Jacket off!" he suddenly exclaimed, and we transitioned into a sparring session. With determination, I gave him a hard push, causing our movements to come to a momentary halt.

"[Name], remember, kung fu is everything. It's how we put on and take off the jacket," he imparted, his words resonating deeply within me as I listened intently.

Our training continued, the rhythm of our movements broken only by a voice from outside the living room. "Hello?" It was my mom, dressed in traditional Chinese attire.

"Hey, Mom, what are you doing here?" I questioned, momentarily forgetting about my jacket, which lay forgotten on the ground.

"We're going to the Qixi Festival, and I got an extra ticket for Mr. Han," she exclaimed, her excitement evident.

"Oh, fuck, I forgot it was the Qixi Festival," I thought to myself, a blush creeping onto my cheeks as I remembered Cheng.

"Mr. Han, would you like to come to the Qixi Festival with us?" Mom asked, trying to convince him to join. However, he simply shook his head and smiled, responding, "No, thank you. Too many people."

I glanced at Mr. Han, my mind briefly flickering to thoughts of Cheng. "Shit," I muttered under my breath, realizing the complicated situation I had found myself in. Mom turned to me and hissed, "Pick up your jacket and change your clothes." I winced at her tone, feeling the weight of her expectations bearing down on me.

As I reached down to pick up the jacket, my mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming Qixi Festival and the unexpected twists and turns my day had taken.