You can’t dance. That was a simply fact in your life. You tried once, mortally embarrassed yourself, and decided never to take the stage again. It was easier to insist that you had two left feet than try the art of dance for yourself again.

Alas, Ga Ming was stubborn. He wasn’t satisfied seeing you backstage, longing to be where the opera singers and storytellers thrived onstage.

“Please,” he begged, almost like a puppy as he pulled you to an empty stage in Liyue Habor, “just this once?”