Your First Love is Pregnant? I'm Done Being Mrs. Hawthorne!

###Chapter 104: Forcing His Love

Nina Wainwright pressed her lips together, then said with a serious expression, "In that case, let me give you my honest take on the dance’s other problems. It lacks a narrative. A dance needs to tell a story, to make the audience want to delve into the meaning behind it. Take ’Greensleeves’ or the ’Jade Lady Dance’ we performed before, for example."

The ’Jade Lady Dance’ was Nina Wainwright’s favorite.

Its narrative depth was what she loved most about it.

Nina Wainwright’s words sent Sandra Walsh deep into thought. In truth, everything felt so superficial these days. From film and television to their own world of dance, nothing could escape the market’s fickle, trend-chasing nature.

She had been so focused on using exquisite techniques to captivate an audience that she’d forgotten the very core of the dance itself.

Dance was meant to convey emotion and tell a story... Without a narrative, it lost its appeal.

"’Classical ballet’ is dazzling—its vibrant colors and graceful movements are certainly eye-catching. But if a performance is forgotten the moment it’s over, it can never become a classic," Nina Wainwright continued. "Dance needs spiritual depth. Just look at the major touring productions of the past—didn’t every single one have a profound core?"

A dance performance is for everyone, from cultured connoisseurs to casual viewers watching on their phones.

A good dance is one where everyone, no matter how great the gap between them, can appreciate the story and emotions it conveys.

"Then I’ll redo it. We’re short on time. You’ll do it with me," Sandra Walsh said, looking at Nina Wainwright and taking her hand.

At her age, Sandra Walsh still hadn’t choreographed a piece that truly became a sensation. She was always full of confidence beforehand, but once the dance was performed, it would just fade into obscurity. She had never been able to figure out why.

Now, after Nina’s critique, she realized just how much her own choreography was lacking.

"As long as you don’t find my ideas too naive," Nina Wainwright said, a bit embarrassed.

"Why would I mind? I need someone who will tell me the truth to help me re-choreograph this. Look at me, I’m not getting any younger, and I still don’t have a signature piece... If I hadn’t married well, who knows if I would’ve even made it to where I am today," Sandra Walsh said with a wry smile.

Even the older generation had its own unfulfilled ambitions.

Nina Wainwright just smiled but didn’t reply.

News of her re-choreographing the piece with Sandra Walsh spread quickly throughout the studio.

At lunchtime that day, Nina Wainwright was heading to the restroom. Before she could even go inside, she heard voices complaining from within.

"We’ve been practicing this piece for nearly a month, working our butts off day and night. Now this Nina Wainwright shows up and wants to change everything... What gives her the right? It’s like all our effort was for nothing."

"Well, she’s Ms. Walsh’s prized protégé. I heard she dropped off the map for three years right after graduating, and now she comes back and gets to be on equal footing with Ms. Walsh... It really rubs me the wrong way."

"But I’ve seen her dance before, and she’s seriously incredible. She performed the ’Jade Lady Dance’ once, and the video is still on the university website. You guys can go look it up. Her form... it’s truly unforgettable."

"Oh, get outta here. That was years ago! Three years have gone by, who knows what she’s like now?! I don’t care, I just can’t stand her!"

Nina Wainwright listened in silence, not feeling much of anything.

’It was normal for them to be unhappy. After all, they’d worked so hard for so long, only to have to start practicing all over again. It was inevitable they’d have some complaints.’

Nina Wainwright didn’t go in, instead waiting calmly by the door.

"Let her put on an act. We’ll see just how amazing her new dance is."

Only after they finished talking did Nina Wainwright walk in.

The moment they saw her, they all started jostling to get out.

After they had gone, Nina Wainwright came out of a stall and saw that one girl, who had a round face, was still there.

She walked to the sink, turned on the faucet, and slowly began to wash her hands.

"My name is Anna Aniston, but everyone calls me Anna. I’m a huge fan of yours... When I was twelve, I saw a video of you performing the ’Jade Lady Dance’ online. I was so inspired that I pestered my mom relentlessly to let me study traditional dance, all because I wanted to be just like you." The round-faced girl’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Nina Wainwright, her expression filled with utter adoration.

Nina Wainwright looked at her, a hint of surprise on her face. "Thank you for your kind words."

"I’ll never forget your presence on stage. You were like a flower in full bloom, bursting with life. I want to be like you and help more people discover the beauty of traditional dance," Anna finished, breaking into a wide grin.

Her smile was sincere.

Nina Wainwright couldn’t help but be moved. "That’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me. Thank you."

For Nina, weren’t the girl’s words a form of encouragement in their own right?

The video from years ago had inspired this girl, and now she, in turn, had become a new source of strength, revitalizing the uncertain Nina.

The two of them came out of the restroom and went their separate ways.

When Nina Wainwright returned to Sandra Walsh’s office, she found her still completely absorbed, racking her brain to come up with a story for the dance.

’Back then, she had been like a flower, full of life.’

Nina Wainwright had already forgotten her mindset when she danced back then; she only remembered that she loved it. She poured all her emotions into her dancing—sadness, joy... even her secret crush on Zachary Hawthorne.

Back then, dance was her sole emotional sanctuary.

Because back then, she never would have thought she would marry Zachary Hawthorne.

He was like a god in the heavens, and she was but a wildflower at the foot of the mountain. Just gazing up at him, surviving on his reflected glory, was enough to make her feel content.

’Back then, she hadn’t been greedy at all.’

When was it that she had become so greedy, demanding a response from a Zachary Hawthorne who didn’t love her?

He didn’t love her to begin with, so of course he wouldn’t respond.

Even their marriage had been the result of a fit of pique.

She was still that flower at the foot of the mountain—so ordinary, so fragile. With one forceful press, their fingers crushed her petals and snapped her stem...

"Nina... you have to help me think of a story..." Sandra Walsh had absolutely no knack for coming up with narratives.

Trying to express a sense of story within a dance was a real struggle for her.

Nina Wainwright pulled herself from her thoughts and said, "Actually, classical ballet has its own connections to mythology. Why don’t we try depicting a mythical story?"

Sandra Walsh sighed. "My mind is a complete blank. Am I getting old? I can’t think of the kinds of stories young people like anymore."

Nina Wainwright walked over to Sandra Walsh’s side and picked up the book of traditional myths she had set aside. "Why don’t I take a look and see if I can help you think of something?"

"Oh, I couldn’t ask for more. I’m getting a headache just thinking about it," Sandra Walsh said, leaning back in her chair with a helpless expression.

She’d never imagined that to choreograph a dance, she would also have to learn how to write a story.

Seeing her troubled expression, Nina Wainwright couldn’t help but chuckle softly. She lowered her head and began to carefully flip through the book, her face a picture of concentration.

To find the core for this dance, Nina Wainwright practically lived in her studio.

That day, after pulling an all-nighter, just as dawn was about to break, Nina Wainwright finally couldn’t hold on any longer and fell asleep, slumped over her computer.

She had a dream... a dream about a dance.

*****