Chapter 100

Zoey, who was sipping her coffee, choked on it, amused by the string of fancy titles.

She laughed so hard she could barely catch her breath.

The old man on duty looked embarrassed, touched his nose, and said with a smile, "He gave himself all those titles. Artists are like that, aren't they? They can't live without a bit of madness. It's normal for them to be a bit exaggerated."

I smiled knowingly. Bob hadn't changed a bit over the years.

In Back college, one of his labels was "charming," and the other was "flamboyant."

He was indeed very talented at dancing and often carried himself like an artist, frequently changing his titles-sometimes he was an artist, sometimes a dancer, sometimes a singer.

Alan was also helpless with this guy back then, always smiling whenever he mentioned Bob.

I remember when we started our junior year, everyone was busy with their own things, except for him, who was enthusiastically helping the freshmen. He spotted a freshman girl and shamelessly got her phone number. Just a few days into military training, he picked some wildflowers from the roadside and, in front of the whole school, knelt on one knee,

"I saw these flowers by the roadside, and were so beautiful, just like the day I met you by chance. In our brief encounter, you added a touch of vibrancy to my dull soul, and I came alive, placing all the beautiful things related to you in front of you, including myself."

"Darling, if this isn't love, then what is?"

On the day of his confession, Alan and I were dragged along as his cheering squad. Benjamin, who had asked me to help him win over Cindy, stood there, giving a thumbs-up and shouting, "Real man!" Alan and I turned and walked away, pretending we didn't know him.

As I was reminiscing, a voice came from the window, "Show the young ones how to dance Latin! Let them come up!"

"Get lost! Watch your behavior, or Shirley Reed will skin you alive!"

The old man on duty shouted back, pointing to the third floor, and said with a smile, "Just go up the stairs, and you'll find him in the dance studio on the third floor."

The stairwell was littered with cigarette butts, and the stairs were uneven, with exposed steel and concrete, clearly an old building in disrepair.

As I reached the third floor, I could already hear the music and the rhythm.

Turning left and pushing open the door, the noisy and crowded sounds rushed in like water from a balloon.

The scene was different from what I had imagined.

There were no young, pretty girls that Bob liked. The people watching the dance were at least in their fifties or sixties, dressed in flamboyant clothes, dancing with the front man, who was Bob.

Unlike his long-haired college days, Bob now had a pompadour hairstyle with a ponytail, wore gold-rimmed glasses, and looked a bit tired, but still had that flirtatious look from over a decade ago, with a stubbly beard.

He wore a tight red backless Latin top with a deep V-neck adorned with flowers, and tight black pants. His body had started to gain weight, making the outfit somewhat mismatched.

"Yes, very good, focus on the key points and use your waist strength. Turn! Wonderful, you are like twenty-year-old angels. My goodness, you are the most talented students I've ever taught!"

He was fully engrossed in leading the dance, seemingly unaware that the door had opened. His movements were precise and expressive, like a fully bloomed black rose on the edge of a cliff.

"Mrs. Smith, I have to say, he's quite good at dancing. I don't think the people at the Silverlight City drama troupe can compare."

Zoey whispered in my ear.

I nodded. Back in college, Alan was the best at scriptwriting, Laura was the star performer, and Frank and the later freshman Joseph were the best among the boys, though still a notch below Laura in artistry.

But when it came to dancing, Bob was the best among the students, even invited by professional dance clubs outside the school.

Because of this, Laura and Bob continued to develop in this field after graduation, though Laura had become a well-known artist in the state, while Bob remained relatively unknown, working in a small drama troupe in Shadow City.

After about ten minutes, the dance practice ended, and everyone applauded. Zoey and I also clapped.

Bob, in high spirits, gave lively and precise feedback, praising them to the point of giving them goosebumps, and lightly pointing out issues, making them laugh heartily.

Zoey listened with wide eyes, amazed, "He's really wasting his talent here."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"With his skills, quick thinking, and expressive ability, he could easily earn some certificates and open a dance school in Silverlight City. He'd make much more money than here."

Zoey had a point, but why didn't he?

I was curious too. With Bob's personality, he shouldn't be content with obscurity.

As I was thinking, Bob clapped his hands, concluding the practice, "Okay, that's it for today. Make sure to practice at home. Remember, dancing is an art, an expression, not a formulaic exercise. Enjoy it! Let's shout our slogan one last time."

"Latin Senior Group Champions! We are the champions!" everyone shouted.

Then they said their goodbyes, packed up, and left.

As the crowd thinned, Bob whistled at us, ran over, and smiled,

"Two ladies, you've come to the right place for Latin dance in Shadow City. I'm the dance instructor at the Shadow City drama troupe, a national Latin dance champion, and a certified national Latin dance judge. I can tell you, other so-called teachers are just amateurs pretending to be experts after a couple of days of dancing, just to scam money..."

"Bob, do you still recognize me?"

I interrupted his self-promotion, feeling a bit disappointed at how the once-spirited young man had turned out.

Bob was stunned, looking at me with a bit of confusion. His lips trembled slightly as if he was excited, but he quickly hid it, grinning exaggeratedly and laughing,

"Nancy! Mrs. Smith!"

He opened his arms and moved to hug Zoey.

Zoey backed away in fright, "No, I'm her student. Sir, please get a grip."

Bob touched his slicked-back pompadour hairstyle and said repeatedly, "Okay."