The first time Wu Yifan saw Zhang Yixing was in the practice room during trainee years. Yixing was repeating the same dance routine again and again. Yifan recognized the dance. It was the one they had done the same morning, but it was really late, so like any concerned person Yifan, being one of the only few in the company building other than Yixing, went and asked him.

“Uh, hi?” Yixing asked when he noticed Yifan staring at him from the glass window. Yifan caught off guard just looked behind and then pointed at himself.

“Yeah, you!”  Yixing said ponting at Yifan. Yifan entered the dance studio.

“Hi. I was just, uh, I saw you practicing and it’s late. And you dance very well.” Yifan never stuttered. Why was he stuttering?

“Oh, um, thank you.” Yixing said flashing a dimpled smile at Yifan. “I just, I kind of screwed up at practice today.” He paused for a second. “You’re Wu Yifan, right?” Yixing said.

“Um, yeah! How did you know?” Yifan asked surprised. How did this boy with the y dancing and dimpled smile know him?

“One of my friends told me.” He said, bringing forth his hand “I’m Yixing.” And there it was again, that beautiful smile.

“Nice to meet you, Yixing.” Yifan said giving the younger’s hand a light squeeze. “You must be Chinese!”

“Yeah! I thought that was pretty clear with my horrible Korean.” He said laughing lightly. That’s when Yifan realized he was still holding on to Yixing’s hand, and he let go