Huaiyu declared to the public, "I, Tang Huaiyu, hereby refuse to perform this play!"
When Huaiyu returned to her room from the photography studio, it was already 3 a.m.
He filmed three scenes: one of aiding and abetting evil, one of facing an old friend in shame, and one of self-reflection. ...As he acted, the roles told him that continuing like this was meaningless and spineless.
Huaiyu was exhausted. She lay down on the bed fully clothed.
Duan Pingting didn't sleep, waiting for him intently. She refused to act, and once she refused, she was thousands of miles away, no longer daring to set foot on the film set, lest she be hurt by Song Mudan's arrogance.
Upon seeing Huaiyu, he went and brought out a cup of hot, brown liquid.
Huaiyu tastes it:
"Salty."
"Protect Er. Drink up."
What is Bauer?
Duan Pingting vented her anger on this sentence:
"You think I poisoned you? Would I kill you? What are you talking about? Would I just give you 'something' to drink randomly?"
After saying that, she reached out and snatched the glass of beef broth from her hand, drinking it sip by sip. It was too hot; her tongue couldn't take it. Huaiyu saw that she was inexplicably agitated, thinking that all women were like this, always picking on him, arguing about this and that, without considering reason, and something just wasn't right. So he snatched the glass back and drank it down in front of her. Only then did she forgive him.
Duan leaned lazily against the pillow, preparing to fall, but then supported himself with his arms, as if breathing in the posture he had used to drink the beef broth. He so nonchalantly finished it in one gulp. She said:
"Tang, I... have expired."
"What's expired?"
The expression in her eyes helped to subtly convey the meaning of her words:
"Of course it's me who's expired, not you. -- What if it's true? Maybe not. If it really is, let's get married in Hangzhou."
She recounted the second half of her life in an almost whispered manner:
"We'll have a bright red marriage certificate, and eat the most interesting West Lake medicinal cuisine—you know, medicinal cuisine? It looks like a tiny lotus leaf. I'm openly retiring from the film industry at the height of my fame. You shouldn't make movies anymore either; wash away the glamour..."
Wash away the makeup? Huaiyu was a little surprised. He had just applied makeup, and now it was going to be washed away for good?
People in Shanghai have always been puzzled by the obvious warming trend this year. Day by day, autumn has slipped away, never to return, drawing in long, dark purple clouds. The plane trees have shed their leaves again, each petal like a shattered heart.
The first snow usually begins in late December, and before that time, the chill in Huaiyu intensified overnight. We were caught completely off guard.
She's different, he thought. She is indeed different; she's been a seasoned veteran, from her teens to her twenties, she's experienced it all, she's had it all, and she won't panic no matter what happens. He, on the other hand, has just risen to prominence only to be defeated. His heart is heavy. He forces a smile.
"If I stop acting, who will support you?"
What if you die before me?
"No, you will die before me, and I will take care of you until the day you die."
"Fine, I've decided to die before you. I'll die by your hand."
"Or I might die by your hand."
"Don't die, everyone. Jesus' birthday, shall we get married? West Lake, Xiling Bridge, Liuhe Pagoda—let's build Liuhe together, it's all the rage now to get married at Liuhe Pagoda."
Duan Pingting had a peculiar style and arrangement when she took a bath. The scalding hot water, the fragrant bath beads, the myriad scents—she immersed her entire body in this gently rippling liquid, painstakingly ruminating on her deception, or perhaps gamble. —If the situation "went wrong," she "wouldn't" have a child.
Okay, let's see what bet he places.
Mr. Jin placed a large bet and went to his "golden house" on Avenue Joffre. A gramophone played waltz music, bright but decadent, and Dandan recovered from the daytime theater experience. Mr. Jin asked:
"Tang Huaiyu, this kid is refusing to perform. Can he afford to pay for it? What are you going to say to him?"
"No. Let him learn his lesson!" "He's from Tianqiao in Beiping, right? -- How long have you known him?"
We just met.
"Aren't you from Tianqiao too?" he asked casually.
Dandan was surprised: "I didn't say one."
"I have said that."
Which time?
"Hey, didn't you once call me a thug from the overpass? You let it slip."
Which time?
"Didn't you say that? -- I'm old, and my memory is bad. But your memory is even worse."
"Yes." Dandan was discouraged: "I can't remember."
"If you can't remember, then don't. You're mine now."
"I can't remember anything."
Dandan was dejected for a time. In her short life, nothing had gone smoothly for her, and she had no one she could rely on.
She nestled obediently in Jin Xiaofeng's arms. She didn't know who he was. It felt as if she had been handed over from one man to another. Uncle Huang, Master Miao, Song Zhigao, Tang Huaiyu, Jin Xiaofeng…
The person I feel most sorry for is Song Zhigao. I even took his surname, but I'm not his person. "Song" feels like I've been unfairly given a man's surname. Think of those happy, ordinary women who marry well; they also gain a peaceful surname, which they place on their own names, like "X family, X clan," and that's enough for a lifetime.
She lowered her head so low that tears welled up again beneath Jin Xiaofeng's thick eyelashes, dripping onto his clothes and seeping in, forming deep stains that were a shade darker than the color of his clothes, warm as if they were seeping into his very being.