"Vanity. Is that wrong? Who are you? Do I need to answer you?"
Caught off guard by her frankness and snobbishness, Shi Zhongming glanced at her intently, as if a spark had flashed in his heart. This spark, however, swept over a hidden corner of his being, a corner he was unaware of, and vanished in an instant.
A shadow flashed before Dandan's eyes.
She saw Huaiyu, dressed in a fashionable white Western-style tracksuit, striding confidently off. She thought to herself: Vanity, he used himself to gain vanity. Then he abandoned her like trash. She gritted her teeth and, with a swift motion, ripped the delicate white curtains from the carriage window shut.
In that split second, Shi Zhongming also turned around. He remained silent.
Jai Alai, a newly emerging sport in Shanghai.
A large sign stands at the entrance of the stadium, marking it as the Central Sports Field, with the English word "haialai" attached, giving it a very stylish look.
In the evenings, ball games are held here, illuminated by flashing electric lights, for people to gamble on. The organizers collect a cut from the bets, and there are many different types of games, such as singles, doubles, two-red-blue matches, chess matches, single-win, double-single-win, consecutive wins, and positional betting... much like horse racing and dog racing. Huaiyu and Duan Bishen had been here once and learned that gambling was not allowed during the day; the venue was only rented out to prominent people.
A lithe dragon, how could it possibly lie dormant in a gentle embrace? Full of energy, it attacked three solid walls. The ball struck the tops with great force; it was hard and heavy, requiring arm strength to bounce back and forth, leaving the player drenched in sweat. Huaiyu's old training skills were still there. Forever. He just couldn't stand waiting around, like waiting for the lights to be on, waiting to build up the mood, waiting for the director to arrive at the swallow's nest first…
Two hours have finally passed.
He went to the attached café and had a cup of coffee by himself. Then he began to write a letter.
The letter was written to Zhigao.
Zhigao, has Zhigao ever imagined what a "boomerang" is? He's been here long enough to understand it, but Zhigao, it's a long way off. Very far. Huaiyu only thought: she herself can't go back either.
It was still that same fountain pen, but the letter read, "Zhigao: Long time no see, I miss you so much, so much." As it was written, the pen began to pour out its heart in an overwhelming torrent:
I've been quite uneasy lately. Although I believe my choices were correct and I have a clear conscience, I often worry that I'll end up with nothing. I toss and turn at night, grumbling a lot, wishing I could confide in no one. "A person dies leaving a name, a goose leaves a cry in its wake," as the saying goes, and this pushes me to strive harder. I'm gradually adapting to the Shanghai environment—that's how I write this, but ultimately, I must mention:
"Dandan has settled down in Shanghai, and her status has changed. We're not the same people we used to be; only a year apart, we've both grown up, and our friendship has thinned. The differences are heartening. Between people, it's all about timing and fate; what we gain is also a matter of timing and fate, and what we lose is also a matter of fate. It's not our fault. It's hard to explain in a few words, and my heart is filled with unspoken feelings. If Zhigao chooses another wise person, perhaps a match made in heaven will be found. I imagine she's doing well and making steady progress. Please take good care of your father and share more good news. Huaiyu, October—"
"Hey, you!"
He was taken aback and looked up.
Unbeknownst to them, Miss Duan had come looking for them.
Huaiyu gestured for her to sit down.
"You're talking about the post office again?"
Huaiyu lowered her head and wrote on the envelope: Beiping, Xuanwu District...
"I'm on my way to the post office, aren't I?"
After speaking, he stood up, and Duan Pingting followed suit.
They inevitably ran into fans as they came out. The two avoided getting too close and maintained a slight distance. The fans whispered among themselves:
"Look! Duan Pingting!"
He called out to him again:
"Mr. Tang! Miss Duan!"
"Mr. Tang!"
Oh, not "Boss" Tang, but "Mr." Tang. "Boss" sounds too rustic, "Mr." He's more civilized. He's established himself in Shanghai now, and his identity has changed. A movie star!
He's waiting for his next movie.
Yan Tong, the screenwriter who wrote the movie script for Dan Dan, was a scholar from Shanghai. He had a thin face, often looked sickly, and had high cheekbones that looked like two stubborn stones that had been forced in, unwilling to submit.
He was the kind of taciturn but shrewd old hand who, after just a quick look at Dandan and a few words of casual conversation, already knew what kind of tailoring to make.
Mr. Jin was very satisfied with his story outline.
The times changed, and the once-popular themes of decadent romance and hedonistic life in adult films became obsolete. Following the incident, a vigorous anti-Japanese national salvation movement unfolded, which explains why the "Queen of Listed Companies" was accepted.
Yan Tong suggested a "progressive film," starring Song Mudan. She would play Hei Niu, the daughter of a farmer from Northeast China. Due to the outbreak of war, her family was destroyed, and her childhood sweetheart, Shu Gen, endured countless hardships with her, ultimately preventing their reunion. Forced by circumstances, Hei Niu matured and joined the resistance against the Japanese. She cleverly used a ruse to seize enemy weapons, and amidst the sounds of gunfire and flames, she heroically sacrificed her life…
Mr. Jin was pondering what title to change to. Everyone offered suggestions, such as "Northeast Catastrophe," "Flowers and Blood," and "Modern Women," etc. Finally, he had a flash of inspiration:
"Let's call it 'The Extraordinary Woman of Northeast China'."
Dandan clasped her hands together and raised her eyebrows to observe his arrangement. She knew in her heart that a significant moment in her life had arrived. She asked, "Who is the male lead?"
"Who do you want?" he asked, undressing her.
The script is finished.
The film company sent the script to the actors.
When Duan Pingting received it, she was very happy to see "The Extraordinary Woman of Northeast China," but she muttered something under her breath.
"Ugh, I'm going to be so busy again! My stomachache from last time hasn't fully healed yet."
Go back and take a good look, then look again. She wasn't the extraordinary woman from Northeast China; she was the neighbor of the extraordinary woman from Northeast China, a village woman who later died while fleeing with her child. She died in the first five episodes.
Duan Pingting's expression changed drastically.
He barged into Boss Huang's office and questioned him:
What's going on here?
He was a little embarrassed. He had signed the female lead himself, at the height of her popularity, but—… He explained, “The next one, the next one…”
"What do you mean, 'part 1' or 'part 2'?" Duan Pingting glared at him irritably. "What kind of contract did you sign for these three years? Oh, you're just paying me for nothing and letting me sit around doing nothing?!"