Seeing that Dandan was about to say more, he stopped her:
"Look at you, are you about to cry? Going to wander the world like this? When you see Huaiyu, tell him to remember our three-year promise. He should treat you well, so that your trip to see him won't have been in vain."
"Brother Cut Cake, you need to focus on your opera singing."
Zhi Gao asked irritably, "Is there anything else worth doing?"
He watched her retreating figure, stroking his face where she had once kissed him once or twice. The most tangible moment had passed, and another day had gone by.
She left in utter ingratitude, leaving behind the nonsensical remark, "You must focus on your opera performance." It had absolutely nothing to do with his emotions or desires.
He's going to perform on stage again tomorrow, using all his charm to seduce Diao Chan. Little did he know that offstage, he would always be defeated by Xu Di.
Later, Zhigao discovered that Huaiyu had given Dandan a photograph of himself in his opera costume. He wondered what had happened between them. Perhaps not; he had once firmly believed his friend's secret orders. This meant she was completely devoted to him.
Well, she'll be gone soon. When she's "gone," what will "be there"? Aside from thinking about himself, he'll think about her the most.
Zhigao has stored a lot of things. — But none of them were gifts from her.
In his idle moments, he couldn't help but do some calculations. He had one of her red ribbons, once tightly wrapped around her long braid. A broken kite. A bowl with a chipped corner. A red brick used to weigh down the pot lid when steaming crabs. A piece of yellow paper that had once wrapped Changchuntang plague-preventing powder. A few celebrity photos—those she didn't want. A cricket probe. ...And a few pieces of Guandong candy, long since taxed.
These things bore the marks of her holding them in her hands. Zhigao played with them—cute yet fragile, without a tomorrow. He missed them alone, and it turned into a bad habit. Everything he did was a little slower than before.
No.
Zhi Gao thought, "What does a real man have to worry about not having a wife? My most urgent task is to strive for success." So he put everything away again. Oh, he'd already lost one move; should he lose another?
He sang exceptionally well the next day. The applause from the audience was unusually loud, which surprised him. It seemed like this could make up for lost time. —And that was all he could do.
As Zhigao rose through the ranks, Huaiyu's fortunes declined day by day.
Summer of 1933, Shanghai.
Although Huaiyu did not believe that he was in dire straits, in fact, the Lingxiao Grand Stage was still open to the audience, still run by Master Hong's group, and everyone was the same as before. However, the Libao newspaper published an inconspicuous report that said that martial arts actor Tang Huaiyu had to temporarily stop performing because he had strained his leg while practicing, and would respond to the enthusiasm of the fans at a later date.
Another male martial arts performer, Xiao Qingyun from Tianjin, took office as a guest performer.
Mr. Jin was deliberately ignoring him. But he didn't know how long he would stop. The troupe leader had already signed the contract and couldn't stop the show. The play still had to go on.
Huaiyu was extremely bored when someone in the alley called him to answer the phone.
A whole month has passed. The capital is filled with dignitaries, yet this man stands alone. Chen Huai. He doesn't know when he'll be able to rise again. Mr. Jin didn't chase the dog into a dead end, and nothing bad happened; he simply neglected Huaiyu, leaving him to wait idly. What will become of him in a few days before he "repays the enthusiasm of his fans"? This has left Huaiyu listless and dispirited, even in his practice.
Li Shengtian repeatedly urged him not to waste his time, not to lose heart, and to treat it as a form of cultivation: "The heart should be like a surging river, the face like a still lake." — But like a fish drinking water, only the fish knows whether it is hot or cold. The inner sorrow is like falling from the highest heavens to the deepest abyss; how can one know unless one has experienced it firsthand? Even the master is powerless to help.
It really has been a whole month.
There was only one telephone in the alleyway house. It was shared with other opera troupes who also lived in the house.
The man who called him was a sanxian player from a Pingtan troupe. He had been living there for over half a year and was a pillar of the music world. He was holding a Sai Lu Kua soap box, had slightly protruding teeth, and seemed to be grinning from ear to ear, perhaps chuckling to himself. He looked like a mouse from the side.
"Mr. Tang, it's a young lady."
They had a somewhat amused expression, mostly because Huaiyu's misdeeds had been spread around.
Huaiyu turned her back to him and said:
"Hello, who is it?"
The man felt embarrassed to linger, turned back reluctantly, and had no choice but to leave. Huaiyu felt extremely annoyed.
"who?"
"Tang. It's me."
"It's you? --" How could he not recognize that voice, which hadn't been heard for so long yet felt so familiar? Besides, he only knew one lady who called him "Tang," which sounded like a foreigner's name: Tom.
"Miss Duan, please let me go! I've been wronged and humiliated because of you, and now I'm hanging in mid-air, wishing I were dead."
Upon hearing the phrase "living is worse than death," Huaiyu was startled. Could this be her true destiny? It was truly unexpected. She blurted it out, but then realized that it was indeed so.
"—I'm the one who's going to die. I'm in a daze all day, completely out of it. I also have insomnia, and I only get a few hours of sleep with medication," the other person said.
"We're nothing special. We've just been given this undeserved reputation."
What did you say?
"Please—let me go." Huaiyu finally said this, unable to bear it any longer.
The other party remained silent for a while.
Huaiyu, unaware of the situation, simply said:
"Hello, hello..."
"I'm not having an easy time either. We're not filming for the next few days, so I'll take you somewhere tomorrow?"
Huaiyu did not answer.
Duan Pingting suddenly felt very irritable, her expression desolate. She had only fallen in love with him first! Yet she had suffered such injustice. She had always been selfish and proud, always existing in this chaotic world with a sense of detachment. How could she have so easily become entangled in sorrow and hatred, enduring all his grievances?
"Tell me, what good have you done? You're not even a hero; if you were, you'd be in trouble too."
He then forcefully threw the receiver away.
Huaiyu only heard a series of "Hu-Hu-" sounds.