After the week of isolation ended, the production director sent a car to pick up Wu Man and Zhui Ye from the studio. They rested briefly before preparing to film the final scene of the script.

Wang Cheng still felt uneasy and gave her psychological preparation before filming began, though he only said one short sentence.

“Your time of freedom with him ends here.”

He meaningfully returned her phone to Wu Man. She didn’t even turn it on to look, just stuffed it in her pocket and went to the makeup room.

The final scene began filming.

She changed back into the outfit from their first meeting, pinning the butterfly brooch Chen Nan had given her to her chest.

Chen Nan noticed the brooch immediately upon entering, a smile appearing on his face.

“I saw you put it away after graduation. I thought you didn’t like it.”

She unconsciously stroked the brooch, as if trying to draw strength from it.

Summer had already arrived. On the balcony, cicadas chirped noisily. The young man’s back was sticky with sweat. Without any hesitation in front of Deng Lizhi, he pulled off his shirt while asking, “Is Brother Xu still not coming home today? My flight leaves tonight—I wanted to say goodbye to him.”

“We had a fight. He’s staying at a friend’s place, won’t be back for now.”

“You two fought? How did I not know about this?”

She lied without changing expression: “Because it’s about having a child.”

“I think I should have a child with him. He doesn’t want one.”

Chen Nan’s hand froze mid-motion as he removed his shirt. “What child?”

“I think I should have a child with him. He doesn’t want one.”

Chen Nan’s shirt was lifted halfway, exposing his spine which trembled sharply in the air. The muscles of his back stretched to their limit, as if they would all snap in the next second, painful enough to prevent him from straightening up.

“You… want to have his child?”

Chen Nan’s voice sounded light and airy from disbelief, as if it would scatter at the slightest breeze.

She nodded. “I’m already thirty-five. If I wait any longer, it’ll be dangerous.”

“Is this about age?” He threw his shirt aside and said loudly, “It’s about who you have it with!”

“What, should I have it with you instead?”

“Why not?!”

“Anan, you’re still a child yourself. You’re not even old enough to legally marry yet.”

“I’m not… just wait for me four more years! Only four years!”

Deng Lizhi said nothing. She bent down to pick up the wrinkled white T-shirt from the floor, smoothed it out, and placed it on the sofa. Then she pulled out a suitcase from the room.

“I’ve packed everything for you. Check if there’s anything missing.”

“Are you that eager for me to leave?”

“What I want doesn’t matter. You have to leave eventually.”

He seized the suitcase and dumped everything inside out in one swift motion.

“—Then I’m not leaving.”

“See? You say you’re not a child, yet you keep saying childish things.”

Chen Nan looked at Deng Lizhi’s calm expression. That one sentence struck right to his core. Like a punctured balloon, his inflated bravado instantly deflated.

He slumped down to the floor with the scattered luggage, hugging his knees and burying his head.

Just like that rainy night when he had nowhere to go, crouching helplessly under the eaves, hugging his knees—and someone had crouched down and entered his world.

Today, that person was still here, but now stood coldly to the side, no longer bending down for him.

The first lesson young people learn from love is always the cruel rules of the world.

“You clearly said you were willing to wait for me. Liar. Liar.” He raised his head fiercely, staring at her with reddened eyes.

“Don’t believe what adults say,” she took a deep breath. “Especially lonely adults.”

He still said stubbornly, “I don’t believe what you’re saying now.”

She crouched down and began stuffing the scattered items back into the suitcase one by one, giving instructions with each item.

“This is the thermos I bought you. Remember to drink more water after you get to university.”

“These are liver protection tablets. Don’t stay up too late.”

“This humidifier—I heard the north is very dry.”

“Must you be like this? Treating me with the tone of an elder?”

Deng Lizhi’s throat moved as she swallowed.

She straightened up and changed the subject. “There’s still some time. Have dinner before you go.”

Then she brought out a black fish from the kitchen and placed it on the table.

Chen Nan realized something. Stunned, he turned around, his gaze falling on the fish tank. The gray-blue water was completely bare inside.

The black fish he had given her was gone. It had become a dead fish on the dinner plate.

This hurt more than anything Deng Lizhi could have said. He stared blankly at the dead fish as if it were himself lying there.

Tears came crashing down from the young man’s eyes.

Wu Man watched Zhui Ye break down and cry, her own heart twisting painfully in response.

She remembered when she read the script, she had asked Wang Cheng in confusion—Deng Lizhi had clearly chosen divorce, didn’t she want to be with Chen Nan? Why did she lie to him in the end and choose to separate?

Wang Cheng had said lightly: Because she no longer loved Xu Long, so they separated. Because she loved Chen Nan too much, so they also had to separate.

Deng Lizhi was just an ordinary person. Ordinary people could only use the most ordinary methods to resist convention.

There was no story more tragic than this, because this was something happening in all our lives.

Chen Nan silently closed the suitcase, picked up the white T-shirt from the sofa, roughly wiped the tears from his cheeks, and put it back on.

He glanced at the unreliable old-fashioned clock on the wall, his gaze finally settling on her brooch.

“Sister, I’m leaving.”

His voice still carried a nasal tone, but his tone was very calm.

“I hate you.”

He pulled up the handle, the wheels rolling on the ground with a rumbling sound as he left through the door, gently closing it.

He left very quietly, just like the day he arrived—using the sound of rain as cover, he had come without a sound.

Deng Lizhi ran to the balcony, leaning out to look down until his figure disappeared. She stood there silently, as if Chen Nan had just gone to the corner store to buy new drawing paper.

As Wu Man leaned against the railing, she couldn’t help but recall Zhui Ye asking her on the rooftop what her top happy moment in life was.

Thinking about this question now, the first thing that popped into her mind was that ordinary night tour with him.

She really wanted to tell him that she now had an answer she could say without hesitation, an answer that truly came from the depths of her heart and brought forth happiness whenever she recalled that memory. Not ridiculously pretending she had many beautiful memories when her hands were actually empty.

But she knew she no longer had the chance. When this figure disappeared, when the camera stopped rolling, when the lights went out—she would rot this answer inside her, unable to mention it not only to him but to anyone.

They were just two people who had briefly intersected because of one production. There was no need to make a big fuss chasing after a brief point of intersection. Crossing paths, rushing past, going separate ways—this was the best outcome.

In this moment, Wu Man completely understood what Wang Cheng meant by “this is something happening in all our lives.”

She withdrew her gaze and slowly walked to the dining table, taking a bite of the black fish.

Mm, the taste wasn’t bad.

Immediately after, a water droplet fell onto the plate. One drop, then another. Wetting the entire skeleton.

Midsummer had long since arrived, with days of scorching sun.

But in this old house, in this corner of the dining table, the fine rain of a spring night began falling once more.

*

The plot had ended here. Wang Cheng silently made a gesture to stop filming. The entire set remained very quiet, as if everything was still continuing.

For no other reason than Wu Man sat quietly at the table, eating the fish in large bites while tears streamed down her face. Her expression remained calm, seemingly unaware of the movement around her.

No one could bear to disturb this sorrow.

Until the person who had left came back. He half-crouched at Wu Man’s feet, grabbed her hand and pressed it to his own face, saying in a coaxing tone, “Sister, I’m still here. I didn’t leave.”

Wu Man’s gaze slowly shifted from the black fish to Zhui Ye’s upturned face.

He smiled up at her. The clouds parted and the rain stopped; the world became bright.

Wu Man’s lips trembled, her lower lip quivering slightly as Deng Lizhi’s suppressed grievances all erupted.

Zhui Ye stood up, gently pushed her head to rest against his chest, and patted her back.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

This time Wu Man didn’t push him away. Only after her emotions had calmed did she wipe away her tears, stand up from the chair, and say thank you.

Zhui Ye touched his nose. “You’re welcome.”

Only then did the crowd resume its commotion, everyone shouting that the last shot was finished, that filming had wrapped, full of joy.

Wang Cheng walked over and gave both lead actors a big hug.

He patted Wu Man’s shoulder and said, “I’m very glad I chose you back then.”

“I was quite angry about the director’s decision initially, but now I can only say the director is truly worthy of being a director.”

Someone spoke up behind Wang Cheng. Wu Man looked over—He Huiyu was carrying a LadyM cake box.

She had just finished filming at the neighboring studio and, knowing today was the last day of filming for “Spring Night,” rushed over at the last moment to visit the set.

Zhui Ye shrugged. “I told you so.”

“…You brought cake and you’re still provoking me? Fine. Don’t expect any.”

“Then give it to her. She likes it too.” Zhui Ye pointed at Wu Man, still remembering that day when Yu Jiaze came and also brought her this cake.

Wu Man waved her hand. “Better not. I’m afraid she’ll poison it.”

He Huiyu said defiantly, “The year is still long. Don’t think one ‘Spring Night’ means you can rest easy. Who knows who’ll win Best Actress next year.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Wu Man’s face showed a relaxed sense of release. “I just completed a story.”

At first, she had indeed entered with heavy utilitarian motives, hoping to win awards with it, to prove herself, to be envied by everyone.

But in this moment, she only felt the loneliness and release of the performance ending and people dispersing. In a parallel world, Deng Lizhi was probably still eating black fish right now, with no one to give her a hug. She would quietly clear the table, clean the room, then also pick up her luggage and leave the old house she’d lived in for eight years, throwing herself into the vast sea of humanity.

Thinking of this, she again felt the melancholy blocking her chest.

He Huiyu paused for a moment. “You really have… changed a bit.” She thought about it and added somewhat reluctantly, “A tiny bit more likable.”

Wu Man curved her lips. “You too.”

The two looked at each other, then both turned away smiling.

After a while, one of He Huiyu’s hardcore fans browsing Weibo discovered that He Huiyu had followed Wu Man. Not only that, she had also deleted a Weibo post from long ago about “All Things Dead.”

*

Wu Man returned to the makeup room to remove her makeup. After charging her phone and turning it on, a string of messages popped out.

From her agent, her assistant, the production team, and casual acquaintances. In an instant, that intense sense of disconnection left her at a loss.

Each vibration seemed to shout with its mouth wide open: Welcome back to the real world.

Freedom wasn’t so easy to have. What had to be faced must eventually be faced.

She steeled herself mentally, dealt with all the messages, then finally dared to open Yu Jiaze’s message.

However, he had only sent one message—a brief “?”

Wu Man looked at that cold symbol and let out a definite sigh of relief, a kind of certainty that some verification in her heart had settled like dust.

She replied: “I was in seclusion these past few days preparing for filming. Wrapped today.”

After replying, there was no movement from the other end. She stared blankly at the chat window for a while.

A certain sadness suppressed beneath the certainty rushed out first, silent and unspoken.

*

The wrap party was set for seven in the evening. All the actors who had already wrapped came, including Ding Jiaqi who had returned to school.

At the dinner table was the same tiresome routine. People from other tables came over to toast. By the end of the meal, everyone had scattered in threes and twos in corners of the private room chatting.

Wu Man had dealt with round after round of people, smiling with them for photos until her face nearly froze.

She sat back down to rest. Wang Cheng also escaped with his life and sat over, shaking his head. “When you get to the end of filming, this is the most exhausting part.”

“I don’t think I’ve toasted you yet.”

“We don’t need to do all that.”

Wu Man raised her glass. “I’m sincere. For an actor to meet a director like you is both luck and fortune.”

Wang Cheng laughed. “You can’t say that. Everyone achieves each other mutually.”

Wu Man drank it all in one gulp, then set down the glass and rubbed the rim. “In all my years of acting, this is the first time I’ve felt myself merging with a character, felt her as a living, breathing other person who also somehow seemed like me. Your direction and guidance have helped me tremendously. Unlike before, when I really was just acting—every character was just a paper cutout. I couldn’t truly empathize.”

He pondered for a moment and said, “Have you thought about why you couldn’t empathize?”

Wu Man thought for a while and said uncertainly, “Setting aside objective factors, subjectively it’s because my comprehension isn’t good enough, right?”

Wang Cheng shook his head. “Your comprehension is very good. I noticed this during your audition. I don’t know which category you fall into, but let me share my personal view. The reason an actor can’t empathize is that they don’t accept themselves enough and have barriers with the world. Someone with barriers can’t even empathize with themselves—how could they possibly experience other people’s emotions?”

Wu Man listened thoughtfully.

“However, when an actor has the opportunity to encounter a role that opens their heart, able to open themselves up, they’ll gain growth and see a different world. They’ll rise to the next level. But such roles are like buying lottery tickets—encountering one is a kind of fate. Some actors might never encounter one their entire lives and never have that awakening.”

“So your choice of me was because you sensed…”

Wang Cheng nodded subtly. “There’s a part of Deng Lizhi that’s very similar to you. Only you precisely identified this point during your audition. Your greatest fortune isn’t meeting me, but meeting Deng Lizhi. I can give you some suggestions when getting into character, but getting out of character—that’s something only you can do yourself.”

Wu Man was stunned and said hesitantly, “…I feel like I’ve mostly recovered now.”

Wang Cheng smiled. “Drunk people also easily say they’re not drunk.”

Someone approached Wang Cheng with a glass. Before leaving, he patted Wu Man’s back. “Other productions don’t matter, but given your current state, getting out of this character requires a separation period.”

*

After the wrap party ended, they moved from the restaurant to KTV. The director held on until halfway before leaving early due to lack of stamina. Once he left, some people also gradually departed, leaving just a few of the more familiar actors.

Wu Man’s consciousness was also urging her to leave, but when her peripheral vision caught Zhui Ye still sitting in the corner, she lazily didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to think. Just simply remained sitting in place.

She attributed this to having drunk a bit more than usual.

Zhong Yueqing raised an eyebrow. “Since it’s just us, want to play a game?”

“Oh, here we go again—” a female actress complained, though her expression was quite eager.

Zhong Yueqing pulled out playing cards. “We won’t play something as extreme as last time. Just the King’s Game, okay? If you can’t do it, drink.”

“Let’s do it then.”

He began dealing cards. Wu Man looked at her card—Ace of Hearts.

The person who drew the King was the female actress who had complained earlier. She said mischievously, “Ten of Diamonds and Ace of Clubs, French kiss for ten seconds!”

“No way, right off the bat you’re going this big!”

Everyone complained. When the cards were revealed, she herself was the Ten of Diamonds, and another female actress was the Ace of Clubs. The two reasonably attractive girls, having drunk a bit, embraced and kissed without hesitation. The scene was quite pleasing to the eye. Everyone was also very tactful—no one took out their phones to photograph or record.

They drew several rounds. Wu Man was spared each time, and this round she even drew the King.

“Sister Man will definitely go easy on us!”

Hearing the deliberately flattering words, she smiled and said, “Alright then, King of Spades and King of Hearts gaze at each other for ten seconds.”

“—That’s way too tame.”

Amid everyone’s heckling, Zhui Ye flipped his card. He was the King of Hearts.

Wu Man’s heart trembled slightly. Her gaze calmly swept across her own card. She didn’t flip it because Ding Jiaqi had already turned over her card.

She immediately felt fortunate that she had just gone along with that person’s words and chosen such a mild punishment.

But even so, when she witnessed Ding Jiaqi using this opportunity to change seats to sit across from Zhui Ye, the two facing each other close together, gazing at each other, with Ding Jiaqi unable to suppress her rising smile… in this moment Wu Man’s mind became chaotic, recalling when they were filming location shots in Guangzhou—Ding Jiaqi had crossed the playground through the crowd to come before them, and the two had also shared such a moment of looking at each other.

The jealousy surging in her chest was so similar to that time.

The self who had just told Wang Cheng at dinner that she had mostly recovered was indeed laughably naive. Wu Man turned her head self-mockingly, never before feeling these ten seconds were so interminable.

After the gaze ended, Ding Jiaqi awkwardly downed a full glass of wine, the flush rising on her face difficult to distinguish as being from the gaze or the alcohol.

Wu Man pretended not to care as she turned back. Zhui Ye’s gaze was pursuing her across the crowd. Their eyes met unintentionally and secretly. His expression, which had shown little fluctuation since earlier, suddenly broke into a smile.

He must have read the sourness on her face that she hadn’t had time to hide.

In the next few rounds, Wu Man seemed to have activated a protective shield—she wasn’t chosen as King, nor was she chosen for punishments. Instead, Ding Jiaqi ran out of luck, repeatedly drawn for intimate interactions with people. Unwilling, she could only drink glass after glass of wine.

As the game neared its end, Wu Man’s phone vibrated. Yu Jiaze, who hadn’t replied all this time, sent a video call request.

She froze for a moment, then hurriedly withdrew to the outdoor terrace to answer the video call.

Yu Jiaze’s background was his office. Hearing the noise from her end, he hummed and said, “Still not home?”

“Tonight’s the wrap party. I’ll head back soon.”

“Alright then, I won’t come find you tonight. Get some sleep early.”

“…Okay.”

This wasn’t Yu Jiaze being considerate. He hadn’t even asked what she’d been doing during those missing days.

Only when he didn’t care would he be like this.

She had an impulse to ask, but just then footsteps sounded in the distance. Her rationality returned. She hastily said goodnight to Yu Jiaze and ended the video.

The footsteps drew closer before she could dodge. When she saw clearly that it was Zhui Ye and Ding Jiaqi, her body had already moved faster than her consciousness to hide in the darkness.

Ding Jiaqi’s face was not only flushed red, but her entire slender white arm was also red. She wore a sleeveless white dress, like a night-blooming cereus opening in the darkness, at the most stunning age of her life.

“Zhui Ye ge, I called you out here because if I don’t tell you these things today, I don’t know if I’ll have another chance… I don’t want to have regrets in my life.” She took deep breaths repeatedly. “Actually, even before joining the production, I really liked your work. I watched your ‘Evil Son’ so many times… Why is it that you’re only two years older than me but can be so amazing? This question wasn’t resolved until these days of acting with you… because you really can be this amazing.”

“Before this, I never thought I’d have the opportunity to act with you. My friends all told me that a role is a role, the real person is the real person. Everyone spreads rumors that you’re frivolous, that meeting you would definitely shatter my illusions, told me to just have fun with you and that’s it.”

Zhui Ye stood quietly across from her, his expression serious as he listened.

Wu Man in the darkness was embarrassed. She absolutely didn’t want to eavesdrop on someone’s confession.

Ding Jiaqi’s voice carried uncontrollable trembling. “But I fell even harder than I expected. You’re really good, very gentle, very sincere—not at all what they said. Because you wouldn’t even give me the qualification of just having fun, right?”

By the end, perhaps because her emotions were too intense, perhaps because of the alcohol, she couldn’t help but cry.

Zhui Ye handed her a tissue. “Don’t speak of your feelings so humbly.”

Ding Jiaqi looked at that tissue and didn’t take it.

Wu Man recalled when she cried, Zhui Ye had seemed to hold her and wipe away her tears with his fingertips. Not like now, politely and distantly handing over an inconsequential tissue.

In the distance, Ding Jiaqi slowly bit her lower lip. “Some people are like Mount Fuji—impossible to possess privately with love. To me, you’re that kind of person, who won’t belong exclusively to anyone. So I’m not greedy. Just having fun would be fine too.”

“Don’t you know? Mount Fuji is privately owned.”

Zhui Ye suddenly came out with this, leaving Ding Jiaqi speechless.

She couldn’t help but ask curiously, “Who’s that impressive?”

“Originally it belonged to Tokugawa Ieyasu. Later he gave it to Sengen Shrine.”

Wu Man in the corner wanted to roll her eyes in amusement. Aren’t you two in the middle of a confession? What’s with this sudden trivia?

Ding Jiaqi continued asking, “So love can be privately owned, right?”

“Yes. And no.” Zhui Ye paused, as if considering how to say it. “If I were Mount Fuji, I would already be privately owned. Only ‘Tokugawa’ can decide my comings and goings.”

She was stunned for a second. “…Then, who is that Tokugawa?”

Zhui Ye didn’t answer. She said self-mockingly in a murmur, “Anyway, it’s not me, right?”

Ding Jiaqi lowered her head despondently, covering her face with both hands as tears overflowed from between her fingers.

Zhui Ye seemed at a loss. But Ding Jiaqi suddenly stood on tiptoe, grabbed his shoulders, and tried to force a kiss.

Wu Man hiding in the darkness involuntarily held her breath.

Zhui Ye barely dodged, pressing her in place, saying helplessly, “You’ve drunk too much again.”

Seeing he hadn’t been kissed, Wu Man unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief.

“I haven’t drunk too much!”

“You succeeded once before. Not this time.”

Ding Jiaqi simply threw a drunken tantrum, acting unreasonably. “You weren’t drawn to kiss anyone earlier. Everyone else kissed. It’s not fair!”

Another person walked over from the terrace entrance—Zhong Yueqing. He muttered, “You all went out one by one and haven’t come back for so long. What are you doing?”

Zhui Ye quickly waved. “She’s drunk. Take her back to the private room.”

Wu Man in the corner thanked heaven and earth—this forced spectating torment was finally over.

Zhong Yueqing asked him, “You’re not coming in?”

Zhui Ye waved his hand. “I’m going to smoke.”

Zhong Yueqing nodded. Though Ding Jiaqi was unwilling, she was too embarrassed to throw a tantrum in front of him like before and could only follow him back.

Zhui Ye leaned against the railing, unhurriedly lighting a cigarette, his gaze sweeping over the shadows in the corner.

“Sister, how long are you going to hide?”

…When did he notice?

Wu Man was surprised for a moment, then walked out from the dark corner, saying casually, “I just came out to video call. I didn’t mean to spy.”

“Who were you calling? Yu Jiaze?”

She avoided answering. “I should probably leave first. You guys continue playing.”

She moved past him to walk back, but he grabbed her wrist. She tried to pull back but couldn’t.

Zhui Ye held the cigarette in his mouth and said unclearly, “Did you hear what Ding Jiaqi said just now?”

“Which part? That she fell for you?”

Zhui Ye smiled, the grip on her hand relaxing slightly.

“So that’s what Sister focused on.”

“She was confessing to you. If not that, what else could be the point?”

“She also said I wasn’t drawn to kiss anyone, so it’s not fair.” With one hand he turned her toward himself. “But clearly there’s one other person who also wasn’t drawn.”

“…So what?”

“Since we happen to make a pair, let heaven be the King and punish us.”

He flicked away the ash, his hand restraining her arm moving instead to cup her face, and leaning away from the moonlight, he kissed her without warning.