After the wedding ended, she quickly returned to China because of scheduled filming. Zhui Ye continued to stay in America.

His training soon ended, and he would seamlessly transition into filming. Wu Man heard from He Huiyu that every day he practiced boxing beyond the required amount, and after class he followed a local English teacher to practice speaking. His physical and mental energy operated at high intensity all day long.

No wonder when checking out at the convenience store, his accent was much better than she had expected.

On the plane back to China, Wu Man closed her eyes, trying not to think about anything, but Zhui Ye’s words kept turning over and over, fiercely crashing against her.

Too youthful.

She had never been surrounded by such unbridled affection.

At first, she thought Zhui Ye was just influenced by the movie, so she forced herself not to take it seriously.

But in the end, the movie was just that little kid’s small scheme to approach her.

How could she not be shaken… to be remembered by someone for so many years, yet he only approached gently, never feeling that she must reciprocate his years of affection.

Like a dead tree greeting spring beside a sunken boat.

The vitality he brought seemed to ignite her too—she shouldn’t resign herself to this damned life.

That impulse jumped in her chest along with her heartbeat, driving her forward. Perhaps stepping down would be an abyss, or perhaps she could finally fly. She wouldn’t know until she took that step.

After all, ten years had passed, and her wings had already atrophied.

Maybe at twenty, with nothing to lose, she would have tried to fly.

But at thirty, fear had long since overpowered the fearless courage of a newborn calf. She could only desperately suppress this impulse, hovering at the edge of the cliff.

*

After returning from Los Angeles, the Cannes submission deadline was approaching, but they still hadn’t obtained the distribution permit for “Spring Night.”

This made Wang Cheng extremely anxious, so he came to Wu Man for help again. Actually, even if he hadn’t come, Wu Man was determined to ask Yu Jiaze for clarification.

However, Yu Jiaze’s expression was calm, unhurriedly saying: “I’ve already had another meal with the Director, but the climate is very tense recently—he has to follow the orders from above. The film’s content itself is sensitive; it’s not something I can decide.”

Although these words weren’t false, Wu Man knew perfectly well that he hadn’t tried at all—he just wanted to follow the censorship bureau’s wishes to withhold the distribution permit, so the film could only compete for awards next year.

This way, she and Zhui Ye wouldn’t need to meet again for promotional matters over the next year. With him developing in Hollywood and fading from domestic entertainment, the two would no longer have any connection.

She had figured out Yu Jiaze’s thoughts. Sure enough, a month after the Cannes submission deadline, “Spring Night’s” distribution permit finally came through. The film would have to be delayed another year for release.

Originally hoping to sweep next year’s domestic awards with the role of Deng Lizhi, that plan was now impossible. This year’s Golden Image Best Actress award ended up benefiting He Huiyu instead.

But this wasn’t entirely bad—at least for Zhui Ye, he could focus on filming in Hollywood without having to divide his attention for promotions.

At first, marketing accounts would occasionally report on his filming abroad, even trying to dig up some romantic scandals between him and foreign beauties to attract traffic, but with the sky high and the emperor far away—whether they genuinely couldn’t catch anything or lacked ability—they didn’t uncover a single thing.

Thus Zhui Ye’s name gradually became forgotten by the public in the ever-changing entertainment industry, except for one time when he made the Weibo trending search because he posted a Weibo with just a few letters: IMYDAN.

Fans were beside themselves, saying Zhui Ye was even more heartless than a traveling frog—at least the little frog traveling abroad knew to send postcards back, but he just sent them a riddle to solve. The entire internet was guessing what this phrase meant, eventually turning it into a comedy awards show.

After that, topics about him were rarely seen.

Wu Man’s days seemed to return to before, to the days before Zhui Ye had set foot in her life. She still nestled beside Yu Jiaze, but the difference was that her scheduled appearances were greatly reduced.

Most of the time, she could only stay in Yu Jiaze’s villa, unable to go anywhere.

She suspected Yu Jiaze had deceived Tang Yingxue and changed villas, because Tang Yingxue had never come over, so the imagined awkward encounter never happened.

For scheduling choices, the company would definitely avoid any occasions where Tang Yingxue appeared.

She was like a rat in the gutter, forced to hide from the light.

Yu Jiaze seemed to compensate for this. In autumn, he took on a film for her—a movie that Wei Jinghua was using for his comeback. Because the film’s largest investor was the Yu family, she got the third female role without auditioning—an unimportant decorative edge role whose greatest contribution was just her face.

After being silent for almost a whole year, getting this kind of movie seemed like a worthwhile trade.

But Wu Man knew she felt unwilling. Even now, she was no longer satisfied with this kind of role, even if the director was Wei Jinghua.

And Wei Jinghua was clearly also dissatisfied with the film being infiltrated by an airborne soldier. At the opening banquet, he treated Wu Man almost coldly. When she went to toast him, he only nodded lightly without even touching his glass.

Halfway through the meal, the atmosphere made Wu Man feel suffocated. Fortunately, someone suddenly knocked on the private room door.

The person who entered was no small figure—someone from the Central Film Group.

He was an old acquaintance of Wei Jinghua. In earlier years, the films Wei Jinghua shot were all produced by China Film Studio.

He called out to Wei Jinghua: “What a coincidence, Director Wei! I heard your table was also having an opening banquet at Shidu, so I quickly came over to say hello.”

Wei Jinghua smiled politely: “You’re here too?”

“Hey, we have an international co-production project about to launch. We’re just having dinner next door. The higher-ups really value this film—the Director himself came today and is right next door. Would you like to go see him?”

Wei Jinghua pondered for a moment: “Could we main creators go toast the Director together? We won’t disturb him, will we?”

“How could that be? The Director loves crowds, liveliness, and grandeur!”

With this sudden development, everyone could only get up and follow Wei Jinghua to the adjacent private room.

Wu Man’s role wasn’t important, so she walked at the back, feeling quite disinterested.

Pushing open the door, the smoke in the room exploded like a flare. Even at the end of the line, she felt her nose sting.

She raised her hand to disperse the smoke, looking at the cigarette-smoking crowd inside the room, and couldn’t help but freeze.

Many people from the Central Film Group were present, as well as Americans, but she hadn’t expected the American company to be New Ring.

The young man sitting beside the Director was even more familiar.

—It was Zhui Ye, whom she hadn’t seen in nearly a year.

Seeing him again felt like a lifetime had passed. His face was still that face, but his temperament was far more different from the last time she’d seen him in Los Angeles. He wore a dark blue hoodie, his hair still jet black—everything in dark colors, as if dyeing his temperament into a cool undertone as well.

It was hard to imagine how arrogant and domineering he had been when she first met him.

He didn’t pay attention to this group entering, concentrating on chatting with the Director beside him. When the Director raised a cigarette between his fingers, Zhui Ye glanced and picked up the lighter to light it for him. When the Director’s glass emptied, he immediately filled it. When the Director told him to drink, he tilted back his head, his Adam’s apple rolling. He wiped the spilled liquor and smiled, turning over the emptied glass.

Just a few simple actions, yet they made Wu Man’s eyes sting.

When had he needed to please others like this? He was clearly such an unbridled, vibrant, unrestrained favored son of heaven.

But if he wanted to climb higher, pleasing these people was the most direct path. For instance, with this kind of pivotal film, the lead role couldn’t be obtained with acting skills alone.

Perhaps Wu Man’s gaze was too focused. Zhui Ye turned his head and looked toward the door.

When he saw her, a barely perceptible embarrassment flashed across his expression, then he calmed down and continued pouring wine for the Director as if nothing had happened.

Their group stepped forward to toast in turn, trying to leave a good impression on the Director.

Wu Man didn’t dare be negligent either—after all, he was someone even Yu Jiaze had to carefully handle. The Director’s face was flushed from drinking. He smiled and said: “You’re all pillars of the film industry, but speaking of which, our Zhui Ye brings the most honor.” He patted Zhui Ye’s shoulder. “Isn’t that film you’re starring in about to be released?”

Zhui Ye smiled modestly: “It’s scheduled for early next month in North America first. We’ll still need to trouble the Director for the domestic release.”

“What are you saying? Excellent films must be given the green light!”

Wu Man unobtrusively observed their interaction. Without a doubt, Zhui Ye had pleased the Director. But the more this was the case, the more uncomfortable she felt.

At this moment, she didn’t even have the energy for extra pleasantries. Leaving the private room, she unusually asked someone for a cigarette to smoke on the terrace.

Once again, because of Zhui Ye, she picked up the cigarettes she had quit.

Wu Man hid at the edge, thinking no one would come, but footsteps sounded behind her.

That familiar voice called to her from behind: “Elder sister.”

Wu Man was dazed for a moment—she really hadn’t heard this address in too long.

“…Long time no see.”

That seemed to be all there was to say.

Wu Man turned around to face Zhui Ye, forcing out a strained smile.

His gaze started from the top of her head, slowly moving to her eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips… finally to her toes. Every part, he scrutinized carefully.

“Even thinner than you look on camera.” He said with dissatisfaction.

Wu Man looked away: “You’ve also lost weight.”

“Have I? I eat so much every day.”

He made himself appear energetic, but Wu Man saw through his disguise at a glance.

His consummate acting skills appeared quite clumsy before her.

“Don’t force yourself.”

“…Really, I’m fine. It’s just that American food is too awful, that’s why I lost weight.” Zhui Ye smiled. “Elder sister, did you see the Weibo I posted?”

Wu Man nodded: “That IMYDAN?… Wasn’t that gibberish?”

She hadn’t thought much about it, assuming his butt had sat on his phone and sent it.

Zhui Ye’s face showed an extremely speechless expression.

“…Elder sister, you really are so unromantic.” He looked at her with that expression of truly having no way to deal with her, saying in a quite authentic American accent: “I Miss You Day And Night… There hasn’t been a single day I haven’t thought about you.”

His words were like the eve before a stuffy summer thunderstorm—suddenly a wind blew up under the deathly still eaves, and the wind chime in her heart began to ring ding-dong.

Wu Man looked elsewhere, dumbfounded and flustered. Her gaze happened to fall on the stairway corner leading to the terrace, where a group of people surrounded one person walking over. Wu Man looked closely—the person in the center was the Director from earlier.

The man standing beside him waved at Zhui Ye, saying: “Everyone’s looking for you.”

Zhui Ye looked over: “Looking for me?”

The Director spoke up: “We’re about to go bungee jumping on the mountain. How could we leave you out of this? Bungee jumping—young people have the most energy. Someone like me can’t jump anymore.”

Zhui Ye was arranged with just a few words, without any consideration for whether he was afraid of heights. It seemed young people should naturally risk their courage and become his after-dinner entertainment performance.

Zhui Ye naturally picked up the conversation: “If you wanted to jump, there’d be nothing for us to do.”

Hearing this, the Director beamed, glancing at Wu Man with her strange expression. On a whim, he casually said: “You’re here too? Perfect, come along and play. The more people, the livelier.”

Before Wu Man could react, Zhui Ye, who hadn’t shown any reluctance before, now frowned slightly.

Just as he was about to say something, she pressed down on him first.

She smiled and nodded to the Director: “Sure, I’ll join in the fun.”

The group headed toward the bungee platform. She and Zhui Ye walked at the tail end of the group. He lowered his voice, displeased: “Don’t you still have your opening banquet? You could use that as an excuse—you don’t need to come along.”

“So if he tells you to jump, you’ll eagerly come and jump?”

Wu Man finally couldn’t hold back. Hearing the Director specifically name Zhui Ye to jump, she felt a hundred times more stifled than if he’d named her.

She especially didn’t want to see him present himself in this manner.

Recalling how he looked during the initial audition—vibrant, unbridled, uncontrollable—everything she most disliked.

But actually, deep in her heart, she knew she was only jealous because she had lost those qualities. She envied that someone could still so lightly preserve those incredibly precious qualities. Charming to the point of danger.

Therefore, when she seemed to glimpse these things flowing away from him, she felt it was particularly cruel.

As if she herself was being pressed down at the Meridian Gate for execution once again.

Zhui Ye walked while raising his head, gazing at the distant bungee platform on the mountain, suddenly asking: “Elder sister, have you heard Borges’s poem ‘What can I hold you with’?”

Wu Man shook her head, not quite understanding.

“There’s a line that says, ‘I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never had faith.’ So for me, I’m willing to offer you the freedom of a man who has never had constraints. It’s not that he’s making me jump—in my heart, it’s you making me jump.”

Wu Man suddenly fell silent and didn’t speak again the rest of the way.

The group finally reached the bungee platform. Those walking in front jumped first, one after another like the Five Heroes of Langya Mountain, their successive screams delighting the Director.

When it was almost their turn, Wu Man gripped her palms hard. No one noticed her fists were full of sweat.

She gripped his sleeve with her slippery hand.

“Zhui Ye.” She stopped him, her expression so resolute. “I never wanted to make you jump. If we must jump, then let’s do it together.”

Tragic, as if once they jumped down they could never come back up.

But he thought she was frightened by those screams and soothingly touched her shoulder: “Alright, then we’ll do a tandem jump.”

He even just glanced carelessly at his own safety rope, then crouched down to carefully check her ankle, looking up to say gently: “The buckle is very secure, don’t worry.”

Wu Man looked down at him: “I’m not afraid.”

Zhui Ye stood up, staring at her carefully: “Don’t force yourself. It’s nothing if we don’t jump. I’ll just go tell the Director I’ll jump alone.”

Wu Man suddenly reached out to embrace his waist.

“I said, we’ll do it together.”

His body stiffened like a statue in that instant, then softened inch by inch.

The next moment, he adjusted their positions, putting his back toward the high altitude they’d jump into, letting Wu Man face his chest directly.

The safety instructor saw they were ready and shouted loudly.

“You can jump now. Three, two, one…”

When the last number was spoken, he pressed her head into his embrace, and their entire bodies instantly swung down.

The two embraced and plummeted resolutely and rapidly, like two atoms cast down by God—so insignificant in the magnificent landscape of mountains and waters.

But in their descending eyes, each other was the only stillness in a flowing world.

The late autumn wind howled past their ears, carrying a sharpness that could scratch people. Wu Man’s heart was violently filled. The weightlessness was terrifying. Her body’s instinctive reaction made her involuntarily close her eyes.

Suddenly, everything around was pitch black.

Zhui Ye sensed her fear and only held her even tighter, so closely it was as if he wanted to connect deeply with her, flapping out from her old butterfly bones to become her wings.

Swinging to the lowest point, like they were about to sink to the lake bottom, those wings fluttered and fanned her heavy heart, bringing them back up.

But whether they continued to fly or the rope snapped and they shattered into pieces—she wouldn’t be afraid, because someone was always with her.

Even though the tree branches were now bare, fallen leaves everywhere, about to enter an endless winter.

Yet she smelled the fragrance of vines, suppressed for years, breaking through the soil.

The spring night she thought she’d never wait for arrived in this second of falling.