TIL - 32

Wen Huo bought her film festival ticket online; it wasn’t expensive, but it only allowed her to sit in the audience section farthest from the awards stage, behind the one-meter barrier and away from the media from the red carpet ceremony onwards.

Although she was there as an audience member, she wasn’t there to simply be an audience member, so she dressed up and put on a gown she had never worn before.

The Chuan’gu International Film Festival, founded in 2015 and hosted by the National Radio and Television Administration, had strong backing. Held annually at the China Film Digital Base, it featured the main competition unit, the ‘Yaoguang Award’.

The keynote speakers included many internationally renowned filmmakers, and over six hundred films were screened, almost qualifying it as an international A-list film festival.

Why “almost”? Because it certainly couldn’t compare to the Shanghai Film Festival.

Han Bailu’s film was adapted from a case in a classic Chinese literary masterpiece called “Peng Gong An,” written by the Qing Dynasty author Tan Meng Dao Ren. She played a supporting female role in it.

Because of Chen Cheng and Han Bailu’s relationship, her management team, through deception and persuasion, secured her many scenes. The script was excellent, the team was top-notch, and she indeed possessed acting skills, at least in the eyes of various directors, exceeding the passing grade, so her nomination was expected.

Wen Huo arrived an hour before the red carpet ceremony but still couldn’t get the closest spot to the one-meter barrier.

She was blocked by media and staff. Fortunately, her gown wasn’t the kind designed primarily to attract attention; it was something she could wear normally, so she didn’t feel awkward standing on the periphery.

Someone nearby noticed her, thought she was beautiful, and even offered her a spot.

She thanked them and accepted the courtesy.

The red carpet ceremony began. The host walked to the signature wall, and guests at the red carpet entrance were already preparing to enter under the arrangement of the event staff.

This scene looked grand, but it was just crowded. Outside the one-meter line, there were layers upon layers of people. Once the red carpet ceremony was over and everyone took their seats, it wouldn’t seem like much. Thinking about it this way, for outsiders, the climax was the red carpet ceremony.

First came the veterans. The media pushed and shoved, wildly snapping photos with their cameras, constantly asking questions, often embarrassing ones. The good thing about these questions was that they always drew the subject’s attention.

Next came the handsome men and beautiful women, a feast for the eyes.

In a short time, screams, cries, and synchronized chants from fans almost pierced the night sky.

When it was time for the invited guests to enter, Wen Huo held her breath.

She knew Chen Cheng was about to appear.

She hadn’t seen Han Bailu earlier, and Wen Huo hadn’t thought much of it. Chen Cheng had told her he wouldn’t bring Han Bailu to the film festival, so she assumed Han Bailu was absent. But the moment she saw Han Bailu walk in, arm in arm with Chen Cheng, Wen Huo experienced tinnitus and blurry vision; her whole world seemed to turn upside down.

Chen Cheng was a low-key person. Except for insiders, no one knew his true value. Some media knew, but they wouldn’t allocate much camera time to him, because news was written for people to read, and “people” referred to the general public. Chen Cheng’s popularity was not as high as a trending celebrity in the public’s eyes, but that wasn’t the case when he appeared with Han Bailu. This was a golden couple pairing; an actress marrying into a wealthy family was always front-page news.

The media went wild, scrambling to get to them, microphones and recorders shoved in their faces. The security guards couldn’t hold them back, and their eardrums were almost damaged by the piercing sounds.

Wen Huo was roused by their noise. She looked at Chen Cheng again; he was wearing glasses today, a dark, finely checkered three-piece suit, and Oxford shoes. His sharp lines made his legs look long...

Then she looked at Han Bailu. She was thinner than at her last public appearance, but that slimness actually gave her an elegant air. They stood together, truly a well-matched pair.

But he had clearly said he wouldn’t bring her.

Wen Huo didn’t know how she felt, but it was definitely more disgusting than swallowing a fly. Chen Cheng had lied to her. She had no right to gamble with Han Bailu at all. He wouldn’t betray his family, nor would he change his decisions just because of a mistress’s tears or tantrums.

This outcome made Wen Huo feel terrible. She had deliberately chosen her most expensive dress. Although it was a gamble, she had also made many preparations and secretly held high hopes. How could it turn out this way?

She couldn’t stand steadily and took two steps back.

Someone next to her noticed her low spirits and gently held her arm: “Are you okay?”

The media and fans were still frantically shouting Chen Cheng and Han Bailu’s names. The host at the signature wall also expressed surprise at the phenomenon, broadcasting the real-time popularity of Chen Cheng and Han Bailu’s public appearance.

No one noticed Wen Huo, three layers deep in the crowd outside the one-meter line. She was like an outsider, watching the distinguished gentleman and his beautiful wife.

Han Bailu was Chen Cheng’s wife; it was right for him to bring her. It was right for him to allow her to hold his arm. It was right for him to introduce her as ‘my wife’. It was she, Wen Huo, a mistress who couldn’t see the light of day, who was wrong.

She gambled for nothing; she didn’t even have a single chip.

She didn’t want to stay any longer, whether it was injustice, awkwardness, or anger, she just didn’t want to stay.

She pushed away the kind person’s supporting hand, turned, and walked away.

Meaningless, utterly meaningless. From knowing she would definitely die to personally witnessing Chen Cheng break his word, she again felt that her desperate struggle to live was meaningless.

Qiu Mingyun was still on the phone when she entered the dorm room. Seeing the lights off, she thought Wen Huo hadn’t returned yet. She turned on the light and was startled to see her. She hung up the phone and walked to Wen Huo’s bed, touching her forehead: “What’s wrong?”

Wen Huo had her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t changed out of her gown or removed her makeup.

She wasn’t crying, not a single tear fell, but her heart felt heavy, and occasionally her heartbeat would race, making it hard to breathe. She started pressing on her chest, which offered some brief relief.

With her eyes open or closed, all she saw was Han Bailu arm-in-arm with Chen Cheng. How could Chen Cheng be like this?

And yet, she clearly knew, why couldn’t he be like this?

Qiu Mingyun was a little worried about her. She pulled up a chair and sat by her bed, “What on earth happened?”

Wen Huo said, “Are people not sincere?”

After saying it, she suddenly felt that this question shouldn’t come from her mouth. She had never been sincere with Chen Cheng either. She had no right to feel this wronged just because he brought Han Bailu to the film festival.

She had no morals, capable of taking money to be a vixen, sleeping with a married man just to sleep herself, saying things against her true feelings every day, yet still pretending to be decent.

At the institute, she was a studious, talented student.

In the eyes of her导师 (supervisor) and peers, she was dedicated to academia, a benchmark, the physics goddess they felt best embodied “unfettered.”

In another setting, she would pose coquettishly, behave promiscuously. Her hands, which usually derived formulas, always held Chen Cheng’s member, helping him penetrate her. The mouth that debated fiercely against a crowd at the debate festival always took him in, devouring his descendants...

Such a person, what right did she have to ask the question, ‘Are people not sincere?’

Did she deserve to?

Qiu Mingyun didn’t know what had happened to her, but she saw self-denial in Wen Huo’s eyes. She took her hand: “Huohuo, self-interest is normal, not abnormal. Of course, in today’s world with low moral demands, self-interest is acceptable, as long as it doesn’t harm others. But how can one not harm others if they only consider themselves? We are not all good people; we are just generally kind. It’s enough to be generally kind to people and things.”

Who can truly say they are purely good?

Kindness also has levels. Some people can shed tears for the poor and suffering of others, giving all they have, but have no patience for their own family. Some people turn a blind eye to pleas for help at their doorstep but are willing to donate a kidney for a close friend or relative suffering from a severe illness.

So kindness is never a baseline; it is a pattern drawn upon the background of these strange and varied events.

Wen Huo understood, but just as she comforted Qiu Mingyun, understanding and letting go were two different things.

Qiu Mingyun said nothing more, letting her process it herself. After the incident with Gu Xuanyu, she realized that only she could comfort her own grievances.

Wen Huo felt too miserable inside. She hadn’t experienced anything like this before, and it was a bit awkward. She felt she had been overly confident and also a bit resentful. Why? In this gamble, she had been so careful, and she was clearly in the upper hand. Everything she said was a lie, and she even thought she might have a slight chance of winning. It was only when Chen Cheng delivered this slap that she realized, ‘He truly is Chen Cheng.’ He said she was acting, but he acted better than her.

Han Bailu sent her a message at this moment, asking why she wasn’t at the film festival, which was already halfway through.

She didn’t know what to say and ignored it.

A moment later, she picked up her phone and replied: “I’ll transfer the money to your account later. I’m not doing this business anymore.”

Chen Cheng, who received this message, frowned slightly at the round table.

Qiu Mingyun happened to see the trending topic of the Chuan’gu Film Festival, clicked into the live stream, and it was just the host cueing Han Bailu, asking if she had any secret to remain like a child without any pressure after marrying a public heartthrob.

That question was a bit impolite; it should have been reversed, asking Chen Cheng why he was able to marry a goddess like Han Bailu.

Han Bailu smiled faintly. When the camera turned to her, there wasn’t a hint of unnaturalness. She even looked at Chen Cheng with affection and said, “Marrying the right person, I guess? And knowing that the public heartthrob is my husband, there’s no reason for me not to be happy like a child.”

Qiu Mingyun smacked her lips: “Only actors can say such cheesy things without batting an eye.”

Wen Huo turned over, not wanting to hear this.

Qiu Mingyun’s attention was on the live stream, so she didn’t notice Wen Huo’s abnormality. She continued: “Marketing accounts say Han Bailu’s dress was specially custom-made for her by Teacher Chen, a special custom-order from a blue-blood brand. It sounds even more prestigious than haute couture! How much must Teacher Chen love her?”

Wen Huo was annoyed listening to this. That sense of helplessness intensified. She started to feel the air in the dorm room was bad, suffocating her. She got out of bed, wanting to go for a walk.

Qiu Mingyun called out to her: “Where are you going?”

Wen Huo said: “Out for a walk.”

Qiu Mingyun stood up: “I’ll go with you.”

“I’m fine.”

Qiu Mingyun wasn’t entirely reassured; her complexion was too poor. When she got out of bed, Qiu Mingyun noticed she was wearing a dress she wouldn’t normally wear, and her unusual behavior heightened Qiu Mingyun’s concern. “No, I’m coming with you.”

Wen Huo shook her phone: “I’ll make a call.”

Only then did Qiu Mingyun not insist.

Wen Huo walked and walked until she got into a car and went to the apartment Chen Cheng had given her.

She entered the door with the code, went upstairs, and opened the closet. It was full of her clothes, all revealing ones that Chen Cheng liked: transparent, lace, tight, patent leather, crotchless, exposed chest... He had never bought her clothes she could wear outside.

What was this? Was Han Bailu the one he took out, and was she, Wen Huo, the one he hid in bed?

Even though she had known this all along, seeing it laid out so clearly before her, she truly couldn’t process it. She was a person, not made of iron.

Chen Cheng suddenly called her.

She didn’t answer; she hung up. She didn’t want to talk to him.

Chen Cheng sent her a WeChat message: “You came to the film festival.”

Wen Huo didn’t reply; she was utterly annoyed.

Chen Cheng sent another message: “Why did you leave?”

Seeing this message, Wen Huo couldn’t help it and replied: “Why did I leave? To watch you and Han Bailu parade around? Teacher Chen, you always say I never speak the truth, do you? You said you wouldn’t bring her. What does this mean now?”

“I don’t need to explain my decisions to you.”

Wen Huo understood: “Then why do you care if I go to the film festival or leave? Teacher Chen, we’re over. I’m completely sick of it. Go back to your family. I wish you and Han Bailu a harmonious marriage until old age.”

Chen Cheng asked her: “Where are you now?”

“Does it matter?”

“Wen Huo, who are you throwing a tantrum at?”

“Yes, I have no right, I don’t deserve it, so why are you bothering me? Can you please stop harassing me? I said we’re over. From now on, you be the respected Teacher Chen, and I’ll be my graduate student. Forget about Guotong Industry. I wouldn’t dare cross the bridge you built; what if it’s a shoddy project? If I fall and die again, I’d really be out of luck. Blocked. Don’t reply.” Wen Huo used sharp words to conceal her current bitterness and pain.

She threw her phone aside, lay on the bed, curling herself into a small ball, her face and eyes red.

Chen Cheng had been cold to her, and she had never felt so wronged.

The more Wen Huo thought about it, the more uncomfortable and stifled she felt. She sat up, suddenly realizing she had suffered too many losses, and returned to the film festival venue. She even forgot that she had been the one to scheme against Chen Cheng first, and she forgot, rationally speaking, that she hadn’t actually lost anything.