After an exquisite lunch post-PR shoot, Xia Ruyun and Gao Qian headed straight to the airport and flew back to Q City. They landed without issue and Gao Qian delivered Xia Ruyun back home. Together, they lugged Xia Ruyun’s luggage up to her room. Once everything had been put down, Xia Ruyun turned to Gao Qian, giving her one more “Thank you,” before presenting her a hand-written card. “Just... for appreciation in remembering me all these years.”
“Thank... you?” Gao Qian took the card with a hesitant smile. “You really didn’t have to, but thanks.”
“I wanted to,” Xia Ruyun shrugged. She took off her shoes and stepped into a pair of slippers. “I wrote one to Li Feiling, Wu Linjie, and a few others as well.”
Their conversation ended there, as Gao Qian closed the door with a grateful smile and disappeared back down the apartment building. Before she left, she gave one last piece of advice. “With the pay and publicity of this new production, consider moving to another place to live, I can recommend places if you’d like. I’m sure you have the money, and staying here could become a bit of a safety risk.”
That’s... probably a good idea. Xia Ruyun thought to herself as she closed the door with a click. Dismissing the thought for future Xia Ruyun to think about, she meandered further into her home with luggage in tow. She made a trip to the bathroom along the way to remove her makeup and wash up. After finishing, she unpacked her most important luggage before her eyes began wandering towards her bed.
One flop later, she let out a long sigh and curled up in bed. Rolling over, she couldn’t help but laugh as the ever-familiar darkness greeted her. Some... invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The slug mentality came crawling back into her mind like it had never left. She pulled her pillows closer and wrapped her blanket around like a cocoon.
Heaven...
The laptop opened and the rotting began.
Xia Ruyun started by catching up on a couple manhua she had fallen behind on. Breaks of watching TV show episodes sneaked their way in between chapters. Add in another binge on social media to see celebrity news—including her own—and seven hours passed before she even realized it.
The darkness crawled into every corner as the night deepened. Along with the darkness came the little goblins in her mind. She paused. The video playing in the background came to a stop as the host bid the audience an excited goodbye. Her phone—opened to social media—darkened after a minute of idleness. Just like that, the room felt suffocating once more.
I wonder if they’ll remember me...
I wonder if I’ll get to work again...
I wonder if... I wonder if that was just a one time thing.
I wonder what Li Feiling... What if Wu Linjie... Is it really because of me... Does Chen Wenhui remember... Was Director Zhang truly...
The thoughts came in torrential waves as Xia Ruyun sank into her mattress. A weakness seeped into her bones as she felt a boulder begin to weigh down on her chest. She broke out into sweats. She slapped her cheek to try and purge her thoughts. She wished she could remove her brain to just. stop. thinking.
Were Li Feiling and I actually friends? Or was she just... taking pity on me?
Silence filled the room as a few tears pooled up in her eyes. A couple trickled down her cheeks as she laid there, frozen like a statue.
I... I need to do something to clear my brain... anything.
She bolted upright and forced herself out of bed. Still in her sleepwear, she stumbled towards her kitchen. Along the way she tripped over a carton of empty cup noodles. She ignored the burning sensation in her knee. Her jaw clenched. Once she pushed herself back up to her feet, she entered the kitchen, filled a cup of water, and took slow sips while staring out the window into the night’s serenity.
The moon cast its silvery rays through the clouds. It enveloped the buildings, streets, and cars in its cold embrace. Streetlights and their warm cones of yellow served as lighthouses in the night’s emptiness.
I can’t see the stars...
Still a little shaken, Xia Ruyun sipped more from her cup. The hot water warmed her hands as she tried her best to clear her mind. Without realizing it, she began humming under her breath as she rested. Her humming, before long, transformed into quiet singing as her mind fought off the demons assaulting her.
For the first time in years, Xia Ruyun had sung for herself. Not for voice therapy, but on... a whim.
“A lost person like me
“A still searching person like me
“An ordinary person like me
“How many others have you met?
“A lonely person like me
“A foolish person like me
“An ambitious person like me
“How many others are in this word?
“For a solitary person like me...
“Will anyone care for me?”
Breathless, Xia Ruyun stopped as she stared down at her cup. Illuminated by the moon’s silvery glow, she saw her tired—but a little less gaunt—face staring back at her. The evening felt... warmer as she stood there in silence. Her mind moved on as she refilled her cup. Conscious of the world again, she looked around before looking down.
My... My knee hurts a lot. Luckily I only scraped some skin off earlier...
She limped over to the cabinet. After wiping the wound clean, she bandaged it and put away her medical supplies. Taking careful steps back to her room, she dodged the box of cup noodles. Her bed beckoned towards her, but instead of performing her classic olympic-level dive, she took a seat by the edge.
A sigh left her lips. Her shoulders rose and fell as she took deep breaths. Leaning over, she pulled the curtains apart by a hair to let a little more light into her bedroom. Already on top of the bed, she grabbed her phone before returning to her previous sitting position.
She hesitated as her phone sat dark in her hand.
Do I?
Or do I not?
Tearing her eyes away, she looked back around her room. Dust, empty cup noodle cartoons, and darkness greeted her, as always. As her gaze wandered, she looked through the slit between her curtains as memories of filming filled her mind.
The rushes to get into costume during late-night shooting, the evening dinners, and the late-night heart-to-hearts.
She turned on her phone. Swiping through the apps, she opened her message app and her conversation with Li Feiling. After five minutes of thinking, her thumbs clicked each letter one by one to compose her message. Reading it back a few times, she adjusted—and agonized over—a few pieces of punctuation here, and a few words there before sending it off.
[Once you’re free and done with shooting, would you like to get a meal with me?]