The door of the private room was still open. The woman in the room across had stopped wailing “I’ll love you even in death” and moved on to “One Night in Beijing.” Over here, they were already halfway through the song but no one had sung a note.
Jia He hugged a bucket of popcorn in one hand and a red mic in the other, but somehow forgot how this song went.
After several seconds, she stumbled along mumbling a few lines. Her performance was truly on par with the woman across – not even considering what key it was in, she couldn’t even get the lyrics right while looking at the screen. That could be considered a kind of talent…
“Give me the mic,” Yi Wenze said as he walked into the room.
Qiao Qiao was startled, only then noticing the black mic by her side. She quickly passed it to him.
Without looking at the big screen, Yi Wenze seemed to know every word and melody point. He sang effortlessly, voice low and slightly weary like from traveling. Not daring to make another mistake, Jia He carefully and nervously sang along. Their harmony was unexpectedly good.
The door was still open. Hearing Yi Wenze sing, someone passing by excitedly stopped to listen. One by one, soon there were three layers of people inside and out. As a household name star singing his ex-wife’s song with another woman for all to see, no one could miss such gossip.
Not until the song was nearly over did A Qing notice something amiss. He smiled as he shut the door, leaning back against it to block the transparent glass, separating the fans and onlookers outside the room.
At the MV’s end, Tian Chu looked up against a golden sunrise and shouted “I love you.”
Still hugging the popcorn, Jia He spaced out staring at the ending until it switched to a KTV advertisement. Only then did she put down the mic and continued eating popcorn with lowered head. No one knew who had picked “Sunlight.” Of the two who sang the duet, one sat hugging popcorn and eating fiercely in the corner sofa by the door. The other passed the mic to the person beside him and stood to the side.
“Teacher Yi really should release an album, it’ll definitely sell well.” Qiao Qiao brown-nosed, passing a bottle of beer to Yi Wenze while telling Jia He with a kick to scoot over and make room for him to sit.
Jia He understood what she meant, but with so many people here, shamelessly having Yi Wenze sit next to her was still too embarrassing. Yet seeing him standing there holding the beer, she also felt bad. After struggling internally, her idol conquered all – she reluctantly squeezed toward Qiao Qiao and smiled. “Teacher Yi, sit here.”
Yi Wenze thanked her and sat down beside Jia He without any hesitation.
There were many people tonight and the private clearly wasn’t big enough. On the sofa, everyone was squeezed together. She actually wasn’t very particular. It wasn’t feudal times with taboos about physical contact between men and women. But as soon as Yi Wenze sat down beside her, she started feeling uncomfortable all over. Her neck stiffly stared at the big screen without knowing what she was watching…
A Qing had slipped to the song selection machine long ago. Yi Wenze sat by the door. Outside, people occasionally wandered past. Having heard Yi Wenze was inside, they would float their eyes over the glass from time to time. But he calmly drank his beer. Wearing a cap with the brim flattened, and sitting down, no one from outside could recognize him anyway. They would look briefly before letting it go.
Because of the alcohol, people frequently got up to go out for a smoke or the bathroom.
Yi Wenze’s position clearly blocked the door a bit so he naturally shifted closer to Jia He again. She reacted as if electrocuted, shoving toward Qiao Qiao once more.
“Qiao Qiao, you’re nearly sitting on my lap,” Assistant Director Cheng Hao coughed.
Qiao Qiao resentfully glanced at Jia He. She simply stood up meaningfully. “It really is cramped. I’ll go stand outside for a bit.”
Cheng Hao thought she meant him so he didn’t dare stand either. “You sit, sit. I’ll go stand outside.”
After letting each other go back and forth, neither of them sat back down in the end, leaving ample room for Jia He and Yi Wenze. The others also didn’t dare come sit here after what just happened with the singing. And so, a strange sight formed – a third of the long sofa only occupied by two people, even a space of one seat luxuriously between them, while the remaining two thirds were squeezed together like sardines…
“Working on any new scripts?” Yi Wenze asked as he looked at the big screen.
Jia He mumbled yes, then felt it was too deliberately demure so she quickly supplemented, “It’s already up on Tian Book, another costume drama.”
Yi Wenze’s mouth quirked up slightly, smiling very shallowly. “You really like costume dramas?”
Jia He smiled. “When I was little, I was obsessed with a phrase – ‘Feathered fans and muslin kerchiefs, chatting and laughing are soon nothing but fading smoke and ashes.’ I’ve liked costume dramas ever since, especially characters who can fearlessly fight thousands of soldiers.”
Yi Wenze drank some beer, the 330 ml bottle fitting perfectly in his grasp. The green Heineken bottle shone transparently like stained glass from the screen light. Jia He quietly watched him and thought of poking the TV screen back in middle school and shouting excitedly at Yi Wenze on it. She didn’t know why her face heated.
Fortunately the lighting was dim here so no one could see her blushing.
“Oh my beautiful country, though we wander far and wide with much fondness in our hearts, time and tide wait for no one,” he recited softly. Shaking his head with half self-mockery, half smile, he said, “I performed this poem once in a drama.”
“Mo Shaoyang?”
Naturally she would recognize every character he had played. That was a Republican era drama, the debauched Shanghai Bund where his character was a young master of a family with hero aspirations. She could even recall exactly which scene held the context around Yi Wenze reciting this poem.
Yi Wenze turned to look at her, eyes pitch black and filled with fractured light, breathtakingly beautiful. “Did you like that character? Mo Shaoyang?”
“I liked him. I’m attracted to morally upright characters capable of self-restraint,” Jia He earnestly analyzed. “It was Mo Shaoyang’s sense of righteousness that led to his downfall in that environment. The conflict was very distinct.”
Yi Wenze laughed softly. “I meant, did you like him as an audience member?”
Jia He realized she was being overly professional again. “Sorry, occupational hazard. As an audience member…” Meeting his eyes, her internal dialogue was that since it was her idol playing him, everything would be good of course. Outwardly keeping calm, she picked up a glass of red wine to quench her thirst and awkwardness. “I liked him very much, especially the scene where he boards the ship leaving China.”
That was the scene with Yi Wenze in a Zhongshan suit* facing the ocean, reciting the homesick poem by the famous beauty, Yuenu Jiao.
With one poem, hatred for one’s country and love for one’s children were let go…
When they returned at night, Qiao Qiao followed Jia He to her room to sleep. Still buzzed, she sprawled on the bed watching Jia He busily typing away. “Your idol really is high quality, being so nice to fans.”
Eyes locked on her screen, Jia He didn’t even turn her head. “Of course.”
“My boss doesn’t like hyped scandals. Otherwise today’s events would have made for good news,” Qiao Qiao mumbled, heavens spinning as she analyzed. “See that currently popular Qing dynasty drama – the director and actress affair is getting lots of attention.”
Jia He didn’t reply. Her idle chat with Yi Wenze tonight had sparked a new drama idea she urgently needed to record before forgetting. Because Qiao Qiao was sleeping, she only turned on the desk lamp, eyes unblinkingly staring at the screen as she typed. Only when she reached over 2000 words did she straighten up her sore neck.
She stretched lazily and saw it wasn’t even 1 AM, a perfect time to go for a massage.
This production team had thoughtfully arranged three masseuses from the hotel to serve the crew. As long as she went before 2 AM, it was fine. Most people were already asleep now so the masseuses were likely free. Thinking this, Jia He got up and poked the blanket burrito that was Qiao Qiao. “I’ll go get a massage. Help me open the door later.”
Qiao Qiao lightly grunted twice in acknowledgment. Jia He turned her phone volume to max before feeling assured enough to leave. Wandering inside the hotel, she didn’t bother dressing up and just threw on athletic clothes and slippers as she briskly walked to the massage room and knocked.
Soon the door opened. With the curtains pulled back here, the crescent moon outside glowed softly, surrounded by vast swaths of snowy whiteness under the deep night sky.
It had started snowing.
As she drew back her gaze, she discovered there was someone already occupying the innermost massage bed, outer garments and a cap flung to the side.
Hearing the noise, he lifted his head and smiled faintly at her, gesturing to keep silent.
The three blind masseurs were all male and couldn’t see his signal. Dazed, Jia He didn’t quite understand but still obediently kept quiet.
“I heard the lead this time is Yi Wenze. He’s your idol, right?” said the one who began massaging Jia He, signaling her to lay on the bed belly-down.
The person at Yi Wenze’s side laughed. “Not me, my daughter.”
“Then after filming wraps, could we trouble the crew to get an autograph?”
“Forget it,” he smiled foolishly. “My daughter said her idol is going through a divorce right now so his mood must be affected. We’ll ask when there’s a chance in the future.”
The two said no more, continuing to work in silence.
So they had been talking about him…
Seeing her understand, Yi Wenze buried his head again to keep resting.
By now, Jia He’s masseuse had also carefully draped a long towel over her and quietly asked where she wanted the focus. Jia He muttered “neck” before burying her face. It was a strange feeling – although clearly many people were in the room, the communication between the two of them felt private, naturally intimate like ordinary friends.
Jia He mentally celebrated. She had already become friends with her idol!
And so, amidst the alternating soreness and numbness of the massage, she hazily drifted back to teenaged summer nights on Beijing’s Dongdan Street hugging a skateboard, idly chatting with good friends, enjoying the night’s cool breeze… As if someone was patting her arm, asking if she wanted to head back to sleep, she lazily declined and sank deeper into her dreams…
Leave a Reply