Global Film Emperor

Chapter 257 Collective
October 1, 2020, Shanghai, Magnolia Theatre.

After five days of intense rehearsals, Lu Ze stood by the bed in the second-floor lounge as the play "The Little Bird with Broken Wings" began its five-day run today. He could already see parents bringing their children.

Normal stage plays are not like they are now, where they can be performed on stage in just five days. That's pure nonsense. A good stage play requires actors to rehearse and work together for several months, or even one or two years. They not only have to memorize the script, but also cultivate their tacit understanding. This way, if someone makes a mistake, other actors can quickly fill in the gaps.

Even the rehearsals for "The Little Bird with Broken Wings" took more than three months for these students from the Beijing Drama Academy before they began this tour.

Fortunately, Lu Ze was only playing a supporting role with a lot of screen time. Five days was enough for him to thoroughly understand the script. In addition, he made great progress. Even though he was still a ways off from professional stage actors, he was more than capable of performing in a children's play. Moreover, due to his high level of consistency, he did not make a single mistake from the third day onwards.

"Lu Ze, it's your turn. Start putting on your makeup."

Old Song's face was covered in orange greasepaint, making him look like an Indian. He was shirtless and had put on the Bird Dad costume. Lu Ze responded and sat down, letting the makeup artist apply green greasepaint to his face.

"Son, we're getting off the bus. Come here, let Mommy hug you."

A BMW X5 pulled into the theater's parking lot. After carefully backing into the garage, the driver unbuckled his seatbelt, looked at his quiet son in the back seat, got out of the car, opened the back door, gently smoothed his son's bangs with his little finger, and took out a handkerchief he always kept handy to wipe the drool from his son's mouth.

Her name is Zhang Min, she is 35 years old, a senior executive in a company, married for eight years, had a child in 2013, and the child was born in April 2014. The child has a congenital intellectual disability and his nickname is Dingding.

She unbuckled the child's seatbelt, then struggled to pick him up and put him on the ground. Dingding now weighed over 50 pounds, which was heavier than a normal six-year-old. Zhang Min, a slender woman, naturally found it very difficult to carry him.

"Hello."

"Hello."

As Zhang Min pulled Ding Ding to the front of the car, she saw a woman with a child getting off the car next to her on the left. Although Zhang Min always felt that her family was a normal family and her child was a normal child, there was an inescapable hurdle or blockage in her heart. She could deceive herself, but the way others looked at her child always brought her back to reality. Her son had intellectual disabilities.

Now, seeing so many parents with children who also have intellectual disabilities, she suddenly felt comfortable and warm, because they were destined to worry about their children their whole lives, and even in death they would not be able to close their eyes in peace. When they came together, it was like a big family.

She saw no pity or mockery in the other person's eyes, only a sense of kinship among fellow sufferers. This sense of belonging was something Zhang Min had never felt in her six years as a mother. For a moment, her eyes welled up with tears. Just being able to meet other people like her made the trip worthwhile.

From the moment Dingding was born, when the examination revealed that the child might have a problem, she felt like the sky had fallen and that life had lost all hope. She even developed depression before giving birth, not even postpartum.

Although her husband was very sad, it was hard to say whether he was rational or cold-blooded. After confirming that there was definitely something wrong with the child, he discussed with Zhang Min whether they should abort Dingding and have another child. But at that time, she felt that if this child died, she would die with it. Without this child, she didn't want to live anymore.

During her school days, she was afraid of having children. After starting work, she felt that pregnancy would be a burden and delay her career development, and she would still feel psychologically burdened about having children. But when the pregnancy test came back positive, she couldn't suppress the joy of becoming a mother.

Watching her belly grow little by little, seeing the baby take shape at each prenatal checkup, and then later seeing him playfully kick her belly—was this feeling... a sense of accomplishment? Or perhaps... a sense of responsibility? She couldn't say for sure, but was she happy?
Yes.

Once inside the delivery room, a cesarean section was necessary due to the baby's breech position. Scars aren't just a man's romance; the incision on a woman's abdomen is also a testament to her greatness.

She felt her belly was empty, but a six-pound, three-ounce baby was lying next to her. She remembered the hardships of the past ten months, but she felt it was all worth it.

But her child's intellectual disability was an insurmountable obstacle. Each time she took her child for tests, she went with high hopes, only to return disappointed each time. She held her child every day, teaching Dingding to say "Mama," but for over two years there was no response. Finally, in the third year, she heard those words again, and she hid in the bathroom, sobbing for over an hour. Dingding could say "Mama" at three, "Papa" for the first time at three and a half, and learned to walk at four and a half—all results of her hard work. Every time Dingding uttered a new word, she was overjoyed. However, the child's father gradually lost patience.

Every time her husband said, "Let's have another one, so that when we get old, someone can take care of Dingding," she was not interested. She knew that apart from her parents, no one would take care of a person with intellectual disabilities for a lifetime, not even their own siblings.

Moreover, she fears that Dingding's younger siblings will take away her love for Dingding, causing Dingding to suffer. What she fears even more is what if the second child is just like Dingding? This is her psychological trauma; she really doesn't dare to have a second child.

She was even anxious about intimacy between husband and wife. When her husband came in, she would ask again and again, "Did you bring it?" "Did you bring it?" "Did you bring it?"

The disharmony in their marital life naturally made her and her husband's relationship cold. Recently, she discovered that her husband smelled of someone else's perfume, and she had also seen a lipstick that did not belong to her in his bag. She could always find a few strands of long blonde hair on his clothes. She knew that her husband was having an affair, but she remained silent and just slept with Dingding every night.

She knew her marriage was coming to an end, and if her husband chose to divorce her, she would sign the papers without hesitation. So be it. Her high salary gave her financial confidence, and she was confident that she could raise Dingding on her own. Now, apart from her child, she really didn't care about anything else.

The gap between rich and poor cannot change the fact that everyone's children have problems, so Zhang Min did not look down on the parents who brought their children to the performance on electric bikes. Even the woman who just got out of the Rolls-Royce was just a pitiful person. In essence, there is no difference between everyone.

"What's your name, little one? Guoguo? You're so sweet! How about I give you a kiss and you can have some candy? Oh, it smells so good! This is Brother Dingding, how about you two be good friends from now on?"

A man was holding a four-year-old girl. The father smiled and brought the child close to Zhang Min without any suspicion. When Zhang Min gave the child a piece of candy, she bounced the little girl around a few times and taught her to say thank you.

The candy was small; Zhang Min bought it specially so that the child wouldn't choke if she swallowed it. Although the girl couldn't speak yet, her smile was radiant.

Following the group into the theater, each parent greeted the others. To be honest, Zhang Min was truly envious of the families who brought their children to see the play. Perhaps Dingding couldn't feel the lack of a father's love, but Zhang Min cared. It would be a lifelong regret for her, but it was for Dingding's sake, not her husband's.

She looked down and touched Dingding's hair, but noticed that Dingding's pants were wet. With a gentle smile, she sighed and took Dingding into the women's restroom. The restroom was full of parents changing their children's diapers, so no one pointed or stared at Zhang Min for taking her six-year-old son into the women's restroom. Some enthusiastic parents even helped Zhang Min lift Dingding's pants, which were wet with urine, without any hesitation.

When the first cry was heard, it proved one thing: crying is indeed contagious, especially for a group of emotional women. This situation was something they had never experienced before. Normally, they would have to endure the strange looks from others and change their child's diaper in public. Was it shameful? Actually, no, but it always felt like a knife to their heart.

Even as a successful businesswoman, Zhang Min was moved to tears. Humans are social animals after all. If you are not treated as an outsider, you will not understand their loneliness and suffering. So the feeling of sticking together for warmth is really wonderful.

After changing Dingding's pants, I thanked the woman who helped me carry them. The women in the restroom then suggested creating a group chat so we could interact more in the future, and this was met with collective support.

Seeing Dingding standing in the corner looking bewildered, Zhang Min put away her phone, followed everyone into the hall, found her seat with her ticket, sat down, and chatted with the people around her.

"Dingding, the play is about to start. If you like it, tell Mommy, and Mommy will take you to see it often in the future."

Holding the little hand, she focused her gaze on the stage, a smile on her face. The main lights went out, leaving only the small lights in front of the red curtain still on. Many children were at a loss when the lights went out suddenly, and some even cried.

But no adult was upset or found it noisy; they simply tried to comfort the other children around them with warm words as the crying gradually subsided.

The play begins.
"."

(End of this chapter)