Rebirth of Chinese Entertainment, the Diary of a 95 Flower

After making the agreement with Jiang Yang, Zhou Ye felt much more at ease.

Stepping into the living room, my steps became lighter.

On the dining table was the breakfast that Mom had bought: steamed buns, soy milk, and fried dough sticks.

Dad left early.

The living room walls are painted with light gray artistic paint, the floor is made of marble-look tiles, and the master bedroom has solid wood composite flooring.

Warm light strips are embedded in the ceiling.

The TV wall features custom-made walnut-colored storage cabinets.

The sofa features electric adjustment.

Zhou Ye ate breakfast and chatted with his mother.

Talk about how fluent his father's Cantonese is. He used to be unable to eat spicy food, but after living with his mother, he can now eat a lot of spicy food. It's all thanks to the training he did back then.

They talked about how delicious the snacks were in the small shop their grandmother used to run.

They talked about how much their maternal grandfather took care of their maternal grandmother.

The entire conversation was conducted in the local dialect of Chongqing.

The mother also talked about how, when Zhou Ye was in elementary school, he suddenly realized in Huizhou that he had forgotten many of the pronunciations of the local dialect. He was so anxious that he cried and felt that he was no longer a native of Huizhou and had become an outsider.

The mother noticed that Zhou Ye would refresh the Beijing Film Academy's official website on his phone every now and then.

It's clear that my daughter is very worried about her preliminary exam results for the Beijing Film Academy.

She was also very worried.

I try to avoid talking about that topic, because I'm afraid it will put psychological pressure on my daughter.

Zhou Ye took a sip of soy milk and brought up the topic: "Mom, if I don't even pass the preliminary exam for the Beijing Film Academy, will you and Dad be very disappointed in me?"

"What's wrong?" Mom asked.

Zhou Ye pursed his lips.

Stick out the tip of your tongue and lick off the foam from your upper lip:

"Because I always felt that I was particularly unfilial, that I did not study in the way you and Dad planned. I could have had a stable life if I had just gone abroad to study and followed the rules, but I chose the most unstable and difficult path, and took the art exam at the last minute. My competitors were so strong."

My parents comforted me in a video call during my last art exam.

Every time I think about it, I still feel guilty.

When I first decided to pursue acting, I was afraid that my parents wouldn't support me, but I was also afraid that they would support me wholeheartedly.

She looked down and stirred the soy milk, her fingers unconsciously picking at the edge of the bowl: "I had a dream last night that I was checking my grades today, but the official website was stuck. Everyone else got their results, but my page just kept spinning."

Zhou Ye's voice trailed off: "If I really can't even pass the preliminary exam, should I really not have chosen this path?"

The mother did not answer Zhou Ye's question.

Seeing her daughter's ankles intertwined, she understood the unease in her heart.

She said softly, "Ye Ye, do you remember when you were four years old and you were learning to ride a bicycle? You fell more than ten times and your knees were covered in blood."

"I remember."

“Back then, you cried and asked me if I was stupid, but last week, you were riding your bike downhill at Changjiahui and you scared the security guards.”

Zhou Ye slowly raised his head.

Listen quietly to what your mother has to say.

I saw my mother take out her phone's photo album.

While flipping through the photo album, I raised my little finger, deliberately tilted the phone screen towards my daughter, and tapped on one of the photos:
"Look at this, do you remember when it was filmed?"

In the photo, Zhou Ye is only a little over 1.2 meters tall.

Currently in elementary school.

Wearing deep purple lipstick, she plays the wicked queen in the fairy tale of Snow White on stage.

"You said back then that everyone liked watching Snow White, but you thought it was more exciting to play the queen, so you insisted on taking the villain role."

The photos continue to slide.

A photo from the first year of junior high school.

A photo from the third year of junior high school.

A photo from my second year of high school.

Zhou Ye looked at himself, from naive to immature, and knew he would become mature in the future.

Listen to my mother talk about the outrageous things I did in each of the photos.

Surprisingly, my mother kept all of these photos.

Many things I've forgotten, my mother remembers perfectly. As I listened...

Zhou Ye looked at his mother, leaning to the side with his shoulder close to hers.

The cramped body gradually relaxed.

Finally, there's a photo from last year showing three bloody scratches on my right arm from a cat:
“This was last year, when you insisted on spaying/neutering the stray cats, and ended up getting scratched so badly that you had to get a rabies vaccine.”

Mom suddenly became serious: "Ye Ye, do you know why I'm telling you all this?"

"why?"

"Because I know you, my daughter. You've never been one to follow the rules. Your father and I can give you a stable life, but a stable life isn't good enough for your soul."

Zhou Ye suddenly took his mother's arm and rested his face against her shoulder.

A stable life is not worthy of your soul.

It was like untying the last rope from his own wild horse.

At this moment, I really want to stick close to my mom.

Mom continued, "If you become an actor, it would be best if you succeed, but it doesn't matter if you don't. Your dad and I only have one wish for you: peace, health, and happiness. No industry is easy, and no path is without hardship. If you get tired, come home. Your mom and dad are waiting for you."

Zhou Ye's grip on his mother's arm suddenly loosened considerably, and he leaned against her, saying, "Mom, I love you to death."

After finishing breakfast, Zhou Ye changed his clothes and went out.

Since Jiang Yang has come to our home, he is a guest. We can't greet him empty-handed; we need to make a good impression on him.

I wonder what Jiang Yang likes to eat.

I'm worried that buying food might not suit Jiang Yang's taste.

It also seems tacky.

It would be best to give something with sentimental value.

Think about it carefully, what is the gift you most want to receive?
Zhou Ye immediately understood what he wanted to send to Jiang Yang.

Send flowers.

Search on Xiaohongshu (Little Red Book) for what flowers are good to give to boys.

The first post was titled: Sending flowers to a man? You might as well throw your money into the Jialing River!

The next day, the post titled: "Honestly, when I give my boyfriend flowers, I bet his first reaction is, 'Can we eat them?' Don't expect men to be romantic."

Scroll down, and you'll find almost all posts like this.

Clicking on the blogger's profile, it's all women.

Is giving flowers to a boy really a bad thing?
Zhou Ye's resolve began to waver.

Until I saw a post by a male blogger: "[99% of men receive their first bouquet of flowers at their funeral.]"
The thought in my heart suddenly became firm.

Click on this post.

Dozens of comments were found, all condemning the blogger.

The content is largely the same.

It's said that men enjoy too many gender advantages in society, yet they're unwilling to even give flowers to women.

Zhou Ye frowned as he read this, finding it absurd.

These comments are different from my own feelings about growing up.

I saw my father's love for my mother and it taught me that love is mutual.

The care my maternal grandfather gave me taught me the importance of growing old together as a married couple.

They are both making sacrifices for their families.

They supported each other as they moved forward.

Why is it that when you search for what flowers a man receives, everyone criticizes him?

She edited the text:
[“I feel that in reality, very few boys are valued. From childhood to adulthood, people around them teach boys to be strong, to be men, not to shed tears. If they fall off their bikes or get scalded by boiling water, they just frown and bear it. They rarely have close friends who care about them. But in reality, they also need to be cared for. They are just good at enduring pain, not that they don't feel it. Love is mutual. Boys also need to be loved. If even their partners don't love them and keep taking, the relationship will eventually run out. Then, don't come here complaining online; you brought it on yourselves.”]
Amid the rising tide of feminism, she stood stubbornly in place, like a tree being torn apart by a raging storm but refusing to fall.

Sending this message gave me a feeling of relief.

I don't know why, but I'm increasingly finding many comments online to be abnormal, and they're different from what I've experienced growing up.

Still not satisfied, she added a sentence to her comment: ["I've said my piece. If you're unhappy, come and yell at me. I'm just straightforward. Don't think I'll tolerate you just because you're the same gender as me. I don't tolerate anyone."]
When she replied to this post, her eyes shone with the light she had when she was a child and tried to play the role of the wicked queen.

Accusing netizens of not loving their partners is actually defending the clumsy way of loving that their parents' generation used.

The sound of closing the Xiaohongshu page was like sheathing a sword; the girl's sharp edge never understood the meaning of being tactful.

Open QQ.

Zhou Ye saw over fifty messages in the class group chat, the latest one being: [“Gulnazar is in Chongqing!”] (End of Chapter)