Rebirth of Chinese Entertainment, the Diary of a 95 Flower

I received a reply from Jiang Yang.

It was a voice message. Clicking on it, I heard Jiang Yang's voice: "[I'm free right now. I'm holding a discussion about 'A Little Reunion' at Qinghua High School. It'll be about ten minutes before I start speaking.]"
In the background noise were muffled applause, a slight microphone howl, and the creaking of desks and chairs being moved.

Zhao Jinmai, who was also at the symposium at No. 13 Middle School, was interrupted by laughter and said: "I was speaking Mandarin, and I don't think I have an accent..."

Zhou Ye played the three videos that Jiang Yang had sent her earlier, showing Yang Chaoyue, Liu Haochun, and Tian Xiwei auditioning.

Staring blankly at the unfamiliar tears on the screen, he repeatedly tapped the pause button on the video.

Suddenly I felt a tightness in my throat, as if something was stuck there, neither going up nor down.

She edited the text and sent it to Jiang Yang: ["Jiang Yang, I've realized how different I am from them. People's tears are different. I always thought that only physical pain, like hurting your knee, would make you cry."]
The message was sent.

I haven't received a reply from Jiang Yang.

She continued watching the video.

The light from the screen shone on her face, and emotions she had never seen before flowed before her eyes.

Even though I understood the core issue, I still couldn't feel their emotions.

Yang Chaoyue's silent tears, Tian Xiwei's hysterical wailing, and Liu Haochun's unseen silence on the other end of the phone—each scene was like a tightly closed door.

She stood outside the door, frantically searching for her key.

She continued typing: ["I always thought that Mom and Dad would always be smiling."]
She slowly curled up her legs and rested her chin on her knees: ["I thought everyone in family photos should be happy. I thought when a father with a broken finger came home, his daughter should first ask if his wound hurt."]
No further messages were sent.

Zhou Ye ran his fingers along the bear pattern on his pajamas.

This was bought for her by her mother for her birthday last year.

Am I being too immature?

The thought suddenly popped into my head, and my heart skipped a beat.

I remember that every time I cried, it was because of some trivial things.

She didn't like her new dress, her dad forgot to buy her favorite strawberry cake, or maybe she was just in a bad mood.

Over the past three days, she has realized that some people in this world have so many stories hidden in their tears that she never imagined.

The pain in those stories was a shadow she had never encountered in her overly protected life.

She turned off her phone screen, and the room suddenly went dark.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a blurry patch of light on the floor.

Zhou Ye stared at the light and for the first time truly felt that he had always lived in the sunlight, which was why he felt that the whole world was bright.

She edited the text, her fingers trembling slightly:

"Jiang Yang, I understand now."

Chaoyue cried because her parents' smiles were fake.

Xiwei cried because her father was clearly in pain, but he was still smiling.

Hao Chun cried because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get a simple "You're great" in return.

As for me, I want to be an actress, and you even need to spend several days teaching me why they cry.

Am I not even worthy of saying I can endure hardship?
After sending the message, Zhou Ye stared at the screen, tears streaming silently down his face.

The best performances are all born from pain that seeps from the very bone.

And I don't even know what pain is.

A person who knows pain may not be able to be an actor, but a person who doesn't know pain cannot portray the pain of others.

Zhou Ye bit her lip, tears blurring her vision: ["Jiang Yang, what should I do now? Continue studying abroad, pretend nothing happened, or bite the bullet and sign with your company, playing the role of a happy girl for the rest of my life?"]
The phone vibrates.

I received a reply from Jiang Yang.

It was another voice message, with the background noise of a classroom. His voice was soft: "[If you can never act well in your entire life, would you still want to continue acting?]"
Staring at the voice message, her tears suddenly stopped. She slowly typed: "Will you teach me for the rest of your life?"
Jiang Yang replied: "I will."
"I'll sign."
Then came another reply from Zhou Ye: ["But not now. I want to wait until I can truly empathize before signing. Only then can I portray a character well, rather than simply imitating superficially. Is that okay?"]
Jiang Yang sat on the stage chair in the lecture hall of Qinghua High School.

Looking up, you can see tiered seating below.

Against a deep red backdrop, a banner reading "A Little Reunion: A Symposium on Youthful Growth" was displayed.

An upright piano is placed on the left side of the stage, which is usually used for school concerts.

On the table in front of me was a mineral water bottle commemorating the school's anniversary.

Each seat has a gold-embossed nameplate with the names of the lead actors: Huang Lei, Hai Qing, Zhang Zifeng, and Zhao Jinmai.

Huang Lei and Hai Qing sat in the middle. Jiang Yang and Zhao Jinmai sat on the side.

Sony cameras were mounted on both sides of the stage, and there were jib cameras underneath for shooting panoramic shots.

The school newspaper reporter who took the photos with great care was near the back door of the lecture hall. He focused his lens on close-ups of the actors on stage, scanning them one by one.

The camera soon focused on Jiang Yang.

I saw Jiang Yang sitting in the projector beam, with dust flying around in the beam.

As he looked down at his phone, Zhou Ye's message appeared on the glowing screen. He typed a message and sent it to Zhou Ye:
[“Zhou Ye, you’ve seen the cruelest truth about actors: not everyone deserves the suffering of others.”]
The message was just edited here.

My fingers suddenly stopped.

I heard the system notification sound in my mind:
[Potential nurturing partner discovered: Zhuang Dafei. Should we bind her?]

Are there new little flowers?

Look up and look down.

In the front row sat school leaders dressed in dark suits with school badges pinned to their lapels, and the deputy director of the Chaoyang District Education Commission who kept checking his watch.

The seats in the back were occupied by students from the international department of Qinghua High School Affiliated to Tsinghua University, as well as students from regular classes.

Before the symposium began, some people were passing around autographed copies of the film crew's autograph book.

Some people were taking pictures of the actors on stage with their phones.

The students were all wearing school uniforms, and with the stage lighting interfering, it was impossible to tell who was who.

Insufficient binding slots, unable to bind.

Jiang Yang lowered his head and continued texting Zhou Ye: ["Do you know? What you just said was the best performance you've ever given, because true acting isn't about imitating pain, but about understanding it, and you just understood it."]
Zhou Ye looked at the message Jiang Yang had sent.

I silently recited it several times.

She wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed: ["But I even need you to teach me to understand..."]
Delete this message.

Re-enter.

"What if I really can't act well in my entire life?"
Jiang Yang replied: [“So what?”]
Jiang Yang's message came next:
"Do you think Yang Chaoyue could cry during her first audition? She didn't even dare to cry when her supervisor scolded her at the textile factory."

A performance is not a competition.

It's like a door; if you can't open it, try another one.
Zhou Ye's eyes reddened, and tears dripped onto the screen: ["Then, will you wait for me?"]
Jiang Yang replied: "Yes."
A few seconds later.

Another message: ["Because I'm obsessed with money, I need you to make money."]
It was followed by a dog head emoji.

Zhou Ye was stunned for a moment, a smile appeared on his lips, and he snorted a snot bubble from his nose.

After laughing for a while, she suddenly pursed her lips, let out a sob, wiped away the tears from the screen, and typed: "[Thank you.]"
After calming herself down, she continued typing: ["I'm going home tonight. I miss my mom. Can I say goodbye?"]
The past few days have felt like having my eyes forcibly ripped open, forcing me to see the ugliest wrinkles in this world.

What I used to think was pain was nothing more than a new dress not being pretty enough or a strawberry missing from the cake—these were just bargaining chips to get my parents to be nice to me.

She gave a self-deprecating twitch at the corner of her mouth.

I opened the video on my phone of Liu Haochun auditioning for the TV series "Fighter of the Destiny".

Now I understand why Liu Haochun didn't even have the strength to argue when her father rejected her.

“True acting is not about using other people’s suffering as material, but about first becoming yourself… first becoming that person who doesn’t even dare to cry out in the cold winter.”

She suddenly raised her hand to cover her mouth, silencing the sobs that welled up inside.

My perspective on the world seems different from before.

Is this what it feels like to grow up?

The phone vibrates.

Received a location from Jiang Yang at Tsinghua High School: [“Come on, I’m waiting for you.”]

PS:

Meng Ziyi: "Thank you to Teacher Mao's dog for feeding me a bag of dog food and two amulets... Back then, the whole internet told me to get out of the entertainment industry, but now they say I'm an inspirational role model. Actually, I haven't changed. What has changed is the wind."

Tian Xiwei: "Thank you to the assassination novelist for giving me an Oscar trophy... When I miss home, I look at the moon in the sky. It shines on me and on the roof of my old home. This is the fairest agreement between me and my hometown."

Liu Haochun: "Thank you for the little chicken leg that Chujian Nuanyang gave me... Not a single light in the city's high-rise buildings shines for me, so I must live as my own light."

Yang Chaoyue: "Thank you LeeMineMine for the little chicken leg I was given... The countryside is my root, the city is my stage. The deeper the roots, the more stable the dance."

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