Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

Chapter 119 Green Bookmark

By the time the recording ended, it was already dark.

He Jiong and Li Xiang called out to Zheng Hui, who was about to leave.

"Zheng Hui, do you have any plans for tonight? If you're free, let's have dinner together, I'll be a good host," He Ling invited.

"That's right! When you come to Changsha, how can you not try our authentic Hunan cuisine!" Li Xiang chimed in.

Zheng Hui readily agreed and, along with Lin Dashan and He Yan, got into He Ling's car and arrived at Yuloudong Restaurant.

A short while later, the waiter brought out several dishes.

Spicy beef tripe, spicy chicken, braised pork knuckle, and the signature chopped chili fish head that took up half the table.

Bright red chopped chili peppers are spread all over the fish head, and hot oil is poured over it, releasing a fragrant aroma.

"Come on, come on! Don't be shy, try some of our Hunan spiciness!" He Jiong solicitously used serving chopsticks to put a piece of fish face meat on Zheng Hui's plate.

Zheng Hui didn't hold back either, picking up a piece of fish covered in chili and putting it in his mouth.

The first taste was the tender texture of the fish, followed by an intense burst of spiciness that made him gasp for breath.

But he didn't stop; instead, he devoured the food. This simple and direct stimulation of the taste buds was quite refreshing compared to the light and nourishing slow-cooked soups of Guangzhou.

"I didn't realize, Zheng Hui! You're from Macau, yet you can handle so much spicy food!" Li Xiang said with a surprised smile, holding up a cup of herbal tea.

"My stomach has always been open to anything good." Zheng Hui picked up his teacup, clinked it with theirs, and drank it all in one gulp.

The atmosphere at the dinner table gradually became more harmonious.

He Jiong put down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth, and asked, "Zheng Hui, your schedule is so tight this time. What are your plans for tomorrow? You've finally come all the way to Changsha, you should at least look around a bit, right?"

Zheng Hui picked up his teacup, and the landmark from his previous life, deeply etched in the minds of every Chinese person, involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

He blurted out, "I want to go to Orange Isle and feel the evening breeze on the Xiang River."

"Oh! That's perfect!" He Jiong readily agreed, "Tomorrow is Sunday, and I happen to be free."

I could walk around Orange Isle blindfolded! Tomorrow I'll be your guide, and we'll explore it properly!

"Then I'll have to trouble you, Teacher He," Zheng Hui replied with a smile.

The next morning, Zheng Hui and He Jiong disguised themselves, wearing baseball caps and sunglasses. Lin Dashan, He Yan, and He Ling's assistant followed them at a safe distance.

The group traveled by car through the city and arrived at Orange Isle, a long and narrow sandbar in the middle of the Xiangjiang River.

The river flows swiftly, and the banks are shaded by lush trees.

Walking along the tree-lined path leading to the island's head, Zheng Hui's steps carried a hint of urgency.

Deep in his memory, the imposing statue, 83 meters long and 32 meters high, is the irreplaceable soul of Orange Isle.

He was almost ready to look up at the deep gaze beneath the massive stone sculpture and silently recite the poem "Qinyuanchun: Changsha" in his heart.

"Alone in the cold autumn, the Xiang River flows northward, past Orange Isle."

When they finally reached the southernmost point of the sandbar, the square with the widest view, Zheng Hui stopped.

His eyes searched ahead, but the visual spectacle he had anticipated did not materialize.

Before me lay only a vast expanse of green space, a few trees swaying in the wind, a small pavilion overlooking the river, and the ever-flowing Xiangjiang River all around.

Empty.

What kind of statues are there?

Zheng Hui stood there, stunned, his brows furrowed slightly. It took him a good seven or eight seconds to process what had happened.

Yes, it's 1999 now.

That statue that shocked countless Chinese people was only completed and unveiled in 2009! Orange Isle is still just an ordinary river park.

"What's wrong, Zheng Hui? Why are you spacing out?"

He Jiong walked over to him, followed his gaze to the empty river surface, and asked with some doubt, "Don't you think this island is bare and there's nothing to see?"

"It's nothing."

Zheng Hui quickly composed himself, suppressing the melancholy in his eyes.

He chuckled self-deprecatingly and took a deep breath of the moisture-laden air: "I just feel that the river breeze is quite comfortable. Standing here, my heart and mind feel more open."

Since we're here, even if we can't see the statues, let's at least look at the ever-flowing Xiangjiang River and this land of Chu and Han, which has nurtured countless remarkable figures.

The two strolled around the head of the island, chatted about entertainment industry gossip, and then left Orange Isle, crossed the Xiang River, and headed to Yuelu Mountain on the other side.

Yuelu Academy, a millennium-old institution of learning.

Stepping through the academy's gates, one is greeted by white walls, green tiles, and ancient, towering trees. The air itself seems to be filled with the fragrance of ink that has traveled through a thousand years.

Because it was the weekend, there were quite a few tourists at the academy.

Although both of them were pretending, He Ling was extremely well-known in Hunan.

His thin frame, and the occasional unique voice that escaped his lips when he talked to Zheng Hui, were recognized by several sharp-eyed young tourists when they passed by the Imperial Library.

"Teacher He! It's Teacher He!" a girl shouted excitedly, pointing in their direction.

Immediately afterwards, the man standing next to He Jiong was also recognized by people from the silhouettes peeking out from under his sunglasses and hat.

"Oh my god! It's Zheng Hui! Zheng Hui who sang 'Father'!"

"Zheng Hui! I really like you, please give me your autograph!"

The brief commotion immediately attracted more onlookers, and the crowd began to excitedly surge towards the scene.

Lin Dashan reacted quickly, stepping forward to block Zheng Hui and creating a barrier in the crowd. He Yan spread his arms, protecting the two as they retreated while loudly directing the tourists, "Please don't push! Be careful!"

Just as the situation was about to get out of control, several administrators from the academy arrived after hearing the news.

They recognized the two big names in the entertainment industry at a glance and quickly called for security to come forward and resolve the situation.

"Mr. He, Mr. Zheng, I'm so sorry, it's crowded on the weekend." A manager politely ushered the two through a side door that was not yet open to ordinary tourists.

"For your safety and to avoid disrupting the order of the academy, if you don't mind, you can use the internal passage here to visit the Aiwan Pavilion on the back mountain."

"We're sorry to have troubled you," Zheng Hui said politely, nodding his thanks.

Following the quiet cobblestone path, the two strolled towards Aiwan Pavilion, accompanied by staff.

Away from the hustle and bustle of the crowd, all that remained were the chirping of birds and the sound of the wind.

Just as they were passing through a dense maple forest, a gentle early summer breeze swept by.

The leaves rustled.

Amidst the lush greenery, a leaf, seemingly unable to withstand the wind, detached from the branch, twirled, and gently landed at Zheng Hui's feet.

Zheng Hui stopped and looked down.

It was a maple leaf, but not the fiery red that comes after the autumn frost; instead, it was a vibrant, emerald green.

Its veins were clearly visible. It should have continued to absorb the summer sun on the tree, but instead, it withered prematurely in the May weather.

Maple leaves fall in May.

Zheng Hui bent down, picked up the green maple leaf, and examined it between his fingertips.

"Zheng Hui, you've come at a really bad time."

He Jiong looked at the green leaves in his hand and said with regret as the host, "The maple leaves on Yuelu Mountain are absolutely stunning in autumn."

"Stopping the carriage to admire the maple forest at dusk, the frosted leaves are redder than February flowers." By November, the entire mountainside is ablaze with red, like it's on fire—that's truly beautiful.

"Now that it's so green, if it falls, it's just a leaf."

Zheng Hui looked at the green leaf in his hand and gently touched the texture on the leaf surface with his fingers.

"Fallen leaves in May are already quite a rarity." He didn't throw the leaf away, but instead put it in the inside pocket of his jacket, close to his chest.

"An encounter that happens at the wrong time, out of season, is also a unique kind of fate."

He Ling paused for a moment, carefully considering Zheng Hui's words, and couldn't help but give him a thumbs up: "No wonder you can write so many lyrics that touch people's hearts; your perspective on things is just different from others."

After leaving Aiwan Pavilion, at the suggestion of the supervisor, the group visited the Yuelu Bookstore branch of the academy.

The bookstore was filled with all kinds of beautifully bound ancient books and cultural books.

Zheng Hui walked to a row of bookshelves, intending to pick out a few books to take with him to pass the time. His gaze swept over the spines of the books, finally settling on the poetry section where he began to choose.

A manager from the store accompanied Zheng Hui as soon as he entered. Seeing that Zheng Hui was carefully selecting books, the manager went behind the counter and took out a book from an unopened cardboard box.

"Mr. Zheng, it's obvious you enjoy poetry. This is a sample copy of our publishing house's 'Collected Works of Li Qingzhao'."

"This book will only be officially launched in June. It is an honor for us to have you visit Yuelu Academy. Consider this a small gift from the academy to you."

"You're too kind. This gift is very valuable. Thank you." Zheng Hui accepted the sample book with both hands and thanked him sincerely.

In a suite at the Huatian Hotel, Zheng Hui leaned back on the bed.

-

He reached for the copy of "The Collected Works of Li Qingzhao" on the bedside table and casually opened it.

His gaze wandered among the verses that had been passed down for thousands of years, and finally settled on a poem titled "A Spray of Plum Blossoms: The Fragrance of Red Lotus Fades and the Jade Mat Turns Cold in Autumn".

"The fragrance of lotus fades, the jade mat grows cool in autumn. I lightly loosen my silk robe and board the orchid boat alone."

"Who sends a letter from the clouds? When the wild geese return, the moon will be full over the western tower."

Flowers fall and water flows. One longing, two places of sorrow.

"This feeling is impossible to dispel; it just moves from my brow to my heart."

Zheng Hui's gaze lingered on the line, "One kind of longing, two places of sorrow."

He thought of Gao Yuanyuan, who was sitting in the back of the taxi. The dim yellow light of the streetlamp flickered across her face.

"If we can't see the peach blossoms, we can go see the peonies."

"The peach blossoms have all fallen and I have not returned, but I will see you when the peonies bloom."

He closed the book, rolled over, and got out of bed.

He walked to the coat draped over the sofa, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the green maple leaf he had picked up by the Aiwan Pavilion at Yuelu Academy during the day.

He took the leaf and went into the restroom.

Turn on the tap and set the water flow to the lowest setting. Gently pinch the leaf stalk with your fingers and let the fine water flow wash away the dust from the maple leaf's surface.

Then, he took out a clean tissue, laid the leaf flat on it, and gently pressed it with another tissue to absorb the moisture from both sides little by little.

After gently blowing the hair dryer on the hot air again, Zheng Hui went back to the bedside, reopened the book "Collected Works of Li Qingzhao," and turned to the page of "A Spray of Plum Blossoms."

He placed the green maple leaf from the early summer in Changsha neatly next to the phrase "just off the brow, yet on the heart."

I closed the book, and when I returned to the capital in a while, I would give this book, still smelling of ink, along with this fallen leaf carried by the May breeze, as a gift to the girl who longed to see flowers.

>