Back home, the first thing Rui Xiaodan did was turn on her computer and find her father's phone number from an old directory. She stared at it for a long time, deep in thought.
It was a Shanghai number, one that had changed three times, from six digits to eight. Wherever she was, her father always found a way to inform her of the new number, but she had never used it. She had always held a grudge against her father for abandoning her mother. Throughout her life, no matter what happened, she refused to communicate with him. Even when her parents agreed on her future, she would choose the opposite to spite her father, giving him no chance to influence her.
But now, she was about to ask him for money for a man's sake.
This period of contemplation was her process of overcoming psychological barriers. She finally reached out, dialed the number digit by digit. After four rings, a pre-recorded message answered: "Hello, this is Rui Weifeng. I'm filming in Hangzhou and can't return soon. Please leave a message or call my mobile. Thank you." The voice was unfamiliar, but she recognized it as her father's.
She then dialed the mobile number. The call took a moment to connect, indicating that her father recognized her number. His voice came through, tense, excited, and somewhat puzzled: "Is it... Xiaodan?"
She heard the background noise of people discussing a scene. Rui Xiaodan hesitated for a moment, then stiffly said, "Dad, it's me. Are you still up?"
Her father replied, "We're filming a night scene, so no rest yet. How are you?"
Rui Xiaodan said, "I'm fine. I need to borrow some money. Can I come to Hangzhou to see you?"
Her father quickly responded, "Of course, you can. How much do you need?"
"200,000 yuan, for a year. It's urgent."
"200,000 yuan? That's fine. Just give me your account details, and I'll transfer it tomorrow."
"Your suggestion... does it mean I don't need to come to Hangzhou? I thought I'd use this opportunity to visit you. If you think it's too materialistic of me, I won't come."
"No, no, it's not like that at all. You should come. I can't leave here, but call me before you arrive, and I'll pick you up at the airport."
"Alright, I'll call you after booking my ticket. Take care."
After hanging up, she felt utterly exhausted, as if she had just returned from a battlefield.
She started her daily diary entry, a routine she never skipped. The first line she typed was: "Me? In love?! If this isn't love, then what is it?" But she couldn't continue. She stared at the words, then reached for a cigarette, placed it in her mouth, and just as she was about to light it, she stopped. She returned the cigarette to the pack, crumpled it along with the lighter, and threw them into the wastebasket.
Realizing her action, she was suddenly alert and asked herself, "Do I care so much about what he thinks of me smoking?" She pondered this question repeatedly until she felt a deep sense of calm. Quietly, she acknowledged to herself: "Yes, it's love."
In that instant of clarity about her feelings, a new question entered her mind. She quickly typed on the keyboard, recalling Xiao Yawen's advice in Frankfurt: "When you find someone special, never develop feelings for them. Once you do, you open the gates of hell..."
She started to question this warning.