On A-Ling's birthday, Zhou Jing wanted to give her a birthday present. He carried her out of the basement and hid her in a secret room under the stage. The secret room was cramped, with a low ceiling, forcing both of them to crawl. The floor was covered in dust, very dirty, extremely dirty. The air was filled with an indescribable, uncomfortable smell—sweat, grease, or the moldy scent of old shelves. Through a thin layer of wooden floorboards, people walked back and forth on the stage above, making final preparations for the performance. A-Ling didn't understand what Zhou Jing intended to do. She lay uncomfortably on the ground, looking at him with a mocking expression, "Are you crazy?" Worried they might be discovered, Zhou Jing immediately covered her mouth with his hand. His large palm almost covered most of her face. He seemed a bit nervous, not controlling his strength well, making it hard for her to breathe. A-Ling's expression changed, and she raised her hand to hit him. Before she could touch him, he had already pinned her wrists above her head. Zhou Jing looked down at her, breathing heavily. They were at a stalemate for a moment. He whispered in her ear, "Happy birthday." She was stunned—Li Ling accurately portrayed that moment of emotional shift. A-Ling had long forgotten her own birthday. Her first reaction was confusion and daze, perhaps with a hint of nostalgia. But what followed was shame and anger. She was already a ruined person; a dead life didn't need a sense of ceremony. Feeling provoked, she glared at him angrily, making muffled, intense, rebellious sounds under his palm. He still refused to let go. She bit down directly. Li Ling really bit this time. Her teeth clamped onto his skin, grinding without much force, but it still felt like tearing flesh. Jin Jingyao's palm was very clean. In contrast, the breath, saliva, and teeth marks should have disgusted him. However, what she saw in his eyes was a deep and peculiar pleasure. She clearly saw his Adam's apple move, swallowing unspeakable, filthy emotions. The hand that should have been holding her wrists gently caressed her face, moving the hair that covered her cheek. Light intruded through the gaps in the floorboards, like chaotic, rapid breaths, filling his palm and fingers. The strands of light seemed like many tangled red threads, binding her and the young man together. He gazed into her eyes, constantly shifting between light and dark. She was so frightened by him that she didn't dare move. He seemed like a madman. He already was. For a moment, Li Ling was also frozen in those eyes, shocked by him. The other half of her actor's consciousness awakened. She used all her strength to push him away. With a "thud," no one noticed the commotion under the stage; the performance had already begun. The music started, like a chant from deep underground. Many feet stomped on the floor together, the world trembled, the earth quaked. A-Ling shuddered, the familiar melody turning into blinding sunlight, burning her. She almost helplessly looked up at Zhou Jing. He mouthed to her again, "Happy birthday." The people on stage were dancing. The dance she knew by heart. So, this was Zhou Jing's birthday gift to her. - Through a thin layer of floorboards, the dancers were dancing above A-Ling's head. At first, she was still confused, angry, even covering her ears, refusing to listen, see, or think. In the end, she succumbed to desire, like a weak addict, unable to control herself, lifting her face. She gazed fervently at the dancer's toes, as if looking up at flowers blooming in a snowy pond. Each step was like a lotus, the sweetest illusion. In reality, she couldn't see much at all. The wooden floor was tightly sealed, only occasionally did a chaotic shadow lightly leap through the gaps. But the music didn't stop; it was the symphony that ran through A-Ling's life. In the long, river-like passage of time, she still saw it. She saw the snow-white arches, the nimble toes, supported by the vibrant life. Every light leap, every step, sway, and release. The dancers were not ruins; they had complete bodies, strong flesh, so vividly sprouting, growing, and blooming on the stage. She saw gravity. After each leap, they would inevitably return to the stage's gravitational pull. At the moment of landing, the entire floor would tremble, and her chest would ache in response. She also saw herself. Once upon a time, she too stood on the stage. She knew how glorious that moment was. So many beams of light shone on her, illuminating her upright posture, the sweat on her face. But now she could only hide underground. Everyone's destiny is to seek the ground, to root downwards. She had no roots. She was being forgotten, dying, turning into nourishment. The floor stirred up dust, kissing A-Ling's pale cheeks. Like the soil covering a corpse's features during burial. She weakly lay on the floor, reaching out her hand, but dared not touch. In the gradually closing shot, the actress's face was magnified bit by bit until it filled the entire screen. The camera approached her, scrutinized her, the lens faithfully and greedily recorded every fleeting micro-expression on her face. She strained her neck, breathing rapidly, as if gazing at something she had never possessed, immersed, longing, conflicted. But her eyes were filled with loss. - In front of the monitor, there were already sounds of people quietly sniffing. Even the assistant director couldn't help but wipe away tears. "How can she act so well?" "Really amazing." "She wasn't acting at all, was she? You can't see any trace of performance," someone in the director's team murmured. Li Ling remained lying on the ground, looking up at the floor. Her body movements were minimal, her facial expressions very restrained, not even blinking. But she acted with such emotion and sincerity that it made people forget this was a set, that everything was fake. The assistant director said, "What do you mean she wasn't acting? Her whole body was acting!" "Huh?" He directed them to another camera angle: a full-body shot, then cut to a close-up. The actress seemed effortless, but in reality, her whole body was tense, every inch of muscle twitching slightly to the rhythm of the music. Her muscle memory and fragmented willpower created a strong resistance. She portrayed that cautious pain: wanting to jump, but unable and afraid to jump. The staff showed a shocked expression, "Didn't she just take a few days of dance classes? How can she control her body to this extent?" "Look at her leg," the assistant director said again. Someone who had just been amputated always thought their leg was still there. When Li Ling lay on the ground, her body would unconsciously tilt to one side, only barely correcting when she was about to lose balance. She often unconsciously tried to touch the lost leg, but as soon as her hand touched the empty pant leg, her eyes would immediately dim. "So, which parts are acting, and which parts are real?" The people in front of the monitor suddenly fell into confusion, "I thought she was too deep into the role, showing true emotions, but was everything calculated?" "Who can say she didn't feel anything?"The assistant director said, "A truly good actor always has both." However, no one would have thought that in such a short time, Li Ling could achieve this. Thinking back to the day she came to audition, she was so nervous that she stuttered through her lines. She seemed both careless and indifferent, and when the director coached her all night, her response was to pin him under the light. They all thought it was a farce. Yet, as the film progressed, it seemed that no one could perform better than Li Ling. The script coordinator suddenly said, "Maybe it's not that she resembles A-Ling, but that A-Ling is becoming her." The protagonist of this scene was originally Zhou Jing. He celebrated A-Ling's birthday, catering to her preferences, and moved her in the most unexpected way. This was a form of meticulous calculation and cold cruelty. He made A-Ling see once again that she no longer had legs, that she could never stand on stage again, and that she only had him. They would kiss. Zhou Jing would press A-Ling to the floor, stealing her breath, while she stared blankly at the light and shadows on the floor, no longer struggling—perfectly mirroring the beginning of the scene. The ultimate purpose of this scene was that it was A-Ling's birthday, and she herself was the birthday cake. Zhou Jing wove a gentle net for her, gradually taming and consuming her. But at some point, the focus of the narrative had shifted. It was not A-Ling being seduced by Zhou Jing, but Zhou Jing being bewitched by A-Ling, lost in her obsession. The camera focused on her, and only her. The actress in front of the camera was so beautiful, vibrant, and real, like an unpolished diamond, each facet reflecting sunlight, bursting with immense vitality. Jin Jingyao watched her, his gaze intense. It was not the director looking at his designed work, nor a monster eyeing his cake. She had not, as he wished, become lifeless, a doll in Zhou Jing's basement. "So, do they kiss or not?" A staff member from the director's team looked at the script pages in frustration. The rhythm was completely out of control. But this impromptu gaze was also very moving, perhaps more heart-stirring than a meticulously designed kiss. He was no longer the omniscient director; he was dragged into the scene, fully immersed. The floating light and shadows slowly slid across the young face. Like a beam of light penetrating the deep sea, passing over a silent sunken ship. A dead heart was being awakened. "Should we call cut?" someone whispered. "…Let's not call it yet." "Come on, director, don't chicken out!" - In another airtight room, Qin Yi paced back and forth like a trapped beast, breathing heavily. "Trash! Bitch!" "What acting skills could she have!" "How could she be in Jin Jingyao's movie!" "Everything she has is what I discarded, what I played with and left behind, and she dares to pick it up... Bitch..." The curtains were tightly drawn, and he was like a light-fearing crawling insect, surrounded by empty wine bottles, drawing sustenance from the garbage heap. The last drop of wine was gone, and Qin Yi, with bloodshot eyes, unlocked his phone with trembling hands. "We still have hope, right?" he said hoarsely, "An artist with such a bad record and poor acting skills, how could she really have someone backing her?" He let out a strange laugh, "If she had backing, her last show wouldn't have been such a disaster. When I did action scenes with her, I always used real force..." The person on the other end seemed to say something. Qin Yi paused before saying, "Didn't you tell me? She has so many offenses, she climbed up by sleeping with directors.""I hit her to let her know that acting isn't that easy." "No problem, this account is banned, but I have plenty of other channels and resources. Switching platforms, I can still expose her... third-rate trash, a slut who sleeps with old men..." He cursed Li Ling to his heart's content, venting his anger. However, the person on the other end seemed to have said something, causing his face to turn pale. "No, no..." Qin Yi said in a panic, "You promised me that as long as I exposed her, everything would be resolved. You said you would help me." "Don't hang up, wait, I can still think of a way. I'm begging you..." The call was abruptly cut off. The cold screen remained on a blank page. Your account has been banned. Your account has been banned. Your account has been banned. Your account has been banned. Qin Yi's lips trembled as he stared dejectedly at the blood-red words. As an artist, the most terrifying thing is not being scolded, but being erased from existence. If no one sees him, he is truly dead. However, during this period, he had experienced this torment repeatedly, as if he had become an empty cyber ghost, with all traces of his existence erased from this world. Having died once, he could die again. "He said I deserved it, he actually said I deserved it..." Qin Yi muttered to himself, gritting his teeth. With a "smack," he smashed his phone hard. Moments later, he stumbled to the ground, groping around, slapping himself in anger, carefully checking if the screen had a new crack. He had no choice but to do this. To bring down Li Ling, he had spent a large sum of money. He thought he would reap rich rewards, but now he was bankrupt. A total loss in a high-stakes gamble. Holding the cracked phone, a chilling thought suddenly crossed Qin Yi's mind. This time, he might really be finished. - On the other end of the phone, a woman's coquettish voice asked teasingly, "Who was that, why so agitated?" The man absentmindedly hugged her and said, "An idiot." He hung up the phone and somewhat roughly reached out, pinching the woman's chin in front of him, but another face appeared in his mind. "Still not quite right," he said regretfully. He pressed the woman's face into the pillow, leaned down, and whispered in her ear, "Let's play something exciting, hmm?" The woman giggled. He flicked the ash from his cigarette and said indifferently, "Stop laughing." Because she would never laugh at him. The hot ash fell onto the woman's smooth back. She cried out in pain, but the man behind her was satisfied as he pressed down on her neck. Afterward, he left the hotel room without a trace of reluctance. He couldn't even wait to get into the elevator before calling his agent, "I'll take Jin Jingyao's new film." The other person paused before saying, "They did come to us, but it's just a minor villain role. Ming Qing, you know what Jin Jingyao means. You two parted on bad terms before, how could he sincerely invite you? He's just trying to humiliate you, so why bother..." "It doesn't matter." The agent sighed, "I really don't know what you're thinking." "Oh, by the way," Luo Ming Qing said lightly, "find someone to teach Qin Yi a lesson." "Qin Yi? Didn't you used to drink with him often? He's probably not doing well now either. You two have some history, why..." "His mouth is too dirty," Luo Ming Qing said. The elevator's inner wall reflected Luo Ming Qing's face. He had always been the type of impeccably handsome man, with fans describing him as having the air of an aristocrat, the most elegant man in a suit within the industry. But at this moment, he lowered his head and casually adjusted his wristwatch, a sinister smile twisting on the pale mirror, making him look like a wolf. The elevator numbers continued to descend, and the shimmering mirror turned into a turbulent sea. He sank into his memories, seeing her emerge from the water, her hair wet and clinging to her face, a drop of water from her nose trailing down her collarbone like a ripe fruit oozing juice. Her teeth were a row of pristine pearls. Her eyes were so bright, like a fire that couldn't be extinguished by the heavy rain. Even though her face was pale with fear, she gritted her teeth, refusing to beg anyone for mercy. Was her acting not good? How could that be possible? He had always known she was a talented actress. It's just a pity, such a pity.