He dreamed of her again. She nestled into his arms, like a freshly bloomed night-blooming jasmine, carrying a faint, delicate fragrance. Her skin was white and warm, constantly trembling under his palm. He heard her soft breathing, like rain falling on his eyelids. His heartbeat, his pulse, turned into golden lines, growing outward from the nape of her neck, flowing gently through her body, and returning to her face. But in every lost dream, he had never truly seen her clearly. She always had her back to him. She was a faceless, unattainable woman. Never once had he been so fortunate as to look directly into her eyes, like wandering stars under a dim sky. He wanted to kiss this night sky. He leaned down. In absolute silence, just before his wish was fulfilled, he heard the sound of the camera rolling. The faint light illuminating them was not the tranquil moonlight, but the stage lighting he had meticulously designed and repeatedly adjusted. This was not a dream. It was a film, a set aimed at by countless camera lenses, more deceitful than a dream. But she was real. - When the kiss finally landed, Li Ling felt surprisingly thirsty. This scene had consumed too much of her energy, emotions flooding out like a breached dam, her insides wailing with a parched sound. She longed for something to block her, to fill her emptiness. She longed for a refreshing rain. She longed for the dying irrigation when the vines were strangled. But Jin Jingyao gave too little. He was awkward, hasty, bestowing upon her a cloud of ambiguous mist. Their lips touched, a fleeting taste. So brief it was like the breath God blew into the clay when creating man. He held her so tightly, as if trying to press her into his body. Yet the kiss was so light, so light it seemed it never existed. Two thin sheets of paper, swaying and dissolving in the sea. She was not satisfied. Li Ling grabbed his back forcefully, feeling the firm, strong muscles, like the undulating mountains behind the moon. She couldn't see clearly, only groping in the darkness. Uncertain, she tentatively licked his lips. In the brief moment of exchanging breaths, she tasted the flavor of mint chocolate—followed by a sharp pain. Her lower lip was bitten, clumsily by his teeth. The sweetness of mint chocolate turned into a deep green pain. Li Ling was startled, instinctively pulling back, nearly hitting the back of the wheelchair. As the pain was about to strike, he suddenly became adept again, timely placing his hand behind her head, pressing her face from behind, gently lifting her chin. She let out a slight gasp. His unfamiliar gaze roamed over her face, like a submarine in the deep sea. The dim light was the best camouflage, concealing the possessiveness in his eyes, turning into a gentle warmth without desire. Soft lips fell on her eyelids. Like moonlight, mint leaves, and painkillers. In the empty grand theater, only they remained on the set. The camera never stopped rolling. The stage, the curtains, and the moonlight outside the window, all breathed softly, silently observing. Li Ling instinctively closed her eyes, feeling her tears being sucked away. They should be salty, the salt of sea breeze and mint leaves. The kiss became wet and lingering again, winding from the corner of her eye to the edge of her lips, like following a sparkling river under the moonlight. He lingered for a long time. His movements were vague, rubbing against her lips and cheeks, but his arms pressed tighter and tighter. When he made up his mind again, the young man leaned down towards her, but carelessly pressed on her wound.Li Ling's injured ankle was bumped, causing her to let out a sharp "hiss" of pain. Such a brief syllable, yet it was like a thunderclap in the tropical rainforest. No one called "cut," but the grip on her arm suddenly tightened. Li Ling knew the scene was over. - Abruptly stopping, the two stood quietly for a moment. Li Ling pushed her wheelchair back a bit to check her injury. Jin Jingyao wanted to help her, but she refused. He didn't insist, turning around to switch off the camera and wrap up the other tasks. Li Ling carefully rolled up her pant leg. The wound wasn't much; the throbbing pain seemed to come more from her heart than her ankle. For a moment, it felt as if two hearts had grown inside her body—one belonging to A-Ling, the other to herself. She couldn't tell which heart was beating so wildly, whose voice was telling her, "You shouldn't stop, you still want more. You want him." Was she becoming A-Ling, or was A-Ling consuming her? Li Ling said, "Director, maybe we shouldn't have kissed just now." Jin Jingyao, holding the camera, glanced at her lightly. "Li Ling," he called her name, "what's wrong with you?" Li Ling lowered her head, gradually becoming incoherent: "Nothing, it's just... very strange. I was clearly dancing, right? I should have kept dancing." She didn't notice that for the first time, she used the word "I" instead of "A-Ling." She just wanted to tell herself that the theme of the scene was dance, nothing else. She shouldn't continue to crave his kiss. She didn't need it. This emotion didn't belong to her. She tried hard to convince herself. Jin Jingyao put down the camera and walked up to her. He didn't look down at her but half-squatted, meeting her eyes, and said calmly, "You're too deep into the role. Take a break." Li Ling was gazing into those amber eyes. He still looked very calm, almost emotionless. As if all the youthful, hesitant, and chaotic desires in the scene were just an act. She felt she had indeed calmed down a bit: "You're not the first to tell me that." Jin Jingyao: "Hmm." "So, if I'm too deep into the role and can't get out, what should I do?" she asked him. Many years ago, Li Ling had asked He Wei the same question. His aged voice still echoed in her ears, laughing heartily: "Then don't come out!" "—Going mad or dying, that's the pinnacle of art. Silly girl, do you understand? People die, but art is immortal." Whenever she recalled He Wei's mad words, Li Ling felt as if she had been thrown into icy water again. Unable to breathe, unable to rise. But now, Jin Jingyao looked at her very calmly and said, "The movie will eventually be finished. You'll come out." His tone was so steady and clear, like a ship anchored on the sea's surface. Grasping that ship, she could get oxygen. Li Ling said, "You believe in me that much?" "Yes." "So, Director, do you think I acted well?" "Do I look like A-Ling?" Her tone was confused, chaotic, lost. "You don't need to turn yourself into her," the young man said. He stared at her so intently, without blinking, that Li Ling felt a tingling on her scalp. If gazes had form, she would almost think he had bitten her again. - The two of them were silent for a moment. Li Ling thought that a staff member would come back, but the theater remained empty except for the two of them. Jin Jingyao was still half-squatting in front of her. "Does your leg still hurt?" "It doesn't hurt anymore," Li Ling said. "Then do your lips still hurt?" he asked softly. Li Ling: "..." The emotions she had just managed to calm down turned into a boiling pot once again. Feeling awkward and with a twisted expression, she tried hard not to recall more details but couldn't help saying resentfully, "Director, this really wasn't your first time filming a kissing scene, was it?" Who bites someone so hard during a kissing scene? Jin Jingyao said, "I don't have as much experience as you." Li Ling: "Then you should practice more in the future." Jin Jingyao: ? Li Ling felt his gaze on her was a bit strange, so she added, "Not with me." Jin Jingyao raised an eyebrow slightly. Li Ling: "..." It seemed even stranger now. What was going on? Had she gone stupid from acting? She subconsciously pursed her lips and licked them. Jin Jingyao stared at her intently and suddenly said, "Stop licking." He leaned in closer and gently lifted her chin. On the surface, Director Jin's actions were perfectly proper and reasonable, without the slightest impropriety. He held her face and used a clean wet wipe to treat her wound. But for some reason, his actions were not as meticulous as before, and instead, they hurt more. She might as well do it herself. Just as Li Ling was about to protest, her mouth was rudely held shut by his warm thumb. A shadow fell, gradually covering her from chin to head. The strange sense of intrusion felt like an unfinished kiss, wandering between her lips and tongue. It was as if that scene had never ended, had never been over. He dragged her into a warm swamp. Li Ling didn't dare to speak anymore, clenching her teeth. Through a thin layer of cool velvet, the soft pad of his finger lightly touched her injured lips. His fingers were also warm, with tiny teeth growing from his skin. Something both cold and hot licked her wound, swallowing her bit by bit. Their eyes met, and the flickering light was like an ambiguous fire, probing into Jin Jingyao's eyes. In those still eyes, she saw many chaotic and unclear emotions. Staring into those eyes, Li Ling suddenly understood something. It wasn't just her who couldn't get out of character. They were both still immersed in that failed scene. - The clock struck twelve, and Li Ling's wound was finally treated. It was time to end this long day, but just then, a commotion suddenly arose from below the stage. The lights suddenly came on, almost blindingly bright, making one want to cry. A large group of people rushed out from backstage, their momentum like fireworks bursting outwards. They were pushing a huge birthday cake. Someone shouted loudly, "Happy birthday, Teacher Li!" Li Ling was a bit dazed; she had completely forgotten that today was her birthday. She instinctively glanced at Jin Jingyao, only to find that he had already stepped aside, walking off the stage with his back to her. He stayed with her until 11:59 but was unwilling to say a single "happy birthday" to her. No one seemed to notice the director's departure, as if it was taken for granted that he was too aloof to participate in group activities. Many people were laughing, cheering, and clapping, and the atmosphere instantly reached its peak of excitement. Li Ling was stunned for a moment, then smiled and joined in with the crowd. She needed to grasp something to help her move past the impact of that scene. Nothing was more suitable than a celebration. A-Ling's birthday was over. Now she was Li Ling. When the grand birthday cake was placed in front of her, before she could blow out the candles, someone shouted, "Teacher Li, behind you!" Li Ling turned her head in astonishment, only to see a woman in a white dress, finely boned and elegantly dressed, playing the piano with her head down. The woman was not playing a birthday song, but a rather melancholic and long melody. It wasn't quite fitting for the occasion, but it was very pleasant and moving. Li Ling vaguely felt that she had heard it somewhere before. This sense of déjà vu was shattered when the woman sang the first note. Sun, stare, don't care with my head in my hands Her pronunciation was standard, but it was unfortunate that she was born the wrong gender. It was clearly an unremarkable male voice, yet it was pitched so high and sharp—breaking on the first line. Amidst the crowd's uproarious laughter, Xiao Liu looked up and gave Li Ling a shy wink. Li Ling: "..." She immediately understood why Director Jin had fled without even saying "Happy Birthday" to her. It wasn't because he was impolite. It was simply because he didn't want to endure such mental pollution. However, thanks to Xiao Liu, she now felt she had completely stepped out of this scene. - Almost at the same time, in a penthouse suite of a five-star hotel, Luo Mingqing walked out of the bathroom. A large cloud of steam rushed out. He was wearing a bathrobe, still dripping with water, and he casually lifted his female companion's face. He had a new female companion and didn't remember her name, but he was very satisfied with the lower half of her face, especially those lips. "Happy Birthday," he said, pressing his lips against hers, his tone muffled. The female companion was momentarily stunned, then gently pushed him away, saying somewhat coquettishly, "Today is not my birthday." "Is that so," he said indifferently. He didn't really like the upper half of her face, so he picked up a black ribbon from the bedside, intending to blindfold her. Just then, his agent called. He didn't want to answer, but the agent must have had something urgent, as he kept calling and sending "Answer the phone" messages on WeChat. He had no choice but to click his tongue and push the compliant woman away. "What's up?" "Big star Luo, you were just photographed at the hotel entrance, did you know?" The agent's tone was pleading. "Oh," he said disinterestedly, "so what?" The agent said earnestly, "You're about to join the crew, can you tone it down a bit? Our own fans might turn a blind eye, but Director Jin's fans are not to be trifled with..." Luo Mingqing smiled and suddenly said, "Is that so? Then why not use someone else's news to cover it up?" The agent said suspiciously, "What are you talking about, big star? Your news can't be covered by just any news." Luo Mingqing said, "This isn't just any news." He spoke each word deliberately, his smile almost showing a hint of malice, as he sent a photo over. The photo seemed to be taken secretly, with a poor angle and low resolution. But it was clear enough to see a young director on stage in an abandoned yet luxurious theater, bending down to kiss a woman in a wheelchair. The lighting was dim, and he cupped her face with such a holy gesture. So holy that it made him feel sick.