Talk, talk, talk, talk about nothing. Li Ling couldn't be bothered with him. She jumped onto the bed and covered her head with the quilt again. But she couldn't fall asleep either. Before the door closed, Jin Jingyao's face, so downcast, was something she had never seen before. It was as if she saw a dusty, lost dragon, forcing itself into the narrow hallway. The dim light shone on his large, misplaced body. His scales were messy, falling everywhere. He was very nervous and cautious, his huge eyes blinking slowly, as if looking at something lost and found, even with a sense of relief after a disaster. She had just scolded him, not killed him, so why did he look so pitiful? Was he pretending again? Feeling annoyed, Li Ling picked up her phone and found a whole page full of over thirty missed calls. There were also many text messages from Jin Jingyao asking her "where are you." Li Ling: ? Among the flood of texts and calls, there were also a few messages from Xiao Liu. Li Ling replied to him, saying she had just fallen asleep and asked what was going on. Xiao Liu replied sarcastically, "Teacher, you're awake." He added, "I really envy people who sleep so well." Li Ling: "..." Quickly learning the whole story from Xiao Liu, Li Ling felt a mix of emotions. A casual remark, and Jin Jingyao took it seriously, even looking for a helicopter. She had no idea what he was up to; it sounded almost like a joke. But as far as she knew, Jin Jingyao was not a humorous person. After much thought, Li Ling jumped out of bed. To avoid being heard by the person outside, she deliberately lowered her voice and tiptoed. When she reached the door, she noticed a few white slips of paper had been slipped under the door at some point. In the dim light from the window, she could barely make out a series of comic strips on the paper. The first picture was a lively little white mummy, trying very hard to untie the white cloth from its mouth, with a speech bubble next to it saying "I am sorry." The second picture showed the mummy being escorted by several black Anubis-headed figures, looking even more pitiful, with another speech bubble containing a more complex English sentence. The handwriting was messy and hard to read. In the third picture, the mummy was lying in a brown coffin, tearfully poking its chest with a fork. The English content next to it was ridiculously long, comparable to a high school English essay. Li Ling: "..." How annoying, did he really think she was a primary school student? She knocked on the door. The person behind the door immediately knocked back lightly. Li Ling said irritably, "Are you Duolingo?" Jin Jingyao was silent for a moment, seemingly not understanding what she meant. Li Ling: "...Write in Chinese!" There was a faint sound from behind the door, and soon another piece of paper was slipped in. It said "I'm sorry." Li Ling had expected to see childish handwriting, but to her surprise, Director Jin's Chinese was very well-written, with elegant and slender characters, just like him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let you hear those things," Jin Jingyao wrote. Li Ling coldly replied, "Then don't say them." There was a moment of silence from the other side, then he wrote, "That's not what I meant." "I never intended to play with your emotions." "Filming with you is not painful." "I'm not pretending."He probably wasn't very good at apologizing either. His basic writing approach was to clarify each of the things Li Ling had scolded him for, but he got stuck here and paused for a while. The note slipped in again, this time saying: "I'm sorry." "Sorry." Li Ling laughed in exasperation and pounded on the door a few times. She watched as a small English note being slipped under the door was quickly retracted, as fast as a little mummy frantically retreating. Although she didn't know why he drew a mummy. It was still suggested to cremate it directly. After a brief silence, a new note appeared under the door. It was clear that he had written this line more seriously, the characters were neat and carefully written, and the handwriting was heavier. "You are a very good actress, and I am very lucky to have chosen you," Jin Jingyao wrote. "The time spent filming with you has been the happiest time for me." "Without you, this movie would not have been possible." Li Ling stared at these lines for a long time, feeling a strange sense of unfamiliarity. It was as if this wasn't Chinese at all, but some incomprehensible cuneiform script. Jin Jingyao's handwriting was unfamiliar, and what he wrote was also unfamiliar. He had never praised her like this on set, so much so that she could hardly imagine how Director Jin's voice would sound reading these words, whether it would feel a bit out of place. His voice—that low, emotionless, inherently arrogant voice—was more suited to saying, "Her acting is so bad, she can't get into character at all." But his words seemed very sincere. She wanted to believe, she actually still wanted to believe. As the anger receded from her body like a tide, she knew that he and He Wei were completely different people. He Wei would only thank her pompously for her "contributions" at the end of filming, as if she were a small brick in some great project, trampled by thousands, and it was her honor. But Jin Jingyao said he was very lucky, and she made him very happy. What she was ashamed to admit was that she was also very happy during the filming. The illusory images and the illusory happiness intertwined, becoming something infinitely close to reality but always parallel to it. Before the tears really fell, Li Ling covered her eyes with her hand. She leaned against the wall, her shoulders trembling slightly. Her heartbeat became both fast and slow. She felt she should still be happy, but happiness was also an illusory, sour, and swollen emotion, like the soreness and weakness after a hangover, like the bubbles in a fish tank, constantly rising and then bursting. Perhaps because she had been silent for too long, another small note was laboriously squeezed in. After a while, Li Ling lowered her head to see what was written on it. She sniffled and couldn't help but laugh through her tears. The note read: "What is your bank account number?" - Using money to appease someone could be said to be the highest form of respect to the person being appeased. Li Ling stood up, took a pen and a sticky note from the bedside table drawer, wrote a line of numbers on the paper, and pushed it to the other side. Jin Jingyao pushed the same piece of paper back, with a small black question mark annotated next to it. Because Li Ling had written the bank account number as 1111111111. Li Ling chuckled, feeling that her nasal voice was still a bit heavy, and sat back down by the door without saying anything. In the silence, little mummy figures kept slipping in under the door, striking various strange poses to express apologies and trying to make her laugh. At first, Li Ling found the art style somewhat familiar, but it could also be that to an outsider, cartoon styles all look quite similar. Jin Jingyao could draw, and her mind was exhausted, leaving no room for further thought. After a while, she felt she had recovered and finally decided to end this game of passing notes during class. She stood up and opened the door. Jin Jingyao was still sitting by the wall, with an open notebook on his knees, half-drawing a little mummy figure banging its head against the wall. Her sudden movement caught him off guard, and he looked up in surprise. Li Ling rarely saw such a dumbfounded expression on Jin Jingyao's face. He had glasses perched on his nose and a pen cap in his mouth. The lenses had a slight reflection, and the faint light from the corridor outlined his profile—young and handsome, but still not very clear. They stared at each other for a moment. With a snap, the pen cap fell to the ground and rolled to her feet. Li Ling bent down and removed a leaf from his hair. He stiffened even more, like a prince turned to stone by a witch's spell. After a while, he stared at her, his lips moved slightly but made no sound, and he silently handed her the unfinished drawing. Li Ling accepted it. Opening the door and taking the drawing, to her, this was already a gesture of reconciliation. She nodded to Jin Jingyao, said "Good night," and turned to go back to sleep. But Jin Jingyao tugged at her sleeve again. Li Ling turned around, lowered her head, and saw him awkwardly purse his lips and say, "I have something to give you." Though he said he wanted to give her something, it was quite a hassle. Jin Jingyao drove Li Ling back to the set, leading her with a flashlight down to Zhou Jing's basement. Li Ling was drowsy the whole way, relying on the director to provide some automatic services. However, when he hesitated about whether to bend over and help her unbuckle her seatbelt, she woke up just in time. As soon as she entered the kitchen, Li Ling was stunned. She remembered leaving the place in a mess before she left, throwing everything into the sink in a fit of anger and storming off. But now the entire kitchen was spotless, as clean as new, with a warm yellow light giving it a homely feel. "This is..." As soon as she spoke, Li Ling realized she had asked a silly question. Who else could have cleaned it? It seemed a lot had happened while she was asleep. Jin Jingyao took a cake out of the fridge. Li Ling's face twisted in dismay for a moment; she distinctly remembered throwing the cake into the trash before she left. To her surprise, it wasn't her failed creation but a beautiful, proud little swan. A perfect little cake. It seemed to fit Jin Jingyao's definition of life perfectly. He was also a perfect and proud person, and there were no defects in his world. "For you," Jin Jingyao said softly. He lowered his eyes, looking flatly at the little swan. He seemed afraid to look her in the eyes and didn't say anything else, like why he made a cake or why he was giving it to her. It was such a good opportunity to explain and apologize, but he could only say three words. Li Ling also looked down at the cake for a while and suddenly said, "Director, can I hug you?" Jin Jingyao's body was always more honest than his words. Before he said "yes," he was already so close that their breaths almost mingled, swirling with the sweet scent of cream. Li Ling said, "You're too tall." So he obediently bent down. She smiled, blew a breath onto his face, and then slapped the entire cake onto him. The movement was swift, hitting the target perfectly. Jin Jingyao's face was covered in white cream, and he instinctively closed his eyes, as if wrapped in some soft, dreamy foam, with his eyelashes dusted with snow. Although he was quite stunned, he didn't look embarrassed at all; instead, he appeared sweet and clean. He didn't seem very angry either, as if even if it happened again, he wouldn't dodge. Li Ling laughed heartily, satisfied, and finally hugged his neck. Jin Jingyao still had his eyes closed, his body a bit stiff, seemingly trying to distance himself from her, worried that the cream on his face would dirty her. Li Ling didn't care at all, even rubbing her cheek against his. The sweet scent lingered at her nose. His hand slowly touched her arm, and with her laughter, it gradually, clumsily tightened, like a giant snow mountain melting in her embrace. It seemed he whispered "I'm sorry" in her ear again. Did he say it? She didn't hear, because she was laughing, her laughter drowning out everything, and she once again felt that false happiness. The last time they sat in Zhou Jing's basement chatting, they tacitly avoided more important issues and instead talked about lighter topics, like what to do after wrapping up the shoot. Li Ling said she might take a long vacation, while Jin Jingyao would obviously be buried in the editing room. Li Ling said, "Take care of yourself, remember to come out alive." Jin Jingyao looked at her, somewhat reservedly expressing that she was welcome to visit him anytime. Li Ling smiled, "Depends on my mood, director." Jin Jingyao said, "Okay." Not long after, he started trying to set a date with her, subtly suggesting that buying tickets in advance would be more economical. Li Ling said, "Your calculations can be heard all the way in Siberia." Jin Jingyao lowered his eyes and asked flatly, "Oh, did you hear it?" She didn't speak, just looked at him and smiled. She suddenly felt grateful that she was no longer like ten years ago, when hearing people talk about her behind her back, she would only bury her head in her knees. Now she at least had the courage to turn around and question. So she had the rest of the night. She had the apology, the new cake, and the basement hug. But a night's time is only so long. Earlier at the hotel, one of them was inside the room, the other outside. After opening the door, Li Ling was surprised to find that they had been sitting in the same position all along. Separated by the same wall, back to back. But nothing connected them, their body heat, heartbeats, and breaths sealed by cement. So neither realized how close they were, how in sync. Only the little mummy with its mouth wrapped up, unable to speak, was busy running back and forth under the door crack. She remembered a comic she read years ago, where the male and female protagonists lived in the same apartment building, in two rooms separated by a wall. They slept with their heads next to each other every night but had never met. So close, yet so far, the cement wall was the only enemy. If that was the case, why not knock down the wall? It was such a simple thing. It was only when she grew up that she understood there are many walls in the world, and knocking down one doesn't eliminate the distance between people. They are destined to have barriers, unable to be completely intimate. Everyone wears a mask, walking a tightrope alone, futilely searching for another person on the other side of the fog. - On the morning of the wrap, Li Ling passed by outside the theater and found the crew filming a cloud. It was a massive, sculptural, white cloud. It was incredibly beautiful, standing quietly in the sky with an ancient tranquility, like the spaceship in "Arrival," like the very definition of eternity. Everyone who passed by this cloud would silently stop, lift their heads, and gaze or worship. Li Ling also stopped to look for a while before finally walking into the set. Today was her final scene. The crew members who saw her treated her with the same indifference as usual, without any difference. Some even deliberately avoided her gaze and didn't greet her. Actually, Li Ling also felt somewhat awkward, but fortunately, there were no rumors in the crew about the leading actress's failed suicide attempt. Zhou Jing welcomed his debut night, and he had reserved a ticket in the best seat of the first row for A Ling. Li Ling suggested shooting two versions of this scene, and the director agreed. But she always felt that he seemed somewhat distracted. In the first version, A Ling arrived on time. She wore the prosthetic limb Zhou Jing had bought for her, inconspicuously following the flow of the audience to find her seat. She wore a long dress and walked slowly. No one noticed her because she looked just like everyone else. Only when the lights dimmed and then came back on did she become the male lead's secret lover. Her face blossomed with a happy smile and moist tears. Everyone stood up and applauded. Zhou Jing, drenched in sweat, shone brilliantly on stage. He bent down and then stood up again, his eyes never leaving her. This was a play he performed for her alone, always. In the second version, Zhou Jing waited until the curtain fell, but A Ling never appeared. Before this take, Jin Jingyao stood on stage, hearing Xiao Liu happily report through the headset that everything was set up, and they had prepared a surprise wrap party for the leading actress. Having previously given up completely, he thought for a long time, silently observing Li Ling's reaction, and suddenly felt there was still hope to speak out. He had prepared for this for a long time, to the point where he occasionally got distracted on set, but fortunately, the filming proceeded smoothly. In the audience, every seat was filled, except for one conspicuously empty spot, like a chess game that would never be completed, paused here. She wouldn't come. The young director on stage looked at the empty seat, his heart flooding like a tide, slowly giving rise to a near-panic emotion for some unknown reason. As she walked out of the theater, Li Ling instinctively looked up but did not see the cloud overhead. It silently dissolved into the air like tears. Not long after the car started, it began to drizzle. The magnificent theater receded into the distance, gradually leaving only a ripple-like reflection. The tall trees by the roadside stood quietly, the rain kissing the windshield, weaving into an old, dreamy reverie. She didn't say goodbye to anyone.