Jin Jingyao's older brother owned a prestigious entertainment PR company in the United States, specializing in the global distribution and publicity of Asian films. Originally, he acquired this company to help his director brother smoothly navigate the awards season. However, like all artists, Jin Jingyao had his quirks. He was low-key by nature and detested marketing, even forbidding the PR team from joining the set for behind-the-scenes footage during filming. The usual promotional activities for films, such as press conferences at the initial project stage and media visits during filming, were completely non-existent for him. He always started and wrapped up filming quietly, keeping all information confidential until the film's release. Therefore, when PR company director Nicole Yang received a request from Jin Jingyao, she was extremely surprised. The young director politely asked if she could help promote a newly released Chinese web series. "Because the lead actress has been subjected to undue criticism," he said, sounding somewhat displeased. With the rise of streaming media in recent years, Nicole Yang assumed the web series he mentioned would be a quality production like "Ripley" or "Reindeer Baby." She didn't expect the series to be so... cheaply made and poorly produced, making her want to wash her eyes after just three minutes of viewing. She also realized that the so-called lead actress wasn't actually the "main character" in the true sense but rather a villain in the first segment. That said, he was the boss's brother. They quickly came up with the first version of the plan, focusing mainly on the actress's performance highlights to generate some positive buzz. Jin Jingyao was not satisfied after reviewing it, feeling it was too cold and lacked emotion, so he made some personal revisions. When Nicole Yang saw the returned comments, she was so shocked she wanted to gouge her eyes out. — "It's your honor that the sister is willing to touch you :)" — "Wuwuwu, but I still think the sister is very beautiful. Don't go for those stinky men, come for me instead." What was this? Had the director been cursed? On the contrary, the interns in the company gave a thumbs up: "The boss's brother has a next-level understanding of marketing." Nicole Yang: "..." Contrary to what Nicole Yang thought, Jin Jingyao was very calm when he wrote those lines. He even felt he was being very fair, merely voicing the true thoughts of the silent majority of the audience. He rewatched the first two episodes of the series, further solidifying his thoughts. After sending the revised promotional plan back to Nicole Yang, he quickly began to hypothesize how Li Ling would react when she read these comments. Would she like them, remember them? Would she agree with his objective fairness, find the commenters somewhat endearing? But then he wondered if she knew the truth, would she be unhappy? Because the person leaving those comments was still him. Still him, only him. She had clearly left the set, but her life was still filled with him, different versions of him wearing different masks. He watched her from behind the screen, reaching out to her through virtual accounts and different identities. Was he manipulating public opinion to please her, help her, or to get closer to her again, to create the illusion that she wasn't that far from him? Would she find him disgusting? Was this why she left the set without saying goodbye? The next day, on a long-haul flight, Jin Jingyao used the intermittent Wi-Fi to finish watching the latest episodes of the series. When the flight attendant came to offer service, she glanced at his screen and gave him a rather peculiar look. He didn't mind. He noticed that the barrage of insults directed at the female lead had significantly decreased, but he still meticulously reported the few remaining negative comments. Afterward, he asked Nicole Yang if she still needed his help in writing new reviews. With a sense of accomplishment, she replied, "No need, Mr. Jin! This is a very promising dark horse of a project. We just had to communicate a bit with the platform and get some homepage exposure, and it showed great improvement. Its quality is solid!" Jin Jingyao calmly emphasized, "Yes, the female lead is excellent." Nicole Yang was momentarily stunned before saying, "Of course." The plane went through another bout of turbulence, and the signal became very weak. Jin Jingyao turned off the reading light, closed his eyes, and took a short nap. He dreamt again of the first time he met Li Ling. It wasn't a very pleasant beginning. But strangely, after all this time, many scenes were still vivid in his mind. Memory, it turned out, wasn't like frosted glass in the rain but the highest definition 120-frame-per-second camera. When he woke up, he received several messages from his older brother, Jin Jingping, asking why his phone had been off. Jin Jingyao replied, "On the plane." "Where to?" His brother called him via voice chat. "England." Jin Jingping was silent for a long time before asking, "Why are you going to England?" For a long time, England was a name that couldn't be touched by the Jin family, a dark tear on the world map. England was a terrible, irreparable mistake. Jin Jingyao had been sent to study in England at a young age and had suffered severe bullying at that prestigious school for many years. Perhaps because he was naturally quiet and reserved, or maybe out of some sense of abandonment and misunderstanding, he never mentioned a word of it to his family during his annual visits home. Ultimately, the matter came to light in a very dramatic way. Jin Jingping, working at the headquarters of a media group in England, saw his brother on the cover of an unpublished magazine. The cover story was quite bold, titled "Eve's Eighth Day." His brother and another young Asian lingerie model were embracing in a bathroom, the camera capturing a sense of forbidden danger and pleasure. Jin Jingping was shocked and furious, only to later learn that at school, those upperclassmen had insulted his brother as an "Asian adult film actor" and forced him to pose for such an inappropriate magazine cover. Their parents and he immediately retrieved and destroyed all the shooting materials and promptly arranged for his brother to transfer schools, taking him away from England. But the damage was already done. Feeling guilty about the harm caused to his brother, they no longer tried to correct his career aspirations or insist on making him a more "normal" person. He wanted to be a director, to make films, to indulge in dark and gloomy themes, even shooting gory murder scenes at home, and they gave him unconditional support. But over the years, the relationship between the brothers remained distant, with a faint sense of estrangement. At this moment, facing his brother's question, Jin Jingyao didn't provide a detailed answer. Jin Jingping was silent for a moment before saying, "Nicole told me you asked them for some help." "The girl you're helping, is she the lingerie model from back then?" Jin Jingyao replied, "She's an actress, not a lingerie model." Then he calmly hung up the phone. - He Wei's wife lived in an old house in the suburbs of London. The exterior was very dilapidated, resembling a haunted house where supernatural events might occur in a James Wan movie. Fortunately, the interior was simply furnished but had a homely warmth. Mrs. He herself was well-maintained, looking no more than in her early forties at first glance. She welcomed Jin Jingyao inside, asked him to wait a moment, and then busied herself trimming the roses in a vase. Jin Jingyao had no interest in exchanging pleasantries and got straight to the point. Mrs. He put down the scissors and said elegantly, "You mean that young girl? Oh, I still remember her." "You don't need to clarify anything for me." She paused, a peculiar smile suddenly appearing on her face. "There was nothing between her and my husband, of course I know that—the movie was about our daughter. How could Old He dare, that would be incest." Jin Jingyao said, "You knew all along." He didn't ask her why, if she knew, she still lied and let Li Ling suffer unjustly. Mrs. He didn't explain either. She smiled leisurely and asked him, "Director Jin, have you seen that movie?" He nodded lightly. "Then you should remember the ending, where the heroine goes to find her father, and he holds her, comforts her, and recites a poem." Mrs. He recalled very clearly, even though many years had passed, the entire plot of the movie was still etched into her bones like a knife. "Don't you find it strange? If the father loved her and understood her so much, why did she still go to die?" Jin Jingyao said, "It is a bit strange." Mrs. He said, "Because that scene never existed." She paused, her voice slightly hoarse, "She was driven to death by He Wei." "At first, I didn't know either. It wasn't until later, when I was sorting through Wenwen's belongings, that I found out she had left a suicide note." Mrs. He still had a smile on her face, but tears slowly began to fall, "She came back after being beaten, and he said she had brought shame upon him, that he couldn't face anyone. Wenwen said, then I'll just go die. Do you know what he said? He said, then make sure you die far away, don't die at home. This house was left by your grandfather." "And then she really went and died." "After that, He Wei said he wanted to make a movie about our daughter. I thought he was genuinely remorseful." "Until Chen Fei showed me the film." At some point, it had started raining heavily outside. Dark clouds loomed, and the trees by the roadside were shaken, swaying wildly in the storm. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, and Mrs. He's previously gentle and calm expression suddenly turned ferocious. She raised her voice, "It's all fake. How dare he lie like that, knowing full well he drove our daughter to death—he still dared to recite poetry, he had the nerve to recite poetry!" With a "bang," the wind blew open the window, knocking over the vase on the table. Water spilled out, and the roses, fragile in the wind, fell over. Mrs. He was startled, looked down to tidy the vase, and when she looked up again, her expression had returned to serene composure. "Director Jin, you make movies too, so you should understand my predicament." She said lightly, "How could I tolerate such a disgusting lie being made public? It's more painful than killing me." Jin Jingyao said nothing, looking at her coldly. "As for the young girl who played our daughter back then..." Mrs. He raised her eyes slightly, her tone indifferent, "I can only say, it was our family's business, and she was unlucky to be chosen by He Wei." Mrs. He tucked her hair behind her ear, "How is she now? Is she doing well?" Jin Jingyao said, "Not well." "If you want to ruin He Wei's reputation and make him fall from grace, of course she wouldn't be doing well."Mrs. He was taken aback, her face suddenly turning a bit pale. "I am not..." Jin Jingyao interrupted her, asking more calmly, "May I ask, where were you when your daughter passed away?" Mrs. He: "I..." "Were you abroad, looking for a boyfriend? Oh, now he should be called your husband." Jin Jingyao's lips curled into a faint, cold smile. "You seem very happy." Mrs. He's face changed, and the bouquet she was holding, with thorns not yet trimmed, deeply pricked her skin. A faint sound of a door opening came from above, and a mixed-race little boy appeared at the top of the stairs, calling out in English, "Mommy, Mommy, I'm scared." He rubbed his eyes and slowly walked downstairs. Seeing Jin Jingyao, he curiously asked, "Mommy, who is this person?" Mrs. He quickly stepped forward and hugged the frail little boy. The boy said, "Mommy, your hand is bleeding!" Then he added, "The rain is so heavy, will Daddy come home early?" Mrs. He did not answer his questions. She half-squatted on the ground, tightly hugging her son's neck, her eyes filled with vigilance and fear as she stared at Jin Jingyao. He looked down at the little boy and said calmly, "Your son is very cute." Mrs. He's expression became even more wary and tense. But the little boy, in his mother's arms, happily said, "I'm nine years old!" Jin Jingyao nodded, "Nine years old." "Liling was also someone's daughter," he said. "Have you ever thought about that? No, you haven't." His gaze lowered, sliding over Mrs. He's face, cold, scrutinizing, and devoid of emotion, like a long take in a documentary. Mrs. He began to tremble all over. She hated directors; she hated every director. Her fingers spasmed uncontrollably, and the little boy in her arms cried out, "Mommy, you're hurting me!" But her eyes seemed to lose focus, unable to hear or see. Ten years. The mistake did not start ten years ago; their daughter had died long before. And her marriage had been nothing more than a scrap of paper even earlier. But because of a film made ten years ago, the mistake was repeated once again. He Wei was guilty. He was a negligent father, a negligent husband, and in his old age, he wanted to achieve greatness as a director through a false film. He did not repent, so in the year he made the film, he inflicted the same violence on Liling in the same way. Perhaps in his heart, that so-called art was always above humanity, above his daughter, above himself, all serving a grand idea. Unfortunately, that idea did not exist. Mrs. He did not repent either. She wore the mask of a avenger, fully aware of the role she truly played in this story, but unwilling to admit it. She knew what Chen Fei was doing, knew who would become the next victim, and she did not care. He Wei was dead, but she was still alive. The living have the power to rewrite the narrative. So she erased He Wei, and along with him, Liling. The film did not repent either. Ultimately, all the mistakes lay with the film. If He Wei had not been so obsessed with film, he would not have neglected his family, creating the initial tragedy. In his old age, he wanted to use another film to rewrite reality. But film ultimately does not have that power. Film can only push reality into an irretrievable abyss. What is film, after all? It is a lie, a mistake, an irreparable crack, a false dream, an ugly memory, and a cold reality. The rain fell harder and harder. The sound of the rain drowned out everything. The raindrops pounded heavily on the windows, like all the ghosts of the past, howling at this moment, carrying with them a world-destroying resentment and hatred. Jin Jingyao turned around, and as he reached the door, he unexpectedly turned back again and smiled at Mrs. He once more. "This matter isn't over yet," he said softly. "What you owe her, you will have to repay." The young man walked into the pouring rain. The driver was already waiting at the door and immediately held up a black umbrella for him. But his silhouette remained so solitary, like a pitch-black island floating away from the mainland. The driver asked him, "Sir, are we going directly to Heathrow Airport?" Jin Jingyao was silent for a moment, then mentioned the name of another street. There was still one place he needed to go. He wanted to return to where it all began, to the day he first met Li Ling. It had also rained heavily that day. He rolled down the car window, letting the rain of the years quietly fall on his face.