A few days later, Xiao Liu finally got a copy of Li Ling's first movie. The film was called "Yesterday's Sun," said to be inspired by a line of poetry. He walked from the set to the director's workspace, passing by some ostentatious decorations along the way. Balloons, ribbons, and fresh-cut flowers hung on the walls, all prepared for Li Ling's wrap party. Seeing them now only made one feel particularly desolate. No one expected Li Ling to leave so suddenly, without a word of farewell. All the meticulous preparations had come to nothing, leaving everyone inevitably dejected. Xiao Liu suggested calling Li Ling; perhaps she hadn't gone too far yet. Jin Jingyao, however, calmly said there was no need. He had accepted Li Ling's sudden departure quite well, always maintaining a composed demeanor. Despite the lack of a party, he still gave everyone else half a day off. He himself continued working, silently locking himself away to edit the film. Yet several days passed, and Jin Jingyao still didn't allow them to take down the decorations. The flowers had been transported from a village at the foot of the mountain, their bloom short-lived. Now they hung lifelessly on the walls. When Xiao Liu accidentally brushed against them, the yellowed, curled petals immediately fell, like dried corpses scattered on the ground. A strange feeling arose in his heart. Ever since Li Ling wrapped up her scenes, the entire crew's atmosphere had changed. She had taken away the vitality, and something else as well. His cousin hadn't slept much these past few days, and he was very worried about him. Xiao Liu handed the copy to Jin Jingyao, who seemed more spirited than before. He quickly wrapped up his current work, turned on the projector, and sank into the sofa. Seeing that he wasn't being dismissed, Xiao Liu also sat down. The movie began. The first shot showed a boy standing by a window in a dark room. It was raining heavily outside. Above his head hung an old-fashioned pull-chain lamp, its light flickering and casting his shadow. The camera slowly zoomed in, through the foggy glass, gradually revealing delicate features and slender eyebrows. The boy's outline was soft, but his lips were full and alluring, like a blooming, lush flower. Xiao Liu was stunned. He turned to Jin Jingyao in disbelief, almost afraid to speak: "Is this..." The other stared at the screen, calmly replying, "It's her." This was Li Ling at nineteen. She was very young, very beautiful, and appeared before Xiao Liu in a completely unexpected, entirely unfamiliar manner. After about ten minutes, he understood why this film had been difficult to release back then. Li Ling played a transgender person who grew up in an alleyway decades ago, a girl who identified as male. She had cut her hair very short, buttoned her shirt all the way up, walked like a boy, and deliberately lowered her voice, speaking with a broad northern accent. Because of her slender build and smooth facial contours, it didn't seem out of place. Instead, it gave her an androgynous, youthful charm. But in reality, Li Ling did not have a particularly androgynous appearance. On the contrary, her features were delicate and very feminine—making the impact even stronger. At nineteen, in her first acting role, she had such talent, completely transforming herself into another person. She secretly loved a girl from the same school, often following her while playing the harmonica and walking her home. She also frequently fought with other boys, her face always bruised. Everyone saw her as a freak. The movie was halfway through when she quietly slipped into an empty classroom. She gazed at her female classmate, who looked like a sleeping beauty, and tried to steal a kiss on her cheek, but was caught red-handed by another male classmate. The afternoon sun was bright, and a gentle breeze blew through the white curtains. The panic in her eyes was so intense, like a sharp stone being forcefully thrown at a window. The glass shattered all over the floor. The dreamlike adolescence shattered along with it. The latter half of the plot took a sharp turn and became extremely tragic. Li Ling was ridiculed, isolated by the entire school, and the teacher dragged her to the podium to publicly criticize her, forcing her to admit her mistake. She refused to speak, and under the watchful eyes of everyone, the teacher kicked her knee, forcing her to kneel. Someone in the audience threw a small stone at her, hitting her forehead and leaving a bloody gash. Her deskmate refused to sit near her, threw a book at her, called her a monster, and told her to get lost. Male classmates dragged her to the back of the school, beating and kicking her without holding back. She was too thin and too stubborn. Even when slapped in the face, with blood in her mouth, she refused to give in. Her head was shaved, making her look terrible. She hid in an alley, wanting only to tell the girl she had a crush on, "I am not a monster." The girl saw her but didn't dare to speak to her, throwing a pack of tissues at her as if feeding a stray dog a bone. In the twilight, she clutched the tissues in her hand and laughed foolishly. Several times, Xiao Liu couldn't bear to watch any longer, but when he turned his head, Jin Jingyao was still intently staring at the screen. His face showed no emotional fluctuation, only the flickering light and shadow enveloping him, like rising and falling in dark water waves. A voiceover of an older woman, filled with deep emotion and sorrow, reminisced about her girlhood. Xiao Liu thought this voice was the protagonist He Wenli, played by Li Ling, until the end of the film, when he realized it was a deliberate narrative trick: The person reciting the monologue was not He Wenli, but the girl she had a crush on back then. The girl recounted a false, beautified memory. The real protagonist, the young, lonely transgender person, had left this world in a tragically violent way during that excessively hot summer. That afternoon, He Wenli could no longer hold on. She went to her father and asked if she was a monster, and if so, why he had brought her into this world. Her father, a poet, held her in his arms and recited a poem in her ear: Before she was born She was music, she was words Thus she was all living beings An inseparable connection* She walked out of the house, got on her bike, and sped down the deserted streets. The sunlight shone on her frail back, and even her fingers gripping the bike were covered in scars. She laughed out loud, reciting the poem. The chest of the sea breathes calmly But the daylight shines like a madman May my lips obtain That most primal silence* She walked towards the sea. - The film ended, but Xiao Liu felt as if he had been struck on the head, too shocked to speak. After a long time, he let out a deep breath, still finding it hard to breathe. It felt like a huge stone was lodged in his chest, causing severe congestion, and his whole body was tense. Not knowing what else to do, he stood up, went to the side, poured a glass of water, and drank it all in one gulp, only then realizing how dry his mouth was and how much he was sweating. He didn't consider himself an art enthusiast, but. "Li Ling acted so well," he murmured. She acted so well. Every move, every smile, was so captivating, making the audience stay with her every second, feeling her anxiety and pain. Back then, He Wei had the audacity to entrust such an important role to a complete newcomer with no acting experience. He also put in the effort, bringing in many veteran actors to support Li Ling. The entire cast of the film, except for the unknown amateur female lead, was star-studded. Even the extras with only a few scenes were actors from the National Theatre. But Li Ling was even more capable, able to stand out among these big names. She was a natural protagonist; once the camera focused on her, everyone else faded into the background. No matter who she acted with, she never lost her edge. If the film could have been released... Ten years ago, Li Ling should have been winning awards left and right. Why had she been buried until now? He didn't even want to use the word "unfortunate" anymore. Because "unfortunate" was too light, completely inadequate to describe ten years of a genius actor's life. Xiao Liu looked at Jin Jingyao in confusion and asked, "Cousin, why wasn't it released? Was it really because of the subject matter?" Jin Jingyao simply said, "No." He didn't explain further, but Xiao Liu understood. If it were really a matter of the subject, it would have been simpler. There was no need for years of vague explanations and elaborate lies. "Then why?" He scratched his head, his tone even more regretful and puzzled. Jin Jingyao remained silent, still expressionless, pausing for a long time. Xiao Liu thought he looked somewhat frightening, like a motionless dead statue, and softly called out "Cousin" a couple of times. Jin Jingyao collected himself a bit, came to his senses, and glanced down at his phone. The screen was empty; no new messages had come in. The light that was never really in his eyes dimmed even further. He turned to Xiao Liu and calmly asked him to recount exactly how he got the copy. Xiao Liu let out an "ah" and suddenly remembered that the editor who had privately kept the copy had recorded a video for him. "He was sick, late-stage cancer. The doctor said he only had a month or two left," Xiao Liu said with some relief. "We were lucky to come when we did. If we had been any later, the film might have been lost forever." Jin Jingyao glanced at him expressionlessly and said, "Lucky, huh." Maybe it was a bit too lucky. In the video, the emaciated editor lay on a hospital bed, intermittently recounting what had happened back then. The reason he had kept the copy was to repay a favor. He Wei had been kind to him and to many people in the crew. In his description, Director He was a good man—generous, straightforward, and loyal, never harsh with his staff. Shortly after filming began, the editor was losing sleep over his daughter's study abroad expenses. When He Wei heard about it, he asked someone to help him make connections and, knowing he couldn't gather enough tuition, lent him money proactively. He Wei was also a good director. Many people forget their original intention of making films once they achieve success, but not He Wei. He was obsessed with movies all his life, always thinking about making better works. "Yesterday's Sun" was supposed to be his magnum opus. Since the end of filming, He Wei hadn't taken a single day off, spending day and night in the editing room. In hindsight, how could a man in his fifties withstand such intense work? He Wei was already in poor health, essentially accelerating his own demise just to get the film released as soon as possible. Unfortunately, He Wei didn't expect to die so quickly, not even lasting until that day. The night before the incident, at four in the morning, He Wei was still calling the editor, excitedly discussing a new editing idea he had come up with. The next day, he was gone. The editor rode with him in the ambulance to the hospital and overheard the producer, Chen Fei, calling He Wei's wife.The latter was very determined to destroy this film. The editor was thunderstruck. He couldn't understand why they would treat He Wei's life's work this way. He Wei was so generous and gave his all to even an ordinary staff member. But the people closest to him, his wife and brother, conspired to betray him after his death, going against his last wishes. He secretly kept a copy and edited a version according to He Wei's dying wishes. This was the last film he edited. Later, he changed careers; editing was too exhausting, it was like trading life for money. He Wei's death served as a warning to him. "This is indeed a very good work." The editor smiled on his sickbed. "I have no regrets, I did right by He Wei." He covered his mouth and coughed a few times. When he removed his hand, his palm was covered in blood. But he continued to ramble on, talking about the film, the past, and the years he cherished most, working with He Wei. The editing room was dim and chaotic, but every day there was good wine, good food, and good cigarettes, served like a banquet. This was their ideal utopia. He Wei was generous and treated every staff member well. When he was in a good mood, he would sing in the editing room, strumming that broken guitar, playing and playing, letting everyone take turns requesting songs. "He always had a way to make everyone happy. We all loved him." "Everyone was confident, full of energy, ambitious, believing in He Wei's words, believing that we would definitely make the best film..." The video ended there. Xiao Liu listened, moved, not understanding why his cousin sitting next to him slowly revealed a cold smile. Jin Jingyao glanced at his phone again before indifferently raising his head. "He didn't finish his story." The young director said calmly, "Why did He Wei's wife want to destroy the film?" Xiao Liu's eyes were red, staring blankly at him, saying, "Cousin, you listened to such a long story, and this is your reaction... aren't you moved at all..." Jin Jingyao glanced at Xiao Liu, coldly suggesting he clear the water from his brain. Then he softly said, "What's so moving about a hypocrite?" Not knowing what was hypocritical, Xiao Liu stood up in confusion to call the hospital. Moments later, he turned around, his face full of disbelief: "The editor is gone... just now, they couldn't save him." Jin Jingyao looked at him calmly, indifferently saying, "Oh." Xiao Liu was a normal person; hearing the news of someone's death suddenly, he would be shocked and saddened. But the only thought in his mind was, why didn't he finish his story before dying. He was never a very empathetic person. He thought, these old folks, one by one, are dying, but some are still alive. What about the living? As he watched the film, he felt increasingly uncomfortable, as if a piece of his heart was missing. Ten years had passed, and although Li Ling was still good now, time had taken some things from her. Her sharpness, her edges, or perhaps her bold and unrestrained courage in front of the camera. In these ten years, she should have had a different life. But her youth, her best years, were wasted on numerous cheap films. For the sake of living, she wearily rushed from one small crew to another, becoming an unnoticed consumable. He wanted to give these ten years back to her. If he couldn't do that, he might as well kill everyone else.