After the shoot, Jin Jingyao didn't even have time to say goodbye. Lingling said she was in a hurry to catch a flight. She quickly changed her clothes, didn't even remove her makeup, and was already sitting in the car that the magazine had called for her. Her eyes sparkled like mermaid scales, scattering light all the way. From the studio to the door, down the steps, and into the car. Such a long distance. If she wanted to look back, she had plenty of time. He stood in the dark, staring at her, not knowing what he was waiting for. She had been paid and had to keep her promise. How could she leave without saying goodbye? But she got into the car, slammed the door shut, and anxiously looked at the time, afraid of missing her flight. Not once did she look back. That night, back at school, Jin Jingyao had a dream. In the dream, all regrets were mended. She ran out of the taxi and hugged him tightly, clinging to him like an octopus. She told him she wasn't leaving, kissed him like a puppy, like a clichéd Hollywood romance that must have the perfect ending. They stepped back, like the reverse ending of "La La Land," with someone singing "Someone In The Crowd" in the background. But the moment they crossed the threshold, the strings twisted sharply, and the world turned into a giant bubble. He was back in a private art gallery from many years ago. That year, his parents took him on a trip to Italy. His father accompanied his mother shopping in luxury stores, which didn't interest him. He turned and ran out, slipping into an alley, and finally stopped in front of a small private art gallery. There were few people in the gallery, the air conditioning was on full blast, and the security guard was dozing off. He secretly touched the sculptures, the cold marble, the soft folds, the lifelike human forms. Marble is dead, but also alive, the two most extreme forms of life frozen in this moment. He felt amazed, curious, and satisfied. At dusk, his frightened parents, who almost called the police, found their lost son. He happily looked up and asked his mother if he could take the sculpture home. His mother, also happy, said, "Sure, baby." She rushed over and hugged him tightly. He closed his eyes in happiness, and when he opened them again, he found that the person hugging him was not his mother, but Lingling. Dreams and reality are always opposites. In reality, before he could say anything, his mother stared at him and let out a heart-wrenching scream. The cute, angelic, doll-like little boy gently touched a beheaded marble sculpture, curiously feeling the connection between the severed head and neck. His mother looked at him in disappointment, sobbing, "Mommy looked for you all afternoon. Why can't you be normal..." Not long after that, he was sent to boarding school. He always knew his parents thought he was sick, just as his classmates at school thought he was sick. His differences from his peers were not just external things like accent, skin color, or his aloof and proud personality—there were deeper things that made him know he was born a defective product of this world. In the dream, he gently hugged Lingling, resting his head on her chest, confessing his biggest secret to her. "Actually, Mom was supposed to have twins," he whispered. "But the other child disappeared in her womb." "Mom said I ate it." "Sometimes she would secretly ask me why I was so greedy, so bad, why it wasn't me who got eaten.""She doesn't want me. She wants a sister." That's why she dressed him up like a doll. That's why she always saw another dead child through his eyes. At first, he wasn't actually obsessed with those dark, evil arts. He just accidentally discovered that when he pretended to be interested in them, his mother would get very angry and forget to dress him up as a girl. The boys in kindergarten would also be very scared and wouldn't dare to play games around him anymore. So he forced himself to keep watching, like eating something disgusting. Over time, he developed a fascination with the grotesque and death. Because death is lonely, and he is lonely too. He is not needed; he was born from death. He was born lonely. He said a lot of things. Lingling patiently listened to every word, then said to him, "You are not lonely, you have me." And she said, "You are not strange, you are normal." He shook his head stubbornly and said, "I am not normal." "Touch me again," she invited him. So he hugged her tighter. He could touch her, hug her. This was his dream; nothing he did was wrong, it wouldn't make his mother scream. Holding the warm skin in his arms, it was as if a giant red apple had swallowed him whole. He became the core, he heard the frantic heartbeat inside the core, just like everyone else. Maybe Lingling was right, at least at this moment, he was normal. - He woke up halfway through the dream. There was a rustling sound in his ears, like the sound of rats crawling in the sewer. Jin Jingyao opened his eyes, and a few adult posters were stuffed through the crack of his bedroom door. Big breasts and wide hips, disgusting. Ever since he learned boxing and grew taller, they didn't dare to fight him anymore, so they came up with these boring tricks to harass him. He put on his clothes, donned his gloves, and calmly opened the door. A few classmates were standing at the door, making lewd laughter, their eyes widening in surprise. They quickly stopped laughing. Jin Jingyao had a lot of experience and knew how to beat people up in the shortest time possible, making them kneel and beg for mercy without leaving too obvious marks for the teachers to suspect. But today, he went a bit too hard, lost control. He stepped on one of their chests and said, "Give me Lingling's phone number." The other person looked at him in confusion, "Lingling?" "You paid her to take magazine photos with me," he said in a dark tone. "You mean Corinna?" The other person was stunned for a few seconds, looking even more confused, "She broke her leg the night before and didn't go... Who is Lingling?" Jin Jingyao was stunned, suddenly stiffening, all the blood rushing to his head. The classmate took the opportunity to escape from under his foot. He sneered and stepped on the person's ankle. The other person let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered. He grabbed his hair and pretended to ask calmly, "What does Corinna look like?" The classmate pointed to the torn adult posters, despite the pain, still showing a lewd expression, "Something like that, blonde, big butt, very sexy." Jin Jingyao said, "Shut up." He pressed his lips tightly and beat everyone up again. So disgusting. That wasn't his Lingling. Swinging his fists, venting his anger, sweating, and panting heavily. In this process, Jin Jingyao temporarily forgot the huge mistake he made in the studio. Lingling didn't understand Irish English, she wasn't pretending, she really didn't understand. Lingling didn't know his name, and she wasn't pretending; she genuinely wanted to know. Lingling didn't say goodbye to him, not because she was a liar, but because he didn't deserve it. He hated himself for treating her with such a careless and rude attitude. He wanted to apologize to her. He wanted to see her again. He forced his classmates to inquire about Lingling at the magazine office, only to find out that she was just a temporary lingerie model brought in for an emergency, so there was no registration information. Desperate, he came up with a new plan. His older brother worked at a media company in the UK, and perhaps he could help find her. He managed to get someone to place the photo on his brother's desk. He was wrong again. His brother was shocked and furious when he saw the photo of him and Lingling. Their parents flew to London overnight, spent an entire afternoon in the principal's office, and came out with red eyes, trembling all over. After many years, he was once again held in his mother's arms. His shoulder was wet, and he could smell the high-end women's perfume, but he felt no emotional stirrings. Because he had already experienced a warmer embrace. He found them ridiculous and had long accepted that he was the unwanted one in the family. He just wanted them to help him find Lingling. But it was impossible. His parents were very good to him, fulfilling his every request, eager to make up for everything, wishing they could present the whole world to him. Except when he mentioned that photoshoot, their faces would change dramatically. His mother would even scream again. They believed that the photoshoot was a great sin and shame, causing irreparable harm to their youngest son's body and mind. They destroyed all the negatives and forbade anyone from mentioning it again. It was as if Lingling had been erased. As if Lingling had never existed. But he still wanted to see her again. During that time, it often rained in London, and he would lie by the window, waiting for a rainbow to appear. He made many wishes to the rainbow, but it never brought her back to him. A female liar is indeed a female liar. - The mark Lingling left on him became even more vivid with time. He thought his obsession with cleanliness had been cured by her, but it turned out to be the opposite; it became more severe. Everyone else was still so dirty, except for her. When he watched romantic movies, every female lead turned into her face, her body. When he read poetry, every love poem made him think of her. A thousand butterfly skeletons sleep on my wall.* Winter people walk like gods, because I fell in love with you in winter.* He never found the perfect poem or the perfect adjective to describe what she meant to him. He couldn't even draw a satisfactory picture to capture her. Unable to bear such emptiness, he began secretly writing a script. He wrote about a woman named A-Ling who lost her legs and couldn't go anywhere, so she stayed in the basement. He would hide her, take good care of her, and protect her. He also wrote about his long suffering and humiliation at the boys' school. As he wrote, those pains seemed less important. Time could heal wounds, but it couldn't heal longing. The Zhou in the story was happy, much happier than Jin Jingyao. He had A-Ling. The script remained unfinished because he never saw her again. Zhou was so afraid of losing A-Ling, but over the long years, all Jin Jingyao had was an incomplete script. He didn't even know her real name. Lingling. Lingling. Who exactly was Lingling? Did Lingling really exist?Or had he already gone mad, fantasizing about a woman named Lingling, a fleeting, illusory dream. Years later, he directed "Blood Swan" and other films. He won many awards but began to feel a sense of ennui. On set, an actor named Luo Mingqing was secretly watching trashy horror movies, cursing as he watched. He walked by and glanced at the screen. A green-faced, fanged female ghost leaped out from the screen. His heart stopped. It was Lingling. He finally learned Lingling's real name and realized she was indeed not an underwear model. Being a model would have been better. The movies she acted in were so terrible he couldn't watch them for even a second. He decided to take out the script from back then and revise it, planning to have her star in it once it was perfected. But he wanted so badly to give her a perfect script that he couldn't get it right, and time dragged on. He considered himself a man of action, but in this matter, he was always a complete failure, which was quite laughable. He registered a small Weibo account and would chat with her whenever he had free time. The account name was the ISBN of a novel he happened to be reading at the time, with no special significance. He would never admit that when he found her again, his nose tingled with emotion. The night before meeting her, he couldn't sleep at all. She was supposed to arrive in the afternoon, but a sudden downpour in the mountains forced them to take shelter in a village halfway up. He felt a sense of panic. Was this an accident or some kind of omen? Was this another illusion? Did Lingling still not exist? Would he still not see her? He lost his temper with his cousin and sat under a tree outside the theater for a long, long time, from dusk till dawn. He tried to recall every minute he had spent with Lingling, finally realizing with sorrow how insignificant a single afternoon was in the span of a human life. So, Lingling had indeed forgotten him. Lingling was no longer Lingling; she was Li Ling. He also doubted whether Li Ling had changed over the years. She might no longer be the beautiful, ethereal figure in his memory. The real her might disillusion him. But the truth was, Li Ling was wonderful, even better than he had imagined, improving with each passing day. It was his script that was unworthy of her. She brought his words to life, giving his imagination bones, skin, and flesh. She was a vibrant life force, kissing the lifeless marble, making the sculpture come alive for her. Jin Jingyao always wanted to ask himself, what exactly was Li Ling? Li Ling was the beautiful woman who took photos with him. Li Ling was the object of his secret crush. Li Ling was his photography class teacher. Li Ling was a youthful fantasy, a secret and tangible desire, the apple of Eden, and the original shape of the world. All his firsts came from her: his first contact with a woman, his first pain from desire, his first kiss, his first fantasy. Li Ling could completely forget Jin Jingyao because their past was just a trivial, insignificant matter to her. But to him, it was of great significance, changing everything. Until the film wrapped, Jin Jingyao firmly believed this. But after meeting Mrs. He, his understanding of reality was once again overturned. —His world collapsed once more. — Jin Jingyao stayed in London for a few days, meeting everyone involved, and finally managed to piece together the truth. Back then, after leaving Chen Fei's office, "Yesterday's Sun" was declared dead, and Li Ling had lost everything. But she did not give up her last hope, so she took a desperate gamble and bought a one-way ticket to London, hoping to fight for one more chance. She was a very brave person, but the world was not fair and once again let her down. She waited outside Mrs. He's house all afternoon, only to be driven away like a stray dog by the other party, a young actress. Walking despondently on the street, Li Ling received a notification from the hospital, learning that her father was terminally ill. At this moment, she couldn't even afford a return ticket. With no way out, she had to earn the travel expenses in a way that was almost humiliating. No one had given her time to face such a huge disparity: from the leading actress of Director He to an anonymous lingerie model. Li Ling forgot him not because it was unimportant, but because it was the most failed day of her life. All the pain piled on her. If she didn't forget, how could she go on living? He didn't know how to face it either. The body he dreamed of was not a pure, flawless pearl in a shell, but a tree weathered by storms. That afternoon turned out to be a stain on her life. The best day of his life was the day she least wanted to remember. The reason she could meet him was because of a blood-stained path. Every step was like a vicious whip lashing at her. He had whipped her too. He misunderstood her as a female scammer, a lingerie model, a forgetful heartless woman, a small actress needing his rescue. Their relationship was built on layers of misunderstandings; he never truly knew her. In Li Ling's unfortunate decade, he was the last perpetrator. His youthful dreams were superimposed on her pain. Their feelings were always at odds. - Jin Jingyao finally boarded the plane back home. Because of the rain, the plane circled over Heathrow Airport for a long time. The towns in the suburbs of London, shrouded in rain and mist, looked like a melting oil painting. He looked out the window with little interest, feeling that he would never come to this place again. Neither Britain nor London held anything worth his nostalgia. Shortly after takeoff, he calculated the time difference and remembered that Li Ling's new drama was about to air its finale, so he watched it on time. The perverted female boss played by Li Ling had a shocking reversal at the last moment of the drama, turning into a victim, and she played both roles very well. In the past, he would have been proud of her. But now he only felt sad, his heart faintly aching. Why did she act so well? Why couldn't she be a talentless, inexperienced, and unhurt fool? Jin Jingyao also noticed that Li Ling was very silent tonight, not even posting on Weibo about the finale, which seemed inconsistent with the promotional principles he had recently learned. So he sent her a private message as 9787532754335. Recently, Li Ling's popularity had skyrocketed, and she had gained many more fans. He thought she might no longer need the company of 9787532754335. But to his comfort, she still replied to him immediately. Shamelessly, he quickly took advantage of the situation. When he asked if she wanted to video chat, his feelings were very conflicted. He didn't want to deceive her anymore; he should let 9787532754335 fade from her life. She deserved to have real fans, not a fake, ill-intentioned bad fan like himself. But if there was no 9787532754335, then he and she would lose their last connection. Thinking this, he still quickly sent her a video invitation. As initially agreed, Jin Jingyao pretended to be an autistic little boy, too afraid to turn on the camera or the microphone, only daring to type and call her "sister." Li Ling didn't mind at all. Even though she was facing a pitch-black screen, she was still very gentle and kind, like the good Lingling from the photo studio many years ago, patiently talking to the naughty little boy. She also explained that she wasn't in a good mood tonight, so she didn't post on Weibo. "But I'm very willing to talk to the little genius," she emphasized, "I really like the little genius." He immediately promised to send her ten more drawings, feeling sad that he wasn't the real little genius. As they chatted, Jin Jingyao suddenly felt that this was also very good. He could accompany her from a safe distance, and perhaps in some quiet, late-night moments, she would still need him. He could always play the role of 9787532754335. Among all his identities, only 9787532754335 had never hurt her. At this moment, the plane encountered another strong turbulence, causing the signal to become very poor, and Li Ling's face froze intermittently. He found her frozen expression very cute and couldn't help but take several screenshots with his phone. After a while, the signal finally recovered. Li Ling's expression became smooth again. Her eyes widened in unprecedented shock, as if she had seen a ghost, and she stammered, "Di-Director?" Immediately, Jin Jingyao saw his own face in the small window in the upper right corner of the screen, which should have been pitch black. His camera had been turned on.