Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Editor: Eli
Chapter 51
“Sadness can sometimes be good. Otherwise, how can you prove the authenticity of love?” — Lin Xi
[I’m not sure what you’ll be doing when you receive this email. It’s already four in the morning when I’m writing this. The sky will brighten slowly after a while. I’ve watched it become bright so many times.]
Delete.
[I think I should leave something for you because I am very popular. When I die, there will definitely be news, and you will definitely know about it. By then, I will be dead and won’t be able to explain it to you. In case you mistakenly think it has something to do with you, I should at least write you a timed email to let you know.]
Delete.
[The other day, I consulted a lawyer about writing a will. I learned a common fact: when you leave your assets to your legal heirs, it’s called a will. If you leave them to someone other than your legal heirs, it’s called a legacy. So if I want to leave something to you, it would be the latter. After all, theoretically, we have nothing to do with each other.]
Delete.
[While filming, I passed by a church. I heard the building is very famous, and someone was taking pictures inside. There was even a notice at the door: bringing a professional photographer and DSLR costs 100 yuan and taking wedding photos costs 500 yuan. You can also hold a wedding in the church for an additional fee. I looked up at the Gothic architecture, towering into the clouds. The highest point is just a dot. I wonder if heaven is at the very top, although I certainly can’t reach it.]
Delete.
[I’m wondering if it’s necessary to say a final goodbye to you?]
Delete.
Perhaps he should’ve written more beautiful words—more emotional ones—that could be remembered. But it was indeed difficult for him. 99% of Chinese actors were semi-illiterate, and the remaining 1% were pretentious by writing in traditional Chinese. Asking an actor to write was really too much.
Jiang Yu stopped writing.
He held down the delete key on the keyboard for a long time until the page was completely clean and blank.
Then he dismantled the hard drive, soaked it in water, and smashed it with a hammer until it was irreparable. This way, the scripts, photos, and pornographic videos on the computer would all be irretrievable.
Actually, there were many things that hadn’t been dealt with properly, but his condition no longer allowed him to do those. All his energy was exhausted in his previous actions.
These days, Jiang Yu’s psychosomatic symptoms were getting worse. Even worse, his memory was deteriorating. Several times, he blanked out on set, forgetting his lines and having to start over.
On the other hand, some of his senses became unusually sharp. He could hear people whispering, discussing whether he was on drugs, how he could be so unstable.
For a normal person, the best choice would be to stop all work, go to the hospital for a check-up, get prescribed medication, and take a good rest. Having reached the top 1% of his industry and earned enough money, why not take it easy?
But the paradox was that the top 1% of people who reached the pinnacle could never choose to rest. They only moved forward like perpetual motion machines. The moment they stopped, they would be abandoned by the public. Such examples were everywhere: artists with great momentum who, after a few blocked dramas, quickly declined. Just thinking about it made Jiang Yu unable to bear it, which was why he had driven himself to this point.
But what was the use? In the new year, Yu Ruoyun had already become a film festival judge, while he had messed himself up, seeing his future about to plunge into darkness, both emotionally and career-wise.
It would be better to end it at this moment, so everything could stop.
Would Yu Ruoyun remember him?
Yes, he would.
……
“Jiang Yu,” Yu Ruoyun called his name.
He sat up in bed. The room lights were already on. Yu Ruoyun rubbed his back. “You’re all sweaty. Did you have a nightmare?”
“Yeah.” Jiang Yu calmed himself and realized he was back in reality. He took the cup Yu Ruoyun handed him without saying more, but even when drinking water, his wet eyes looked at Yu Ruoyun over the rim of the cup.
He remembered the feeling vividly. At the end, he wanted to see this person.
Yu Ruoyun didn’t ask what Jiang Yu had dreamt about, letting him stare as he wished, motionless. When Jiang Yu had finally looked enough, Yu Ruoyun reached out, touching Jiang Yu’s face. “Sleep. I’ll stay with you.”
Those hands wrapped around Jiang Yu’s waist and back, chest against his spine, every inch of skin enveloped in Yu Ruoyun’s presence.
Jiang Yu turned over, as if he were truly a young man in need of protection, burrowing into Yu Ruoyun’s embrace.
The night was interminably long. In some past period, Yu Ruoyun had spent countless nights without end.
Chaoyang District had many crowds, many Rinpoches, and many celebrities who believed in these things.
When Yu Ruoyun received a call from a friend saying they had a gift for him, he hadn’t expected it to be this.
“What is this?” Yu Ruoyun frowned at the golden Buddha statue.
The friend didn’t understand his reaction and started explaining, “This is a statue of Cakrasaṃvara, and the one he’s holding is his consort. It’s a rare esoteric dual-body statue I managed to get, very powerful…”
The statue’s hands held several lifelike human heads, wore a necklace of skulls, and had each foot stepping on a corpse. It was nothing short of horrifying. As someone without much faith, Yu Ruoyun couldn’t accept such a gift. He said, “Forget it. You take it back and worship it yourself.”
“Do you really not want it?” The friend seemed a bit disappointed. “I brought it especially for you.”
“What would I do with this…” Mid-sentence, Yu Ruoyun suddenly remembered.
The friend wasn’t making trouble for no reason.
During that time, seeing others immersed in mystical religions and finding satisfaction, he had envied them. When the friend repeatedly violated religious norms to preach to him, he impatiently interrupted, provocatively asking, “What’s the use? Can it resurrect the dead? Forget people. Can it bring my dog, who died recently, back to life?”
His tone must have been awful. The friend paused and then changed the subject.
Turns out the friend still remembered until now.
“They say it can purify all karmic obstacles.” The friend pointed at the sinister-looking statue. “For years, I felt you might need some solace too. Like me, I must have done too many guilty things. I don’t know what yours are.”
Yu Ruoyun remembered that Jiang Yu also believed in such things before. Or rather, not believed, but followed trends, like praying to gods and making wishes when he went to Thailand.
“Thank you,” Yu Ruoyun said sincerely, “but really, take it back.”
Leaving the private room in the tea house, before departing, Yu Ruoyun didn’t take the statue but remembered to ask the waiter to pack the snacks.
“Two sets of cutlery,” he reminded.
Before leaving, Yu Ruoyun also signed an autograph for a shy waiter, writing his name on the waiter’s phone case. When he flipped it over, he saw another person’s photo on the screen saver.
It was a very young and beautiful face, one Yu Ruoyun certainly recognized and had worked with. Recently admitted to university, they were currently being tormented by military training. In the evenings, they would call Yu Ruoyun, unable to endure the hardship at all, complaining incessantly, even wailing about getting sunburned.
Today, Jiang Yu’s military training was ending. He was probably on the field under the blazing sun, and soon the assistant would pick him up.
Of course, that was the original plan, but suddenly, Yu Ruoyun had another idea.
A big star had been waiting for a full three minutes, and the car still hadn’t arrived. Letting himself stand there, surrounded by people taking pictures—even filming for Douyin—was this appropriate?
The assistant messaged that the driver had an emergency and couldn’t come, and the new driver was on his way. How long had it been? Where was he?
Jiang Yu thought he should give the driver a stern look when he arrived. He hadn’t acted high and mighty for a while, but now, not being taken seriously, he was really angry.
Just as he was fuming, a car stopped in front of him.
Jiang Yu quickly ducked into the car, raising his voice slightly as planned. “Why so long…” Huh?
Even the small rearview mirror area was enough for Jiang Yu to recognize the face at a glance, even with sunglasses.
“Why are you here?” Jiang Yu couldn’t help but ask.
Yu Ruoyun smiled, stepping on the gas. “Visiting my alma mater.”
Jiang Yu didn’t believe it. “So you came to pick me up?”
Yu Ruoyun replied seriously, “I said visiting my alma mater. Who knew you’d get in as soon as the car stopped. Are you hitching a ride? Get out.”
This conversation was boring and childish, but Jiang Yu played along, refusing to leave, saying he was a bottom of the barrel actor without a company car, so he had to hitch a ride with Yu Ruoyun.
“Please, Teacher Yu, I can pay for the ride.” Jiang Yu joked while eyeing the front seat. “Can I crawl to the front?”
Yu Ruoyun slapped Jiang Yu’s hand, reaching for the front seat. “Stop it.”
Jiang Yu retracted his hand, dramatically saying, “Oh no, I’m bleeding. We need to get to a hospital. Stop filming today!”
“Who made you unhappy?” Yu Ruoyun could tell.
“Nothing.” Jiang Yu looked at his hand, showing Yu Ruoyun the side with a still-healing scar. “Some classmates found an excuse to skip sunbathing. It irritates me to see them.”
If Jiang Yu wanted, he could get along with many people, but when he didn’t, he could be very disagreeable, even getting hurt.
That less popular classmate, no matter how arrogant, had nothing to do with Jiang Yu. But this person had to gossip in the restroom, saying through his so-called connections that Yu Ruoyun was like this and that. It made Jiang Yu want to move the gossip elsewhere, because it felt like it stank
But because it involved a minor scuffle, Jiang Yu couldn’t let Yu Ruoyun know. He pretended to fuss, then changed the subject. “Be careful. Don’t get photographed.”
Though no one seemed to notice Yu Ruoyun’s arrival, it wasn’t worth the risk.
“The other day, the Magnolia Awards shortlist was announced. You have a good chance of winning Best Actor, so don’t…”
The car suddenly sped up. The window was slightly open, so the wind blew in. Jiang Yu saw, in the rearview mirror, Yu Ruoyun smiling with a hint of mockery and provocation. This was a rare expression for him, so it stunned Jiang Yu.
Yu Ruoyun said, “Let them take pictures. I don’t care.”
The wind grew louder, and Jiang Yu couldn’t hear well, thinking he must have misheard.
Yu Ruoyun continued adding fuel to the fire. “Maybe I don’t need them to take pictures. Many already know.”
This time, Jiang Yu heard clearly. Yu Ruoyun must have been bewitched.
“Are you scared?” Yu Ruoyun asked. “Maybe soon, they’ll photograph us. I haven’t suppressed the news. What will you do? There’ll be more roles and directors you want to work will all be gone. Everything disappears, leaving only me.”
After saying this, Yu Ruoyun stopped.
Jiang Yu, however, heard the unspoken words.
If everything truly came, if he lost everything but was left with an insignificant lover, would he regret it?
He understood why Yu Ruoyun didn’t care. Because if Yu Ruoyun truly asked this question, Jiang Yu would have only one answer.
If all he didn’t want to lose left him, but Yu Ruoyun remained, Jiang Yu would consider it a fair trade.
Perhaps, as that obnoxious eighteen-year-old classmate said, Yu Ruoyun was an almost washed-up middle-aged man who liked men and kept a young lover. In the restroom, that person maliciously said, “So stay away from Long Xingyu. Maybe you’ll catch Aids.”
It wasn’t worth it. Having already achieved a certain status, for Jiang Yu to be talked about this way, it made Xu Ye also work hard to pull Jiang Yu from that unreliable company. And the new script was already sent to Jiang Yu. It was quite good, suitable for his current low-budget film.
Jiang Yu did some checking, and it seemed several of the producer’s and director’s names were Yu Ruoyun’s friends. He didn’t ask if Yu Ruoyun had done anything. He just auditioned, signed the contract, and started filming soon.
He accepted these once-unthinkable compromises, those generous gifts, because he felt he other’s silent unease, which was like a dark cloud always hanging over them.
Jiang Yu pressed the button by the car door, closing the window. It instantly became quiet.
Yu Ruoyun noticed Jiang Yu’s movement. “I’m driving.”
Jiang Yu sat back, unconcerned. “Just a kiss.”
A very light kiss landed on Yu Ruoyun’s ear.
Yu Ruoyun heard Jiang Yu say, “If someone’s filming, let this be evidence.”
This was Jiang Yu’s answer.
The car drove on, and Yu Ruoyun remembered the statue today, thinking it took so much death—countless bones made into instruments, blood everywhere—to earn divine protection.
Should he thank any god above? Take a life and return a younger, healthier lover. But Yu Ruoyun was now very stingy, unwilling to pay any more price, not wanting to bow to anyone.
His only thought was to see that person immediately. Then, just watch.
That was everything.
……
Yu Ruoyun’s special interview was released in full at midnight that night.
The magazine would never choose such a low-traffic time to post on Weibo, especially since this interview contained some highly attention-grabbing content.
Wang Yao had high hopes for his article, wishing it would quickly reach over 100,000 views and attract praise from readers outside of the fanbase for being livelier and more interesting than the typical idol-praising pieces.
However, Yu Ruoyun’s team called, not to request changes to the content, but to ask for a change in the release time.
Yu Ruoyun’s agent on the other end of the line sounded helpless. “I can’t control what he wants to say. But we have to protect the artist and avoid over-promotion.”
If Yu Ruoyun really wanted to express something, Xu Ye couldn’t stop him. What she could do was make sure these moments became records in Yu Ruoyun’s long life, rather than tabloid fodder for the public.
At midnight, Xu Ye saw the article she had long reviewed and approved, unchanged to the last word, published on the magazine’s official account.
It was one of the rare in-depth interviews with Yu Ruoyun. More importantly, when asked about his love life, his answer was “yes.”
And not just that, but “always.”
It was crazy. Not yet forty, the golden age for a male actor, with an unlimited future ahead. She could tolerate the hiatus and the web dramas, but now he was treading on the edge of coming out. Was it worth it? Was he insane?
Xu Ye had even abandoned her own composure to tell Yu Ruoyun that his little boyfriend didn’t seem to care about him as much as he appeared to. She heard from others that in different settings, when Yu Ruoyun’s achievements were mentioned, saying he was only thirty-eight yet had so many works, Long Xingyu paused and said, “He’s already that old.”
“So old,” Long Xingyu had remarked.
Xu Ye hated that tone from young people, hated seeing Yu Ruoyun being used as a stepping stone, and hated Yu Ruoyun’s indifference. After hearing her out, Yu Ruoyun merely looked down at his hands on his knees, continuously smiling.
A person’s hands most clearly reveal their age. Yu Ruoyun looked at his own hands, marked by the rough sands of time, with one finger missing part of a nail from an injury.
“I’ll remind him,” Yu Ruoyun told Xu Ye, and just as she was about to relax, she heard him add, “Tell him to seize the opportunity and make good use of me.”
Xu Ye almost went crazy then, and now she was resignedly handling the aftermath. She thought Yu Ruoyun would regret it later, but it was too late for regrets. Many things done in youth were impulsive; if one fell, one could start over. But at Yu Ruoyun’s age, a misstep would only become a laughingstock.
But then Yu Ruoyun suddenly changed the topic, mentioning his former love. “Jiang Yu had a film once, but the distributor had problems, and it was delayed indefinitely. After he left, I bought the film rights.”
In the year after Jiang Yu’s departure, he watched the film countless times until the machine couldn’t handle it anymore and broke down completely.
“But I don’t want to watch it anymore,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I don’t want to watch it anymore, so… let me do something else.”
Perhaps there was some magic in that look and tone, for Xu Ye never mentioned it again.
Xu Ye opened her social media again, and sure enough, the restless reporter had shared the link with a lengthy note.
Wang Yao wrote:
[Yu Ruoyun seemed as responsive as ever, but this time there was a slight difference. He seemed less dedicated. He no longer handed his phone to his assistant while working, instead leaving it nearby and glancing at it occasionally. This might be normal for others, even expected, with people playing games or watching live streams on set, but not for him.
When asked, he seemed unaware and said after a moment, “Maybe I’m afraid of missing an important call.”
To others, he always seemed to be in the right place at the right time.
His first work was the swan song of a great director, leaving a lasting brilliance before the sword was sheathed.
When he first took on a web drama, major TV awards began including web dramas in their nominations, and he remained a hot favorite for Best Actor.
But it wasn’t without setbacks. Before taking on this role, few had faith in it, thinking it would be another face-plant for a movie star descending to the small screen.
His agent, Xu Ye, said, “’Why take it… He wasn’t in a good state then, hadn’t filmed for a year, and said he couldn’t get into any scripts. I thought anything that got him working again was good.”
I found it odd and asked what he did during that year off—travel, study, maybe open a shop. He smiled. “Watched movies.”
I later checked various reports and found he had given this answer multiple times. His peers interpreted it as him reflecting and rediscovering his passion.
But I was too dense then, thinking it wasn’t an answer, and kept asking why.
He finally answered me, and later I doubted my own ears because we were chatting and I had no recording. So, it didn’t make it into the final article.
Of course, I asked the big question everyone cares about: Since he was willing to reveal an ongoing relationship this time, why not say more, like who it is, if we know them, to quell public speculation.
“But,” Yu Ruoyun still smiled, looking relaxed, though the content was quite the opposite, “what I want to do is only for me to decide, not to meet public expectations.”
Such an arrogant answer made me instantly realize this was Yu Ruoyun, and he had the right to say that.
But it made me even more curious about what kind of person could make Yu Ruoyun make such a decision. Perhaps, it will take a long time to get the answer.
What else?
Oh, I arrived on time for the interview, and he was early.
His assistant called him, and I followed. He was listening to music, eyes slightly closed, unaware anyone had entered. He was humming a song, and I was stunned. I realized I had never heard Yu Ruoyun sing. It turned out he sang like this.
The lyrics he was singing were:
“I will always appreciate you, in any form.”
This line is also for Yu Ruoyun.]
In the comments, a mutual friend in the media circle asked, “Great writing! Curious, what was that unanswered response?”
Wang Yao, clearly leaving the hook on purpose, immediately replied.
“He said he watched movies because it was painful.”
……
While kissing Yu Ruoyun and retreating into the bedroom, Jiang Yu glanced at the bottle of pills by the bed.
He picked it up with his right hand and looked at it. “Melatonin? Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“I bought it for you.” Yu Ruoyun turned Jiang Yu’s face back to him. “You were having nightmares before.”
Jiang Yu’s hand involuntarily relaxed, and the bottle fell to the floor, rolling away.
He kissed Yu Ruoyun’s face, moving downward, mumbling, “Actually, it wasn’t a nightmare. I think it might be an ending.”
“I saw you sending me messages. But I couldn’t reply to you.”
He stopped there, saying no more.
Yu Ruoyun was stunned, as if a rehearsal for a heavy storm was taking place outside, with fierce winds rushing through the trees, making a rustling sound.
“Why aren’t you talking?” Jiang Yu asked.
As he spoke, he looked at Yu Ruoyun’s face.
There was no change in facial expression, not even a twitch, as if he were a statue. Just as he was thinking this, Yu Ruoyun suddenly pulled him hard, making Jiang Yu fall into his arms.
Jiang Yu felt Yu Ruoyun’s strength had increased significantly, one hand tightly gripping his waist and back, the other hand almost roughly pulling down his pants. The rough denim scraped Jiang Yu’s hip bone, causing a slight sting. He didn’t even have time to complain before he was completely controlled.
Jiang Yu felt like he was falling into a raging sea, the ceiling and lights above blurring. He felt inexplicably uneasy and tried to turn his head to see Yu Ruoyun’s expression, but as soon as he moved, Yu Ruoyun pressed him back almost violently.
After everything was over, Yu Ruoyun still didn’t let go, his shadow enveloping Jiang Yu entirely.
Jiang Yu still didn’t see Yu Ruoyun’s face. He lay with his back to him, suddenly feeling a slight chill on his neck, like water droplets. Still facing away, he couldn’t see Yu Ruoyun’s face.
He thought it might just be Yu Ruoyun’s sweat.
Jiang Yu decided to forget that dream.
Forget the messages he received.
They were just hallucinations.
In that dream, he saw Yu Ruoyun’s old phone, theoretically smashed to pieces.
He picked it up, and the top contact was Jiang Yu. The phone’s owner had just sent him messages.
[I found a photo in the mattress seam. Did you take it?]
[I tore it up.]
[Tiger passed away. The doctor said it was very old, nothing could be done.]
[I took it for cremation. The person giving me the urn said not to be too sad. I didn’t realize I showed it so clearly.]
[Your fans are terrifying. They found your grave’s location and are organizing visits and flower offerings.]
[I didn’t go.]
[Xu Ye told me to move somewhere else, said it wasn’t safe there. I didn’t listen to her.]
[Just because I’m used to it, too lazy to move.]
[Your assistant is quite capable, but a bit noisy.]
[I’ve been doing well lately, already started filming a new movie.]
[The brand you used to endorse has a new season of ready-to-wear that’s very nice. I praised it, and their director sent it to me.]
[I didn’t take it. Actually, I wanted to say, if you wore it, it would look great.]
[Jiang Yu.]
[Why haven’t you replied to my messages?]
[Reply to me, please.]
Jiang Yu decided to forget that dream.
Yu Ruoyun was leaning against his shoulder. As a thirty-eight-year-old middle-aged man, his physical strength indeed wasn’t what it used to be, sweating so much that it soaked half of Jiang Yu’s shoulder.
So much sweat, like unstoppable tears, falling on his back.
Jiang Yu finally couldn’t bear it anymore. He turned over and saw that face.
Jiang Yu extended his arms, his legs entwined with Yu Ruoyun’s legs, his arms tightly wrapped around Yu Ruoyun’s upper body, his tongue stretching out from between his lips, kissing the droplets on Yu Ruoyun’s face, tasting the saltiness, swallowing them one by one.
Kissing until those red eyes, Jiang Yu’s voice became hoarse, and he said, “Yu Ruoyun, I’m here.”
Miles and miles away, he rushed back. That lamp, about to extinguish, finally lit up again in the depths of the darkness.
“I will always appreciate you, in any form” — Nicholas Tse, “Hope You’ve Been Well“
Kinky Thoughts:
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