Chapter 7: The Lingering Aftermath

Li Xiaoran felt as if she had been dreaming.

Cao Yang was a talented but unrecognized director, repeatedly hitting walls with no one willing to invest in his films.

Out of desperation, for the sake of his dream, Cao Yang sought out a divorced woman over ten years his senior. She was of average appearance but the owner of a publicly listed company with assets worth billions.

Finally, Cao Yang’s film secured funding. He shot a blockbuster that catapulted him to fame.

Yet, he was not happy.

She did not love him, nor did he love her.

The woman was used to being domineering and self-centered, constantly bossing Cao Yang around, quick to anger, and often verbally abusing him, treating him as if he were beneath her.

Until one day, Cao Yang met Li Xiaoran.

Li Xiaoran was an actress. They shared common hobbies, similar interests, and kindred spirits, with endless conversations whenever they were together.

Their love was like a seed planted in spring—taking root, sprouting, and blossoming into vivid, passionate flowers.

In each other’s eyes, they saw only reflections of themselves, deep and affectionate.

They vowed eternal love to one another, lost in the sweetness of romance with no way back.

Then suddenly, as if struck by a bolt from the blue, reality crashed down—the tabloids caught them in a secret photo, exposing their affair.

That woman appeared, wielding her wealth to sabotage Cao Yang, forcing Li Xiaoran to flee abroad.

In a foreign land, Li Xiaoran was left to sorrow alone. Even meeting friends here could not ease her longing for Cao Yang.

This place was where she and Cao Yang had agreed to meet—to watch the sea, stroll the beach, and grow old together.

Often, she walked the shore alone, imagining Cao Yang beside her.

How she longed for him to break free from that woman’s control and find his way here.

...

When Li Xiaoran woke up, tears streamed down her face. Her heart felt hollow, as if she had lost her most precious treasure.

She put on her coat, opened the door, and walked barefoot along the beach.

Gazing at the boundless sea, she was overcome with melancholy.

The autumn sea breeze was cool, tangling her long hair.

She crouched down, picked up a stone, and traced Cao Yang’s face in the sand, lost in thought.

“Do you miss me as much as I miss you?”

She smiled at the portrait, a sorrowful smile mixed with bitterness and helplessness, whispering softly.

...

Cao Yang was puzzled. He felt something strange about Li Xiaoran today, catching her stealing glances at him from time to time.

How odd—she hadn’t acted this way yesterday. Last night at the crew dinner, she was still holding some resentment toward him.

That resentment was understandable. Being “imprisoned” in one place for nearly two months, watching nothing but romantic tragedies and listening to mournful songs every day, unable to talk with anyone—it was a relief that after meeting, she hadn’t slapped him twice.

But what was the meaning of those occasional stolen looks today?

He just couldn’t fathom women’s thoughts.

“Director Liu, is the foreign actor ready?”

The assistant director from Qingying Studio, Liu Shan, had just finished rehearsing with a guest foreign actor when he heard Cao Yang’s voice over the walkie-talkie.

“All set, no problem.”

“Camera?”

“Ready.”

“Sound?”

“Ready.”

“Attention everyone, rolling.”

The script supervisor clapped the slate—Scene 1, Act 1, Take 1.

Except for the seaside scenes, the film was mostly shot in sequence.

First, to keep the lead actress’s emotions consistent; second, because the film was simple with very few locations and many long takes, there was no need to shoot out of order.

They were currently filming the “abroad” scene.

The female lead, pressured by public opinion, had fled overseas and met a friend. The two smoked, ate street food, drank coffee, and chatted.

The opening was a long take lasting over a minute and a half. Cao Yang hadn’t deliberately chosen an easy scene to start with; he just followed the script and began at the beginning.

He had expected that given Li Xiaoran’s prior emotional state plus the immersive experience he had added, it would be an easy shoot—but problems arose.

Li Xiaoran’s mood was off.

Cao Yang did not lose his temper or call for a stop. After all, it was the first take, and getting angry was bad luck; maybe the actress just hadn’t settled into the role yet.

After the take, Cao Yang said, “Actors, take five minutes to adjust, then we’ll shoot another take.”

Five minutes later, after another shot, Cao Yang frowned.

“Another five-minute break.”

He left the monitor and approached Lao Tian, who looked up from behind the camera.

“Have you noticed the problem?”

Lao Tian pursed his lips and said quietly, “She seems to have some barely contained excitement, maybe she’s just too thrilled on the first day of shooting?”

In the script, this scene called for the female lead to express sadness, grief, and anticipation. If she was happy, what did that mean?

Had she seen that unfaithful director come?

Cao Yang nodded. He thought maybe he was wrong and came to consult the far more experienced Director Tian.

It seemed his instincts were right.

Returning to the monitor, Cao Yang waved Li Xiaoran over.

At one moment, he thought he caught a flash of excitement on her face—but that must have been his imagination.

“You fled abroad because you couldn’t bear the pressure at home. You weren’t broken up, so you should feel sad, lonely, and heartbroken.”

Li Xiaoran nodded. Before seeing Cao Yang today, she had indeed been very lonely and sorrowful.

“You came to a place you both planned to vacation and live, where you would watch the sea and stroll the beach together. So besides sadness, if you can show a hint of hope, that would be best.”

Li Xiaoran nodded again. Before seeing Cao Yang, she truly had been full of hope for his arrival. But now, hadn’t she just seen him?

Unable to hold back, she whispered, “He’s here.”

Then, as if some inner dam had burst, she could no longer suppress her emotions. Unable to distinguish dream from reality, she gazed at Cao Yang with deep affection and a face full of happiness.

“You remember this place... You coming here makes me so excited and happy, sob…”

Unable to restrain herself any longer, all the longing, yearning, and sorrow that had passed—they all knew that when two lovers cannot be together, their hearts ache with despair. Every day of sending thoughts afar was just waiting for this moment!

She threw herself into Cao Yang’s arms, no longer caring about dreams or reality—everything was just a fantasy she had longed for day and night.

During the days without him, she had almost lost herself. She refused to deceive herself any longer.

“Cao Yang, you’re finally here. I knew you couldn’t let me go. I knew when I missed you, you missed me too. I love you!”

With that, Li Xiaoran clung to Cao Yang, sobbing uncontrollably.

What the hell!

Cao Yang was dumbfounded. What on earth was going on?

It was incredibly awkward.

The crew was also stunned. What a melodramatic love story—yet they were in the middle of filming! Why behave like this in public?

Showing off their love?

Let’s just say that directing at twenty-something was unreliable, but what were they doing? Any issues could be discussed in the rooms at night and dealt with in bed. They were filming a movie now!

Even Tian Zhuangzhuang was shocked. If he hadn’t seen Cao Yang almost daily recently, and if Li Xiaoran hadn’t been jointly auditioned and cast by him and Cao Yang, he might have thought Cao Yang was just messing around.

Who knew what was really happening?