Shrine - Chapter 45
Chapter 45
Every one of Ruan Ruan's advances seemed to be controlled by Shi Ran. Some people were truly suited to being pursued, to being worshipped, because they were born with an unwavering certainty. Every line of her face was distinct, as were the lines of her speech.
Even her ambiguity had a clear outline, letting you see at a glance that she was interested in you.
"I'll find a way," Ruan Ruan said. She was the type who only grew stronger when faced with a challenge.
The night before they parted, they made love again. Shi Ran's hand caressed the top of Ruan Ruan's thigh. Without a word, she lay beside her, kneading her flesh with a reversed grip until Ruan Ruan flipped over, sat up, and straddled her, allowing Shi Ran's hand to explore her absent-mindedly.
The reason it felt absent-minded was that this time, the reluctance to part outweighed desire.
She caressed Ruan Ruan gently and meticulously, as if she were comforting herself.
At dawn, they separated. One flew to Shucheng, the other remained in Jiangcheng. Wu Mei arrived soon after, carrying bags big and small, along with some of the autumn and winter clothes Ruan Ruan had asked for. Standing inside Shi Ran's sprawling apartment, she felt like a migrant worker. Though she held a square suitcase, it felt as if she were carrying a cheap woven plastic sack on her back.
Just like Ruan Ruan, she first walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and peered down with a sense of unease. Then she looked up at the track-lighting design of the living room before finally circling around to the bedroom. She stared at the black bathtub behind a sheet of glass in the en-suite and said to Ruan Ruan, "This looks like a love hotel. You just bathe in there like this?"
Ruan Ruan replied, "There's a button that can make the glass opaque. Come see."
The two of them stood in a bathroom larger than their previous bedroom, pressed the switch, and then pressed it back. Wu Mei flicked the switch on and off a few times in rapid succession, gazing up at the dazzling smart lights.
She really hadn't seen much of the world; her exploration began in the bathroom, afraid she might break something outside.
Wu Mei then asked Ruan Ruan why Shi Ran would give her such a nice place to live and even provide a car. Ruan Ruan gave her a simplified version of the explanation Shi Ran had given her. Wu Mei only half-understood. "So, you have to make a lot of money for her."
"You could say that," Ruan Ruan nodded.
Sitting on the bed, Wu Mei suddenly felt that everything had a price tag.
But she didn't dwell on it for long. She put the kitchen supplies in the main kitchen, arranging them one by one according to her and Ruan Ruan's habits.
In the afternoon, Ruan Ruan changed into a simple T-shirt and jeans and, accompanied by Wu Mei, went to the Jiangcheng Grand Theater. Tao Jin was already waiting there, talking with the director. Ruan Ruan watched their rehearsal for a while with her hands behind her back, then took the script and went on stage to get a feel for it.
Tao Jin sat on a table in the first row of the audience, her hands propped on either side, observing Ruan Ruan's movements and line delivery, occasionally whispering to the director.
After the read-through, Tao Jin hopped off the table and asked Ruan Ruan, "How was it?"
"I feel good about it." The web of Ruan Ruan's thumb was still a little numb; she wasn't used to delivering lines with such a full, resonant voice.
"Then I'll leave her in your hands," Tao Jin said to the director with a smile.
She nodded at Ruan Ruan, then picked up her phone and left.
Ruan Ruan watched Tao Jin's retreating back. Behind her, the director called out, "Xiang Ling."
"Yes." She snapped back to reality and looked at the director, a thin sheen of sweat on the tip of her nose.
For the next few months, she would devote herself to the stage, playing a role she couldn't even get during rehearsals in her dorm room back then.
She remembered her young, naive self, dressed in the standard pink training uniform, standing by the ladder of the dorm's bunk bed. The ladder had a bit of a smell, but to avoid blocking Zhang Nuoran from seeing herself in the mirror, she could only press herself tightly against it.
When she moved, she accidentally bumped into the stack of washbasins under the ladder. Zhang Nuoran said, "Be careful, don't kick my basin."
Back then, their talent show was just a talent show. There were no cameras in the dorm rooms, and everyone was much more real. If it were a show today, Zhang Nuoran would probably have smiled warmly and said, "Don't stand in the shadows. Come over here. The character Xiang Ling has always lived in the shadows; I want her to stand under the lights."
Ruan Ruan stood under the spotlight, on the stage of Jiangcheng's top theater. Even as a minor supporting character, she had her own follow spot.
She didn't get a table read or any individual rehearsals. For her first scene, they simply went over the blocking, and she read her lines straight from the script.
It took Ruan Ruan one afternoon to go off-book, two days to get into character, and less than a month to finish rehearsals.
As the autumn leaves made their belated arrival, Ruan Ruan began her public performances.
Before the premiere, Shi Ran's birthday arrived.
There was no grand ceremony. After all, Shi Ran was still filming in a closed set. In her Super Topic, fans were having a rich and varied celebration among themselves, sending her all sorts of blessings. Meanwhile, Shi Ran's Weibo only had a single, automatically scheduled birthday post.
Weibo automatically generated a half-body photo of Shi Ran in a gold tube top dress, standing sideways in a blurred background, with the words "Shi Ran 1027 Happy Birthday" displayed in a stylish, handwritten font.
Even her birthday was so detached, faintly exuding an air of disdain.
In stark contrast were the enthusiastic forwards and comments. Over a million forwards, with a matching number of comments, flooded in like a tidal wave. If one wasn't careful when clicking in, it was like stepping into a deep sea of surging affection.
Ruan Ruan hadn't known Shi Ran for long and had been immersed in the theater, so she forgot to send birthday wishes at midnight. It was only after work, when Wu Mei reminded her, that she remembered. Unsure of how best to congratulate her, she casually clicked into Shi Ran's comments section and found that the top comments were dominated by major brands.
There was an endless list of brands, from high-and-mighty luxury goods to home appliances, beverages, and daily necessities. Each brand vied to appear more sincere than the last, hoping to gain more likes from fans and secure a better "ad placement."
This, too, was a small battlefield of fame and fortune. Commercial value always came first, while small, fragmented pieces of sincerity had to wait their turn, far down the line.
Her thumb swiped, and she exited to the main feed. Marketing accounts were already taking stock of the celebrities who had tagged Shi Ran with birthday wishes. Those who had timed their birthday posts to the minute for several years in a row got press releases about their deep sisterly bond, while those who had sent wishes in previous years but not this one were speculated to have had a falling out.
The birthday wasn't Shi Ran's birthday; it was a carnival for online traffic. For everyone who gave her a gift, there was someone else who wanted to take a bite out of her.
At nine in the evening, the crew of Mystery Guest released on-set photos of Shi Ran's birthday celebration to build hype for the long-running drama she was filming in seclusion.
She was wearing a thin down jacket and a gold paper birthday crown, standing in front of a huge square cake, smiling faintly for a few photos.
The cake was square because it could fit more words. The first row read "Happy Birthday Shi Ran," and the second row read "From the cast and crew of Mystery Guest."
The name of the show was about the same size as the words "Happy Birthday," if not slightly larger.
Sitting at the edge of the theater stage, Ruan Ruan felt a surprising sense of desolation.
Her phone vibrated. Her manager, An Lu, had sent her a message. It was a pre-written post tagging Shi Ran with birthday wishes and an accompanying picture. She told Ruan Ruan that she could post it or not.
An Lu was a very forthright woman, probably around forty. She had a hearty laugh and a healthy aura that suggested a regular lifestyle. When the company told An Lu she would be managing Ruan Ruan, the two simply added each other on WeChat. An Lu said, "Let's both do our homework. I'll go over your profile and works, and you tell me what kind of work you like and dislike, and which zodiac signs you like and dislike. We'll meet up at this time tomorrow."
An Lu screened future activities based on Ruan Ruan's work preferences and assembled a team based on her zodiac preferences.
Ruan Ruan liked her a lot. She was very approachable and spoke in a reliable way, like an older sister she had known since childhood.
"I don't want to post it," Ruan Ruan replied.
"Okay. Have you eaten?" An Lu didn't press her.
The two chatted for a bit before ending the conversation. Ruan Ruan sat in a daze for a few minutes, then thoughtfully turned her head toward the stage spotlight, which hadn't been turned off, and took a picture.
She sent it to Shi Ran.
Less than ten minutes later, Shi Ran replied: "Hm?"
"Happy birthday."
They had been chatting every day recently, but it was mostly nothing of substance—just things like "starting work" or "home now."
Shi Ran was typing on her end. A moment later, a message came through: "Is that it?"
For a rare moment, Ruan Ruan didn't reply. She had grown up without parents and didn't know her birthday. After being adopted, the day she arrived at her new home became her birthday. Since it was close to her younger brother's birthday, they celebrated together. After her debut, her agency consulted a fortune teller and set her birthday as May 27th. Coincidentally, it was exactly five months apart from Shi Ran's.
But hardly anyone remembered, and there had never been any grand celebrations.
Thus, Ruan Ruan was someone who didn't celebrate birthdays. After witnessing this spectacle for Shi Ran, she felt even more lost.
The fact that no one in the world celebrated for her, and the fact that the whole world celebrated for Shi Ran—both things, by different paths, led to the same destination, making Ruan Ruan feel desolate.
She called Shi Ran and said frankly, "I don't know how to celebrate a birthday."
Shi Ran paused for a few seconds. "Me neither."
Her voice was weary and her words were brief. Ruan Ruan sniffled, suddenly missing Shi Ran terribly.
"When do you wrap up filming? My premiere is soon. Are you going to come see me?" Ruan Ruan asked.
"I wrap on the 1st. I'll be in Jiangcheng that night."
"Then you can make it," Ruan Ruan's voice brightened. "I'll save you a ticket."
"Okay," Shi Ran chuckled. "Thanks."
"See you next week."
"Mm."
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