Shrine - Chapter 77
Chapter 77
Inside the venue, the auction was nearing its end. The lights brightened a little, perhaps also because they had been illuminated by the succession of stars who had taken the stage. When this auction item was presented, the entire hall fell silent for a moment, because they couldn't see it clearly and hadn't expected it. It wasn't until a close-up of the item appeared on the large screen that a faint stir went through the crowd.
Anything that could make it to the stage would not have a small origin, so they didn't laugh or jeer easily. The so-called commotion was merely the rustling of fabric.
In this silence, Ruan Ruan looked up. It was a pair of anti-blue light glasses in a leather case. They were a retro style, and although the craftsmanship was clearly excellent, they were neither new nor old. They weren't some antique, and she couldn't imagine where their value lay.
"This exhibit comes from the famous designer Laura Wen, who has just returned to the country. This is Miss Wen's first time participating in our charity gala. The item she has donated this time is of great commemorative significance—it is the first pair of glasses her mother had custom-made for her. Miss Wen has parted with this beloved item to raise funds to help abandoned children in impoverished areas, hoping they too can feel the love from society."
The host explained eloquently.
The reaction from the audience was not enthusiastic. It was unclear if this was because few people believed the "story." To many, it seemed she had probably been roped in by the organizers and had casually donated something. While it might hold great significance for her, it ultimately wasn't worth much money.
Perhaps only one person had truly listened—Ruan Ruan, sitting at the edge of the round table.
Abandoned children, glasses custom-made by a mother…
She blinked her eyes. They now flowed with emotion, and no one could tell they had once been blind. Beneath her gaze was the pitch-black tablecloth, before her were pitch-black suits, and on the stage were pitch-black corners, yet they formed the most glamorous pyramid. Not a single person present had, like her, once carried a stool to sit at the mouth of an alley and said with a smile in the darkness, "My mom said it'll be better soon."
Her deskmate from school would squat beside her after class, sniffling, and tell her what the teacher had taught that day, and how they had jumped rope during gym class.
"Flowers are red, birds are singing, let's jump rope together…" Her deskmate clapped her hands, reciting the rhyme the teacher had taught her.
Ruan Ruan listened and clapped along, her little feet swinging back and forth.
The reason she had her grandmother lead her to sit at the mouth of the alley was so her mother could see her the moment she returned. Back then, she could smell the scent of plastic bags on her mother from far away, along with the aged scent of raw meat from the market. Zhou Jiafen would lead her home by the hand, and she would know that another day was about to end.
"The starting bid is 2,000 yuan, with each increment no less than 1,000 yuan. Let the bidding begin," the host announced with a wave of his hand.
"Five thousand." "Eight thousand." "Ten thousand."
Even for lower-priced items, the guests would usually raise the bid a little out of courtesy, to prevent the scene from becoming too awkward.
Ruan Ruan remembered when her mother came, her eyesight was also failing. Her vision was getting very blurry, and she had to hold things far away to see them. When Ruan Ruan offered to buy her a pair of reading glasses, she was reluctant, saying she wanted to save the money.
If only she had been planning for Ruan Ruan's future back then, but she wasn't. She was after Ruan Ruan's money, wanting to buy a house for Ruan Dongliang.
"Twelve thousand." "Thirteen thousand."
It wasn't that Ruan Ruan had never thought about it—if she became successful, she would give back what she could to the family that had taken her in and raised her. But the family she acknowledged wasn't like Ruan Dongliang, who would unscrupulously belittle and mock her in front of his friends with a detestable face, tearing away the fig leaf of her education while never mentioning the reason she couldn't get a proper one.
"Fifty thousand."
Someone turned to look at the guest in the third row who had raised his hand. He looked like a second-generation rich kid, pampered since birth. He probably couldn't imagine that anyone present would have family members who couldn't afford a new house.
Just a year ago, Zhou Jiafen had needed surgery. At that time, the cost of treatment felt like an astronomical sum. When Ruan Ruan heard, she rushed from the film set to call her, saying breathlessly, "Mom, don't be afraid. I have money, I can earn it. We'll hire the best specialists. It'll be okay."
At that moment, she was shivering in the winter cold, wearing only a thin costume. After hanging up, she went back to filming, not daring to forget her lines. She rushed to finish the scene, and in the car on the way back, she checked her bank account balance.
The pitiful number made her dizzy. Back then, she had desperately, desperately wanted to be rich.
"One hundred thousand."
One hundred thousand was the price of her mother's surgery. One hundred thousand was less than the price of the gown Ruan Ruan was wearing now. She had money now; the income from her acting fees, endorsements, and variety shows added up to a very nice bank balance. But she had never indulged herself, because she didn't dare.
When she couldn't afford rent, when she hadn't made a name for herself, the calls from her family were far less frequent than they were now.
If she had no money, no savings, nothing for them to covet, then even their superficial affection would be pitifully scarce.
"One hundred and fifty thousand."
One hundred and fifty thousand could buy a bedroom back in her hometown, much larger than the places she had stayed in when she was first drifting, and perhaps even nicely furnished. Ruan Dongliang wanted to live in a house like that, to date and get married respectably. Ruan Ruan could possibly give him that life, but she suddenly felt a surge of resentment.
On what grounds? From the moment he was born, because of his bloodline, because of his gender, he had received all the favoritism and special treatment. He could be ignorant and incompetent but was still sent to a proper university. He could make his mother swallow her pride to beg for a house for him, while he didn't even dare to ask for a computer himself.
He did have his proactive moments—like when he was sucking her blood and then spitting viciously on her.
Cowardly, selfish, dark, lazy… yet his life was never a struggle.
It was so unfair.
"Two hundred thousand," Ruan Ruan said softly and elegantly, raising her hand.
The night she was looking for Xiao Hei wasn't any darker than the time she was blind, but she had cried her eyes out. Her mother and brother hadn't helped her look, nor had they shown any real concern for her emotional state. Their love was just that superficial, more formulaic than this auction hall that operated by the rules.
"Two hundred and fifty thousand." A guest in a pale yellow cocktail dress in the second row to her side also raised her hand.
Ruan Ruan leaned forward to look at her. The woman was nonchalant, as if she had just casually named a number. Ruan Ruan truly envied a life like that, one that dared to be extravagant and had the capital to do so.
She didn't want her money to buy a house for Ruan Dongliang, nor did she want it to be saved up and put in someone else's bowl. She would rather buy a pair of glasses and personally put them on her childhood self.
"Three hundred thousand." Ruan Ruan swallowed. Her heart was pounding with a mix of excitement and sorrow.
Some people glanced over, whispering among themselves, perhaps because Ruan Ruan had always been so low-key, quiet and reserved, and they didn't know why she would suddenly want to be in the limelight.
By now, the price had far exceeded the item's value, and the situation on the floor had become a mystery.
"Three hundred and fifty thousand." The woman in the pale yellow dress raised her hand. A friend beside her put an arm around her, and she smiled as she forked a piece of dessert.
Ruan Ruan's breathing was uneven. She licked the inside of her lower lip and raised her hand with determination. "Five hundred thousand."
Five hundred thousand. That might have been the money she could have sponsored Ruan Dongliang to buy a house with, or the money she could have used to repay her adoptive parents. Before today, she had never thought of it as money she could dispose of as she pleased.
She didn't know if the money from this charity gala would truly flow to impoverished areas, but she wanted to be the one standing on that stage, donating this sum. She, too, was an abandoned child—or rather, was in the process of being abandoned. Her current glamour was like a castle in the air, and countless claws still wanted to drag her down.
"Five hundred thousand, going once."
Her family, who wanted her to buy them a house yet mocked her.
"Five hundred thousand, going twice."
The stakeholders who took her crying photos out of context and manipulated them.
"Five hundred thousand, going three times."
The dormant, turbulent undercurrents of the future and the past.
"Five hundred thousand, sold." The host's gavel fell. Ruan Ruan looked at the stage, her heart still trembling. She had just paid an astronomical price for a pair of second-hand glasses. It was the briefest yet most intense act of extravagance and compensation in her life.
She was invited onto the stage for a photo with the item. As she walked down, she caught a glimpse of Shi Ran, who had returned to the venue and was looking at her with some surprise. Ruan Ruan pressed her lips together, held the hem of her dress, and walked back to her silent seat.
She hadn't even realized it herself—how desperately she wanted to use this act to prove that this moment, that Shi Ran and Shrine, and the glorious road ahead, were truly hers. Like Xiao Hei, held in her arms that day.
The gavel must fall. The deal must be closed.
She couldn't lose it. She couldn't go back again.
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