Shrine - Chapter 89

Chapter 89

All around was the sound of the vast, empty sea, a sound that was itself black, mixed with the whistling of the cool wind—a blackness that was both safe and thrilling. The sea, in a state of dormancy, harbored all manner of demons and monsters. If a soul was too weak, it would open its monstrous maw and swallow it whole.

The white horse was swishing its tail, first left, then right, its four tired hooves trotting unsteadily. Ruan Ruan felt as if she were on a pirate ship.

Shi Ran's words were nothing short of a tidal wave, instantly submerging her. Was this a dream? How could it be so unreal?

But she could never conjure up such a vibrant, colorful dream. The things Shi Ran was doing for her were things she wouldn't even dare to imagine.

Ruan Ruan heard the sound of her own bones being reshaped. By the salt-filled sea, the wind was briny, much like the taste of the body wash from that day. She rode the horse, breathing lightly, her heart a cacophony of gongs and drums.

"All the costs?"

"Yes."

Shi Ran had used a nonchalant tone to say she had gone all-in, yet at the same time, she said this was a one-time thing. If Ruan Ruan wasn't worth it, she would leave her.

Ruan Ruan was so grateful that Shi Ran didn't say things like she would never give up on her or that they would be together forever. If she had, Ruan Ruan might have fallen back into the chaos of being shackled by a relationship. Shi Ran was showing her through actions that she loved her deeply, loved her enough to bear a bottomless pit of losses—this was the depth of her love. But she was also prepared to leave at any moment. If her relationship with Ruan Ruan also became a cycle of depletion and damage, she would end it without much lingering attachment—this was the depth of her as an individual.

A simple, clear path was laid out before her, more visible to the naked eye than it would be in daylight.

No matter what, health should be the top priority—physical, mental, emotional, and relational.

Amidst the surging tide in her heart, Ruan Ruan finally spoke. This was perhaps the first time in over twenty years that her soul had spoken.

"They said my mother worked so hard, that I'm an ungrateful wretch. That I carry a hundred-thousand-yuan designer bag while my mother is still running a street stall."

The moment the words left her mouth, the root of her tongue felt a little dry and bitter.

Shi Ran turned her face to look at her, her gaze lighter than the sea breeze.

"I knew perfectly well that it wasn't like that. Or, after being condemned, I could have realized my neglect of my family, repaid them for raising me, and made myself feel a little better."

"But I found that I didn't want to. My pain comes from realizing that I don't want to."

"Actually," Ruan Ruan cleared her throat, her voice still very hoarse. She blinked slowly, continuing to speak as if to herself, "I might not have been that carefree all along. I'm not as unconcerned as I appear. I actually have a jealous streak. I'm not always grateful."

What little girl who could only wear hand-me-downs wouldn't feel a bit of envy when her younger brother got new stationery? What little girl, whose birthday had to be celebrated along with her brother's, didn't want her own cake? Had she never dreamed of being a princess? Didn't she want to wear pretty little dresses? Didn't she want her mother to braid her hair in all sorts of styles? Didn't she like white lace-trimmed socks and black leather shoes?

When she was watching the stall, holding her brother, and her classmates were holding their mothers' hands at the market, asking for this and that, had she never felt a sense of loss?

"It's just that before I was supposed to develop a sense of jealousy, I first learned to read people's expressions. I was afraid of being abandoned a second, a third time, so I didn't dare ask for anything."

"I was also worried you would abandon me, so I kept my true dark side well hidden." Shi Ran always said that Ruan Ruan did things with Zhong Yi and Xin Chen that she never did with her. The truth was, she didn't dare. Subconsciously, she didn't dare to act wild, didn't dare to be unrestrained.

"Only after this incident did I realize I'm the same way with the production crew and the audience. I have to be the most well-behaved one to trick them into giving me a piece of candy. When everyone says I'm bad and doesn't want to give me candy, I don't know what to do anymore."

She didn't know if Shi Ran could understand. She spoke in a jumble, without any clear train of thought.

"I used to think I was very suited for the entertainment industry because I'm genuinely low-maintenance. I've almost never heard anyone criticize me. When you did a background check, you also said I was a very obedient artist with no dirt on me."

Ruan Ruan turned her head and stared blankly at the sea. Nothing had an end; she couldn't see where the finish line was.

"But only now do I realize that the entertainment industry is no different from my family environment as a child. You have to suppress yourself, package yourself, and curry favor by being clever and obedient."

She choked up, her vision instantly blurring. The sour, bitter taste in her mouth made her words intermittent, like the flickering fishing lights of a small boat on the sea.

"I'm not giving up, and I'm not that fragile," she sniffled, looking at Shi Ran calmly. "I'm just very confused. I don't know how I should react, whether I should be a grateful person, and I don't know… if I watch her run that stall with my own eyes, am I still a good person?"

Her once-atrophied self, desires, and shadows began to grow, conflicting with the framework of her past twenty-plus years. This recent storm of public opinion was a battle between the two.

To others, the fight seemed as light as a dragonfly skimming water. To her, it was earth-shattering.

More slowly than anyone else, yet with sharp acuity, she saw the greed in herself and those around her, and how it had been, or was being, packaged as righteous and awe-inspiring. While filming Shrine, the moments she zoned out became more and more frequent—not because she was breaking character, but precisely because the theme of Shrine resonated with her on an unprecedented level.

They were both living incredibly spectral, incredibly twisted lives.

The deity in Shrine that housed and magnified greed might be fake, but people around her raising malicious spirits was real, praying to fox spirits was real, and everyone on set burning incense and praying to gods, wanting to become famous, was real.

Stepping on the lowly to praise the high was real, that some lives were more valuable than others was real. Some stunt doubles were left hanging on wires for half a day while the director and lead actors discussed a scene; some actors fell from horses and were in critical condition, and the crew's first thought was to keep it from blowing up.

Everyone was a little ghost wallowing in greed, only to pretend to be a bodhisattva when the sun came up.

Those who were truly indifferent would smile and wave at the camera, reaping praise for their truth and kindness; while she, who had always been kind to others, was seen as a monster simply for buying a pair of glasses from her childhood for herself.

But what was even more bizarre was that the fans and friends who spoke up for her didn't love the real her either. She wasn't that pure, that wonderful. She had tasted the fruit of vanity in the world of fame and fortune, yet her fans all said she was unambitious and never fought for anything.

Neither the black nor the white side could justify itself. Was she a little ghost, or a bodhisattva?

Shi Ran listened intently, finally understanding what she had been struggling with, what she had been adapting to during this time.

She didn't speak for a moment. The sea breeze lifted the hair by her ear, brushing it against her eyelashes. She squinted, thinking quietly for nearly a minute before asking softly, "You just said you don't know if you're a good person. So, what's the worst thing you've ever done?"

Ruan Ruan pressed her lips together. "When I was afraid of being replaced, I thought about… thought about exposing Qi Yuan's homophobic remarks."

She no longer spoke in a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz, nor did she sound too embarrassed or timid. The end of her sentence was clean, like the way she had smashed that bottle of red wine.

A slight movement in Shi Ran's nostrils, and she smiled. "Did you do it?"

"No."

Shi Ran waited for the smile to fade completely before her eyelashes interlaced and her eyelids lifted. This time, her gaze was very gentle. "Actually, everyone is like this. Everyone has a dark side, everyone has selfish motives, and selfish motives can't withstand judgment."

Whether it was judgment from others, or from oneself.

"I have selfish motives too," she said lightly and casually. "You know the movie Non-Desire? Do you know how similar the lead actress Zhao Ansheng was initially looking for was to you? I clearly could have recommended you. She hires people regardless of their background; you would have had a good chance. But I didn't recommend you. I observed you, and then I took that opportunity for myself."

Shi Ran's beautiful lips closed, the faint curve at the corners adding a touch of worldly warmth to her aloof face.

"So I care too, I get jealous too, and there are times I don't want others to be better than me. I get scared too. When Non-Desire couldn't pass censorship, I was also afraid my hard work would go up in smoke, afraid I wouldn't get the corresponding rewards. I was very anxious."

"If I were just as I claim in interviews, doing it for the love of acting, then the moment I finished performing, my dream would have already been fulfilled. But I still want it to be released, want to win awards, want my value to skyrocket."

As she said these words, the wind was high and the waves were rough on the sea, yet her language was as light as a breeze, like a lover's slow kiss in the lulls between the crashing waves.

"They all say I have no desires," she moistened her lips. "Maybe even you, a few minutes ago, would have thought, why is Shi Ran so perfect, she seems to have no weaknesses. Is this a form of deception? No. It's that we are not obligated to reveal the truth of ourselves to everyone."

This was a lesson she had learned from Ruan Ruan.

Starting from the chaos of adolescence, there was a time when she too couldn't see the truth of life clearly. Then she became a vessel for a long time. Later, she met Ruan Ruan, and she began to feel that the part of herself she didn't reveal to the public was also vibrant and lovely, perhaps even more so.

She gradually accepted this duality of being half in light and half in shadow. In public, she spoke of focusing on her career; back home, she would softly call the person on the other side of the video call "Wife."

These were all parts of her self, and she accepted them completely.

"Everyone struggles between good and bad. As long as you stay above the bottom line, it's okay to have selfish motives, to have desires, to have secrets, even to be a little bad."

"Have I ever told you?" Shi Ran pursed her lips, turning her head to look at her. "When we first met, you were hiding the assistant director's phone on set. I saw you."

Ruan Ruan's heart clenched as her eyes met Shi Ran's.

Shi Ran smiled. She had known from the very beginning that Ruan Ruan wasn't that pure and innocent, but she had fallen for her anyway.

That's why she said Ruan Ruan had no idea what kind of person Shi Ran truly liked.

She would hide the assistant director's phone, "use" her cat, and try every means to climb up, but she would also cherish every opportunity she fought for. She remembered Shi Ran's allergies, avoided using mosquito repellent so she could be ready for a scene at any moment, and would even ponder the tone of her lines when she was just an extra in the background. She was decisive and resilient, making a deal with Shi Ran without much hesitation after deciding she wanted Shrine.

She tried her best to adapt to the dazzling world of various social classes, feeling apprehensive but not fearful of the changes in the outside world.

She had only just hurt her fingers while digging out her deepest self, feeling a bit lost in the face of the sharp, connecting pain. But Shi Ran had seen her true colors and believed she would not truly retreat.

She had already chased her all the way to Beicheng, hadn't she?

Ruan Ruan let out a deep breath. Her ears were hot, and her breathing was heavy, but her chest felt empty and light, as if she had just woken from a full night's sleep. It was still dark in the distance, but she had a strange feeling that the sun was about to rise.

The surging tide washed into her bloodstream. When the sun came out, it might just start to boil.

She quietly experienced the calm before the boiling, a thousand thoughts turning in her mind, making her eye sockets ache. How could she thank Shi Ran? She didn't want to say anything. She just wanted to return to Shucheng immediately, end the delay for which Shi Ran was bearing the cost, and give back to Shi Ran a courageous lover who knew how to sincerely accept herself.

She buried Shi Ran's words in her heart. If she couldn't stand shoulder to shoulder with her, then she deserved to be abandoned.

Shi Ran had said a lot and was a little tired, but she was also a little happy. This was the first time Little Bread had opened her heart to her. She overturned a bit of her previous perception—it turned out she didn't hate consoling others that much, as long as Little Cat Officer's receiver-like ears would twitch a little.

She blinked, and as if remembering something, she took out her phone, held it in her palm, and asked Ruan Ruan, "Are you feeling a little better now?"

"Hmm?"

"In the mood to watch a VCR?" Shi Ran joked coolly.

"Huh?"

Shi Ran's lips curved. She unlocked her phone and opened a chat window. Inside was a long series of voice messages. Ruan Ruan took the phone, a little puzzled, pressed her lips together, and played one.

The moment she heard the voice, tears fell from her eyes.

"Ruan Ruan, this is Yu Zhou. Do you remember me?"

"I heard you've run into some trouble that might affect the filming of Shrine, so I asked Teacher Shi's assistant to pass this on. I hope you don't find me presumptuous."

"Although we only had one meal together, I could tell you really like Qiao Qiao and Shrine. I feel like telling you not to give up right now sounds very hollow and cliché, but do you remember? I told you that when I wrote this story, I was going through a very special period. I was very insecure back then and even pushed away someone who was incredibly important to me. I almost didn't get them back. That's why the Qiao Qiao I wrote is, at her core, also very insecure and lonely. If you're in that state right now, you must understand her very well and be very reluctant to part with her, right?"

"About my story, I want to give you a 'spoiler.' In the end, it was the shrine and Qiao Qiao that helped me get through it. That's what I meant when I said it holds a very special meaning for me. The shrine doesn't actually hold greed; it holds faith."

"If you can walk this path with Qiao Qiao to the end, I believe you will agree with that statement."

Her slightly gravelly voice came through the speaker, vast and clear, as clean as if it had been written by the tip of a pen. Ruan Ruan blinked furiously, converting the words into text in her mind as she listened, reading them word by word through her teary eyes.

She was out of breath from reading and out of breath from crying. The things that had been unvented for years, that had nearly strangled her, were finally willing to leave her body, trembling as they departed.

What could be more worthy of tears than the trust of someone who was practically a stranger yet empathized with you? Ruan Ruan couldn't offer any other response.

She cried with a bit of panic, no longer trying to hide anything. She held the phone, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm again and again, then looked at Shi Ran as if asking for help.

Ruan Ruan sobbed and said something that took Shi Ran completely by surprise.

"Shi Ran, my mom, my birth mother, she must have been a very good person, right? She abandoned me, maybe because she had some difficulties, but she must have been a really, really good person."

Her brow furrowed intensely, and her eyes, soaked in tears, turned red. She confessed frankly that of all the things people had said, what stung her the most were the comments about her birth mother. Her mother, whom she had never met, was being slandered because of her—called a gold-digger, said to have run off with someone, all described in vivid detail. They even insinuated that she was just like her birth mother, valuing money over people.

Shi Ran's throat also grew tight. She reached out and took her hand, her breathing hitching a few times before she said, "Ruan Dongliang, I looked into him. He's a terrible person."

Ruan Ruan looked at her through blurry, tear-filled eyes, trying to understand the meaning behind her words.

"He grew up in the same environment as you, but you are exceptionally good. So either you worked hard and grew up to be exceptionally good, or your mother left you with some exceptionally good things."

"Choose one to believe," Shi Ran said, her voice choked with emotion.

Ruan Ruan covered her eyes with her forearm and burst into tears.

Shi Ran clutched her other hand, her head tilted back slightly, swallowing the tremor in her throat as she blinked gently twice.

She suddenly understood her own mother as well. She had fed her hazelnuts she was allergic to, but she had also fed her sweet cake. She had just been driven mad by a bad marriage, with no strength left to be entangled in a bad past, and so she chose to leave. But she had also, once upon a time, left her with many exceptionally good things.

She listened as Ruan Ruan's whimpers turned to sobs, and then, with her collarbones trembling, she gradually calmed down. It felt as long as an entire winter passing.

Ruan Ruan looked at Shi Ran, her eyes red. "Let's go back. Next time, I'll treat you to bluefin tuna fishing."

"Not staying the night?"

Ruan Ruan shook her head.

The two of them rode their horses back.

"Can you really see whales here?" she asked, her voice thick with nasality.

"I don't know."

"What if we can't?"

"Then we'll go back to Jiangcheng and see Tao Jin."

"Pfft," Ruan Ruan sniffled and laughed. "Tao Jin?"

"Her WeChat name is Whale."

Ruan Ruan laughed while wiping her eyes, leaving their illogical, freewheeling conversation behind in the eddies of water kicked up by the horses' hooves.

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