Chapter 1
On May 20, Director Chen Huaixu’s film “Huaian” premiered.
For a while, the two characters “Huaian” dominated the trending searches on every platform, with half the entertainment industry reposting and hyping it up.
The premiere was set for ten o’clock at night, and as always, every seat was filled.
It took him only five years to go from being completely unknown to a genius director.
Amidst the screams and cheers filling the theater, Chen Huaixu appeared at the premiere.
With his outstanding looks and figure, he stood beside several actors and still didn’t pale in comparison.
Sitting in the last row, in the corner of the theater, I gazed at the man on stage, momentarily lost in thought.
A reporter asked, “I heard Director Chen prepared for ‘Huaian’ for a long time. Could you share the story behind it with everyone?”
He nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping across the audience. His familiar voice echoed in the theater:
“I prepared for this film for twelve years. It’s a belated promise to someone.”
When he was eighteen, waving his Film Academy admission letter, he said to me, “Qi An Classmate, one day I’ll turn our story into a movie.”
Years apart, like a fleeting dream.
A few hundred seats apart-after our breakup, this was the closest we’d been.
The spotlight shone on his face, outlining his deep-set brows and handsome features-so near, yet so far, blurred between reality and illusion.
I knew his gaze couldn’t possibly reach me, but seeing that face still made my heart race uncontrollably. My fingers twisted tightly, sweat soaking the crumpled movie ticket in my palm.
A reporter asked, “Is this someone very important in your life?”
He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a barely-there, self-mocking smile. “Yes, someone I’ll never forget-a liar.”
Five years ago, on a perfectly ordinary day, I looked at his back in the kitchen and said, “Chen Huaixu, I’m heading out for a bit. Smoke less, and take care of yourself, okay?”
He nodded obediently, still busy making my favorite curry chicken.
That day, I never got to eat his curry chicken, because after I left with our cat, I never came back.
Later, in an interview about food, he said he hated curry chicken the most.
Among the crowd, another reporter asked, “So Director Chen, what’s your box office goal for ‘Huaian’?”
His eyes flickered, the corners of his mouth lifting as his voice echoed in the theater:
“One million, I suppose.”
The host joked about his modesty and humor. Now, the name “Director Chen Huaixu” is a guarantee of box office success, with figures calculated in the hundreds of millions-a million is obviously just a joke.
Laughter erupted on and off stage, but only I felt my eyes grow hot, a sour ache welling up in my heart.
Because when he was twenty-two, he held me and said, “Qi An, when I save up a million, let’s get married, okay?”
Later, he saved up many millions, but there was no longer an “us.”
Someone in the crowd curiously asked, “Director Chen, why did you schedule the premiere for ten o’clock at night?”
He smiled calmly: “After you watch the film, maybe you’ll find the answer.”