LR – Chapter 72

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Chapter 72 – Movie Premiere

By the time the awards ceremony ended, it was nearly midnight. The stadium buzzed with voices as security worked to disperse fans, and vehicles inched forward slowly through the crowd.

After being stuck near the stadium for nearly half an hour, He Yujing didn’t arrive home in Gongshan until well past one in the morning. The living room lights were off. Assuming everyone in the house had already gone to bed, he quietly made his way upstairs and gently turned the doorknob to his room, only to find the lights still on.

Jiang Liusui was curled up on the small sofa, reading a script. Wang Cen had given him several scripts to choose from before the New Year, with plans to arrange auditions after the holidays.

This simple yet warm scene brought a faint smile to He Yujing’s eyes. He stepped forward and asked, “Why are you still awake? Waiting for me?”

Instead of answering, Jiang Liusui set the script aside and stood up, looking He Yujing over from head to toe.

He Yujing raised an eyebrow. “What are you looking at?”

“Where are your trophies?”

“They’re all in the car.” He Yujing pretended to be nonchalant, but his expression betrayed a hint of smugness. “Too many to carry.”

Jiang Liusui grinned and played along. “How impressive.”

Before He Yujing could respond, Jiang Liusui teased deliberately, “Who was your flower? Explain clearly.”

Seeing his mischievous expression, He Yujing knew he was being teased. “I don’t remember.”

“…?”

Jiang Liusui hadn’t expected him to deny it so outright. As He Yujing brushed past him and headed straight for the bathroom to wash up, Jiang Liusui followed closely, unwilling to let it go. “Say it again, this time to my face.”

Remembering He Yujing’s confession at the end of the awards ceremony, Jiang Liusui felt a thrill of excitement, his heart itching to hear those words spoken directly to him once more.

“Who was it? Who was your flower, He Yujing?” Jiang Liusui kept pestering him. Seeing that He Yujing was about to remove his makeup, he snatched the makeup remover balm from his hand. Meeting He Yujing’s gaze, Jiang Liusui smiled innocently. “Gege, I want to hear you say it.”

As if swayed by his playful, coaxing demeanor, He Yujing motioned for him to come closer.

Jiang Liusui complied.

“It’s you.”

He Yujing’s breath brushed against Jiang Liusui’s ear as he spoke. After saying this, he leaned in and kissed Jiang Liusui’s cheek. “Who else could it be but you?”

Jiang Liusui’s ears flushed with heat, and he finally quieted down.

Belatedly realizing he still hadn’t removed his makeup, He Yujing gently rubbed the smudged makeup on Jiang Liusui’s cheek. “You’ve got makeup on you.”

“…It’s fine.” Jiang Liusui murmured dazedly. “I don’t mind.”

Amused by his dazed state, He Yujing patted his hand and gestured for him to return the makeup remover balm he was still clutching. “Alright, it’s the last day of the year. Do we really want to go to sleep with smeared faces?”

“Happy New Year.” Jiang Liusui obediently wished him, then suddenly added, “You’re about to turn 26, and I’m only 22.”

“Aren’t you just six years old?” He Yujing didn’t mind him bringing up their age difference. Seeing Jiang Liusui’s confused expression, he clarified, “Jiang Six-Sui.[mfn]a word play; 六岁 (liù suì) means six years old and JLS’s name 留岁 (liú suì) have near-identical pronunciation[/mfn]”

“……” Jiang Liusui was speechless for a moment, then playfully whined, “Whatever. Hurry up and give me your New Year’s blessing.”

“Happy New Year.” He Yujing dipped his fingers into the makeup remover balm and gently smoothed it over the smudged areas on Jiang Liusui’s face, speaking in a tone one might use to coax a child. “May Suisui be safe and sound all year round.[mfn]岁岁平安 (suì suì píng ān) -means “peace and safety year after year.” It’s a common blessing, especially during Lunar New Year. And yes, the term has JLS’s nickname in it 岁岁 (suì suì)[/mfn]”

At the Xingyun Awards ceremony, the clip of He Yujing boldly confessing to Jiang Liusui on camera was edited separately and spread wildly across the internet. Whether casual viewers or fans, after a moment of stunned surprise, there was only one thought left: this…actually feels kind of sweet.

Just as everyone thought this pair would drop more major relationship news, the two remained exceptionally low-key for the next half-year. They never appeared together publicly, and neither mentioned the other in their individual activities.

Jiang Liusui began filming his new movie, while He Yujing secluded himself to write songs. Their schedules appeared to have zero overlap, leading some to suspect relationship troubles.

Amid all the speculation outside, time marched on to midsummer, bringing the premiere of ⟪Eternal Bell⟫.

To build momentum for the film, the PR team invited various media outlets, and all core members of the creative team attended.

Before the premiere officially began, several lead actors were preparing backstage. Not having seen Qin Yi and Shang Qingzhi for a long time, Jiang Liusui felt a sense of warmth and immediately strode over and gave Qin Yi’s shoulder a hearty slap. “Qin-ge! Long time no see!”

He then turned to the side. “Qingzhi-jie, it’s been a while for us too.”

Shang Qingzhi smiled and nodded. Qin Yi rubbed his sore shoulder helplessly. “How did you get so much stronger?”

Shang Qingzhi picked up a bottle of mineral water from the table and tried to twist it open. “I just saw Director Pei, and his eyes were completely bloodshot.”

Seeing her struggle with the cap, Qin Yi naturally took it from her.””It seems like he hasn’t rested properly since filming started.”

“Director Pei must be nervous because of today’s premiere,” Jiang Liusui said honestly.
“Actually, I’m pretty nervous too.”

After speaking, Jiang Liusui finally noticed Qin Yi opening the water bottle for Shang Qingzhi. His eyes widened in realization. “Are you two…?”

Before Jiang Liusui could press them about what was going on, a figure casually raised a hand and knocked on the door.

“Long time no see,” He Yujing said, looking into the room, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Jiang Liusui’s eyes lit up, about to respond, but Qin Yi spoke first. “It really has been a while.”

Having heard little about He Yujing lately, his schedule seemed much lighter compared to last year. Qin Yi asked, “Have you been in seclusion recently?”

“Writing songs for Chi Lianxi’s film. Almost done.” He Yujing sighed. He’d practically been living in the studio lately. “Didn’t realize it’d be this troublesome before taking the job.”

Then he walked over to Jiang Liusui, casually slinging an arm over his shoulders, his tone affectionate. “Long time no see, Teacher Jiang.”

Shang Qingzhi asked curiously, “You two haven’t seen each other in a while?”

“Almost a month,” Jiang Liusui said, grabbing He Yujing’s hand resting on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I was filming out of town and just wrapped up a few days ago. If not for today’s premiere, who knows when we’d meet again.”

“I heard you were filming Director Huang’s new project?” Qin Yi had caught wind of it. Huang Zhicheng was making a relatively niche art film this time, clearly aiming for awards. A few months ago, during casting, Jiang Liusui was chosen from a large pool of auditionees.

With the ⟪Fading Colors⟫ MV as precedent, this was also a reunion of the director and actor.

He Yujing joked, “Teacher Jiang’s been busier than me this year. Need to book an appointment two weeks in advance just to see him.”

Qin Yi nodded: “Xiao Jiang s at a rising point in his career, being busy is good.”

As they spoke, a staff member came over to announce, “Teachers, the movie is about to start!”

Hearing this, Jiang Liusui stood up, holding He Yujing’s hand as they walked toward the entrance, quietly letting go just as they entered the theater.

The front row of the theater was reserved for the creative team and special guests, while the rows behind were for invited media and randomly selected audience members.

He Yujing had received his invitation as early as last month, and the staff had specifically arranged his seat next to Jiang Liusui. When the two of them entered from backstage together, the hall stirred for a moment, and all the attending media immediately turned their cameras toward them.

After taking his seat, Jiang Liusui subtly poked the person beside him, his voice barely concealing his excitement: “It feels like watching a movie for the first time as a child.”

He Yujing was amused by his nervous yet exhilarated demeanor: “Should I buy you popcorn?” Then he added encouragingly: “You performed exceptionally well. Everyone will see it.”

Before the movie officially began, Pei Wen, the chief director, stepped onto the stage.

Red veins rimmed Pei Wen’s eyes, and his whole body showed signs of fatigue. Yet, looking at the audience below, his gaze was sharp like a hawk, and his expression sincere.

His speech was brief but resounding:

“I hope everyone enjoys the next two hours or so and takes a look at the world we’ve created.”

The lights in the theater gradually dimmed, plunging everything into darkness.

On the big screen, clusters of pear blossoms bloomed against the night sky. Layer upon layer of petals quivered as if bathed in flowing light. White lanterns hung under the eaves of the manor swayed in the wind, as if mourning someone’s passing.

In the midst of the silence, the neglected young heir gazed at the tall pear tree in the courtyard from afar.

Just a few days earlier, the young Li Heng had lost his mother. Li Yan’s birth mother, Lady Yu, had secretly poisoned her, and the Old Prince had tacitly approved. Li Heng witnessed it all but was powerless to intervene.

Ding-ling-ling—

The sound of a bell came from the tree.

Li Heng lifted his head, staring intently at the pear tree from a distance.

A youth in white cast a fleeting glance from the clusters of snow-like blossoms. His features, illuminated by the moon, were slightly unreal—so beautiful he seemed like a spirit born of the flowering tree. The young Li Heng stared without blinking, gazing up at his figure beneath the tree.

He symbolized power and desire—the Eternal Bell[mfn]铃 (líng)[/mfn].

Pei Wen meticulously crafted every frame, connecting sequences of shots with clever transitions. Through shifts in light and shadow, one complex, vivid character after another gradually unfolded before the audience’s eyes.

⟪Eternal Bell⟫ carries subtle hints of magical and cult-like elements, yet the entire film uses no special effects. Instead, through camera transitions and story design to emphasize the eerie, otherworldly aura of the character “Ling.” Jiang Liusui’s performance fully lived up to Pei Wen’s meticulous direction.

When Ling beheaded Li Yan with a single sword stroke, the splatter of blood drew sighs throughout the theater. Later, as Ming Zhao and the maid fought over Ling’s Soul-Binding Chain, Pei Wen masterfully employed sound and visuals to evoke sensory emotions, the tension leaving the audience holding their breath.

After the Old Prince was executed by Li Heng, Ming Zhao genuinely fell in love with him. Outwardly, she remained an obedient death envoy following the emperor’s orders, but secretly, she aided Li Heng in his quest for power.

He Yujing roughly knew the first half of the plot, yet he found himself unconsciously drawn in while watching. At this point, he couldn’t hold back any longer and whispered to Jiang Liusui, “Is Li Heng using her?”

Jiang Liusui also replied softly, “Yes. And once he’s done using her, he’ll kill her.”

Before He Yujing could react to this, as if echoing Jiang Liusui’s words, the scene immediately shifted to Li Heng successfully seizing power and giving Ling the order to secretly eliminate Ming Zhao during his coronation ceremony.

The two storylines progressed simultaneously, with the screen constantly switching between the grand spectacle of the new emperor’s enthronement and the scene of Ling killing Ming Zhao.

Seeing that it was not Li Heng who arrived but Ling, dressed in crimson robes, Ming Zhao understood Li Heng’s intentions.

“He asked me to tell you that the thing he does best is remembering,” Ling said with a vacant expression, devoid of his usual spirited demeanor. “Including the time you secretly helped Li Yan—he remembers it all clearly.”

With that, Ling plunged the sharp dagger into Ming Zhao’s chest.

As he watched the deep red blood spread across Ming Zhao’s chest, Ling gradually regained his senses.

A long shot captured their exchanged gaze. Through the screen, Ling’s distinct black-and-white eyes met the audience’s, shifting from clouded to clear. His pupils contracted, trembling briefly at the sight before him, followed by overwhelming disbelief and an instant surge of grief.

For a century, Ling had experienced countless similar scenes—political schemes, kin turning against kin. As a weapon in the hands of those in power, he seemed to have reached the breaking point.

But as long as his master held the Soul-Binding Chain, he could never break free, forced to forget again and again.

Ling collapsed to his knees before Ming Zhao, his fingers trembling uncontrollably. He instinctively wanted to pull the dagger from her chest but knew it would only hasten her death.

Throughout the first half of the story, he had been portrayed as naive, eerie, and detached from human emotions—even Li Yan’s death seemed to leave him unmoved. Yet at this moment, his capacity for despair reached its absolute limit. His expression hovered between tears and laughter. Without uttering a single word, one could feel the raw agony of a mind teetering on the edge of madness.

The theater fell into complete silence, the audience deeply moved by Jiang Liusui’s intensely expressive and powerful performance.

On the big screen, Ming Zhao used her last ounce of strength to grasp Ling’s hand. “I have something… to give you…”

Ling looked down and saw a small golden lock in her hand, freezing in place.

Ming Zhao had secretly crafted a replica of the Soul-Binding Chain, nearly identical to the real one. With Li Heng’s indulgence toward him, Ling could easily find an opportunity to swap them.

“Go,” Ming Zhao said softly, her dying gaze fixed on Ling. “Leave this place… You’re free.”

After that scene ended, He Yujing realized his palms were sweaty.

He took Jiang Liusui’s hand and smiled at him as their eyes met. “Well done.”

Feeling that this didn’t fully express his emotions, He Yujing tightened his grip on Jiang Liusui’s hand and whispered, word by word, “You acted incredibly well.”

Ling swapped the Soul-Binding Chain with the replica but did not leave the capital as Ming Zhao had hoped, carrying the chain that had bound him for over a century. Instead, he walked step by step through the heavily guarded imperial palace.

He arrived beneath the tall pear tree in the imperial garden, nimbly climbed up, and idly swung the small golden lock that controlled his fate. The emotions in his eyes shifted unpredictably before finally meeting the distant gaze of the newly crowned Emperor Li Heng, who had rushed over with the imperial guards.

“I’m tired,” he said to Li Heng.

Ling released his hand, and the fragile Soul-Binding Chain fell from his grasp.

Li Heng’s perpetually calm face twisted in horror as he urgently commanded the guards to catch the Soul-Binding Chain, but it was already too late.

The moment the Soul-Binding Chain hit the ground, Ling suddenly broke into a smile. He had finally shaken off the heavy shackles forged by power, feeling more alive than he had in centuries.

Ling spread his arms, the wind blowing against his bright red robe, and the golden bells on his wrists and ankles jingled.

This passionate scene seemed to embody the freedom he had yearned for, flowing through him like the wind weaving through the pear trees.

The background echoed with the crisp shattering of the Soul-Binding Chain hitting the ground, and the camera ultimately froze on the swirling pear blossoms filling the sky.

The theater plunged into momentary darkness as the prelude to the ending theme drifted softly through the air.

A delicate, tingling female voice sang as if recounting a story. Against the dreamy, lingering melody, the credits gradually appeared on the pitch-black screen.

The audience fell into complete silence, no one made any unnecessary movements, still immersed in the tragically beautiful and romantic pear blossom rain of the ending.

After the ending song finished, the screen suddenly brightened.

Realizing that the movie’s post-credits scene was about to play, the captivated viewers held their breath in anticipation.

—According to later records, Li Heng became a beloved and accomplished emperor, renowned for his merits and remembered for generations.

After the final post-credits scene finished playing, the lights in the theater came on.

Finally, someone initiated the first round of applause. As if awakening from a dream, the audience joined in from all directions, the applause merging into a continuous wave that lasted for a long time.

Under the bright lights, Jiang Liusui saw Pei Wen staring intently at the screen, and Shang Qingzhi shedding tears halfway through the screening.

Jiang Liusui himself was equally stirred, his emotions difficult to calm.

Even though he had been a part of this story, he found himself deeply moved at this moment.

“For a moment, I thought you were going to disappear,” He Yujing snapped out of his reverie, turned to meet Jiang Liusui’s gaze, and said with a smile, “Fortunately, the movie is just a movie, and you are you.”

“Congratulations. You portrayed Ling exceptionally well—truly remarkable.”

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