The response was overwhelming, with applause lasting for a long time. The actors took three bows, and the audience slowly left, reluctant to part.
They walked out with the crowd, ahead of them was a young couple. The girl was still gently sobbing, wiping the tears at the corners of her eyes.
“Why are you crying so easily?” the boy said, hands in his pockets. “What’s there to cry about? I didn’t even understand it.”
The girl sniffled, “Of course you didn’t understand, Xie Yi was always waiting for him.”
She said, and then couldn’t help but cry again. Her boyfriend roughly grabbed the tissue and wiped her face, “Enough, why are you crying?”
“You are ruining my makeup!”
“Okay, okay, you do it yourself.” He impatiently shoved the tissue back into her hand, “How do you know she was waiting for that… that… Wang Lin, right? I can’t even remember his name… this play doesn’t make it clear, it’s so confusing…”
The girl stopped in her tracks and glared at him.
“Exactly, what evidence do you have?” The boy was smug, “You can’t even say anything now, no evidence, right? You women just love to get emotional… Hey, wait, why are you leaving…”
Before he could finish his sentence, the girl forcefully threw her handbag into his chest and turned to run. The boy was stunned for a moment before he remembered to chase after her, “Wait up, slow down…”
The crowd ahead temporarily halted because of the chase, but fortunately, the theater hallway wasn’t long, and it didn’t cause much of a commotion.
“The shirt that Xie Yi last wore was Wang Lin’s.” Sheng Min said, watching the couple walk away.
“Huh?” Li Xuan tilted his head.
By this time, they had arrived in the theater lobby. The next performance was a “King Lear” in half an hour, and the remaining small theaters were showing Beijing opera. The waiting crowd was mostly older people with gray hair.
“The shirt Xie Yi wore at the end, it’s the one Wang Lin wore the first time they met.”
Sheng Min’s tone was as gentle as ever, with a hint of a smile. He didn’t say anything more, but Li Xuan couldn’t help but feel like a bad student caught daydreaming in class. He admitted that most of his attention hadn’t been on the play, just roughly following the plot. But Sheng Min was sitting so close to him, how could he be the only one at fault for zoning out?
“I know she was waiting for him,” Li Xuan pretended to calm down, coughing lightly, and pointed toward the vending machine at the corner, “Are you thirsty? What do you want to drink?”
Sheng Min smiled, his eyes crescent-shaped, “Same as you.”
There was no fruit tea, which Sheng Min usually drank, so Li Xuan bought two bottles of soda. When he came back, Sheng Min was no longer where he had been, but Li Xuan found him by the bulletin board.
“Thanks.” Li Xuan unscrewed the cap and handed it to him, and Sheng Min took a sip.
“What are you looking at?”
The whole wall was covered with posters—recent performances, recruitment for the theater, pictures of award-winning actors… Sheng Min’s gaze fell on a recruitment poster for actors. The dark green background had water marks like dewdrops sliding down glass, and at the top, the play title was “Not Just the Mountain.” The poster style was similar to “When the Moon Falls,” and Li Xuan noticed the director’s name—it was indeed the same person, Yin Qianpin.
“Is it a new play?” Li Xuan asked.
“Probably.”
“Are they still recruiting actors?” Li Xuan raised an eyebrow, “Do you want to try?”
The actor requirements were briefly listed: Male lead, age 20-25, height above 175 cm. Female lead, age 20-25, height above 165 cm.
No other requirements were specified. Below, Li Xuan saw only the contact information and deadline for registration.
Sheng Min didn’t answer, just smiled. “Let’s go.”
“Director Yin is very strict, and he only accepts newcomers. All the lead actors in his plays have either never acted before or are people he has been working with for a long time—the actor who played Wang Lin today is one of them.”
When they got into the elevator, Sheng Min noticed the thoughtful look on Li Xuan’s face and explained.
“Actually, I once submitted a resume, when I was about 17? I didn’t join any talent shows… A second director had me try a scene, but there was no follow-up. I guess I wasn’t suitable… Now it’s even less likely. Director Yin wouldn’t cast an actor that the audience recognizes, and the company wouldn’t let me spend a year or more rehearsing a play that doesn’t bring much economic benefit… A lot of things aren’t as simple as just wanting them. I’ve already tried, and it’s okay.”
The elevator door reflected Sheng Min’s face, his eyes clear and sincere. He turned and saw Li Xuan frowning, smiling lightly. “I’ve already received so much… and I accept everything I haven’t.”
Li Xuan wanted to say something else but froze upon hearing this, and after a while, he spoke, “It’s not because you’re not good enough.”
Sheng Min smiled. “I know.”
They didn’t continue the conversation. Perhaps they were both used to things not always going as planned. Sheng Min’s expression and tone remained as usual, but Li Xuan seemed distracted. When they left the parking garage, Sheng Min called his name twice before he snapped out of his thoughts.
“Are you tired?” Sheng Min asked softly, “Let’s stop by the roadside ahead. Let me drive.”
“I’m not tired.” Li Xuan shook his head. “Are you tired?”
Sheng Min didn’t speak, but he quietly studied Li Xuan’s face under the light coming through the car window, checking for any signs of fatigue.
“I’m really not tired, just thinking about something,” Li Xuan noticed Sheng Min’s concern. “I was actually asking you.”
That’s when Sheng Min smiled again. “Do we need to go anywhere else?”
“Can we?”
Sheng Min nodded without asking where. “Okay.”
The traffic was a bit congested after leaving the theater, but fortunately, it wasn’t a long stretch. Once they got onto the elevated road, the traffic smoothed out. They turned onto the bypass, and it wasn’t until they saw the toll booth that Li Xuan realized they were heading out of the city.
It was late, and the dense trees along the roadside seemed blurred under the night sky. It was the plum rain season, and a layer of mist slowly descended, obscuring the scenery around them and the road ahead.
In the distance, the hills’ outlines were blurred by the night, and it seemed as though the road had no end, and the car would never stop.
Sheng Min slightly turned his head to look at Li Xuan’s side profile, from his slightly messy hair to his sharp nose and thin lips.
An English song was playing in the car, its theme about not knowing where to go but searching for a place for the soul to return…
Sheng Min wasn’t sleepy at first. After last night’s birthday party at the company, he had given Yang Xu time off and had been resting at home. But now, he felt strangely at ease, as if falling into a soft cloud. The scene felt like a déjà vu, and he couldn’t recall which day it was from the past, but gradually, he fell asleep.
He seemed to have had a dream, though he woke up without any memory of it.
The air conditioning in the car was set low, and at some point, Li Xuan had draped his jacket over him. Sheng Min, still a bit groggy, brushed his nose against the collar and caught a faint scent. It was hard to describe—lemon, mint, or fig? It was refreshing and clean, something that evoked all sorts of fresh and pure feelings.
“You’re awake?” Li Xuan asked softly.
“Mm… How long did I sleep?”
“Not long.”
“Are we close?” Sheng Min sat up and looked out the window. They had just left the highway and were now on a narrow country road. The road was very narrow, with trees growing denser. Through the gaps in the trees, he caught glimpses of a faint red light in the distance, which quickly flashed past and was concealed again by the next tree’s leaves.
“Almost there.” Li Xuan kept one hand on the steering wheel and joked, “Are you afraid I’ll take the wrong turn?”
Sheng Min didn’t answer. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the jacket draped over him, and after a long moment, he smiled softly. “It doesn’t matter if you do.”
As they got closer, the red light became clearer—it was actually two lanterns.
Li Xuan stopped the car in front of a stone arch. This was an ancient town near N city. N city had been the capital for many dynasties, and it was rich with historic landmarks. Even within the city, the white tower clock tower remained, and the nearby ancient town temples and Taoist shrines were not uncommon.
Although it was called a town, it only had a few dozen households. The area was small, and the government hadn’t worked on promoting it, so there were few visitors.
They walked along the broken bluestone path toward the town. It had rained during the day, and there was still water in the cracks of the stones. Moss and weeds stubbornly grew in the corners of the walls. Occasionally, the sound of a dog barking was heard, followed by the blurred reprimands of the owner, and then everything fell silent again. Sometimes, people walked past them in small groups, talking about the card game they had just finished. They carried bundles of fresh green vegetables and a round watermelon, briefly glancing at the unfamiliar faces, but not stopping, lazily heading home.
It was clear that it was Li Xuan’s first time here as well. He had to stop and check the street signs at every corner. Sheng Min didn’t ask a word, silently standing by his side, holding up his phone to light the way.
The air seemed to have the scent of flowers. In this season, it was probably jasmine or night-blooming jasmine. He couldn’t tell which house it was coming from, but the faint fragrance lingered, and when he sniffed it closely, it disappeared again.
For no reason, Sheng Min remembered learning about Peach Blossom Spring when he was a child, the part where one follows the stream, forgetting the distance, and suddenly encounters a peach blossom forest.
The streets of the ancient town were winding, and every wall seemed the same. They turned corner after corner, as if going in circles. Yet Li Xuan walked with certainty, and Sheng Min was content to follow him, wandering aimlessly.
The unfamiliar flower scent still surrounded them, but at some point, it was replaced by a sweet fragrance. It was familiar, and Sheng Min stopped in surprise. Ahead, there was a house with its lights on. He turned to look at Li Xuan, and his hat accidentally fell, but Li Xuan quickly caught it.
Li Xuan brushed off the white dust from the hat’s brim where it had brushed against the wall, then smiled slightly and placed it back on Sheng Min’s head. He gave a gentle push on his back. “Come on.”
