SABA Chapter 22

Chapter 22: “If you smile, you can’t be unhappy anymore…”

Jiang Tiao returned home after finishing his event and found that Huo Shen had not yet returned. He went online to find the resource for “Guan Shan” and played it in the cinema room.

The movie uses a flashback technique. On a Nordic island during the polar night, cold moonlight streamed through a small skylight into a dark attic. A man lay in the dark attic, recalling the only light of his life.

In a southern town, trees grew tall, cicadas chirped, and rusty anti-theft iron windows adorned the mottled residential buildings.

He was a kidnapped boy who escaped abuse. He wore tattered clothes and wandered through rotten garbage heaps. Everyone looked at him with disgust, as if he carried countless diseases that would infect them if they brushed against him.

He shouldn’t have stayed in one area for long because he knew that if he stayed too long, nearby residents would find someone to drive him away.

He clutched the paper he had carefully folded from the steamed bun, his steps hesitant. He had never been treated kindly since he could remember. He couldn’t bear to leave the little brother who had given him food and helped him peel the greasy paper from the bottom of the bun.

“Ring ring ring—” The bell of an old bicycle rang in the narrow alley. He quickly turned and ran into the bushes outside the path. However, his legs were too short; he couldn’t outrun the iron wheels that were half as tall as him.

Children’s laughter followed. Each of them carried a few stones, and as they rode past him, they threw them at him. If they hit, they cheered; if they missed, they cursed. If they saw him bleeding and scrambling, they would stop and laugh heartily.

They chased him to the riverbank. Seeing him disappear after stumbling through the weeds, they finally dispersed, not entirely satisfied. He climbed back onto the river levee from the muddy riverbed, sadly looking at the soiled oil paper in his hands.

He wiped the blood and mud from his face and limped to the agreed-upon spot under the bridge.

The midsummer sunlight was bright and dazzling, casting a golden glow on the boy in clean clothes under the bridge.

The boy saw him and rushed towards him, “What happened?”

He avoided the boy’s outstretched hand. He had already dirtied the oil paper and didn’t want to dirty the boy’s clean hand.

He knew he couldn’t stay here much longer. He wanted to say a proper goodbye to the boy, to this only friend who treated him as a person, not as a rat or cockroach from a sewer.

“My mom is on a business trip, let’s go to my house to take a bath.”

He stared blankly at the boy and subconsciously shook his head, backing away repeatedly. He was so dirty; the people who drove him away said he brought bad luck. How could he go to his house?

The boy grabbed his arm, wiped the mud off his face, and smeared it onto his own, smiling sunnily and brightly: “Now we’re the same, come home with me.”

A person’s life is nothing more than a beginning and an end. He had no beginning, but on this day, he found his end.

Ji Xia was from a single-parent family, and his mother worked long hours and traveled frequently. He often secretly brought Fang Yu home. After Ji Mu discovered this, she drove him away a few times, but later, seeing that it was no use, she let it be. She used her connections to help Fang Yu get household registration and find him a school record.

The two boys grew up together. It was the most beautiful and carefree time, warm and passionate.

The warmth of the summer sun seemed to penetrate the screen and emanate from the movie. Although in an air-conditioned room, Jiang Tiao felt as if he were enveloped in warm sunshine.

After school, Fang Yu would work part-time at a department store. At that time, the internet was just beginning to develop, and the store owner took advantage of the trend to open an online store. She stylishly bought a DSLR camera, but after fiddling with it a few times, she lost patience and handed the task of taking product photos to the young Fang Yu.

Fang Yu’s talent for photography surprised everyone. He seemed to know instinctively how to use light and shadow, making even ordinary things tell a story.

Young love began without a clear reason, perhaps it was the unconsciously accelerated heartbeat after repeated playful scuffles, perhaps it was the embrace on the narrow single bed night after night, or perhaps it was the eye contact and glances that could be seen across a crowd. By the time they realized it, it had bloomed like an ever-burning firework, illuminating the entire night sky.

Things gradually improved. Ji Xia was accepted into a very good university and studied electrical engineering, while Fang Yu’s work was posted online by the owner and won an award.

Youth was fearless and romantic. The wind of summer was on their shoulders, carrying them to any place they wished.

Hardship seemed to have an end. It seemed that as long as they worked hard enough, the rest of their lives would be filled with light.

The day Fang Yu received his graduation certificate, the two planned to have dinner together. He wore his academic attire and wanted to take a photo with Ji Xia. He waited at the school gate from 2 PM to 7 PM. Ji Xia never missed an appointment. He made countless calls, even begging the gods he never believed in, desperately hoping his premonition was just baseless anxiety.

However, fate is never in one’s hands.

He received a call from the hospital but only saw him one last time in the morgue.

Due to a worker’s violation of operating procedures, Ji Xia fell into a 25-meter-deep hoisting hole that lacked a railing.

What is life like, my dear? It should be like a wild goose leaving its tracks on snow. He fought against fate time and time again, yet could not escape destiny, nor could he defy heaven.

His life began in midsummer but also ended in midsummer.

Guan Qing’s filming techniques were superb, and his use of color and light reached a peak. His films were filled with scenes of interwoven light and shadow, as if breaking through the boundaries of space, allowing viewers to share in the characters’ joy and sorrow.

Fang Yu took the camera from Ji Xia’s belongings, a gift Ji Xia had wanted to give him.

He drifted on a boat, finally disembarking on an island of perpetual night.

When the end credits rolled, Jiang Tiao was still immersed in the plot. He understood the online reviews and why this movie had such a profound impact.

A midsummer that ended abruptly, a glimpse of light within reach, and a lifetime of perpetual darkness without light.

The viewers couldn’t escape, nor could they find closure.

…

Huo Shen pushed open the door and saw Jiang Tiao lying comfortably on the sofa. The heart that had been hanging in mid-air finally settled. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Jiang Tiao looked at Huo Shen at the door and remained silent.

Huo Shen was startled by the deep sadness in Jiang Tiao’s eyes. He walked over and asked softly, “What’s wrong?”

Jiang Tiao: “I just watched ‘Guan Shan’.”

Huo Shen breathed a sigh of relief. He sat down beside him. “Why did you suddenly decide to watch this movie?”

Jiang Tiao: “I met Director Guan Qing at the TV festival, and he said you invested in this movie.”

Huo Shen did not deny it.

Jiang Tiao: “Director Guan said his initial idea was for Fang Yu to end his life by the bridge where he met Ji Xia. He said the current ending was your suggestion?”

Huo Shen was silent for a moment, then asked instead of answering directly, “You don’t think it’s good?”

“It’s good,” Jiang Tiao said, looking at the ceiling. “Even Director Guan himself said that the significant reason he won the award was because of this ending.”

But precisely because it was good, it made people so sad, so unable to move on.

Huo Shen: “That’s his modesty.”

Jiang Tiao: “Actually, death would have been the easiest ending, but he chose to live out his remaining life in perpetual darkness, carrying their memories. Was he afraid that if he died, fewer people would remember Ji Xia? Or because everyone who drove him away back then said he brought bad luck, he thought he caused Ji Xia’s death?”

Huo Shen: “Perhaps a bit of both. He and Ji Xia had so many memories unique to them. If he died, then no one in the world would remember Ji Xia like that anymore.”

Jiang Tiao turned his head and looked at Huo Shen.

Huo Shen: “Besides, this is just an artistic expression. In real life, Fang Yu probably wouldn’t have committed suicide.”

The two most important people in Ji Xia’s life were Fang Yu and Ji Mu.

“Ji Mu treated Fang Yu like a half-child. She had already lost one son. If Fang Yu also chose to commit suicide, then he would be too cruel and too unfair to Ji Xia.”

Jiang Tiao quietly watched Huo Shen for a long time, then suddenly asked, “Why can you understand Fang Yu so well?”

Huo Shen paused, averted his gaze, and vaguely replied, “Fang Qing filmed it very well.”

Jiang Tiao didn’t believe him. Fang Qing hadn’t even started filming when they discussed the script.

Jiang Tiao grabbed Huo Shen’s arm and, upon doing so, realized that Huo Shen was sweating quite a bit.

Huo Shen said with some helplessness, “You didn’t reply to my messages, and you wouldn’t answer my calls, I thought…”

He thought something had happened to him…

Jiang Tiao then remembered his phone, which he had left in a corner. When he returned, he was still angry with Huo Shen and hadn’t turned off the silent mode he had set during the event. Later, he was too engrossed in the movie and forgot.

With an apologetic expression, he quickly adjusted his phone back in front of Huo Shen.

“But I think Director Guan should still be blamed for this. Who told him to make such a good movie that makes people so immersed!”

Can he be blamed for this? Huo Shen looked at Jiang Tiao’s unreasonable demeanor with some helplessness.

“Is it because of my earlier reply?”

Jiang Tiao hadn’t expected Huo Shen to know! He “humphed” and stopped pretending. “You’re really cold.”

Huo Shen was stunned. He hadn’t expected Jiang Tiao to react so strongly. He had indeed replied somewhat petulantly, but he thought he hadn’t shown it too obviously. Seeing Jiang Tiao’s dejected look, Huo Shen couldn’t tell if it was because of him, the movie, or both.

Seeing that Huo Shen hadn’t spoken for a long time, Jiang Tiao tilted his head and stared at Huo Shen for a while, then suddenly asked, “Were you dealing with something that made you unhappy when you replied to me?”

Huo Shen was slightly taken aback and didn’t know how to answer.

“Alright, then I forgive you,” Jiang Tiao regained his energetic demeanor. He sat up straight and said earnestly to Huo Shen, “A little sandpiper was caught cheating by the teacher. The teacher was very angry and asked, ‘Who were you copying from?’ The little sandpiper said, ‘I copied the clam.’ The teacher became furious, ‘You still think you’re awesome?!'”

Huo Shen burst into laughter.

Jiang Tiao’s eyes curved, with a hint of cunning, “If you smile, you can’t be unhappy anymore.”

Huo Shen gently stroked his hair and chuckled softly, “Okay.”