Mirror Flower Water Moon

This was followed by an increasingly packed schedule. He was constantly on the go, traveling between various film sets, commercial events, and fashion shoots, resulting in a surge in his public exposure.

The "national boyfriend" image meticulously crafted for him by his team has deeply resonated with the public, attracting a large number of female fans on social media who are captivated by his deep affection in dramas and his handsome appearance on screen, regarding him as an inviolable dream lover. Maintaining his "single" persona has become a bottom line that both his team and he himself must adhere to.

During a group interview following a public event, a reporter astutely steered the question towards Shen Zhiwei, whose name had recently become frequently associated with him: "Qin Yang, I've often seen you attending events with Ms. Shen Zhiwei recently. May I ask what your relationship is...?"

Qin Yang's smile was impeccable, as if he had been prepared to deal with this kind of question. His tone was sincere, with just the right amount of respect: "Sister Zhiwei is an outstanding and knowledgeable woman, and she is an older sister I greatly respect." He paused, choosing his words carefully, "From her, I have learned a lot about art and taste, and I have benefited immensely."

He pronounced the words "sister" and "respect" clearly, which both elevated Zhiwei and subtly drew a line, gently pushing away those ambiguous speculations, consistent with his usual "single" image.

Later, when he met Zhiwei in private, a genuine sense of apology and struggle flickered in his eyes. Zhiwei, however, simply smiled faintly, extending her slender fingers, the tips of which were slightly cool, and gently traced his prominent brow bone and nose bridge, a gesture carrying the detached air of appreciating a work of art.

Her voice was gentle and tender, like a lover's whisper, but her words left him feeling inexplicably empty: "Qin Yang, it's okay." Her gaze seemed to fall on his face, yet it also seemed to penetrate his handsome exterior, looking towards some distant and ethereal place.

"As long as you're happy, that's all that matters."

In that instant, Qin Yang suddenly felt as if she were merely a mirror, through which she saw another blurry shadow. The tolerance and understanding she offered did not stem from deep affection for him as an individual, but rather from a more detached, almost indulgent, tranquility.

She watched with a clear mind as he danced the dance of this world of fame and fortune according to the established rules, even tacitly approving and assisting him in playing his role when he needed it. She was not in the play, but rather the most composed spectator on the sidelines.

This realization made his inner apology and struggle seem exceptionally pale and insignificant. Their relationship was always separated by an invisible veil, gorgeous yet hazy, like a flower in a mirror or the moon's reflection in water, within reach yet unattainable.

Qin Yang maintained his glamorous "single" persona under the spotlight, moving between one bustling scene after another. But Zhiwei's world was not limited by this. During a tea gathering with some old friends from the academic world, a professor who specializes in ancient art history mentioned an archaeological project located in the Gobi Desert in western China.

"That grotto is extremely remote," my friend said, adjusting his glasses with a hint of regret. "The murals are severely damaged, and what's more troublesome is that our funds are about to run out, so the excavation and conservation work next month will probably have to be suspended." He looked at Zhiwei, his eyes filled with the enthusiasm typical of a scholar. "But what's most regrettable is that, judging from the parts that have been cleared, the style is extremely unique—the lines are delicate, the colors are light and elegant, completely different from the rich and vibrant style commonly seen in the Western Regions. It's like some forgotten cultural island."

These descriptions gently touched the artist's heartstrings within Zhiwei. After inquiring about the project's details, she pondered for a moment and then decided to invest enough funds to sustain the project for three years. This was not a spur-of-the-moment act of charity, but rather an instinctive protection of an endangered aesthetic.

"Would you like to go see it for yourself?" Noticing the interest in her eyes, her friend extended the invitation at the opportune moment. "The first batch of mural fragments that have been cleared will definitely amaze you."

Looking out at the towering buildings of Beijing, Zhiwei suddenly felt a longing for the vast, desolate Gobi Desert in the west. She had never seen land sculpted by wind and sand, nor had she ever heard the wind howling across the Gobi. "Okay," she smiled faintly, "I'll go take a look."

When Han Yu, the head of the archaeological project, received notification that the project had received a generous donation that would allow it to continue for three more years, he was overwhelmed with excitement. However, upon learning that the generous donor, Ms. Shen Zhiwei, would be visiting the site in person, this young scholar, who had spent most of his time working in the field, felt a sense of trepidation for the first time.

"What kind of person is this Miss Shen?" he cautiously inquired over the phone from the professor who had made the introduction.

The professor chuckled on the other end of the phone: "Dr. Han, don't worry. Ms. Shen is quite knowledgeable about art. She invested in this project because of her love for art; just treat her as a painter coming to gather inspiration."

These words only made Han Yu more uneasy. He couldn't help but picture a rich girl who needed to be carefully waited on and knew nothing about the hardships of the wilderness, and he worried that this rare donation would be wasted if she became unwell.

Several days later, when Zhiwei appeared at the camp, Han Yu was walking quickly out of the dimly lit cave.

Under the scorching sun of the Gobi Desert, he saw a woman in a white linen shirt and khaki pants gracefully leap from an off-road vehicle, her beautifully shaped chin peeking out from beneath a wide-brimmed fisherman's hat. Standing in this vast expanse of land, her figure as upright as a desert poplar, she blended miraculously into the rugged environment.

"Dr. Han?" Zhiwei took off her hat, revealing a beautiful and ethereal face, and extended her hand. "I am Shen Zhiwei."

Han Yu stood there stunned for a long time before he reacted. He quickly shook hands with her and said, "Miss Chen, you must be tired from your journey!" He couldn't utter a single polite word that he had prepared.

"Just call me Zhiwei." Her tone was calm, but her gaze was already fixed on the direction of the grotto. "I heard the style of these murals is quite unique?"

"Yes, it's very unique." Han Yu led her towards the grotto, explaining the progress of the excavation as he went.

As the faint light of a flashlight shone, like a spotlight in the darkness, the mottled murals appeared in the dim light. Zhiwei let out a soft "Ah." She unconsciously moved closer to the wall, her fingertips tracing the smooth, flowing lines: "The rhythm of these lines… and the way the figures' faces are depicted, are truly unprecedented."

Her casual observations surprisingly coincided with the team's deductions derived from instrumental analysis. Han Yu, an archaeologist who spends his years dealing with excavation squares and data, seemed to have a new perspective opened up as he listened to her interpretation from the perspective of painting techniques.

"I never imagined you had such a deep understanding of ancient paintings," he exclaimed sincerely.

"It's just my intuition as a creator," Zhiwei smiled modestly, her gaze remaining fixed on the murals. "They deserve to be better protected."

The setting sun cast long shadows of the two figures onto the ancient rock face. Outside the cave, the wind whispered, while inside, a dialogue spanning millennia was quietly beginning.