At 7:50 in the evening, Ouyang Guang stood at the door of the performance classroom and took three deep breaths before pushing the door open.
There were already a dozen or so trainees from the acting department sitting in the classroom, and when they saw him come in, a few girls started to whisper to each other. Goatee-bearded Che Zhenyu was sitting in front of the podium, flipping through a thick notebook.
"Ah, here comes our blond prince." The goatee raised his head, his signature beard twitching as he spoke, "Are you ready to unleash your beast today?"
The classroom erupted in laughter. Ouyangguang walked to his seat expressionlessly - the corner of the last row. He had long since learned to ignore the teasing.
"Today we are going to practice expressing extreme sadness." Goatee stood up and clapped his hands. "Remember, acting is not about making expressions, but about making the audience believe that you really feel that emotion!"
"You!" Goatee suddenly pointed at Ouyang Guang, "Come up and show me how to do it."
Ouyang Guang froze in place. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, and those eyes were as hot as spotlights.
Ouyang Guang's fingertips felt slightly numb. He stood up slowly, and the wooden chair legs made a harsh sound as they rubbed against the floor.
The few steps I took toward the podium were like walking on cotton wool, and the air around me became sticky and heavy.
He could clearly hear the pulsating sound of the blood vessels in his temples—boom, boom, boom—like some ominous countdown.
"Come, stand under the light." Che Zhenyu pointed to the center of the podium where the overhead light shined directly, his beard trembling as he spoke. "Today we are going to explore sadness - the kind of sadness that rips your heart apart and makes you breathless."
Ouyang Guang moved mechanically to the designated position. The glaring light forced him to squint slightly.
The heating in the classroom seemed to be turned on too high. Beads of sweat oozed out of the back of his neck, but his fingers were as cold as iron.
"Imagine," Che Zhenyu's voice suddenly lowered, with a hypnotic rhythm, "the most important person in your life...left you forever."
The air conditioner made a slight humming sound in the hot and humid night after the rain. Ouyang Guang stood in the middle of the practice room, and his hand unconsciously touched the jade Guanyin on his neck that he had worn since he was a child.
Teacher Che Zhenyu's question plunged the entire room into a strange silence.
Ouyang Guang stood under the spotlight, his throat tightened. Che Zhenyu's words were like a stone thrown into a calm lake, but they did not stir up any ripples. The most important person...left forever? This assumption was too far away for him, as far away as a story from another world.
He blinked, trying to search for a trace of sadness in his memory - his parents were loving and his family was harmonious; his grandparents were healthy; his sisters and brothers were cute and obedient; his family members, brothers and sisters gathered together every holiday and had a good time; he had always had a good relationship with his childhood friends...
"I..." Ouyang Guang opened his mouth, his voice as dry as the wind in the desert, "I didn't..."
There were a few snickers in the classroom. He could feel those eyes piercing his back like needles - look, even sadness had to be made up for a rich young master.
Che Zhenyu frowned, his goatee trembling slightly: "Everyone has a past in life, think about it again."
Ouyang Guang closed his eyes, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.
He recalled that when he called home last week, his mother smiled and said that his father went to his grandparents' house to pick up his brothers and sisters and was reluctant to come back;
I remembered Chen Zheng, He Ziqi and He Zilin complaining in the QQ group that he had abandoned them all by himself; saying that he would definitely go back to see them when he had a holiday;
I even think of my teachers and classmates since I was a child...
"I'm sorry, teacher." He opened his eyes, his voice as calm as a pool of dead water, "I... can't imagine it."
The other trainees in the acting department in the practice room all watched him with bated breath. This trainee who had just come from Country Z not long ago had already become famous in the company because of his outstanding appearance, temperament and blonde hair.
Che Zhenyu pushed up his frameless glasses, and his goatee trembled slightly as he spoke: "Ouyang Guang, your life has been too smooth, right?"
Ouyang Guang shook his head, his bangs swaying slightly with the movement: "No, teacher. It's just..." He paused, organizing the Korean words, "My parents are only in their thirties, and my grandparents and grandfather are also..."
A few chuckles were heard in the classroom.
"What about your grandma?" a girl in the back row suddenly asked.
Ouyang Guang's eyes flickered: "Grandma...when I was a child..."
His voice gradually became lower.
His eyelashes cast tiny shadows under the light. He tried to recall an earlier memory - his grandmother passed away when he was a child, but all he remembered from his childhood were endless illnesses, endless injections, and bowls of bitter Chinese medicine that made him frown.
I have almost no memory of my grandmother's passing, except for the regret in the adults' tone when they occasionally mentioned it later.
Ouyangguang closed his eyes, beads of sweat oozing from his forehead. He thought of his grandmother, the gentle figure he had only seen in photo albums. His mother would occasionally mention that his grandmother loved to hold him in her lap and sing lullabies to him.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that Che Zhenyu's expression had softened a little. The classroom also became quiet, and those mocking looks turned into complicated gazes.
"Then let's start from here." Che Zhenyu's voice was unexpectedly gentle, "Not because of the passing of your parents, but because... I have never truly had a family relationship before."
Ouyang Guang's fingertips trembled slightly. He tried to imagine - what would it be like if his grandmother was still alive? Maybe she would secretly give him change every time she came back home, just like grandma did; maybe she would secretly give him a candy when his mother said he was too lazy to practice piano; maybe... like in the photo album, a wrinkled hand would gently pat his back...
A strange sour feeling suddenly surged into his nose. It was not a heart-wrenching pain, but a lingering, vague feeling of loss. His brows unconsciously relaxed, but the corners of his mouth drooped slightly, not the kind of exaggerated grief, but a quiet regret.
There is a kind of trance-like softness in the eyes, as if looking through time at a hug that can never be achieved.
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