Exploded
The rainstorm had just passed, and the wind off the river brought a chill. Yunheng squatted in the vegetable patch, pulling weeds. His fingertips touched the moist earth, mingled with the scent of freshly applied organic fertilizer, a comforting warmth. The orange tree in the corner of the yard was laden with green and yellow fruit. Two ripe ones fell to the ground. Grandma picked them up, wiped them with her apron, and handed one to him: "Try it! It's the first crop this year, and it's very sweet."
Yunheng took a bite, the juices trickling down his chin. It was sweet with a hint of sourness, a stark resemblance to the present day—a mix of the bitterness of the past and the sweetness of the present. His phone vibrated on the stone table, the words "Azhe" dancing cheerfully on the screen. He frantically wiped the mud off his hands, then answered the call. The other party's voice nearly cracked the receiver.
"Yunheng! Check Weibo! The first six episodes are over, and I...I think I'm going to be famous!"
Azhe's voice was noticeably trembling. In the background, he could hear his team cheering and someone yelling, "We've booked a celebration party." Yunheng spat the orange core into her palm, walked to the shade under the bamboo trellis, and asked with a smile, "How popular is it? Are fans blocking your door?"
"It's not blocked, but it's trending! Look at the trending searches!" Azhe's voice became even more excited. "#Azhe's eye acting is amazing# #XD6th episode becomes a god# #Gu Yanchen (Azhe's character) crying scene# It's all on it! And the cut of my interaction with the male lead has been forwarded over a million times! My agent said that this number is even higher than the BL dramas that were popular at the same time!"
Yunheng opened Weibo and, sure enough, four of the top ten trending searches included the name "Azhe." Clicking on the hashtag #GuYanChenCryingScene#, the first result was a clip—Azhe, as Gu Yanchen, stood in the rain, watching the male lead's back as he left. He didn't cry out loud, but tears streamed down his face like beads from a broken string, his lips straining into a smile even uglier than a cry. Comments flooded the screen with comments like, "Amazing acting," "My heart aches," and "This is what it means to be patient and forbearing."
He recalled the time when Ah Zhe came here, sitting cross-legged on a bamboo chair, flipping through the script. At that time, the other party pointed to this scene and said, "You can't really cry here. You have to make the audience feel more uncomfortable than crying." Now it seems that Ah Zhe has achieved this, and done it well.
"Congratulations," Yun Heng leaned against the bamboo pole, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the rough bamboo joints, "It's more powerful than I expected."
"What do you mean by 'better than you expected?'" Ah Zhe scolded from the other end with a laugh. "I actually spent three long nights shooting to polish out that rain scene! But seriously, I have to thank you. The film crew originally asked me to add a kissing scene, saying, 'Dangai dramas need to have some sweetness,' but it was you who said, 'Leaving some blank space makes it more touching,' so I bit the bullet and argued with the director, changing the kissing scene to this back-to-back scene. Look at it now, #Gu Yanchen's Forbearance# is trending!"
Yunheng was stunned for a moment before she remembered what had happened. At the time, Azhe had been agonizing over the director's words on WeChat, saying they felt the film wasn't sweet enough and wanted to add an intimate scene. It was he who had casually suggested, "Sometimes what's unspoken is more moving than what's spoken." Unexpectedly, Azhe had listened and actually convinced the director.
"You acted well yourself," Yun Heng said. "If you changed someone else, even if there were blanks, it would be useless."
"That's also thanks to a 'military advisor' like you." Ah Zhe's voice softened, a touch of emotion in his voice. "Honestly, every time I chat with you, I feel at ease. You don't know how impetuous this industry is. Everyone is vying for attention and hyping up couples. Sometimes I almost forget why I filmed in the first place."
Yun Heng watched the cargo ships sail by on the river. The muffled blast of their horns drifted in, like distant memories from the past. He recalled the days of training camp, when the two of them huddled in the lower bunk of a twelve-person room, reading scripts by the light of a desk lamp. Azhe had said he wanted to play "a memorable role" and write "songs that would touch people's hearts." Later, he was swept up in Yu Xiao's capital and nearly lost sight of his original aspirations. Fortunately, Azhe never strayed from his path.
"What are you going to do next?" Yun Heng asked, "Take the endorsement while the going gets tough?"
"I've accepted two, both for brands I use myself," Azhe said. "The team wanted me to add a business livestream, but I turned it down. Updates are suspended this week, and I'd like to spend two days with you, just two days! Eat the loofahs you grow and listen to you play guitar, okay?"
Yun Heng smiled. "What's wrong with that? Grandma was still talking about you yesterday, saying, 'Why hasn't Xiaozhe come yet? The oranges are almost going bad.'"
"Really?!" Ah Zhe's voice brightened. "Then I'll go tomorrow! Oh, and I brought you something. Last time I was filming on location, I saw a guitar pick made by an old carpenter. It had wheat carved on it. I thought you'd like it."
Yun Heng's heart moved, and her fingertips clenched the phone: "Thanks."
"Why are you being so polite to me?" Azhe paused and suddenly lowered his voice. "By the way, there's something... I might need to tell you."
"Um?"
"After I broke the news, some reporters dug up my story and brought you into the spotlight as well," Ah Zhe said cautiously. "#YunhengAzheFriends# trended for a while, but I had my team suppress it, so it didn't become a big deal. You... weren't affected, were you?"
Yun Heng paused for a moment, then opened his Weibo account. Indeed, there had been a surge in private messages, mostly asking questions like, "Are you Azhe's friend?" and "Can you tell me what Azhe is like in private?" There wasn't any malicious intent. He recalled his initial panic when he'd just retired from the entertainment industry, fearing any slight movement would attract prying eyes. But now, looking at these messages, he felt surprisingly unmoved.
"It's all right," he said. "It's all over."
"That's good." Azhe breathed a sigh of relief, "I just didn't want to disturb your current life."
After hanging up the phone, Yunheng sat on a stone bench, peeling the remaining orange and putting each slice into his mouth. The sweetness spread, flowing down his throat and warming his heart. Grandma came out with a winnowing basket to dry the beans, looked at him and smiled: "Are you talking to Xiaozhe on the phone? This child, just hearing his voice is festive."
"Well, he will come tomorrow." Yun Heng said.
"Then I'll get up early tomorrow and buy an old hen to make soup," Grandma said with a smile, "and pick some vegetables from the yard for him to try."
The setting sun dyed the river a golden red, and the cargo ship's shadow stretched across the water like an unbroken line. Yun Heng looked at the newly sprouted radish seedlings in the vegetable patch and suddenly realized that some relationships are like these seedlings: they don't need daily watering or constant care. As long as the roots are there, they will eventually flourish.
He got up and went back to the house, picked up his guitar, and sat under the orange tree to play the unfinished "Orange Tree Ballad." The sound of the vibrating strings mixed with the river breeze, drifting through the alleys of white walls and black tiles and far away. His phone lit up on the stone table. It was a photo Azhe had sent—a guitar pick made of ox horn, with a tiny wheat grain carved into it, the ears bent so that they seemed to be nodding.
Yunheng set the photo as the screensaver and tapped the screen lightly with her fingertips, as if saying hello to her past self.
It turns out that leaving is not losing, and letting go is not forgetting. Just like Ah Zhe kept his original intention in the bustling entertainment industry, he found himself in the quiet little town. They are all on their own tracks, slowly becoming the people they want to be.
As for those regrets that have not been expressed and those roads that have not been completed, leave them to time.
After all, good days are yet to come.
That night, Yunheng had a dream. He dreamed of the training camp dormitory. He and Azhe sat on the bed, singing by the lamp. The moonlight outside the window fell on the guitar, like a layer of scattered silver. Azhe said, "When I become famous, I will invest in you so that you can write songs in peace." He smiled and said, "Okay, then I will write a song called 'Azhe's Explosion to Fame'."
When he woke, it was barely dawn, the fog still thick over the river. Yunheng touched his phone beside his pillow. The date was visible on the screen—one day until Azhe's arrival. He rolled over, a smile on his face, and fell back into a deep sleep.
This time, there was no cold sea water in the dream, only golden wheat fields and the clear singing of young people.
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