Shang Yechu was taken aback; Sheng Wenzhi's statement wasn't entirely wrong.
"I guess so?" Shang Yechu asked hesitantly. "I designed a lot of actions, but before I could even perform them, she had already pulled me into the scene. Then I realized that the details I designed were very incompatible with her performance—out of place."
Sheng Wenzhi looked thoughtful, and after a while, she said, "When I'm writing novels, I sometimes encounter the same dilemma... Do you remember the time you rescued me from the lake?"
Shang Yechu nodded: "Of course I remember."
To be honest, Shang Yechu never asked Sheng Wenzhi why she jumped into the lake. Because she seemed like the kind of person with no will to live, it wouldn't be surprising if she wanted to die.
Sheng Wenzhi took the initiative to answer this question: "Actually, I wasn't thinking about suicide at the time, but I was in the same predicament as you."
"I was writing a novel at the time, which was about a person who had no will to live and chose to die. I spent ten days depicting his feelings before his death, and the more I wrote, the more redundant it became. But I was never satisfied with it."
"In a fit of frustration, I simply deleted all the stuff I had written."
Shang Yechu seemed to realize something: "And then you wanted to go to the lake and experience 'death' for yourself?"
Sheng Wenzhi did not deny it: "Actually, during that period, my life also fell into a period of scarcity. I felt that everything in the world was too boring. What will I leave behind when I finish writing? A pile of garbage that no one will care about in three to five years? What is the difference between living a long life and dying tomorrow? Such thoughts would pop into my mind from time to time."
"When I walked into that lake, I wasn't thinking about anything. It's like when you're bored and scrolling through your phone, you're unconsciously swiping the screen, but the content on the screen isn't actually going into your brain."
Shang Yechu paused for a moment: "What is death like?"
Sheng Wenzhi glanced at Shang Yechu and hesitated for a moment.
"Ye Zi, you know. The person I feel most guilty towards in this world is you."
This surprised Shang Yechu: "Why are you suddenly bringing this up? It has nothing to do with our conversation, does it?"
Sheng Wenzhi shook her head: "No, it's very relevant. There's a saying that before a person dies, a mental image flashes through their mind, containing the most important things in their life. Do you know what my mental image was at that moment?"
Shang Yechu remained silent, but gestured with her eyes for Sheng Wenzhi to continue.
“My revolving lantern contains neither you, nor my deceased parents, nor anyone else. It only contains my unfinished novel.” Sheng Wenzhi smiled self-deprecatingly. “I was thinking: ‘Ah, if I could live, I could definitely write a wonderful monologue before I die.’”
"It was at that moment that I realized that what I depended on for survival was my pen. Everything else was just the narration of this pen."
Sheng Wenzhi continued talking, and Shang Yechu didn't interrupt her, wanting to hear what else she had to say.
Sheng Wenzhi stared at Shang Yechu, taking in the dowdy clothes Shang Yechu was wearing for filming and the greasy lunchbox in her hands, and sighed softly.
"Ye Zi, I know you won't mind this, that's why I'm saying all this."
"Everyone inevitably has something that is most important to them, and all their actions revolve around this thing. For me, my most important thing is writing. I jumped into the lake to write about the feeling of death; I helped you to make up for the foolish things I did back then, to find some peace of mind, so that I can write better in the future..."
"Stop, stop, stop," Shang Yechu was completely bewildered by Sheng Wenzhi's rambling. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
Sheng Wenzhi's pretentious, artsy tendencies kicked in again. She never spoke directly, always going around in circles, which, combined with the cawing of crows in Shang Yechu's mind, gave people a headache.
Sheng Wenzhi gave Shang Yechu a deep look and had to be more explicit: "What I mean is, I'm nice to you not because you're important to me, but because you're an obstacle, a 'demon' in my heart—only by being nice to you can I avoid being tormented by my conscience and prevent it from interfering with what I truly want to do."
I'm nice to you not because you're important to me, but because... only by being nice to you can I avoid interfering with what I really want to do...
Like a flash of white lightning suddenly slicing across the dark night sky, Shang Yechu loosened her grip, and with a thud, the lunchbox in her hand fell to the ground, landing squarely on Sheng Wenzhi's shoes!
Sheng Wenzhi, who has obsessive-compulsive disorder about cleanliness, almost immediately jumped up, frowned as she looked at her feet, her face grim: "Ye—never mind, is there a restroom here?"
Shang Yechu patted Sheng Wenzhi on the shoulder excitedly: "Thank you! I understand! -- There's no restroom here, only a dry toilet. Go and take care of it yourself. I have something to do, I'll be going now."
With that, Shang Yechu left in a hurry, not even bothering to look at Sheng Wenzhi's expression.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
