Chapter 2
At the show entrance, after saying goodbye to Zhou Ping'an and Dai Xiaoyi, Su Ying returned to her car, the windows slowly rolling up to block out the outside noise. She needed to report this to Xu Zhou immediately; this matter had the highest priority.
After the call was connected, Su Ying spoke concisely and respectfully:
"Mr. Xu, good afternoon. I've already met with Mr. Zhou, and the press conference went smoothly." She paused briefly and added key information, "It's a young model named Dai Xiaoyi, who Mr. Zhou introduced as 'a friend's sister.'"
On the other end of the phone, Xu Zhou's voice was filled with a hint of understanding, as if he wasn't surprised. "Well, thank you for your hard work. Is Mr. Zhou satisfied?"
"It seems so." Su Ying told the truth, and then proposed the next arrangements. "I plan to hold a banquet at 'Fu He Hui' tonight to welcome Mr. Zhou. What do you think...who else should we arrange to accompany him?"
She threw the question to Xu Zhou. This was Xu Zhou's guest, and it was proper courtesy and propriety to ask Xu Zhou questions.
Xu Zhou was silent for a moment on the other end of the line, a silence that betrayed deep thought. Then, his steady, insightful voice echoed, "I've met Zhou Ping'an before. He's a pure technical genius. Ordinary business dinners might be a burden for him."
"Let's arrange for someone from the technical department in Haicheng to accompany him. Someone who has experience in production practice and solving specific problems on the front lines. This way he'll feel more comfortable and we can also have some on-site discussions."
We asked them to prepare representative questions that demonstrate the depth of our technical thinking at Weihua. The key is to create an atmosphere where they can learn from experts and engage in sincere communication. Humility is paramount. Allowing young people to see the world is beneficial to their growth."
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The morning light of Haicheng filtered through the mist and fell on the windowsill of Dai Xiaoyi's rented apartment. She had gotten up early, or rather, she hadn't slept all night.
The phone screen lit up, displaying a message Zhou Pingan had sent an hour ago: "Are you free today?"
The text was concise, just like him. Dai Xiaoyi's finger hovered over the screen, not letting it fall. She clicked on the input box, typed a few words, deleted them, and finally placed the phone face down on the table.
She walked to the window, the chill of early winter seeping in through the glass. The sound of traffic on the street below gradually waking up brought her back to the dinner party last night that had left her feeling at a loss.
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She remembered how she sat quietly beside Zhou Ping'an, like an exquisite decoration.
In her ears was his conversation with those genius doctors about "," and every word was like an invisible wall, isolating her firmly from the outside.
She didn't understand and couldn't get a word in.
It wasn't as if Zhou Ping'an didn't care about her. He'd occasionally pause and ask quietly, "Is the food to your liking?" Or he'd quietly pass a dish she'd glanced at over to her.
He even tried to steer the conversation towards the fashion field, which might interest her, but the topic was quickly dragged back to the professional depths by those technical backbones.
Every time he showed consideration, in that context, it was more like a reminder—a reminder that she was an "outsider" who needed extra care. She tried to maintain a decent smile, but inside she felt an unprecedented exhaustion and insignificance.
She was not the one who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him in the center of light; she was just a beautiful burden beside him who needed his attention.
After the dinner, Zhou Pingan took her back to her apartment. The atmosphere in the car was depressing.
"Tired?" He noticed her silence and asked softly.
"Well, a little." She leaned against the car window, looking at the flowing neon lights outside the window without looking back.
The car stopped downstairs of her apartment building and Zhou Ping'an helped her open the door.
"Go to bed early," he said.
"You too." She nodded, without any intention of inviting him upstairs, turned around and walked quickly into the unit door.
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Dai Xiaoyi shook her head, trying to get rid of these scenes from her mind. She couldn't go on like this.
She took a deep breath, as if making up her mind, picked up her phone and dialed. "Ping An, my filming schedule is full today, let's make an appointment next time." Before she finished speaking, she quickly hung up the phone, as if she would regret it if she was a second late.
She thought that this would draw a clear line between them. However, Zhou Pingan still found the studio where she filmed through her agent Li Li.
At this moment, Dai Xiaoyi stood in front of the makeup mirror, looking at herself in the mirror with perfect makeup. Li Li came over and whispered, "Xiaoyi, Mr. Zhou is here and is waiting for you at the door."
She took a deep breath and walked out.
Zhou Ping'an was standing in the corridor outside the studio, wearing an old jacket that she had picked out for him. It was completely out of place with the fashionable and noisy surroundings.
Seeing her come out, he took two steps forward.
"Xiaoyi."
"I'm safe." Dai Xiaoyi stood in front of him, his tone calm and his distance deliberately maintained.
Zhou Pingan looked at her and was silent for a few seconds, as if he was considering his words: "You... have you had any problems recently?"
Dai Xiaoyi lowered his eyelids, staring at the tips of his canvas shoes. His voice was low but clear as a whisper, "Ping'an, thank you for coming to see me, and thank you for your phone. But I feel... we may really not be from the same world anymore."
She seemed to have practiced this sentence for a long time, and when she said it, she spoke with a sense of relief and determination.
Zhou Ping'an was stunned. He looked at her drooping, slightly trembling eyelashes and realized that this wasn't a fit of anger, but a conclusion she had carefully considered. He wanted to say something, but found that any promises about the future seemed pale and powerless at this moment.
He finally just sighed, his tone filled with deep helplessness and unchanged concern: "I understand."
He paused, looked her in the eyes very seriously, and said his final instructions of this trip: "Take care of yourself. Don't... don't let some opportunities hurt you."
Dai Xiaoyi's nose felt sore, and he quickly lowered his head and nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I know. You too."
She didn't look at him again, turned around and pushed open the heavy door of the studio, locking his gaze and the world that was beyond her reach behind her.
The heavy door blocked out the sounds from outside, but it couldn't block the dull pain in my heart.
Inside the door was her battlefield. She returned to the mirror and carefully touched up her makeup again, using foundation to cover the traces of tears under her eyes. The makeup-touching process was mechanical and familiar.
Her phone lay quietly on the sink, the pristine white "Navigator Edition" like a scorching block of ice. She wanted to use it, yet was afraid to do so. Ultimately, she stuffed it into her large carry-on bag, as if hiding an undeniable piece of evidence.
At this moment, Sister Li came back in, her voice filled with uncontrollable excitement. "Xiaoyi! Great news! Weihua is having a new product launch event. President Su's assistant just contacted me and specifically wants you to go! He said he thinks your temperament is a perfect match!"
Dai Xiaoyi's heart suddenly sank. Su Ying... The name instantly brought her back to that dinner party, back to the conversations she couldn't understand at all and Zhou Ping'an's profile, immersed in them.
"Sister Li..." She subconsciously wanted to refuse.
"Silly girl! This is Weihua! An opportunity so many people would fight tooth and nail to get!" Li Li interrupted her, her tone unquestionable, "I've already agreed for you. I'll send you the time and place, so get ready!"
Dai Xiaoyi looked at herself in the mirror with her exquisite makeup and suddenly felt a little ridiculous.
She thought she could escape that world, but the tentacles of that world so easily entangled her again. Was it a gift, or a silent reminder that she must accept?
She took a deep breath, picked up her bag, opened the dressing room door and walked out.
Her battlefield now is in front of the camera, not in those equations that she will never understand.
She must, and can only, walk the path that lies ahead of her.
She is a model named Dai Xiaoyi.
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Zhou Ping'an watched the flimsy door close before him, completely isolating Dai Xiaoyi from the clamor of the studio. He didn't leave immediately. He simply stood there, like a frozen statue, his gaze fixed on the empty door panel for a long time without moving.
After a long while, he turned around wearily, as if all his strength had been drained away. He walked aimlessly along the street for a while, and finally sat down on an inconspicuous step by the roadside.
After a long pause, he instinctively pulled out his phone, unlocked the screen, and instinctively tapped the blue ticketing app. The interface popped up, with the departure station "Haicheng," the destination "Rongcheng," and the date "Today."
His thumb mechanically slid up and down the screen, watching the time of different trains change, G1234, D5678... but the information did not seem to enter his brain.
He was just repeating this action, as if through this meaningless operation, he could find a temporary anchor for his chaotic thoughts.
Finally, he exited the ticket purchase interface without selecting a bus. The screen went dark, revealing his bewildered face.
The afternoon sun was hotter than he'd imagined, and it felt unreal and scorching on him. He walked aimlessly along the sidewalk, his steps lacking a clear direction, passively following the flow of people.
The dazzling array of goods in the windows and the performances of the street artists seemed to be separated by a transparent barrier, unable to truly touch his senses. He was like a bystander wandering outside the city.
Before he knew it, he'd turned into a large shopping mall. The cool air of the air conditioner instantly enveloped him, dispelling the sweltering heat outside and clearing his mind for a moment, but it was followed by a deeper sense of lethargy. He took the escalator slowly upward, his eyes aimlessly scanning the floors of shops.
Just as the escalator was about to reach the top floor, a huge movie poster suddenly caught his eye. On it, Liu Yifan wore a charming smile, a fresh campus uniform, and a dreamy cherry blossom rain was set against the backdrop. He knew that face all too well, a memory he'd hidden beneath his books and taped to the wall above his bed during his college years.
He paused, not because his eyes lit up, but because he was pulled by a habitual force from the past. He just stood there, looking up at the poster of Liu Yifan's unchanging smile. There was no surprise in his eyes, only a kind of numbness.
His thoughts drifted back to his youthful self many years ago. In that moment of trance, a single thought crystallized, like a reflection in water: Dai Xiaoyi and Liu Yifan were, in fact, the same. They had become the evidence he stored in his memory, proof that he, too, had once been young, ordinary, and alive.
Thinking of this, a huge feeling of exhaustion swept over him. He suddenly realized with great clarity that the person standing here was not the so-called technical genius Mr. Zhou, nor was he the billionaire CEO Mr. Zhou, but just an ordinary person, Zhou Ping'an.
Below the poster, the film's title and showtime information scrolled. The next show was in fifteen minutes.
As if possessed by some mysterious force, he walked to the ticket office and, with almost mechanical movements, bought his ticket, choosing the middle seat. He barely spoke during the entire process, as if he were completing a task unrelated to him.
He checked his ticket and entered the dimly lit theater. A commercial was playing on the screen, and the light flickered. His seat was excellent, offering a wide view, but this also made it all the more apparent how deserted the theater was. Only a handful of people were there, mostly couples, cuddling in corner seats, whispering quietly.
He walked alone to the middle row and sat down. The soft seat enveloped him, and the quiet chatter of couples around him only made his solitary figure stand out more clearly.
He didn't feel embarrassed, just a huge, cold loneliness, like the cold air in the theater, silently seeping in. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for the movie to start, waiting for the light and shadow on the big screen to take him back to a past that might be equally false, but at least familiar.
The lights dimmed completely and the movie began.
As boisterous pop music plays, the young and beautiful hero and heroine meet under an aesthetic filter. Carefully choreographed misunderstandings, coincidences, and sweet interactions flow across the big screen.
The heroine played by Liu Yifan is flawless from every angle. The arc of her smile is precisely calculated, but in close-up shots, she reveals a kind of stylized emptiness.
Zhou Ping'an sat quietly, like a cold sculpture.
At first, he tried to immerse himself in it, just like he did in college, simply appreciating this illusory beauty.
But soon, a strong sense of discomfort began to grow. His brain, accustomed to analyzing underlying logic and structural efficiency, began to uncontrollably deconstruct everything in front of him:
The protagonist's business plan is full of loopholes and is like a child's play.
The key plot twists rely on a series of low-probability coincidences and are extremely fragile.
The character's emotional transformation is completely unprepared, like a chess piece being forcibly moved by the script.
Even the so-called "luxurious" sets and props seemed cheap and perfunctory in his eyes.
This was no longer appreciation, but torture. He was struck by the same instinctive rejection and physical discomfort of "shoddy craftsmanship" that one experiences when seeing clumsy code or crude industrial design.
The aura of Liu Yifan that had been beautified by time in his memory was completely consumed in this formulaic product.
This "roughness" resonates strangely with what Dai Xiaoyi said, "It's not a world."
It seems that the "beautiful" things he thought of as places where he could place his emotions, whether they were old loves in reality or idols in his memories, were full of this vulnerable falsehood and roughness.
The frustration is no longer due to the disappointment caused by the "fall" of idols, but a deeper kind of boredom and despair about "why everything in the world is always so rough and imperfect."
At this moment, the film cuts to a stilted luxury goods product placement shot. The male protagonist hands a watch gleaming with a cold metallic luster to the female protagonist, and the lines are pretentiously emphasized as "timeless quality and craftsmanship."
This deliberately created picture was like an untimely bolt of lightning, suddenly splitting Zhou Ping'an's confused thoughts.
“Ingenuity…”
This word precisely struck a chord with him, a tech creator. Like a bamboo shoot sprouting from the ground, an unprecedented, almost insane idea sprouted within him, fervently growing with undeniable force:
If this world is filled with perfunctory and shoddy workmanship, if even the beauty in our memories is destined to fade and deteriorate, then taking the initiative to create and solidify an ultimate beauty, regardless of cost or return, just to fight against time and entropy increase - isn't this the ultimate beauty in the world?
He wanted to create an unparalleled aesthetic masterpiece for the idol in his memory, Liu Yifan, who represented the symbol of youth.
It's not some crude, industrial saccharine, but a true work of art. He's going to assemble the best team, use the most extreme visual language, and tailor a world of light and shadow just for her.
He wanted her beauty to be captured forever in the best possible shot and with the most perfect posture.
This has nothing to do with box office sales or even the reviews of others. It's all about his personal obsession—he wants to personally build an immortal monument to his fading youth.
The overwhelming impact of this thought instantly dispelled all the confusion and emptiness in his heart. A long-lost passion and determination that belonged to a creator returned to his eyes.
He didn't wait until the movie was over.
As the couples around him chuckled at the clichéd plot, he suddenly stood up and left his seat without looking back, completely leaving behind the noise on the screen and the whispers around him.
The light outside the theater was bright and calm. He stood in the empty corridor, his heart filled with a quiet yet crazy power.
The idea was so clear and strong that he needed to communicate with people face to face, see their expressions, and use a more ritualistic way to start all this.
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