Logically, there wasn’t much time left.
But they spent the entire morning looking for a house.
As Pei Ruye put it, this was “to find an anchor in life and to plant enough sense of belonging in your subconscious.”
Huo Ren was noncommittal, but he sincerely appreciated how well he understood his own stubbornness and difficulty in expressing himself.
Having an insightful fiancรฉ greatly improved the quality of life.
Living in an overly luxurious hilltop villa was not suitable; it was too open, lonely, and windy, not fitting the characteristics of a wolf’s den.
Likewise, a large flat in the CBD of skyscrapers was also inappropriate.
It was too far from natural surroundings, waking up to the hustle and bustle of fame and traffic was not conducive to mental health recovery.
After much consideration, they chose a small villa at the edge of the city and suburbs.
There was a large residential area nearby, and it wasn’t far to the beach and park.
Beyond the backyard fence was an evergreen forest, and the housekeeper mentioned that foxes and deer often roamed nearby.
The roof would be bright red, and the fence and exterior walls painted pure white, preferably with some flowers grown around.
Pei Ruye instructed the housekeeper to install cat flaps on all doors.
In the afternoon, they spent some time finalizing the decoration scheme and interior colors, then drove around to buy various items on a whim.
โThis return to the country would last at least a year, and upon returning here, it would truly be the moment of conclusion.
The newlywed house indeed needed some time for decoration and ventilation, which was quite suitable.
The market was filled with the unique scent of spices characteristic of Gypsies, and some vendors were casually chatting in Spanish while holding cats and dogs, with Asian tourists mostly taking photos around.
Pei Ruye handed him a pure white deer leather wallet, with a rose in sterling silver embedded at the opening.
Huo Ren blinked and took the wallet to get off the car and buy miscellaneous items.
He hadn’t touched paper money in many years.
The life of an idol and the ordinary world felt split, as if living in a parallel universe as a floating entity.
Opportunities to walk were rare, with people attending to him hand and foot for drinking and eating, and purchasing anything only required a casual command, rarely even needing to swipe a card himself.
He suddenly realized why Pei Ruye brought him to this place.
Negotiating prices with small vendors, counting paper bills and coins, picking some ceramic vases and wind chimes that didn’t actually have much use.
All the trivialities brought a sense of healing.
“Psychologists, both domestic and international, have similar suggestions.”
Pei Ruye stood beside him with his hands in his pockets, watching a woman in the distance nagging as she bought another sky-blue hydrogen balloon for her child.
“Vegetable markets, supermarkets, school playgrounds… Experiencing the simple and plain life more often is beneficial to mental and physical health.”
It awakens the self-isolated soul with the warmth of human life.
Huo Ren took a handful of coins and walked out with a bunch of geraniums.
At this moment, standing among the crowd, the world was bright and bustling around him.
No need to fear, no need to always be aware of cameras, and even yawning or rubbing his nose publicly wouldn’t result in reprimand or warning.
It was like a white wolf finally escaping from its distorted cage.
Before returning to that world, he needed to reconfirm what it meant to truly live.
Only then, upon his return, he would not be trapped again.
On the drive back, a call came from a maid at the old house.
“Mr. Huo, a guest named Jiang Jue is waiting for you.”
Huo Ren didn’t think twice before stepping on the gas pedal.
“Take it easy.” The man tightened his seatbelt and glanced at him: “The traffic police here are not easygoing.”
When Chi Ji had his accident, Jiang Jue was in the United States accompanying his mother for a post-car accident surgery, and by the time he rushed back, the funeral was almost over.
Huo Ren only lasted until the end of the funeral, and during the burial, that silent young man stayed by the coffin’s side the whole time, not leaving Chi Ji’s grave until late into the night.
Now, as time flew to 2018, “Xian Hua” was finally completed and successfully released, and Jiang Jue, through Director Chen Chen’s “Wild House,” won the Saturn Award in the United States, becoming a well-known young actor domestically, now openly in a relationship with Qi Lin.
No one thought the word “time” could write such a long story.
Before the car even stopped properly, Huo Ren hurriedly left the driver’s seat and quickly walked to the living room.
Jiang Jue was sitting there drinking tea.
As a junior, although he hadn’t graduated from college this year, he was also polished by life to be gentle and stable.
“I’m sorry.” Huo Ren’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, and he couldn’t even sit down in front of him.
“Brother Ren.” Jiang Jue shook his head slightly: “This is not your fault, and we all know the reason you returned to the country.”
Jiang Jue was an actor, whose main job was immersing himself in characters and acting in drama groups, not forced to participate in any fan activities, nor did he have fans competing to battle over how many international endorsements or magazine covers he had.
An actor is just that, an actor, for whom entering and exiting a role constitutes their entire life.
But Huo Ren is an idol. The moment he steps back into that torrent, he must face even more intense conflicts and chaos.
If given the choice, most people would distance themselves from such strife after achieving fame and fortune, embarking on a new phase of life that truly belongs to them.
“Brother Ren, please have a seat.”
Jiang Jue politely stood up to greet Pei Ruye, then continued his conversation with Huo Ren.
He spoke simply, without using unnecessary small talk to dilute the suddenly heavy atmosphere.
“Qi Lin told me everything about ‘The Chosen by God,'” he said gently. “If the flying guest needs performance-related guidance, I can make time in my schedule at any moment.”
“Besides, this time I also came on behalf of Qi Lin to meet you.”
Huo Ren was momentarily puzzled and asked, “How has he been lately?”
“He’s filming in a small mountain village.” Jiang Jue chuckled. “He dyed his hair yellow, Aunt Wu said he looks like a social youth… but the filming is almost wrapped up.”
Nowadays, Qi Lin is the face of SPF, a rare talent among crossover artists.
He became famous at a young age, breaking into the top ranks at sixteen with his outstanding singing and songwriting skills. After college, he successfully transitioned to a trained actor, delivering a series of smash hits like “The Mermaid’s Song” and “Xian Hua.”
“You need a comeback with a strong chance of success.” Jiang Jue looked into Huo Ren’s eyes. “And Qi Lin… is just about to prepare for his concert.”
Huo Ren’s right hand tightened on the back of the chair, his nerves taut once again.
They had both been in the entertainment industry for too long, understanding what this meant.
Now, with Qi Lin being a top-tier artist, using him as a springboard to announce Huo Ren’s return to the country would mean handing over the massive exposure of both the film and music industries on a silver platter.
Traffic is the most expensive gift in this new era.
The concert was meant to be Qi Lin’s moment to shine, but if this choice was made, it would entirely be a setup for Huo Ren.
Years ago, when Corona was still a trainee, they guest-starred at Qi Lin’s concert as supporting acts.
Despite his young age, Qi Lin, having debuted early, could handle being called a senior.
โBack then, Xie Lianyun was so upset about it that he rolled around in the living room.
Later, Corona and Qi Lin went their separate ways but maintained a friendly relationship, often cueing each other and making guest appearances in each other’s performances.
But this time was different.
This time, it was a long-planned publicity stunt.
To explode the internet, to capture everyone’s attention.
With a concert grand enough to dazzle, they would tell the world in the most profound and stunning way that Huo Ren was back.
He was back on his own.
“I’ll do it,” Huo Ren answered gravely.
When he spoke again, there was no trace of a smile, like a marshal accepting a battle command at that moment: “I owe this favor.”
Jiang Jue then stood up to leave, checking on his mental state with some concern, bidding farewell warmly.
“No need to rush to repay.”
The private plane’s departure was rescheduled for late tonight, secretly returning to the country, then heading to Shi Du Sports Stadium to prepare for this year’s first performance.
From one in the afternoon to eight at night, Huo Ren immersed himself in the recording studio, single-handedly completing the entire creation of the song demos.
In the past, when he wrote songs, he was surrounded by many people.
Chi Ji would sing harmony beside the piano, Xie Lianyun would play the violin, tilting his head in accompaniment.
Brother Long would help polish the lyrics, Bo Jue would sit in front of the piano guiding his performance.
After the demo was completed, Mei Shengyao would check everything like a class leader, then sit in front of the computer arranging and editing all night long.
Now, sitting in front of the piano again, he was alone.
Every note written on the staff felt as if shadows of mist were rising beside him.
He suddenly realized that over the years, he had unknowingly learned too much.
When he first joined SPF, aside from gymnastics and the song “Better to Forget,” he knew nothing.
It was Bo Jue who taught him how to play the piano.
Classical music, black and white keys, from Thompson’s “Princess Waltz” to Liszt’s “La Campanella.”
It was Long Jia who taught him how to build physical strength and explosive power.
His body, once so thin that his ribs were visible, gradually developed muscles and lines, making two hours of singing and dancing no longer a challenge.
It was Xie Lianyun who taught him how to compose and write songs.
CUBASE, NUENDO, pop, jazz, country…
Every day, every year, sparing no time, sparing no instruction.
It was Mei Shengyao who taught him how to arrange music and choreograph dances.
“Gem’s Glow,” “Absurd Feeling,” “Only Leaving,” “Peach Soda,” “Role Playing.”
Every album was a final masterpiece polished and honed in countless late nights alongside Mei Shengyao.
Unknowingly, he had become a combination of all six of them.
His beloved family had already bestowed upon him the most fervent light of their souls.
Without reservation.
The moment the piano sounded, Huo Ren finally began to sing again.
He had always struggled to express his emotions.
But now, he should have learned how.
“Your sense of pitch is very good.”
The fifteen-year-old boy’s smile was very soft.
“But why, when you sing, do you place yourself in the position of an observer?”
Because I am afraid.
I’ve encountered too much hardship and wanted to hide all my emotions.
Not to show them, not to let others know.
“Singing is a form of expression.”
“My teacher said, ‘A song without resonance is dead upon its birth.'”
Chi Chi, if I’ve only learned to express now, can you still hear me?
He opened his eyes, letting his tears flow with the song and piano.
“It’s you who are expressing, not speaking on behalf of someone else.”
“Singing should be emotional.”
The piano’s notes ebbed and flowed, leaping from the song he wrote to a far-off world, as if carrying memories forward.
Warm tears wetted the tattoo, the little boat from the wrist line to the life line was still clear.
He inexplicably remembered the day Chi Ji was drugged, curled up in the bathtub, letting himself hold him as he sang intermittently.
“Just too unreal all this, watch the words fall from my lips.”
่ฟไธๅ้ฝๅคชไธ็ๅฎ๏ผๆๆๅญๅฅๅจไปๆๅ่พนๅ ่ฝใ
“Chi Chi, don’t sleep.”
“Keep singing.”
“Ohโฆ I’m gonna be wounded.”
โฆโฆๆๅฏ่ฝไผๅไผคใ
“I’m gonna be your woundโฆ”
ๆๅฐๆไธบไฝ ็ไผคๅฃโฆโฆ
“Brother Ren is here, Xiao Chi, don’t be afraid.”
“The other brothers are on their way too, we’ll all be with you.”
“Xiao Chi, don’t sleep, sing a few more lines.”
“I’m gonna bruise you,”
ๆๅฏ่ฝไผๅผ็ผไฝ ๏ผ
“You’re gonna be my bruiseโฆ”
ไฝ ๅฐไผๆไธบๆ็ๆทค็โฆโฆ
Pei Ruye stood silently outside the glass door, accompanying him through the darkest moment of his life.
Like a silent and gentle guardian deity outside the quenching furnace.