Drifting on a String - Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Mozhen was located next to Jiangcheng, an ancient water town forged by the misty rains of Jiangnan. With its blue bricks and gray tiles, and black-canopied boats drifting on the shimmering green water, the entire town seemed to rest within a traditional ink wash painting. It was originally a quiet place, but after cultural tourism capital moved in and developed it, its unique cultural landscape and geographical advantages turned it into a famous tourist destination known far and wide.

A few years ago, a highly respected figure in the theater circle took the lead in establishing a Theater Festival in Mozhen. It had now been running for seven or eight years, its scale considerable and in full swing.

Chen Piaopiao had never been, because it was always packed with people. Back when she was a student, she had come to Jiangcheng to see Tao Jin and mentioned wanting to visit Mozhen over the weekend. But after looking up some travel guides, she was scared to death by the shoulder-to-shoulder crowds.

The trip never happened back then, yet now, they were to reunite here.

It had to be said, fate had a sense of humor sometimes.

Fate also liked to teach lessons. For instance, Chen Piaopiao had already learned that the scenery looked different through the eyes of the wealthy. She didn't have to push through the teeming crowds of the scenic area. Instead, she took an executive car directly from the airport to the Theater Festival's staff-only entrance, and then a gently rocking black-canopied boat to Xilou.

"Xilou" was the collective term used by theater people for the festival area, which was not open to the public.

Thus, for the glamorous Chen Piaopiao, Mozhen was serene and timeless, filled with the sound of lapping water.

With a soft thud of wood, Chen Piaopiao was helped off the boat by her assistant. Beneath her large sunglasses was a fair, delicate face. She wore a single fishtail braid on one side and an asymmetrical, solid-colored linen dress that was also one-shouldered. The braid fell perfectly over her bare shoulder, like a stylish strap. She had on a pair of ankle boots, and her long, straight legs stood within them, seeming to glow.

Her outfit wasn't ostentatious, but it had an artistic quality that blended seamlessly with the ink-wash scenery. Her hair and makeup had been done in case any behind-the-scenes footage was shot today.

Li Yu had a family matter to attend to and would only be arriving in two days, so the company had assigned a junior assistant to her.

She was a recent graduate, dressed in a plain T-shirt and jeans with a backpack, and was quite cheerful. She liked to call her "Sister Piao."

"Sister Piao," the kid, not yet disciplined by experience into knowing when to keep quiet, was excited but trying not to show it. Clutching her backpack straps as she discreetly looked around, she said, "Director Sun's team sent a map. From here, the stage area is on the left, and on the right are a few connected guesthouses. The cafeteria is through the flowerbeds in the middle. Oh, and the conference room and rehearsal rooms are to the left of the cafeteria, next to the stage area. Do you want to look at the map again?"

People in the arts circle disliked formalism, valued freedom, and preferred a casual atmosphere, so no one was assigned to receive guests. Even when big shots arrived, they were expected to walk in on their own.

The young assistant spoke in a jumbled manner, but Chen Piaopiao was easy to talk to. She listened attentively, taking off her sunglasses to look at the production stills and posters on the wall.

Her gaze swept over them one by one. She didn't know what she was looking for, and figured it was impossible to find anyway.

But Chen Piaopiao's heart began to pound—thump, thump, thump.

She scanned from left to right, her breathing quickening. With her left hand behind her back, she squeezed her right arm and tilted her head up, taking two small steps as she looked at the stills. Then she scanned from right to left, and her breathing returned to normal.

Then she gave the young assistant a gentle smile. "Let's go to the conference room. They should be there."

Just as the rumors said, Chen Piaopiao was incredibly good to her team. Her gentle temper was like a spring breeze, and she never made troublesome requests. Whenever she had time, she would pour her own water, make her own tea, and pack her own luggage.

At a dinner last month, Director Sun and the business manager had exchanged a look. They explained it later, after mentioning the Producer. They said that Chen Piaopiao's disposition was very similar to the Producer's, only Chen Piaopiao was a bit younger. But the way they spoke, and even the curve of their smiles, were somewhat alike.

This was the first time since they had parted that Chen Piaopiao had heard such a complete piece of news about Tao Jin.

They hadn't deleted each other on WeChat, so she could still see the little whale on her Moments feed.

However, Tao Jin had always rarely posted on Moments. After she started working, her posts were all about her productions—a few posters for a new play, or some curtain call photos. Occasionally, there would be a team dinner, and she would post a picture of hands raising glasses at the table. Judging by the style, the photos were probably sent to her by her team.

So Chen Piaopiao didn't know what the grown-up Tao Jin looked like.

Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, Chen Piaopiao would pick up her phone and scroll through Weibo, clicking into her own dazzling homepage. Every promotional post came with photos—either costume photos, behind-the-scenes shots, or a nine-photo grid taken at the request of her fans. A person living in the spotlight was also a person with nowhere to hide; every side of her was exposed for all to see.

If someone wanted to see unflattering photos, they could even search for her hater-given nicknames.

So, on rare occasions, Chen Piaopiao would feel it was unfair.

It was as if she and Tao Jin were separated by a one-way mirror. Tao Jin could effortlessly find out what Chen Piaopiao looked like, what she was doing, and whether she was doing well or not. All she had to do was want to.

But Chen Piaopiao was blindfolded. Whether she wanted to or not, she couldn't see Tao Jin.

It was unfair. Otherwise, Chen Piaopiao wouldn't be this nervous.

"Oh my god," the young assistant beside her whispered in amazement as they walked down the corridor. "That person just now…"

"Hm?"

"That was Director Chen Ruoyuan's son. He was wearing a volunteer's uniform, looked like he was going to the cafeteria to get food."

The young assistant had worked on film sets before, so seeing celebrities or behind-the-scenes teams was nothing new to her. But the atmosphere here was different—more artistic, more egalitarian and relaxed. Everyone shed their useless halos. Status and popularity didn't matter; good acting was what gave you a voice.

Many artists came to Xilou without even bringing an assistant.

But that didn't mean this circle had no hierarchy.

Zhuang He hadn't come with Chen Piaopiao, but she had made a point of calling her before she left, tactfully reminding her that no matter what their past was, she should not offend Tao Jin.

This was a strange thing to say, because Zhuang He hadn't even told her not to offend Director Sun.

Zhuang He told her that after hearing they were university classmates, she had looked into it and found that Tao Jin was only twenty-six this year.

"Do you know what that means?" she had asked Chen Piaopiao.

In film and television, there's a division of labor between the producer and the director. The same collaboration exists in theater.

A theater Producer is similar to a film producer; they assemble the team, set up the project, and manage the crew, especially the finances, which involves costs, expenditures, and the production's revenue. The Director, on the other hand, rehearses the play and is responsible for the stage presentation.

One might ask who has more power, whose word is final. This is a very practical question.

Zhuang He said that when it came to authority, it varied from crew to crew. For example, Broadway is typically producer-centric, while in China, especially with a famous director like Director Sun, it's often director-centric. But that didn't mean the producer was in a weak position.

Director Sun is forty-eight this year. His Producer, Tao Jin, is twenty-six.

It's not uncommon to see young producers, but they have to work very hard to strike a balance with the director given their different roles. Otherwise, they can't hold their own against the director at all.

Therefore, Tao Jin either has a very powerful background and connections, able to secure funding to launch projects, or she is extremely capable.

Zhuang He left Chen Piaopiao to consider the rest herself.

To put it bluntly, since you parted on good terms, don't stir up trouble now. With this whole ex-girlfriend situation, it's best if you can still be friends when you meet.

Her thoughts came to a halt, as did her footsteps in the corridor.

Chen Piaopiao heard Tao Jin's voice.

It was so familiar that she recognized it instantly—a clear, slightly nasal tone. When she laughed, her very breath seemed alive.

She couldn't catch the specific content of the conversation, only that she was chatting with someone, and she was laughing.

Still so warm, so radiant. Just one look at her was like witnessing the entire spring.

Spring was so close to Chen Piaopiao, just around the corner of the hallway. One push of the door and she could say hello.

The young assistant gave no one time to hesitate. She bent down, turned the handle, and went in. Chen Piaopiao looked up. It wasn't the formal conference room she had imagined, where everyone would be sitting primly and turn in unison to look at her.

There was just a long wooden table. Sunlight streamed in, refracted by the water outside into fine ripples. Chairs were scattered about, with two people sitting and drinking water. At the front was a raised platform like a small stage, and Tao Jin was sitting there with a female colleague in her late twenties beside her. They were chatting with their heads turned toward each other, and Tao Jin was reaching out to tease the little dog in front of her.

It was snow-white, like a little furball.

She was still so beautiful, effortlessly so. She wore a form-fitting white short-sleeved T-shirt and wide-leg jeans, an outfit similar to what the volunteers were wearing.

Her hair was longer, falling below her collarbones in a slight wave, leaving gaps for the air that favored her.

It was magical how she still had the clean, fresh look of an upperclassman on campus.

The kind that could make your heart flutter at first sight.

She heard the noise and looked over, the curve of a lingering smile still on her lips. She ruffled the little dog's head, let it go, and smiled at Chen Piaopiao and her assistant. "Hello."

Thump, thump, thump. Chen Piaopiao was counting in her head.

Five, four, three, two, one.

It had been exactly five years since they first met.

Get instant access to all chapters now.

Previous Table of Contents Next