Drifting on a String - Chapter 60
Chapter 60
"If love died the moment it was confessed, it would be a premature death, and it would never have to face the ugliness of growing old and fat."
Chen Piaopiao was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. On the open script in front of her was this line.
At six in the afternoon, she was waiting for Zhuang He's call.
During this time, Li Yu asked if she wanted to eat. She said no. Li Yu ordered steamed sea bass for herself and ate it in the living room.
At 6:15, the phone rang.
"What did I tell you?" Chen Piaopiao had already guessed the opening line.
Zhuang He's tone wasn't angry. She even scratched her elbow as she spoke.
Emotional control was a basic skill for an agent. Even if the sky were falling, you couldn't lose your composure.
She had managed artists more difficult than Chen Piaopiao. Besides, Chen Piaopiao had always been easy to handle, so obedient that she almost thought she had no temper.
It was good to have a temper. It meant you had a brain, you had ambitions, and you knew how to climb up.
"I told you, don't offend the producer. If I remember correctly," Zhuang He lit up the screen of her other phone, counting the days, "you've only been on set for half a month."
Before Director Sun even arrived, she had already received a call from A'tian.
She said Chen Piaopiao and the producer had clashed on set. Tao Jin had thrown her script down in front of everyone and walked off. A'tian emphasized: This was the first time Tao Jin had ever lost her temper in her career.
"A'tian gave me a heads-up. Tao Jin probably wants to replace you."
Zhuang He rolled up her sleeves, folding the cuffs neatly. "She said many people on set saw it. Before Tao Jin left, she glanced at Teacher Wu. Teacher Wu thinks she probably wants the directing team to reconsider the choice for the female lead. But she hasn't spoken to Director Sun yet; she asked A'tian first."
After all, the contract went through her, and everyone knew Sister Tian was the one who recommended her.
Zhuang He's emphasis that many people on set saw it meant that Tao Jin's intention to replace her had probably been guessed over and over by everyone on the crew.
"So I want to hear your reason. Why did you have to clash with her?" Zhuang He never lost her temper with her artists. Her job was to help them build their personal brand, increase their commercial value, and solve problems. If a product has a flaw, does anyone get angry at the product? It's meaningless.
"I didn't clash with her," Chen Piaopiao said calmly, fiddling with the hem of her nightgown. "We were discussing the script. I offered my personal suggestion. On the first day, she said this was a devised theatre model, and everyone would be deeply involved in the creative process of the play."
"She said so." Chen Piaopiao ended with those three words.
Zhuang He laughed, a rather hurried sound. "You mean, Tao Jin said everyone on the crew could freely participate in creative discussions, so you did nothing wrong."
Chen Piaopiao didn't answer.
"But have you ever considered that the prerequisite is being 'part of the crew'?" Zhuang He pulled her hair to the side of her neck. "And whether or not you're part of the crew depends on a single word from her."
Chen Piaopiao released her pursed lips, making a faint popping sound.
What Zhuang He said was very realistic, and she said it lightly, because this wasn't a concept that needed to be explained. Everyone in the entertainment industry knows that this circle is divided into ranks. For those climbing up from the bottom, the first lesson is called "Recognizing the Hierarchy."
Back when she was an influencer, Chen Piaopiao came across a short-form drama that was casting. She sent her resume to the talent agent, but they didn't even bother to look at it, not even a reply. She later learned that the three standard photos—front, side, and back—were a basic requirement for self-submission. No one had taught her that.
Later, during the screening process, they first looked for academic qualifications from the three major academies, and second, for experience in horizontal-screen productions. Even those who filmed vertical-screen content looked down on vertical-screen productions.
"Do you know why A'tian helped me?" Zhuang He said in Cantonese, her voice very low.
Usually, when she was sharing more private information, or when she felt emotions might affect her professional judgment, she would use Cantonese to soften her tone.
"Back when she was in Hong Kong, she had a somewhat disgraceful experience. I was one of the few who knew about it. Later, she moved to Jiangcheng to develop her career and cut off contact with all her old friends."
Both sides knew that when Zhuang He came looking for her again, she wanted to cash in on an old favor—and a favor with some dirt attached.
This kind of connection could only be used once, and Zhuang He had used it on Chen Piaopiao.
"Putting my part in this aside, because of your empty schedule, the company has had no income from drama filming for at least half a year. Other exposure will also decrease, and we even turned down a regular spot on a year-end variety show."
"If you get replaced now, you'll have nothing."
Resources have to match schedules; you can't just take a job whenever you want. The enrollment period for acting classes is also over. Is Chen Piaopiao supposed to just sit at home?
Zhuang He said in a drawn-out voice, "You're not talking, which means you understand everything I've said."
Chen Piaopiao shifted her knees, her gaze unfocused as she stared at the surface of the bed.
About ten seconds later, she asked, "Then what should I do?"
Her voice was hoarse, like a little fox that had been thirsty for days.
This question seemed like a sign of weakness, but it was actually a fit of pique. Zhuang He understood her well. Chen Piaopiao always had her own ideas and would never ask others, "What should I do?"
"Are you asking me, or are you asking yourself?"
"If it were me, it would be simple. Bow your head, apologize. Can you do that?" Zhuang He said lightly. She picked up her other phone and replied to a message.
"To be frank, I wouldn't handle an ex-relationship the way you have. Even if it meant sleeping with her a few more times, I would make sure I got to stay."
Zhuang He was joking.
Chen Piaopiao lay on the bed like a fish deprived of oxygen but with no will to survive. Moonlight shone in, half of it caught by the bed, the other half falling to the floor. But no one would regretfully pick it up, because people do not lack for moonlight.
She remembered herself and Tao Jin in their university dorm, chatting from their opposite beds.
There was fallen moonlight then, too, which their younger selves didn't cherish, because they thought it would last forever.
Since entering the industry, she had rarely felt so helpless. Zhuang He's words were like a rusty saw; it felt numb as it was dragged back and forth, and only after a while did she feel the pain.
Zhuang He was using herself as an example, while also implying that Chen Piaopiao should bow her head. Bow her head to Tao Jin, or rather, to these resource holders they had to ask favors of.
This was undoubtedly the rule of the game in the world of fame and fortune, but the other person just had to be Tao Jin.
Chen Piaopiao said Tao Jin looked down on her, something she had proven to herself several years ago.
Back then, she wanted to earn money, so she became an influencer and did livestreams. Sometimes there would be rude comments in the chat. Chen Piaopiao would skillfully block or ignore them. After finishing a stream, she would scroll through Tao Jin's WeChat Moments.
A serene, high-class theater environment, professional reviews where every word was a gem, attending exhibitions, listening to concerts, meeting artists you only see in the news. She said a friend's art gallery was opening, and she attended, thinking about incorporating inspiration from oil paintings into the stage design for a play.
Chen Piaopiao didn't understand the paintings Tao Jin talked about, just as she hadn't understood the classic plays she'd cited on the first day.
It wasn't that she was unwilling to do her homework, nor that she lacked artistic taste. She was busy studying and earning money; she didn't have time to keep up with Tao Jin.
In her student days, she had been captivated by Tao Jin's sense of ease. Only after growing up did she realize that a person's tension and busyness aren't up to them. Most people are relaxed because money and their environment allow them to be.
Her sense of inferiority began to plague her from that time. For some, inferiority manifests as timidity, but for Chen Piaopiao, it manifested as intense self-esteem.
When she went to film short-form dramas, Tao Jin didn't approve either. She said Chen Piaopiao had a face that should be filled with stories, and that kind of short, flat, fast output would wear away her spiritual aura.
She always advised Chen Piaopiao to study diligently and not be impetuous.
After they started their long-distance relationship, Chen Piaopiao went to visit her, but Tao Jin didn't take her out to eat with her various friends like before. One time, they ran into a friend of hers at a hot pot restaurant. The friend worked in influencer incubation. Chen Piaopiao wanted to say that she was also a KOL and maybe they could chat, but Tao Jin's introduction was just, "Piaopiao studies at An University."
Chen Piaopiao understood then that Tao Jin felt her side job wasn't something to be proud of.
Now, the side job had become her main job, moving from unrated short-form dramas to third-rate web series—a completely different school from those who did stage acting. Tao Jin didn't show much, but her vote of disapproval, the casual attitude of her colleagues, and even the scene on stage that Chen Piaopiao herself couldn't handle, had already said it all.
Chen Piaopiao was a poor student. Among them, she always had been.
Today, she finally had a chance to argue her case and not have her scene cut, but Tao Jin had vetoed it without a word. And now her own agent was telling her to reconcile, to bow her head to her.
"If I were you, even if it meant sleeping with her a few more times, I would hold on to the job opportunity."
Was that line a joke? Maybe.
Chen Piaopiao fumbled for the small silk pouch on the headboard, took out what was inside, and parted the legs of the dying mermaid.
Like in the fairy tale, legs obtained in exchange for a voice, legs that walked on the tips of knives.
She remembered Tao Jin once saying she liked her freedom. But she wasn't free now. Her career wasn't free, her identity wasn't free. Only late at night, in a place unknown to others, could she have a moment of indulgence.
She placed her freedom there.
In her hazy consciousness, she heard the sound of the door lock clicking. She saw Tao Jin.
Not like before, in their little home, seeing the warm Tao Jin who had come home. But now, at her most humiliating moment, with her legs spread, she saw the stunned Tao Jin leaning against the bedroom doorframe.
Tao Jin stared at Chen Piaopiao in disbelief.
Leaning against the headboard, long hair disheveled, eyes hazy, not yet clear-headed from desire.
Her breathing was uneven. She blinked, finding it hard to convince herself of what she was seeing.
After returning from the theater, Tao Jin had stayed in her room alone for a long time, thinking about the reunited Chen Piaopiao. Dark braids, fair skin, looking up to see her standing in the doorway, like she had walked out of a painting.
It had only been three years, but much of her childishness had faded. Her face was sharper, and she was more radiant.
There were many other things different from her memory. She habitually wore sunglasses even indoors, scanning the room to confirm there were no cameras before taking them off. Her assistant handled all her things; she didn't even have to type on her own computer. She just used those fox-like eyes, shimmering with a hint of spring water, to squint at the PowerPoint, occasionally pointing at her screen and whispering to her assistant, "This part is wrong."
This was their reunion. Clean, efficient, without any lingering sentiment.
After finishing her recollection, Tao Jin noticed a form by her hand. Li Yu had come to her earlier, saying a large piece of luggage was being delivered and asking for her help to sign for it. The first time, she wrote the date wrong, so she filled out a new one, leaving the discarded one on the table.
At the time, she had asked while signing, "What large piece of luggage?"
Li Yu said, "A mattress."
"A mattress?" Tao Jin frowned. She had to bring her own mattress?
Li Yu explained, "Piaopiao injured her spine doing wirework before. The mattress needs to have the right firmness for her to sleep well. I brought the smart mattress she usually uses, which can adjust its firmness."
Injured her spine…
Tao Jin tilted her head back, pursed her lips in thought, then closed her door and went upstairs.
She wanted to talk with Chen Piaopiao, to apologize for her unprofessional handling of the situation earlier. Perhaps they could find a more comfortable way to get along.
As she reached the turn in the stairs, Li Yu happened to come out with her dinner tray, looking for a trash can to empty it. Tao Jin approached her. "Just finished eating?"
"Yeah, I ate. Piaopiao didn't."
Tao Jin paused, then asked in a gentle voice, "Is she in a bad mood?"
Li Yu sucked in a breath with a "hiss," squeezed the plastic takeout bag, and said nothing.
"I'll go talk to her." Tao Jin understood.
Li Yu let her in, saying she was probably resting in her bedroom, then pulled the door closed and returned to her own room.
The living room was empty. The bedroom door was closed.
Tao Jin knocked lightly on the door. "Piaopiao?"
The sound was too soft, slipping into the dream of a dazed and aroused Chen Piaopiao.
Tao Jin hesitated for a moment. The door was ajar, not locked, and could be pushed open with a little force. She looked up and saw a scene she shouldn't have seen.
Chen Piaopiao blinked three times before she was sure it was really Tao Jin.
Her body was being controlled, but her gaze was clear as she looked at the hand Tao Jin had on the doorframe. She knew better than anyone that she should clean up the messy scene immediately, but she felt a sense of reckless abandon. She lay there languidly, in a confrontational posture, waiting for Tao Jin to retreat, waiting for Tao Jin to close the door.
But Tao Jin didn't turn and leave. She came in, pulled the door shut with a backhand motion, letting it click softly. She stood in front of the low table opposite the bed, leaned back against it with a relaxed spine, and crossed her arms, tapping her fingers lightly on her bicep.
She scrutinized Chen Piaopiao with the eyes of a producer.
There was confusion, embarrassment, and anger, but more than anything, there was sarcasm.
To think she had just been worried that she was in a bad mood, worried that she hadn't made a sound because her spine was hurting too much and she was resting.
To think she hadn't been able to resist pushing the door open to see if she was okay.
She was just fine. So fine that other people's concern seemed like a joke.
A very beautiful face and body, indeed suitable for a female lead. But the look in her eyes as she gazed at her now was frivolous, as if nothing could ever be held within them.
The sense of emptiness wasn't just there when she was acting.
She was a streamer, listening to the occasional vulgarities in the chat; she would block them but not get angry. She was an influencer, seeing comments like "Wifey, when are you coming home to cook for me?"; she would delete them but not block the user. She acted in short-form dramas, performing those kinds of unnecessarily intimate scenes, which were then used on the promotional cover to attract traffic, with captions like "They actually went this deep."
Back then, Tao Jin was very busy, and with the distance between them, they could only find time to let their minds run wild. She had even tried calling Grandma, asking indirectly whether anything was wrong at home. Grandma cheerfully said no, the house was about to be demolished, and they would get a larger apartment in compensation.
When they met again, it was still the same.
She spoke to the young assistant in an intimate tone, tinged with alcohol, making the girl's face turn red.
When she saw Li Yu, she took her hand. Li Yu reached out and stroked her hair, and she smiled happily.
With the male lead she had just met for the first time, she skillfully performed a kiss, so accustomed to it that her eyes didn't even flicker. She even smiled nonchalantly. Afterward, she said, "He has no experience," and "I can make the kiss look better."
And back then.
…
Chen Piaopiao had wondered, if all of this was seen by someone who cherished her, how painful would it be? Would Grandma want her to be like this? Would others… want her to be like this?
Chen Piaopiao met Tao Jin's gaze.
There it was again. That same contemptuous, disappointed look.
Chen Piaopiao reached out, turned off the soft object, and removed it. She saw Tao Jin exhale. Then, Chen Piaopiao looked directly at her and put her own hand where it shouldn't be.
She saw Tao Jin swallow, her breathing becoming ragged.
She was angry, angrier than ever before, because she had uncrossed her arms and was now gripping the low table behind her, the blue veins on her wrist popping out, clearly visible.
Chen Piaopiao looked at her, her face expressionless.
She had already offended Tao Jin. She had already been seen in such a humiliating state, along with all the past things Tao Jin disliked. She couldn't bow her head, and she couldn't turn back now.
"How did you become like this?" Tao Jin pressed her lips together tightly. When she spoke, her voice was painfully hoarse.
The end of her sentence was swallowed, as if her voice would start trembling if she held on for another second.
"Who taught you this?"
Li Yu was just outside, and Chen Piaopiao's bedroom door wasn't even properly closed. She was this casual about it.
Tao Jin remembered the inexperienced little girl from back then, so clumsy she had even made her bleed. It had hurt, but Tao Jin had been so satisfied. She had held Chen Piaopiao and silently told herself that she wished she could be the one to teach her all these secret things she didn't yet understand.
If only she could teach her for a lifetime.
She was her senior. Every time Chen Piaopiao called her that, she wanted to learn how to be an adult together with her.
…
You taught me. The ways to please each other, you taught me all of them.
To be held in the palm of someone's hand, and then to grow tired of each other—you taught me that, too.
Chen Piaopiao stared at the disappointment in her eyes, and reached her peak.
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