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墨書 Inktalez
As for Li Yuecheng's handwritten will, anyone with a bit of film knowledge knows that all props in movies are usually made by the newcomers in the industry.
Years ago, he completed the task of creating letters, and I happened to have a habit of collecting all the props from film sets that I could find.
Both of us were so obsessed with movies; he worked diligently, and I collected earnestly. Finally, in this cycle, it came in handy.
Why did this strange Li Yuecheng have to appear in my first film?
That film, which I thought would make waves across the world but was instead claimed by someone else for credit, became a huge success. Yet that shameless producer secretly took nude photos to blackmail me.
That damned old producer is now bedridden and completely forgotten by the public, isn’t he? Why would something that could remind him of using me for headlines happen at such a moment?
Yes, I stand at 1.72 meters tall; I easily killed that Fujianese. I subdued that big guy with ether; it was no challenge to hang that frail worker in the wardrobe. Figuring out the intentions of Xu Haitao, who always tried to curry favor with me, was hardly difficult.
As I listened to the conversation between the handsome officer in the hallway and a beautiful woman who seemed like a reporter but whose identity I couldn’t quite place, my thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Even if there were slight deviations from the scene I had written in advance, what would it matter? The diligent cleaners in the community would surely discover Xu Haitao; all clues pointed to Li Yuecheng. And when suddenly awakened, Li Yuecheng would immediately take the strong liquor alongside the antidepressants wrapped in tin foil that he kept on his bedside table.
I forced a smile, but tears streamed down my face—no one knew Li Yuecheng better than I did or understood all his habits.
That summer when I was twenty, under a different name as a script supervisor on that set, he smiled at me with bright eyes and said, "You know, one day I'll be a big star." That handsome man became etched into my dreams for life.
So what? What does it matter that I've had a crush on you for eighteen years?
You not only evoked all my painful memories with a dirty and ugly detail, but you also insulted my work—such a great and highly acclaimed masterpiece written by an 18-year-old genius girl!
It was only because of a naïve Cameo Role that it resurfaced! At 18, I wanted to kill that version of myself from twenty years ago who ran after the Cameo Role. The only way to sacrifice you, Moon City! My Moon City!
I am truly a genius; I have written everything that happened, including the details of the murder, sharing it with strangers, showing it to friends, and planning to publish it in the future.
No one can question or judge me because all evidence has been destroyed, and the parties involved are dead with no witnesses; this is called literary creation. Even if the details overlap, so what? That’s just coincidence.
If I felt like it, I could even place the four segments of the murder at the very beginning of the story to create tension and challenge the psychological limits of the readers.
On the day I was discharged from the hospital, unexpectedly, that beautiful woman who always came with the handsome officer to see me suddenly appeared in my line of sight. She sat on the edge of a tall flowerbed in the small hospital garden I had to pass through, her long legs swinging back and forth.
I smiled slightly, and she did too.
However, as I brushed past her with my luggage, I heard her leisurely say, “He’s been single for 18 years; have you ever asked yourself why?” For a moment, I felt a rush of panic but quickly composed myself. I turned back and smiled, “What?” She smiled back, popped a lollipop in her mouth, and said nothing more.
Could it be...
...
At 11:58 AM, just four hours after being discharged from the hospital, news broke that screenwriter A Chai had committed suicide at home. Meanwhile, Zhao Lang had just finished reading Li Yuecheng’s true diary—the one kept in a private viewing room for 18 years.
“In that summer when I was 20, under a different name as a Cameo Role with only one line on set, her smile warmed my heart. So I told her: ‘You know what? One day, I will be a big star.’ That girl who smiled so purely has since been etched into my dreams for life.”
Li Yuecheng had been anxious for 18 years about his cameo role in that film, unwilling to confess his feelings to Yi for fear that one day it would implicate A Chai, who was also in the industry.
Zhao Lang exited the text message he was composing, his expression somber. On the screen was a message he never had the chance to send: "Live well." In his hand, he held a note with A Chai's phone number.
At exactly midnight, Shui Yu received a call from Zhao Lang, and neither of them spoke. After a long silence, Zhao Lang's voice came out hoarse as he asked, "Is A Chai a name that should be counted against you?"
Shui Yu exhaled a thin wisp of smoke, letting the graceful curve of her face dissolve into the haze. She replied, "You once said, 'There is no such thing as a murder without a conscience and a murder with a conscience; as long as there is murder, it should be punished by law.' You said 'punished by law.'"
At 12:25 AM, Zhao Lang said softly, "Goodbye."
Shui Yu laughed recklessly. Beneath her straight nose, her beautifully curved lips formed clear words: "It should be soon."
Life is a journey fraught with danger. Every seemingly casual decision may plant seeds for future consequences, whether fortune or misfortune.
We are all on the road.
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