Chapter 35: If This Is a Performance

"I hope you didn't reach out just to break up with me..." Chris blurted out the moment the call connected.

Yang Yi paused; all her doubts vanished in an instant like mist, and even her unease instantly turned into a hard-to-suppress secret joy: "Of course not, why would you think that?"

She adjusted her sitting posture, leaning more comfortably halfway against the chair; outside the window, a vast expanse of red, crimson, and pink Chinese roses caught her eye, a sweet fragrance rushing into her nostrils, truly making one feel relaxed and happy!

She derived a heady enjoyment from his unease; yes, she had to admit, if he valued this relationship more than she did, if he was more uneasy than she was, if he was more at a loss than she was, then she would derive immense, indescriable pleasure from it.

It was the pleasure of control, of occupying the dominant position; it was the pleasure of dominating another's mood and fate; this pleasure gave her enjoyment, yet also made her feel ashamed. But even this shame gave her pleasure.

What an outstanding man was he? Handsome to a striking degree, winner of the title "World's Most Handsome Man" for two consecutive years, a globally famous film star; countless women—and perhaps men too—queued up willing to bear his children, not to mention his charming charisma...

Even before tasting the wonderful flavor of love, she had already gained sufficient enjoyment from this vanity.

She was like someone who had suddenly found a novel toy, unable to wait to start playing with it.

"Intuition. And you've been claiming to be very busy these past two days!" Chris said, almost complaining; in an instant he realized his shift in emotion, realized the influence she had over him, and a self-protective instinct immediately made him alert; he cleared his throat, adjusting his mood: "Have you been very busy these past two days?"

"Wait a moment." With that, Yang Yi hung up the phone.

Chris looked at the disconnected phone, feeling at a loss for a moment.

But the grievance and anger that followed made his heart feel as if stuffed with a ball of cotton, bloated and uncomfortable, yet unable to find relief. What did this mean? A tactic of manipulation? Playing hard to get? Or some new way of toying with feelings?

Then, a video call rang; he answered subconsciously, and Yang Yi's face appeared on the screen; she greeted him with a slightly embarrassed smile: "Hi! I... I kind of wanted to see you..." Before she could finish, her own face flushed red.

The grievance and anger vanished in an instant, as if they had never existed; Chris walked under a brightly lit corridor pillar so the other party could see his face clearly; he knew this was his advantage.

Sometimes he hated that people only looked at his face, ignoring everything else, but at this moment, he was glad his appearance had sparked her interest.

This was their first video call, and the first call since establishing a couple relationship; given that they had only met once before and knew each other only slightly better than two strangers, they both felt somewhat at a loss, silently gazing at each other; gazing and gazing, unknowingly, they both burst into laughter together.

"Hello, boyfriend, my name is Yang Yi." Yang Yi waved her hand, acting as if they were meeting for the first time.

"Hello, my girlfriend, my name is Chris Norton. Very pleased to meet you!" After speaking, Chris bit his lower lip but still couldn't help laughing.

The two laughed at each other, not knowing what they were laughing at, just like two fools.

Yang Yi leaned halfway against the chair back; the person on the screen still bore that familiar face she had looked at for four and a half years; she had used it as her phone wallpaper, as her computer desktop, and, to speak shamelessly, as her dream lover. In the past, this face had been high above, like a beautiful, brilliant diamond in a showcase that one could never afford—visible, but limited to being visible—almost forever out of reach. But now, although still separated by thousands of miles, she knew in her heart that from now on, this person belonged to her.

It was truly incredible.

"Are you in your office? Still working?" Chris spoke first.

"Mm, just finished." She felt a bit guilty; in truth, she hadn't been that busy before; if she had wanted to make a call or send a message, she could have squeezed out the time; she quickly changed the subject: "Are you in your hometown? Is this where you grew up?"

"Yes." Chris deliberately ignored that fleeting guilt on her face, flipped the camera around, and enthusiastically introduced the place where he had grown up: "This is the garden; my mother planted many flowers and grasses; when I was little, I loved catching insects here in the garden with my friends..."

He introduced his family's garden and house to her, and finally entered the living room to show her via camera.

This was a typical middle-class family in the American Country; nothing particularly grand or upscale, with a somewhat retro countryside style; some furniture clearly showed signs of many years of use; the sofa and curtains were floral-patterned, the colors dazzling yet well-coordinated, revealing the owner's good aesthetic sense, making it appear extremely cozy.

His childhood must have been carefree, relaxed, and joyful, Yang Yi thought, her mind gradually drifting away.

Chris filmed all the familiar things in his home with the camera while introducing to her his experiences here.

"Look, this is what I made in handicraft class when I was little; my mother still uses it to this day." Chris took out a oddly shaped cup and spoon from the showcase, his tone holding a hint of amusement mixed with pride.

"What a special gift, one of a kind; if I received such a gift, I would cherish it deeply too," Yang Yi said. Her expression was serious, the curve of her smile polite and restrained, yet her eyes seemed to be saying something else entirely.

Chris looked at her on the screen; though she was smiling, he seemed to detect melancholy in her dark eyes, a quality deep in her bones that had accompanied her for a long time. On her there was also a complex trait that constantly surged yet remained hidden, indescribable in words, even making him feel a sense of danger and extreme mystery; unconsciously attracted, he wanted to draw closer and explore.

"Are those your family members?" Yang Yi asked; through the window behind him, she saw his family sitting in the garden chatting.

"Yes. Do you want to meet them? They are very curious..." Chris said cautiously; seeing her slightly troubled expression, he added considerately to give her a way out: "Of course, this might be a bit too fast..."

"It indeed is a bit too fast..." Yang Yi blinked her eyes and joked: "In our Xia Country, only couples preparing to marry bring the other party home to meet their parents."

Chris pressed his lips together: "Alright!" He suddenly invited: "Want to take a tour of my bedroom?"

Yang Yi immediately sat up straight and proper: "I am ready."

Chris laughed and walked up to the second floor; during the ascent, the two kept facing each other and smiling foolishly; Chris nearly tripped on the stairs he had walked for nearly thirty years.

As soon as he entered the room, Chris felt a bit regretful; he had returned in a rush after finishing this work trip; his luggage was still spread out on the floor, clothes not yet put into the wardrobe, and the quilt on the bed was somewhat messy.

"Wait a moment." After saying this, he placed the phone screen-down on the table, dashed over to tidy the quilt, and threw the suitcase wholesale into the wardrobe.

From the phone came Yang Yi's grinning voice: "Chris, I want to see your bedroom exactly as it is, don't tidy up! Satisfy this fan's desire for a pilgrimage—"

"No! Absolutely not! At least initially, I must leave a good impression; as for later, you can slowly dig deeper..." Chris picked up the phone; Yang Yi saw his face slightly flushed from the recent activity.

Clearly mature and charming in performances on TV and in programs, yet so cute in private; Yang Yi felt that she had intended to dig for a silver mine, but one shovel down, she discovered it was a gold mine.

His bedroom was a typical boy's bedroom; in the corner stood a display cabinet containing records, game consoles, figurines, and other items.

"These are all things from my childhood and adolescence; most of my current belongings are in Beverly Hills; when I return, I can film them for you to see." Chris was somewhat excited, the corners of his mouth rising uncontrollably; he knew that if a girl wanted to understand you further, it was a sign of interest, which made his desire to display himself surge to unprecedented heights.

He completely forgot all the tactics of romance, acting like a rash youth, eager to display all his good qualities to the other party, just like a peacock striving to show off its beautiful tail feathers.

Only now did Yang Yi realize that the person opposite was a superstar living in a Beverly Hills mansion, not an ordinary foreign boy; during the call just now, she hadn't thought of this at all.

If he truly wanted to please someone, I'm afraid no one would be able to refuse him; he could leave anyone with whatever impression he wished to leave.

A thought suddenly arose inexplicably: How can you distinguish whether his actions are genuine or fake? After all, he is an actor; he can perform any aspect he wishes to present. Does he have ulterior motives? Does he really like you? What does he like about you? What do you possess that is worth a man who almost owns the whole world trying to please?

Apart from the windfall lottery ticket upon you and the added value this ticket brings, which can add vanity and talking points for a man, what else do you have worthy of a man who almost possesses the entire world trying to win your favor?

Chris was still enthusiastically introducing his collection of rock records, recounting his experiences working part-time as a teenager to earn money to buy these records.

To be honest, that was truly very interesting: a successful, handsome, and charismatic man listing for you his ignorance, joy, depression, and growth from his youth; this was more artistic than an art film, and she was the female lead.

But suddenly she lost that feeling of heart-pounding anticipation from earlier, and even felt ashamed of her own fluttering heart.

If all this was a lie, a superb performance, bait to lure her onto the hook, a dreamlike bubble, a dream deliberately created for her by others, and she immersed herself in it involuntarily, moving like a puppet following the conductor's baton, giving her true heart to the other party, only to find that what he handed back was a blank sheet of paper with written words: Fool, you've been tricked!

Perhaps, at every instant she felt her heart flutter and became obsessed, there were audiences watching as a joke, viewing it as a farce; they laughed, commenting, watching how she performed the most genuine farce before clumsy scenery and props, while the male actor partnering with her threw knowing glances toward the audience seats during breaks, with only her pouring her heart into the performance.

"I don't know why, but back then I was particularly obsessed with vinyl records, even spending most of the money I earned from part-time jobs collecting these things. Listen, this is one of my favorites, 'Old Time Rock and Roll'." He placed the record on the turntable, and immediately a bold, rough voice filled the room; his body swayed slightly with the music: "I bought this old record at a second-hand shop; because it was played so many times, the sound has changed; however, occasionally I still listen to it; at times like this, what I'm listening to is no longer the music, but the feelings of my youthful past..."

If he really was performing, this was absolutely master-level; he deserved to win an Oscar.

But what if this is real? Could there be a possibility that he isn't doing this for your lottery ticket, not for any external reason, but simply for you, for you as a person... even if it's just a tiny, minuscule possibility... could such a possibility exist?

Gazing at his profile, seemingly immersed in past memories, with its rising and falling, distinct contours, deep and serene, like steep mountain ranges attracting people willing to get lost in this precipitousness. He was like a flame in the dark night; when he appeared, people could only see him, willing to rush into the fire like moths seeking their own destruction.

Truly beautiful; if one used this face to deceive, no one would disbelieve it; even knowing he was deceiving, some would still be willing to be deceived, even willing to be deceived for a longer time, preferably never exposed...

Four and a half years of infatuation, how long is it when connecting over sixteen hundred days and nights? Does infatuation count as a form of love? Or is it merely longing? Or can it only be counted as unrequited affection, having nothing to do with others?

Should I try, even if it means willingly being deceived once?

'I truly feel sorry for you! No, I feel sorry for myself—why did I end up on you, such a cowardly waste of space?' it suddenly said.

'Yes, I am a cowardly waste of space,' Yang Yi replied calmly. 'So, hurry up and leave this waste of space. Don't you feel this body is too crowded? Three consciousnesses stuffed into such a tiny vessel—it's truly... too cramped.'

'This is my body too!' it was furious, almost raging: 'Incompetent! Coward! Fool! You can't drive Him away, yet you want to drive me away! I tell you, this body is mine too. I've been waiting for you to die for so long. When will you die? Why haven't you died yet!'

'When I've lived long enough,' Yang Yi said.

Chris noticed Yang Yi had been silent for a long time. He lifted the needle off the vinyl record, stopped the music, and sat at the desk, looking at her: 'What are you thinking about?'

His blue eyes were pure blue, without a trace of impurity. When he looked at someone seriously, it gave the illusion of being gazed at with deep affection. Especially now, with the lamp to his side, shadows falling across his face, a richly painted oil painting appeared before her without warning, extremely impactful. She felt her heartbeat skip a beat.

'Coward! Slug! You're even worse than maggots! Maggots will struggle for a pile of dung, yet why do you hesitate to want anything? Just an ordinary man on Earth, a man with no abilities at all! A Fire Demon could crush him as easily as an ant! You could snatch him right now; he would be yours, as a pet or a male concubine. If he dares to run, just kill him on the spot! No, drain his life source—that's his only value...' it was utterly furious and desperate.

Yang Yi decided to be willful for once, fulfilling a wish accumulated over four and a half years—more than sixteen hundred days and nights. If he was truly acting, then let him keep acting until she grew tired of it.

So, she said: 'I'm thinking of you. Very much so.'