Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

But today is Valentine's Day.

Zhang Yu finally replied, "I understand, thank you."

He neither said he would go, nor did he say he wouldn't. Some things take time.

At nine o'clock in the morning, Zhang Yu went out. The snow had stopped, and the streets of Beijing were covered with a thin layer of snow, which shimmered with golden sunlight. He first went to the school's editing room to watch the footage that had been shot—the scenes filmed in Xitang were playing slowly on the monitor, and Chen Chen's figure in a cheongsam appeared and disappeared in the misty rain of Jiangnan, as beautiful as a dream.

"Director Zhang." Editing assistant Xiao Wang pushed the door open and came in. "Senior Chen Chen came by earlier and left this."

It was a light blue cardboard box tied with a white ribbon. Zhang Yu took it and opened it—inside was the silver plum blossom hairpin, the one he had given her in Xitang. A letter was pressed beneath the hairpin.

The letter is very short:

"Zhang Yu, this movie is finished, and my mission is complete. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to become Shen Qingwan. I'm returning this hairpin to you; it's too precious for me to keep. Best wishes, Chen Chen."

There was no salutation, no signature, the handwriting so neat it looked printed. Zhang Yu held the hairpin, the cold metallic touch sending a chill from his fingertips to his heart. Was she trying to completely sever ties?

"When did she arrive?" Zhang Yu asked, his voice a little hoarse.

"About half an hour ago," Xiao Wang said cautiously, "he seemed to be in a bad mood, his eyes were red."

Zhang Yu put the hairpin back in the box, along with the letter. "Did she say where she was going?"

"She didn't say, but I overheard her talking to Sister Huang Ying on the phone; it seemed like she was going to the recording studio for a test."

"A recording studio?"

"Yeah, it seems like she sang the theme song for an animated film," Xiao Wang said. "Didn't you know that Senior Chen Chen sings really well?"

Zhang Yu had no idea. He had known Chen Chen for so long, and he knew she could dance and act, but he had never heard her sing. It turned out she had a side he didn't know about.

Which recording studio?

"It seems to be... Baihua Recording Studio, in the Dongcheng District."

Zhang Yu glanced at the time; it was 10:00 AM. He put the box in his bag, got up, and went out.

Baihua Recording Studio is hidden in an old alley in Dongcheng District. When Zhang Yu found the place, it was already 10:30. Pushing open the heavy soundproof door, he could faintly hear singing coming from inside—it was a woman's voice, clear and pure, like a mountain stream.

He stood outside the control room and saw Chen Chen in the recording booth through the glass. She was wearing a light pink sweater today, her long hair loosely tied up, and she was standing in front of the microphone with headphones on. Sunlight streamed in from the side window, casting soft shadows on her face, and her eyelashes cast fan-shaped shadows on her cheeks.

She was singing a very soft song, the lyrics of which were about parting. There was an indescribable sadness in her voice, a sadness so real that it caused Zhang Yu a pang of pain in his heart.

"Who are you?" someone in the control room asked.

Zhang Yu turned his head and saw a man in his thirties wearing black-rimmed glasses, who was probably a sound engineer.

“I’m Chen Chen’s friend,” Zhang Yu said. “She sings really well.”

"It's really good." The recording engineer pushed up his glasses. "The tone is clean and the emotion is full. It's just... too sad. This is an animated film theme song, it needs a sense of hope, but she sang it like she was saying goodbye."

Zhang Yu looked at Chen Chen in the recording studio. Her eyes were closed, completely immersed in the song, her focus and dedication exactly the same as when she was acting.

"Let her finish singing," Zhang Yu said softly. "Perhaps she needs this farewell."

The sound engineer glanced at him but said nothing more. Only Chen Chen's singing flowed through the control room, like a warm current in winter, both comforting and sorrowful.

As the music ended, Chen Chen opened her eyes. Through the glass, she saw Zhang Yu standing in the control room. In that instant, her expression froze—surprise, panic, and a hint of vulnerability she couldn't hide.

She took off her headphones, pushed open the door to the recording studio, and walked out.

"Why are you here?" Her voice was a little hoarse, probably from singing.

"I heard you came for an audition, so I came to check it out." Zhang Yu took out the light blue box from his bag. "I can't accept this."

Chen Chen looked at the box, his expression complicated: "Why?"

“Because once something is given away, there’s no reason to take it back.” Zhang Yu shoved the box back into her hands. “And you’re right, this hairpin is too precious—not because of its monetary value, but because it carries all our memories of Xitang. These memories, you can’t take back, and I can’t forget.”

He spoke very seriously. Chen Chen held the box, his fingers trembling slightly.

"Zhang Yu, I..."

"Don't speak yet," Zhang Yu interrupted her, then turned to the sound engineer and asked, "Teacher, could you play that song she just sang again? I want to hear it."

The sound engineer nodded and pressed play. Chen Chen's voice rang out again, flowing through the quiet recording studio.

Zhang Yu listened quietly, and when the song reached the second verse, he suddenly spoke up: "Would it be better if we sang it differently here?"

"What singing style?" the recording engineer asked.

“Sing it softer, like you’re reminiscing, not saying goodbye,” Zhang Yu said. “Chen Chen, try singing the line ‘I can never go back’ a little more gently, like you’re saying, ‘Even though I can’t go back, I will remember.’”

Chen Chen looked at him with surprise in his eyes—he actually knew music?

"Give it a try," Zhang Yu encouraged.

Chen Chen put her headphones back on and returned to the recording studio. The music started again, and she sang the lyrics as Zhang Yu had instructed. Sure enough, the feeling was completely different—from a desperate farewell to a warm remembrance.

The sound engineer's eyes lit up: "This feels right! Young man, you know music?"

"I know a little bit," Zhang Yu said modestly. "My mother is a music teacher, so I was exposed to music from a young age."

Chen Chen sang it a second time, and the result was much better than the first. The recording engineer was very satisfied and said they could wrap up now, waiting for the producer to listen before making a decision.

It was 11:30 a.m. when they came out of the recording studio. The snow in the alley was beginning to melt, and the bluestone path was wet. The two walked side by side, neither of them speaking.

"How did you know I was here?" Chen Chen finally spoke first.

“Xiao Wang said so.” Zhang Yu looked at her. “You sing very well. I didn’t know that before.”

“My mother is also a music teacher,” Chen Chen said softly. “She wanted me to study music, but I prefer performing.”

“Why not learn both?” Zhang Yu said. “Acting and singing are essentially both forms of expression.”

Chen Chen stopped and turned to look at him: "Zhang Yu, what kind of person are you? Why do you seem to know everything?"

“I’m just… very curious, and I want to learn a little bit of everything.” Zhang Yu laughed. “And aren’t you the same? You can dance, you can act, and you can sing. You’re the one who’s hiding your true talents.”

His smile was warm in the winter sun. Looking at him, the wall around Chen Chen's heart began to crumble. This man always managed to touch the softest part of her heart in the simplest way.

“That hairpin…” she said softly.