Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

He was quite blunt. Zeng Li's face darkened, but she didn't say anything more.

The dinner continued in a subtly tense atmosphere. Zhang Yu could sense that ever since Zhao Liying appeared, the way the actresses looked at him had changed—more wary, more competitive, and also more... calculating.

That's how this circle is; everyone is competing, grabbing, and scheming. And he is the target of everyone's struggle.

At 10 p.m., the dinner party ended. Everyone dispersed, and Zhang Yu said he was going back to the hotel to read the script, leaving the restaurant alone.

Walking on the streets of Hengdian, the film and television city is still bustling at night—some film crews are shooting night scenes, with bright lights; some actors have just finished work and are walking around in twos and threes; and tourists are taking pictures, with flashes going off one after another.

Zhang Yu walked into a quiet alley and lit a cigarette. The smoke rose slowly into the night sky, much like his current mood—lost, exhausted, yet forced to continue.

"Director Zhang." A soft voice came from behind.

Zhang Yu turned his head and saw Meng Ziyi standing at the alley entrance. She wasn't wearing a coat, only that light purple knitted dress, which looked like a wisp of pale purple smoke in the night.

"Miss Meng hasn't gone back yet?" Zhang Yu asked.

"I want to walk around and sober up." Meng Ziyi walked to his side and stood next to him. "Hengdian is really lively at night."

"Ah."

The two remained silent for a moment. In the distance, the sounds of a film crew shooting could be heard: the director yelling "Cut!", the actors laughing—everything felt so familiar, yet so strange.

"Director Zhang," Meng Ziyi suddenly spoke up, "can I ask you a question?"

"Just ask."

"Why...did you give that extra a chance?" Meng Ziyi's voice was very soft. "She has no background, no experience, and no education. In this industry, it's very difficult for someone like her to get ahead."

Zhang Yu looked at her: "Then what kind of person do you think should stand up for others?"

“Talented, well-connected, and resourceful,” Meng Ziyi said realistically. “This industry is ruthless; you can’t succeed just by having dreams.”

“You’re right,” Zhang Yu nodded. “But sometimes, having connections and resources isn’t enough. Acting requires talent, inspiration, and… that power to move people. Zhao Liying has that power.”

Meng Ziyi fell silent. After a long while, she said softly, "Director Zhang, you are a... very special person."

What's so special about it?

“You may seem cold, but you have a soft heart.” Meng Ziyi turned to look at him, her eyes as gentle as moonlight in the night. “You give so many people opportunities, without caring about their background or their origins. Such magnanimity is rare in this industry.”

Zhang Yu smiled, but the smile was somewhat bitter: "Miss Meng, you're wrong. I'm not being soft-hearted, I'm just... collecting."

"Collect what?"

“Collecting…stories,” Zhang Yu said. “Everyone’s story, everyone’s dream, everyone’s pain and joy. As a director, I need these stories, I need these real emotions.”

He spoke vaguely, but Meng Ziyi understood. She looked at him, her eyes filled with complex emotions: "So you're kind to them, giving them opportunities, just to... gather material?"

"You could say that," Zhang Yu nodded.

Looking at him, Meng Ziyi suddenly felt that this man was terrifying—he could treat emotions as tools and people's hearts as raw materials. But at the same time, he was also very pitiful—because he himself was deeply trapped in it and unable to extricate himself.

“Director Zhang,” she asked softly, “you’ve collected so many stories, do you have your own stories?”

This question is too pointed. Zhang Yu remained silent for a long time: "Yes, but I don't want to talk about it."

"why?"

“Because…” Zhang Yu looked at her, the mole under his left eye gleaming faintly in the night, “because my story is too complicated, too heavy. Telling it will only make others feel heavy too.”

He spoke with great sincerity. Meng Ziyi looked at him, a surge of emotion welling up within her—a desire to understand him, to comprehend him, to...share his burdens.

But she quickly suppressed that thought. She was a rational person and knew what she should and shouldn't do.

"Director Zhang, it's getting late, I should go back," she said.

"I'll take you." Zhang Yu stubbed out his cigarette.

"No need, I don't live far away." Meng Ziyi smiled. "You should get some rest too. Tomorrow... you have so many beautiful girls to audition for."

When she said "so many beautiful women," her tone was somewhat subtle. Zhang Yu noticed it but said nothing.

Meng Ziyi turned and left, her light purple dress silhouette fading into the night. Zhang Yu watched her disappearing figure, a complex mix of emotions welling up within him—another new starlight mark had been touched: Meng Ziyi's gentleness, her understanding, her complex feelings.

The pace of progress was accelerating, but the emptiness in his heart was growing ever larger.

Can he really make it to the end in this game?

he does not know.

All he knew was that from the moment he awakened those memories, he embarked on a path of no return.

No matter the cost, he will keep moving forward.

This is his choice.

……

It was already 11 p.m. when Zhang Yu returned to the hotel. He pushed open the door and saw a note tucked on the floor. He picked it up; it was written in neat handwriting:

"Director Zhang, I came to see you, but you weren't here. I'm going back to Beijing tomorrow, and I wanted to say goodbye before I left. Thank you for the opportunity you gave me; I will always remember it. — Jing Tian"

Next to the note was a small box. Zhang Yu opened it, and inside was a hand-woven bracelet, a light blue cord strung with a few small stars, simple yet carefully made.

He could picture Jing Tian standing at his door, timidly placing the gift and note down. That girl, even her farewells were so innocent and so careful.

Zhang Yu picked up the bracelet and put it on his wrist. The light blue cord complemented his skin, and the little stars twinkled softly under the light. The star-shaped birthmark under his left eye felt slightly warm; he could feel that Jing Tian's star-like mark was exceptionally bright—it was the purest love of a young girl, without any impurities.

But at the same time, he could also feel that Chen Chen's starlight mark was dimming—her pain, her disappointment, her alienation, made that mark no longer shine.

This realization caused him a pang of pain. He walked to the window and looked at the night view of Hengdian, brightly lit, but it couldn't illuminate the darkness in his heart.

The game continued, but he was already tired.

Really tired.

But he can't stop.

Because once you stop, all the previous efforts, all the hurt, all the betrayals will be meaningless.

He could only keep moving forward, keep playing the game, keep collecting Starshine Marks, and keep... hurting those who loved him.

This is his fate.

Outside the window, the night in Hengdian is deep.

And his nights, perhaps... will never end.