After I died, they cried in the live studio

Chapter 169 Back to the Main Topic
A strong desire welled up within Sang Shuwan; she wanted to appreciate fine wines in a professional way, just like the guests, and experience the cultural charm behind them. So, taking advantage of the fact that no one was looking, she quietly walked to the table, picked up a glass of white wine, and tried to swirl it gently, mimicking a sommelier. But she didn't know how to observe the color of the wine, nor could she smell its aroma; her movements were slightly stiff, and a hint of confusion appeared in her eyes.

Just then, Sang Jiyue, dressed in a silver-gray fitted evening gown, gracefully walked to her side. Sang Jiyue's neat short hair accentuated her capable demeanor, and a gentle smile graced her delicate face; her every gesture radiated confidence. "Shuwan, are you interested in wine tasting?" she asked softly, her voice clear and melodious.

Sang Shuwan was slightly taken aback, a blush flashed across her face, and then she put down her wine glass and said somewhat embarrassedly, "I am quite interested, but I have never studied it before, and I feel completely confused."

Sang Jiyue smiled and comforted her, "It's alright. Wine tasting isn't some unattainable, profound subject. As long as you're willing to learn, you can get the hang of it quickly. Come on, let me teach you." As she spoke, she picked up a glass of wine and patiently demonstrated, "First, place the glass against a white background, tilt it at a 45-degree angle, and observe the color, clarity, and 'legs' of the wine. From the depth of color and the changes in hue, you can infer the grape variety, vintage, and aging time of the wine."

Following her movements, Sang Shuwan carefully observed the wine in the glass and said, "This wine is light in color, a bit greenish. What does that mean?"

“This suggests that it may be a young white wine, such as Sauvignon Blanc. The green hue suggests that it may have fresh herbal aromas,” Sang Jiyue explained. “Next, gently swirl the glass to allow the wine to fully interact with the air and release its aromas. Remember to smell the aromas from a distance, first experiencing the overall fragrance, and then carefully distinguishing the layers within it.”

After Sang Shuwan finished the evening ritual, she only smelled a faint fruity fragrance and couldn't help but feel a little frustrated: "I seem to be able to smell only fruit. Am I smelling something wrong?"

Sang Jiyue patiently encouraged, "It's already quite good that you can smell the fruit aroma on your first try. Tasting wine is like appreciating music; you need to practice repeatedly to distinguish the complex melodies. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, sharpen your sense of smell, and try to capture those subtle aromas."

Sang Shuwan closed her eyes and sniffed the aroma in the wine glass again. This time, she seemed to catch a faint scent of grass and excitedly opened her eyes: "I think I can smell grass!"

"Very good! You've already started to get started." Sang Jiyue praised with a smile, "The final step is tasting. Take a small sip of the wine and let the liquid fully contact every taste bud in your mouth, feeling its acidity, sweetness, tannins, alcohol content, and the length of the aftertaste."

Sang Shuwan carefully took a sip of the wine, and as the liquid spread in her mouth, she frowned slightly: "It's a bit sour, but the aftertaste is quite refreshing."

“That’s right, that’s exactly the characteristic of Sauvignon Blanc. Its high acidity gives it a refreshing and crisp taste, making it perfect for pairing with seafood.” Sang Jiyue continued to explain, “Wine tasting is not just about tasting the flavor, but also a feast for the senses, allowing us to appreciate the terroir of different regions and the ingenuity of the winemakers.”

Under Sang Jiyue's careful guidance, Sang Shuwan tasted several different wines, gradually mastering some basic wine tasting techniques and being able to distinguish some simple aromas and flavors. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, as if she had opened a door to the mysterious world of wine.

At this moment, the person in charge of the banquet organizer rushed over and said anxiously to Sang Shuwan, "Shuwan, there's been a problem. The host of the scheduled wine tasting session suddenly fell ill and is unable to go on stage. Could you temporarily fill in for him?"

Sang Shuwan hesitated. She had only recently started learning wine tasting and worried that she wouldn't be able to handle it. Sang Jiyue noticed her concerns, gently took her hand, and encouraged her, "Shuwan, you can do it. Your learning ability just now surprised me, and you seem to have gained some understanding of wine. Believe in yourself! I'll always be there to support you."

Encouraged by Sang Jiyue, Sang Shuwan took a deep breath and nodded in agreement. She straightened her dress and walked confidently onto the stage. Although she was a little nervous, seeing Sang Jiyue's encouraging gaze from below the stage, she gradually calmed down.

Sang Shuwan picked up a glass of wine and began to explain the steps and key points of wine tasting to the guests. Combining Sang Jiyue's instruction with her own personal experience, she explained vividly and professionally. "Look, everyone, this Chardonnay has a golden color with a slight green tinge at the rim, which indicates that it has been aged for a certain period of time." She gently swirled the glass. "Now, let's smell its aroma..." The guests listened with great interest, occasionally expressing their admiration.

After the wine tasting, guests cast admiring glances at Sang Shuwan, and the organizer also praised her performance highly. As Sang Shuwan stepped off the stage, Sang Jiyue quickly went to greet her and gave her a big hug. "Shuwan, you were amazing!"

Since then, Sang Shuwan's interest in wine has grown stronger. Sang Jiyue often took her to various wine tasting events, and the two traveled to wineries around the world, tasting wines of different vintages and varieties, and gaining a deeper understanding of winemaking techniques and cultural history.

At a wine tasting event in Bordeaux, France, Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue tasted a fine wine from a top winery. Sang Shuwan gently swirled the wine in her glass, observing its color and inhaling its complex and captivating aroma, and exclaimed, "Jiyue, wine is truly a magical thing; each one has its own unique soul."

Sang Jiyue smiled and nodded: "Yes, behind this lies the gift of nature and the hard work of the winemakers. What we need to do is to feel this beauty with our hearts."

Over time, Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue have distinguished themselves in the wine industry thanks to their passion and expertise. They have not only become renowned sommeliers but also dedicated themselves to promoting wine culture, allowing more people to appreciate the charm of wine.

On a warm afternoon, Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue sat in their family vineyard, gazing at the vines in full bloom, reminiscing about the banquet that changed their lives. "Jiyue, without you, I might never have discovered how wonderful the world of wine is," Sang Shuwan said with emotion.

Sang Jiyue gently took her hand and smiled, saying, "We embarked on this wonderful journey together. In the future, we will continue to explore the infinite possibilities of wine."

The setting sun cast its golden rays upon them, creating a beautiful scene. With wine as their companion, their friendship deepened, and their hopes for the future grew ever stronger.

Crystal chandeliers cast dappled light, illuminating the banquet hall as if it were daytime. Celebrities gathered there, champagne glasses in hand, conversing quietly, their laughter mingling with the music. On stage, a florist's nimble fingers danced among various flowers, a floral arrangement demonstration unfolding to soothing background music.

Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue, dressed in elegant attire, were surrounded by a crowd in the center. Sang Shuwan wore a black, fitted evening gown that accentuated her cool and sophisticated aura; Sang Jiyue, on the other hand, wore a silver-gray long dress, exuding elegance and grace. As the focus of the banquet, their every move attracted attention.

“Jiyue, this banquet is a great opportunity to expand our network. We need to find a way to make a lasting impression,” Sang Shuwan whispered in Sang Jiyue’s ear, her gaze sweeping over the well-dressed guests around them.

Sang Jiyue nodded slightly, her gaze falling on the florist's flower arrangement movements on the stage, lost in thought: "Perhaps we can make something of flower arrangement. In this occasion full of business socializing, using art to showcase unique charm might have unexpected effects."

Without hesitation, the two approached the organizers and proposed adding a flower arranging interactive session. The organizers were very interested in the suggestion and immediately arranged for a florist to provide them with temporary training.

Florist Lin Yu arrived with a rich variety of flowers and tools. He was slender, his eyes radiating a passion and dedication to floral art. "Flower arrangement is about layering and creating atmosphere; the position and angle of each flower determine the overall aesthetic of the work," Lin Yu explained, skillfully trimming the branches and demonstrating flower arranging techniques.

Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue listened intently, their eyes fixed on Lin Yu's every move. However, when they actually tried it themselves, they discovered that flower arranging was far more difficult than they had imagined.

Sang Shuwan's hand trembled slightly as she picked up the scissors, hesitating to cut the delicate flowers. Although Sang Jiyue mustered the courage to prune the branches, the resulting shapes were uneven and lacked any aesthetic appeal.

"Don't rush, this is already quite good for your first time doing flower arranging. Flower arranging requires patience and time, and even more so, an understanding of the characteristics of each flower," Lin Yu said gently, noticing their embarrassment.

Under Lin Yu's guidance, Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue gradually found their footing, and their movements became increasingly skillful. After several hours of training, the two finally created a satisfactory piece.

The banquet's interactive segment officially began, with Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue gracefully walking onto the stage. Guests below cast curious glances, while media reporters quickly adjusted their cameras, ready to capture the moment.

Sang Shuwan took the lead, choosing pink roses as the main flower, paired with white baby's breath and green eucalyptus leaves. She skillfully trimmed the flower stems and arranged the blossoms in the vase with a graceful and natural movement.

Sang Jiyue used red carnations as the main flower, paired with yellow tulips and purple lavender. Her focused expression and skillful movements attracted the attention of the guests below the stage. During the creation process, she cleverly used varying heights and color combinations to create a unique atmosphere.

As time went by, their works gradually took shape. Sang Shuwan's works are warm and romantic, full of life; Sang Jiyue's works are grand and elegant, showing a unique artistic taste.

A round of enthusiastic applause erupted from the audience, who praised the two artists' work. At that moment, a middle-aged man in a suit walked onto the stage; he was Chen Yu, the head of a well-known art company.

"Your works have truly impressed me. They not only demonstrate superb flower arranging skills but also reveal a unique understanding of art. My company is currently preparing for a large-scale art exhibition. I wonder if you two would be interested in participating?" Chen Yu said with a smile.

Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with surprise and delight. They hadn't expected that a spur-of-the-moment attempt would bring them such a valuable opportunity.

“Mr. Chen, we are very honored to receive your invitation,” Sang Shuwan replied gracefully.

“Yes, this is a rare learning opportunity for us,” Sang Jiyue quickly added.

After the banquet, Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue received numerous business cards from celebrities, many of whom expressed interest in collaborating. The two were thrilled, knowing that this flower arrangement demonstration not only made them shine at the banquet but also opened a new chapter in their careers.

However, they were not blinded by their success. Back home, Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue began preparing for the upcoming art exhibition. They consulted numerous resources, studied different flower arrangement styles, and visited several renowned florists, continuously improving their skills.

During the preparation for the exhibition, Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue encountered many difficulties. Problems such as venue setup, artwork design, and scheduling arose one after another, but the two encouraged each other and worked together to overcome one obstacle after another.

Finally, the opening day of the art exhibition arrived. At the exhibition, the works of Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue were meticulously displayed in the center of the hall, attracting the attention of many visitors. Viewers lingered before the works, praising the artists' talent. A senior art critic, after visiting the exhibition, highly praised the works of Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue: "The works of these two young artists not only demonstrate exquisite technique but also convey a love for life and a pursuit of art. I believe they will shine even brighter on their future artistic paths."

The success of this art exhibition brought Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue widespread acclaim in the art world. They received numerous collaboration invitations, and their careers flourished. However, the two remained true to their original aspirations, persisting in exploring and moving forward on their artistic path.

In their spare time, Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue would meet at the flower shop to select flowers and create floral arrangements. During the process, they not only enjoyed the pleasure of art but also cherished their deep friendship.

Whether on a bustling stage or in a tranquil greenhouse, Sang Shuwan and Sang Jiyue always cherish their love for art, bravely pursue their dreams, and write their own brilliant lives.

The mirrors backstage at Milan Men's Fashion Week were bathed in a warm yellow light from the ring lights. Sang Shuwan stared at her reflection in the mirror; the waistline of her smoky gray suit was perfectly tailored, revealing her slender wrists—the result of Alice having the tailor alter it three times. Her agent was kneeling on the floor adjusting her tie, her fingertips tracing the subtle pattern on her shirt cuff, where three tiny letters were embroidered: N, A, and F. Nancy had drawn them with lipstick, and Farah had embroidered them herself; Alice had watched the tailor sew them for a full two hours.

"Loosen your tie by half a centimeter." When Alice looked up, Sang Shuwan noticed the faint dark circles under her eyes, but she was still joking, "If Mr. Jiang saw you tying it so tightly, he'd be so worried he'd fly to Milan overnight." Before she finished speaking, there was a gentle knock on the door of the lounge, and her assistant came in carrying a thermos containing warm hot cocoa—it was obvious that Jiang Cimu had sent it. He always said, "The backstage air conditioning is too cold, this will warm my throat," and he would also stick a small note on the cup, sometimes a simple smiley face, sometimes a hastily written "Waiting for you to get off the stage."

The sound of models walking on the runway drifted over, and Sang Shuwan heard Nancy's laughter coming from the VIP area. The film company CEO, who always wore a striped shirt, was currently recording with her phone, the camera occasionally panning backstage—she had said on WeChat yesterday, "I'm going to film every shot of Wanwan in menswear, and edit it into your personal documentary later." Farah, the special stylist for this show, was in a corner explaining details to the models while holding the design sketches, a pearl hair clip given to her by Sang Shuwan tucked into her hair, and half a lollipop sticking out of her pocket—the strawberry flavor that the three of them always bought when they got together.

“It’s your turn.” Alice straightened her suit collar, the crescent moon cufflinks on the cuffs gleaming—they were a birthday gift from Sang Shuwan last year, engraved with “Forever Track Designer.” The moment she pushed open the door, a faint scent of cedar perfume wafted through the backstage breeze. Sang Shuwan paused for half a second before realizing it was the scent of Jiang Cimu’s farewell hug that morning. He always said, “This way, when you’re on stage, it’ll feel like I’m carrying you.” Even though he was in a conference room on the other side of the world, he would still time his message perfectly: “Baby, remember to smile with dimples when you turn around for the camera.”

The moment she stepped onto the runway, spotlights blazed on from three angles simultaneously. Sang Shuwan heard gasps from the front row, knowing it was the rhinestones Alice had sewn into the lining of her suit that had taken effect, swaying gently with each step, like a galaxy draped over her shoulders. Reaching the center of the stage, she instinctively glanced towards the corner of the VIP section and, sure enough, saw that familiar figure—Jiang Cimu, wearing a dark gray trench coat, holding her usual thermos, his gaze as focused as if he were looking at the most precious treasure in the world. Even from that distance, she could imagine the slight curve of his lips, a tenderness uniquely hers.

While changing backstage, Nancy suddenly pushed open the door, clutching a new script in her hand, a pen sticking out of her shirt pocket. "I just finished a meeting with the directing team," she said, her eyes sparkling. "You've been cast as the female lead in 'Rose Route,' and—" she paused deliberately, glancing at Alice and Farah, "the screenwriter heard that you and Ci Mu were college classmates, so he added a campus scene, and he wants you to play yourselves!"

Farah leaned closer, her pearl hair clip brushing against Sang Shuwan's shoulder: "I'll design the school uniform!" She took out her phone and pulled out her treasured college photos. "I remember Wanwan always secretly wore Ci Mu's white shirts as pajamas back then. I'll make the cuffs detachable and oversized, and embroider your student ID numbers on the collar."

Alice took the script and quickly scanned the pages: "The campus scenes will be filmed for a week, which fits perfectly between Paris Fashion Week and the promotion of the new drama." When she looked up, her gaze fell on the silver bracelet on Sang Shuwan's wrist, an engagement gift from Jiang Cimu, engraved with the Roman numerals "1314." "However, you'll have to stay in the crew's dormitory during filming. Cimu will have to drive three hours every day to bring you breakfast—"

“He’s already prepared a thermos.” Sang Shuwan interrupted with a smile, recalling that during the video call this morning, Jiang Cimu held up a newly bought cartoon lunchbox, saying he would bring her pumpkin porridge that he had cooked himself. “Besides, isn’t Nancy going to live next door? That’ll be perfect for supervising me as I memorize my lines.”

As the three of them laughed together, there was another knock on the door of the lounge. This time, the assistant brought a gift box with a familiar brown paper card tied to a ribbon. Without even looking at it, one could tell it was Jiang Cimu's handwriting: "For my little prince, it's cold backstage, wear this." Opening the gift box, one found a hand-knitted cashmere shawl, with three tiny silhouettes embroidered along the edges—Nancy holding a camera, Alice wearing moon cufflinks, Farah holding a lollipop, and in the center, a star embroidered with the character "晚" (wan, meaning evening).

“He even embroidered our signature poses!” Farah laughed, touching her shawl, but her eyes were a little moist. Sang Shuwan remembered that in college, Jiang Cimu always sat in the last row of the classroom, silently watching her and her best friends rehearse plays. Even now, as the president of a listed company, he still remembered every little habit of theirs: Alice added two spoonfuls of sugar to her coffee, Farah had to suck on a lollipop when she stayed up late, and Nancy couldn’t do without strawberry-flavored throat lozenges when writing scripts.

After the show, the four of them squeezed into the van to return to the hotel. Nancy huddled in a corner revising the script, her pen scratching on the paper; Farah dozed off against the car window, her head resting on Alice's shoulder; Sang Shuwan stared at the message Jiang Cimu had just sent on her phone: "I put rose petals in the bathroom, the hairdryer is set to your preferred temperature, and there are some new canelés on the bedside table—I brought three, and I'm saving one for Alice."

The Milan nightscape outside the car window was dazzling with lights, and Sang Shuwan suddenly recalled a winter three years ago. She had just landed her first leading role and was shivering in the sub-zero temperatures on location. Jiang Cimu drove three hours to bring her homemade chicken soup, Alice covered her body with hand warmers, Nancy held the script and explained the scene to her in the tent, and Farah wrapped her up like a dumpling with her own scarf. She realized that happiness was never about dramatic storms, but about these small acts of warmth: he remembered all her little preferences, they understood the meaning behind every glance, and amidst the fleeting glamour of the entertainment industry, they wove together the most solid harbor.

Back in the hotel room, steam was rising from the bathroom. Jiang Cimu's suit jacket was draped over the back of a chair, next to her usual lavender eye mask. Three canelés lay neatly in a glass jar on the bedside table, the top layer sprinkled with her favorite coconut flakes. Suddenly, her phone vibrated, and three photos popped up in the group chat: Nancy asleep, her face pressed against the script, a character biography she'd written for her; Alice braiding Farah's hair, their matching moon-shaped earrings reflected in the mirror; Farah clutching design drafts, twenty custom-made costume sketches prepared for her new drama piled at her feet.

Sang Shuwan smiled and opened the video call. Jiang Cimu's face appeared on the screen, with the familiar study background behind him: "Are you tired?" His voice was full of affection. "Tomorrow I'll take you to buy the best handmade chocolates in Milan, and bring a box for each of them." The camera panned across the desk, and she saw her photo placed in the most prominent position, next to Jiang Cimu's notebook from college. On the first page was a photo of the four of them, with the note: "My stars, you deserve all the tenderness."

As night deepened, Sang Shuwan leaned against Jiang Cimu's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the headboard. She suddenly understood that true peace and tranquility meant having a loving partner who understood you, a best friend who would go crazy with you, and a career you were passionate about. The embroidery hidden in her cuffs, the annotations in her scripts, the hand-knitted shawls—these were all codes of love, ensuring that on the dazzling stage, she would always know she wasn't shining alone—someone kept the light on for her, someone warmed the soup for her, and someone protected her most authentic self.

That night, the breeze in Milan was gentle. In my dreams, there was the sweetness of hot cocoa, the laughter of my best friend, and the warmth of his palm. It turns out that the most beautiful stories are never grand and dramatic, but rather these small, warm, and love-filled everyday moments, refracting the most touching light like a prism.

Seven days after Milan Men's Fashion Week ended, Sang Shuwan stood under the plane trees on the Beijing Film Academy campus, staring blankly at Jiang Cimu, who was wearing a white shirt. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on his collar, making him look exactly like the boy who had helped her retrieve her pen in the library seven years ago. Alice squatted down, adjusting her school uniform skirt, muttering, "Why is Farah's pleated skirt two centimeters shorter than the school-issue version back then? Cimu, you're not allowed to stare at Wanwan's legs."

Jiang Cimu's ears burned slightly as he turned to look at the school emblem on the roof of the teaching building: "Back then, when she wore my shirt as a dress, I didn't see you this nervous." This made Nancy laugh out loud while holding the camera, the lens pointing at Sang Shuwan's reddened ears: "This part is going to be included in a documentary, titled 'The School Uniform Temptation of the Best Actor and Actress'." Farah ran over with a design draft covered in annotations, her hair dusted with chalk dust from somewhere: "I changed the embroidery on the collar to the date of your first date, and the stitches are templated using the diagonal stripes of Mr. Jiang's tie."

During a break before filming began, Sang Shuwan leaned against an old sycamore tree by the teaching building, watching Jiang Cimu and Nancy discuss the storyboard. His fingers unconsciously traced the cuff of his school uniform, where tiny "JS" initials were embroidered—fabricated by Farah under a microscope, who said, "This is your school code." Alice suddenly handed him a thermos filled with luo han guo tea: "I watched you memorize your lines until 2 AM last night. Your voice will be hoarse; you won't be able to film kissing scenes with that."

“Who said kissing scenes have to be faked?” Nancy suddenly turned her head, her pen tapping crisply on the script. “The production team said that real couples have to kiss for real. The scene where you two were caught kissing in the cafeteria back then—” She deliberately dragged out her words, laughing so hard she bent over as she looked at Sang Shuwan’s flustered expression, “I wrote it all down in my little notebook.” Farah leaned over, pulling out a candid photo from their university days on her phone: Sang Shuwan tiptoed to kiss Jiang Cimu’s cheek, while he held a book on film shot design in his hands, his ears so red they could bleed.

The first scene of the campus drama is their encounter in the library. Sang Shuwan turns around carrying a stack of scripts, deliberately letting the top one, *The Truman Show*, slip off. The moment Jiang Cimu bends down to pick it up, their fingertips touch, and the warmth of his palm seeps through the sleeve of his school uniform, just like that early autumn afternoon seven years ago. Off-camera, Alice secretly wipes away tears while holding the clapperboard, Farah frantically takes screenshots with her phone, and Nancy shouts while holding the camera: "Cimu, make your eyes gentler, like you're looking at the sweetest canelé in the world!"

During lunch break, the four of them squeezed into the crew's rest tent. Jiang Cimu opened the thermos; inside were portions of pumpkin porridge, each with a note: Alice's had a moon drawn on it, Farah's had a lollipop, Nancy's had "Less sugar to prevent cavities," and Sang Shuwan's had a drawing of little people holding hands on its lid. Nancy, biting her spoon, suddenly spoke up: "I wrote a new script about three female CEOs and their superstar best friends, with a subplot about how the best friends' husbands are jealous yet doting on their wives."

“Then the male lead’s character should be—” Farah mumbled through her lollipop, “a seemingly aloof CEO, but actually preparing twenty different kinds of breakfast for his wife every day, and also acting as her driver for her best friends.” Alice kicked her foot: “Don’t forget that you also have to help them snag limited edition figurines. Last time, Ci Mu helped me get a moon-themed blind box, and the way he was sitting in front of the computer at three in the morning—” She suddenly burst out laughing, “was even more serious than my Wanwan when she filmed a crying scene.”

The afternoon's scene involved running on the playground. Sang Shuwan wore Fara's modified school uniform sneakers, with half a centimeter of height added to the soles—her agent had said, "We can't let Mr. Jiang appear too tall, as it would ruin the adorable height difference between campus couples." As she ran past the podium, Jiang Cimu suddenly leaned closer, his voice so soft that only the two of them could hear: "Remember when you fainted during the 800-meter run? I carried you to the school clinic." Her ears burned, and she almost lost her rhythm. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nancy recording with her phone outside the camera's view, muttering, "That heart-pounding micro-expression is amazing."

After work, the four of them sat on the bleachers of the playground watching the sunset. Farah suddenly pulled out a small notebook filled with photos of them together over the years: hot cocoa backstage at Milan Fashion Week, an embrace under the aurora borealis in Iceland, and a celebration party after an awards ceremony. "I plan to make these into a journal," she said, waving the notebook around. "Mr. Jiang will write a sentence on each page, for example—" She turned to the page covered with embroidered school uniforms, "Here he can write, 'Your school uniform cuffs hold the heartbeat of my entire youth.'"

Jiang Cimu took the notebook, the pen scratching softly on the pages. Sang Shuwan leaned over to look and found that he had written about little things from their university days: "She always unbuttoned the second button of my white shirt, saying it made her look more casual; she liked to bite the cap of her pen when she was memorizing lines, so I secretly bought twenty strawberry-flavored ones; she held a concert in the dormitory, waking up the whole building, but I thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world."

As dusk deepened, the studio lights came on. Nancy suddenly pointed to the cafeteria in the distance: "Let's go get some oil-splashed noodles! Remember when the four of us skipped class to go out for a late-night snack and got caught by the headmaster—" She suddenly looked at Jiang Cimu, "I remember clearly the slap Cimu took for Wanwan." Farah suddenly pulled out lollipops from her bag and handed them to everyone: "Back then, I thought, this man is so reliable, he didn't even flinch when he got hit, just to protect Wanwan's audition opportunity for the female lead."

Under the incandescent lights of the cafeteria, Sang Shuwan watched Jiang Cimu pick the scallions out of her noodles—he remembered she didn't eat scallions, but always picked out the cilantro from his bowl for her, saying, "Complementarity is perfection." Alice and Nancy were bickering across from each other, arguing about "whose lines in the campus drama are more cheesy." Farah was filming a vlog with her phone, the camera panning across their intertwined wrists, where they wore matching couple bracelets, cast from their graduation school badges.

Back at the hotel after work that night, Jiang Cimu helped her remove her light makeup. As the warm towel wiped her cheeks, he suddenly chuckled, "Your eyelashes were fluttering like butterfly wings during the kissing scene today." Sang Shuwan snuggled into his arms, smelling the familiar scent of cedar perfume, "It's all because Nancy made a face off-camera and said your ear tips were as red as tomatoes." He lowered his head and kissed the top of her head, his fingertips tracing the small tattoo on the back of her neck—it was the one they got when they got married. He had a train around a star tattooed on it, saying, "That way you'll always be by my side."

At three in the morning, Sang Shuwan was awakened by her phone vibrating. A message from Farah popped up in the group chat, along with nine pictures: sketches of her newly designed wedding dresses, each one subtly thoughtful—their wedding date embroidered on the cuffs, the initials of her three best friends woven into the skirt, and the star pattern on the veil drawn by Nancy with a pen. Alice replied, "The train needs to be three meters long, so Cimu has to be strong enough to carry our Wanwan." Nancy added, "I'll film the wedding documentary; the title will be 'Orbits Under the Stars'."

Jiang Cimu rolled over, wrapping his arms around her waist, his warm breath brushing against her ear: "Don't stay up late, we have to film a kissing scene in the library tomorrow." She turned off her phone and laughed out loud in the darkness—so this is what happiness is: having a lover beside you, a best friend by your side, and a role you love ahead of you. The youth hidden in the embroidery of school uniforms, the warmth in the annotations of the script, the tenderness in the trivialities of daily life, all refracted like a prism, reflecting the most moving light, making every ordinary day shine.

That night, Sang Shuwan had a dream. In her dream, she returned to her university's welcome party. She was singing "A Little Happiness" on stage, Jiang Cimu was sitting in the audience recording with his phone, Alice was backstage helping her adjust her dress, Nancy was holding a camera to find the best angle, and Farah was screaming in the audience with a glow stick. When the lights dimmed, he walked onto the stage and handed her a bouquet of roses, saying, "From now on, I will be there for every stage you perform on."

As dawn broke, Jiang Cimu was already in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Sang Shuwan watched him wearing an apron with a moon pattern (a birthday gift from Alice), and the soft-boiled eggs in the frying pan were sizzling. On the table, the thermos cups for his girlfriends were neatly arranged, labeled "Nancy's Americano - Less Ice," "Alice's Latte - Double Sugar," and "Fara's Honey Water - Warm."

She suddenly understood that the so-called ten-thousand-word story was never a pile of fancy words, but rather these tender fragments hidden in time: he remembered every little habit of hers, they understood every look in her eyes, and amidst the fleeting glamour of the entertainment industry, they guarded the most authentic version of each other. All the unspoken love was hidden in the embroidery on her cuffs, in the annotations of her script, in the group chat messages at three in the morning, weaving a warm net so that she would always know that she was loved, pampered, and carefully placed.

This is Sang Shuwan's starlight and prism: starlight is the brilliance on the stage, the prism is the reflection in life, and all the light originates from the love and companionship of those around her. No need for grand gestures, just a gentle, flowing stream—that is the most touching story.

Seven days after Milan Men's Fashion Week ended, Sang Shuwan stood under the plane trees on the Beijing Film Academy campus, staring blankly at Jiang Cimu, who was wearing a white shirt. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on his collar, making him look exactly like the boy who had helped her retrieve her pen in the library seven years ago. Alice squatted down, adjusting her school uniform skirt, muttering, "Why is Farah's pleated skirt two centimeters shorter than the school-issue version back then? Cimu, you're not allowed to stare at Wanwan's legs."

Jiang Cimu's ears burned slightly as he turned to look at the school emblem on the roof of the teaching building: "Back then, when she wore my shirt as a dress, I didn't see you this nervous." This made Nancy laugh out loud while holding the camera, the lens pointing at Sang Shuwan's reddened ears: "This part is going to be included in a documentary, titled 'The School Uniform Temptation of the Best Actor and Actress'." Farah ran over with a design draft covered in annotations, her hair dusted with chalk dust from somewhere: "I changed the embroidery on the collar to the date of your first date, and the stitches are templated using the diagonal stripes of Mr. Jiang's tie."

During a break before filming began, Sang Shuwan leaned against an old sycamore tree by the teaching building, watching Jiang Cimu and Nancy discuss the storyboard. His fingers unconsciously traced the cuff of his school uniform, where tiny "JS" initials were embroidered—fabricated by Farah under a microscope, who said, "This is your school code." Alice suddenly handed him a thermos filled with luo han guo tea: "I watched you memorize your lines until 2 AM last night. Your voice will be hoarse; you won't be able to film kissing scenes with that."

“Who said kissing scenes have to be faked?” Nancy suddenly turned her head, her pen tapping crisply on the script. “The production team said that real couples have to kiss for real. The scene where you two were caught kissing in the cafeteria back then—” She deliberately dragged out her words, laughing so hard she bent over as she looked at Sang Shuwan’s flustered expression, “I wrote it all down in my little notebook.” Farah leaned over, pulling out a candid photo from their university days on her phone: Sang Shuwan tiptoed to kiss Jiang Cimu’s cheek, while he held a book on film shot design in his hands, his ears so red they could bleed.

The first scene of the campus drama is their encounter in the library. Sang Shuwan turns around carrying a stack of scripts, deliberately letting the top one, *The Truman Show*, slip off. The moment Jiang Cimu bends down to pick it up, their fingertips touch, and the warmth of his palm seeps through the sleeve of his school uniform, just like that early autumn afternoon seven years ago. Off-camera, Alice secretly wipes away tears while holding the clapperboard, Farah frantically takes screenshots with her phone, and Nancy shouts while holding the camera: "Cimu, make your eyes gentler, like you're looking at the sweetest canelé in the world!"