Chapter 12 — The Unexpected Demolition Notice
51. The Demolition Notice
The afternoon sunlight slanted into the courtyard of The Single Society.
Several freshly washed clothes hung along the courtyard wall, their hems fluttering gently in the breeze. Beside the old wooden table in the center of the courtyard, Zhao Guanghua was buried in a book, while Zhang Ningjing sat beside him organizing her jewelry design sketches. At the entrance, Liu Dingtian and Zhu Erdong were carrying in newly delivered sports equipment, bickering as they worked.
“Big Guy, be careful. That’s brand-new merchandise!” Zhu Erdong shouted.
Liu Dingtian carried a cardboard box on his shoulder and looked back unconcernedly.
“Don’t worry! This little bit of weight is nothing to me. It’s like carrying a sack of rice.”
“I’m afraid you’ll drop it on your own foot!”
“Stop jinxing me!”
Everyone burst out laughing.
Not far away, Qiu Chen had just returned from the set of The Single Society, still holding several storyboard photos from the scenes they had just filmed.
“Everyone!” he said with a smile as he walked into the courtyard. “Today’s filming went really smoothly. That scene this afternoon—”
Before he could finish, a black sedan suddenly stopped in front of The Single Society.
The car door opened.
Ji Baozhu stepped out.
Unlike usual, she did not greet everyone with a smile. Instead, she stood at the entrance, tightly clutching a stack of documents in her hands.
The smile slowly disappeared from Qiu Chen’s face.
“Sister Bao, what’s wrong?”
Ji Baozhu did not answer.
She walked into the courtyard and looked at the people in front of her.
She looked at the house they had lived in for years. She looked at the courtyard wall, the clothes rack, the old tree, and every familiar bedroom door.
She took a deep breath.
“Everyone…come over for a minute.”
Sensing that something was wrong, everyone put down whatever they were doing.
“What happened?” Zhang Ningjing asked.
Sister Bao lowered her head and looked at the documents in her hands. After several seconds of silence, she finally spoke slowly.
“The government just issued an official notice.”
“What kind of notice?” Liu Dingtian asked with a frown.
Sister Bao raised her head.
“They’re widening the road in this area.”
The courtyard immediately fell silent.
“Road widening…what does that have to do with us?” Zhu Erdong asked.
Sister Bao said nothing.
She spread the official notice open and placed it on the table.
The red official seal was especially glaring.
“All the shops and houses on both sides of the road are within the area subject to acquisition.”
For a moment, no one understood what that meant.
A few seconds later, Liu Dingtian’s eyes widened.
“Wait…” He pointed at the ground beneath his feet. “Does that include this place, too?”
Sister Bao nodded.
“Yes. It does.”
“What about our Single Society?”
“It’s included, too.”
As those words fell, the entire courtyard seemed to lose its voice.
The people who had been laughing and joking just moments ago stood frozen in place one by one.
Zhang Ningjing slowly put down her pen.
Sun Qing walked out of the house. Seeing everyone’s expressions, she asked in confusion, “What happened?”
No one answered.
She looked at Sister Bao, then at the notice on the table, and finally understood.
“No way…”
Sister Bao forced a faint smile.
“The government says there will be compensation according to the law.”
“Compensation?” Lin Wanhua walked out of the house, disbelief in her voice.
“Sister Bao, what we want is this home, not compensation money.”
Sister Bao looked at her, her eyes slightly reddening.
“I know.” She spoke softly. “But this time…we can’t simply refuse to move because we don’t want to.”
Qiu Chen had remained silent the entire time.
He lowered his head and looked at the storyboard photos in his hands.
They showed The Single Society, the movie he had just been filming.
A group of people living under the same roof. Bickering and making noise. Supporting one another. Crying together and laughing together.
That was not just a house.
It was the first movie he had truly wanted to make well.
It was also the first business he had ever truly called his own.
“What about my movie?” Qiu Chen suddenly asked.
Everyone looked at him.
“We’ve only filmed half of it.” His voice was low. “The locations, the sets, the shots—all of them are based on this place…”
Lin Wanhua looked at him, her heart sinking.
She understood what Qiu Chen was worried about.
If The Single Society were demolished, the movie’s most important central location would disappear as well.
“Then find another place and film it again,” Zhu Erdong said.
Qiu Chen gave a bitter smile.
“It’s not that easy.”
He spread the storyboard photos across the table.
“These scenes can’t just be replaced by any house.”
“The position of the doors, the layout of the courtyard, the rooms, the hallways, even the way the light comes through the windows…”
The lower his voice became, the more helpless he sounded.
“Everything would be different.”
Liu Dingtian clenched his teeth.
“Are you saying the movie is finished?”
No one answered.
A gust of wind blew through the courtyard.
The clothes hanging outside swayed in the breeze.
Lin Wanhua suddenly lowered her head and looked at the screenplay.
She was silent for a moment.
“Who says we have to reshoot it?”
Qiu Chen looked up.
“Wanhua?”
Lin Wanhua picked up the screenplay and flipped through several pages.
“We’re filming The Single Society right now. Since the Single Society is really going to be demolished…”
She raised her eyes.
Her eyes suddenly lit up.
“Then put it into the movie.”
Everyone froze.
“What do you mean?” Sun Qing asked.
Wanhua closed the screenplay.
“Originally, the Single Society was simply a place where the story happened.”
She looked at Qiu Chen.
“Now, it can become part of the story itself.”
Qiu Chen stared at her.
Lin Wanhua became more and more excited as she spoke.
“We can have the characters in the movie suddenly receive a demolition notice.”
“They’re all living their ordinary lives when, all of a sudden, they’re told that their home is going to disappear.”
“Then everyone starts doing everything they can to save their home…”
Liu Dingtian’s eyes lit up.
“Wouldn’t that mean we’d really be playing ourselves?”
“Exactly.” Wanhua smiled. “And this time, we wouldn’t have to act.”
She looked at every person in the courtyard.
“Because this is who we really are.”
Qiu Chen was silent for a moment, then slowly smiled.
“Wanhua…”
“Hmm?”
“You really are a screenwriter.”
Wanhua rolled her eyes at him.
“You’re only realizing that now?”
Everyone finally burst into laughter.
Yet there was still a trace of bitterness hidden within the laughter.
Just then, Qiu Chen picked up his phone.
“I’m calling General Manager Guo.”
The call was answered quickly.
“Hello, General Manager Guo. It’s me.”
Guo Wuyong’s hearty voice came from the other end.
“Qiu Chen! How’s the movie coming along? I was just going to ask you—was yesterday’s scene good?”
Qiu Chen was silent for a moment.
“General Manager Guo, something has happened to the Single Society.”
“What happened?”
“The government is widening the road. The entire street is being acquired, and the Single Society is on the demolition list.”
There was sudden silence on the other end.
“What did you say?”
“The Single Society may not be able to stay.” Qiu Chen glanced at Sister Bao. “The movie may be affected, too.”
After a moment, Guo Wuyong said in a deep voice, “Wait for me.”
“General Manager Guo?”
“I’m coming over now.”
The call ended.
Less than an hour later, a black sedan stopped in front of The Single Society.
Guo Wuyong hurried into the courtyard.
He did not look at the screenplay first, nor did he ask about the movie’s progress.
Instead, he walked directly over to Ji Baozhu.
“Sister Bao.”
“Chairman Guo.”
The two looked at each other.
Guo Wuyong looked at the Single Society, where they had lived for so many years, his expression unusually serious.
“Does it really have to be demolished?”
Sister Bao gave a bitter smile.
“The government notice has already been issued.”
Guo Wuyong was silent for a moment.
Then he suddenly asked, “What if…we find another piece of land?”
Sister Bao froze.
“What?”
Guo Wuyong turned toward everyone.
“I’ll pay for it.”
Everyone froze at the same time.
Chairman Guo pointed to the old Single Society and spoke word by word.
“This place can be demolished. But The Single Society cannot disappear.”
He looked at Sister Bao.
“We’ll find another piece of land and build it again.”
Sister Bao stared at him in a daze.
“General Manager Guo, this…”
Guo Wuyong smiled.
“Sister Bao, don’t you always say that houses grow old and people leave, but as long as everyone is still here, the Single Society is still here?”
The courtyard fell completely silent.
Qiu Chen looked at Guo Wuyong, then at Lin Wanhua beside him.
Wanhua said nothing.
She simply smiled gently.
Because she suddenly understood—
the story in the movie was happening in the real world.
And the real The Single Society might only now be about to begin its most important scene.
52. An Unexpected Turnaround
A few days later, there was an unexpected turn of events.
“We found the land!”
When Sun Qing pushed open the door of The Single Society, she was still holding a stack of documents in her hand. There was a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, but her face was filled with excitement.
Ji Baozhu, Qiu Chen, Lin Wanhua, and several tenants were all sitting in the living room discussing the relocation. They all looked up.
“Really?” Sister Bao immediately stood up.
“Really.”
Sun Qing spread the map across the table and pointed to a particular location.
“It’s not too far from the old Single Society, and transportation is convenient. There’s also a park and a shopping street nearby. Most importantly—the land deed and the terms of use are all in order.”
Liu Dingtian leaned over to take a look and could not help grinning.
“This place is pretty good! Our sports equipment company won’t have to move too far, either.”
Zhu Erdong patted him on the shoulder.
“You really treat this place like your corporate headquarters, don’t you?”
“Of course!” Liu Dingtian said righteously. “The Single Society is where we got our start!”
Everyone burst out laughing.
Just then, Walis Yukan walked in from outside carrying several design drawings.
“If everyone agrees, I can try to help design the new Single Society.”
Sister Bao froze.
“You?”
Yukan smiled shyly.
“I’ve helped draw some architectural design plans in my tribe before, and I’ve learned a little about this kind of thing. I’m not a professional architect, but…I can give it a try.”
Sister Bao took the design drawings and looked through them one by one.
The new Single Society in the plans retained the old building’s red-brick exterior walls and long corridor structure, but added large floor-to-ceiling windows, shared activity spaces, and a small courtyard in the center.
There was even room for a large tree in the middle of the courtyard.
Lin Wanhua looked at the drawings, her eyes slowly lighting up.
“This doesn’t look like a house.”
“Then what does it look like?” Qiu Chen asked.
Wanhua smiled.
“It looks like a place where people can start over.”
Sister Bao remained silent for a long time after hearing that.
Finally, she nodded gently.
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
53. The Movie’s Box Office Falls Short of Expectations
In the days that followed, Qiu Chen continued rushing back and forth between the film sets.
Although The Single Society was facing demolition, filming did not stop.
New exterior sets were rebuilt, and the crew worked around the clock.
Every day, Qiu Chen moved around the set with a walkie-talkie in hand, so busy that he barely had time to take a sip of water.
“Lighting, thirty centimeters to the left!”
“Actors ready!”
“Camera in position!”
“Okay—Action!”
At his command, the actors rushed into the frame.
This movie had originally been Qiu Chen’s first true entrepreneurial production.
Now, however, the story had unexpectedly incorporated the plot of the Single Society being demolished.
Lin Wanhua even incorporated the genuine emotions that Ji Baozhu and the tenants experienced when facing the demolition into the screenplay.
“Are you sure we should film it this way?” Qiu Chen once asked her.
Wanhua kept her head down as she revised the screenplay.
“Why not?”
“This is something painful that happened to us.”
“Precisely because it’s real, it’s worth filming.”
She paused and raised her head.
“Movies aren’t only supposed to make people laugh. Sometimes, if something remains in the audience’s hearts after they finish laughing, that’s what really matters.”
Qiu Chen looked at her and slowly nodded.
“Okay. We’ll do it your way.”
Three months later, the new Single Society building was finally completed.
The morning sunlight shone on the brand-new sign.
The four words “The Single Society” gleamed in the sunlight.
Ji Baozhu stood at the entrance, looking at the brand-new building before her, her eyes slightly reddening.
“I never thought…we’d really have a home again.”
Lin Wanhua stood beside her.
“Sister Bao, this isn’t a house.”
“Then what is it?”
Wanhua smiled.
“It’s a second life.”
Sister Bao smiled and lightly tapped her.
“You really are getting better and better at talking.”
That day, every tenant pitched in.
Some carried beds. Some carried books. Some carried tables and chairs. Others carried a huge box of miscellaneous things that had apparently been sitting around for who knew how long, becoming exhausted and drenched in sweat.
“Whose box is this?” Zhu Erdong shouted, pointing at a cardboard box.
“Big Guy’s!”
“Mine?” Liu Dingtian looked completely baffled. “When did I have this much stuff?”
When the cardboard box was opened, it was filled entirely with the old sneakers Liu Dingtian had collected over the years.
“Hahaha—!”
Everyone burst into laughter. Even Liu Dingtian himself laughed.
“What are you laughing at? These are all souvenirs!”
Zhu Erdong shook his head. “You call that garbage.”
“What do you know? These are traces of my life!”
Everyone laughed even louder.
Just as everyone was busy moving, a familiar voice came from a distance.
“Hey! Does anyone need help?”
Liu Dingtian looked up and was immediately stunned. “Why are you guys back?”
Standing at the gate was none other than Wang Qiang.
Liu Dingtian rushed over, and the two grown men hugged each other tightly.
“Brother!”
“Brother!”
“Back to help us move?”
“Of course!”
That day, every table, every bed, and every cardboard box in the new Single Society was marked by everyone’s sweat and laughter. That night, everyone sat in the courtyard of the new Single Society and ate together.
The lights illuminated every face.
Sister Bao raised her glass. “To our new home!”
Everyone raised their glasses.
“To the new home!”
“To us!”
“To The Single Society!”
Laughter lingered in the night sky for a long time.
Not long afterward, the movie The Single Society officially wrapped production.
After the final shot was completed, Qiu Chen stood in front of the monitor for a long time without saying a word.
The assistant director walked over. “Director Qiu, we’ve wrapped.”
Qiu Chen took a deep breath. “We really wrapped?”
“We really did.” Applause broke out among the crew.
Qiu Chen turned around and looked at everyone on the crew, then bowed deeply. “Thank you, everyone.”
At that moment, the smile on his face was genuine.
But after the movie was released, reality did not give him the same applause.
The first-week box office figures were announced. The numbers were far below everyone’s expectations.
In the second week, they fell sharply. By the third week, almost no theaters were willing to keep screening the movie.
The office of the film studio was so quiet that the silence was suffocating.
Lin Wanhua stared at the report, her brows tightly furrowed. “Impossible.”
She flipped through audience reviews and media comments. “There’s nothing wrong with the screenplay.” She picked up the screenplay and turned the pages one by one.
“The jokes here... the twist here... and this scene—I clearly remember everyone saying it was hilarious when I wrote it.”
Qiu Chen sat across from her and remained silent for a long time.
Wanhua raised her head. “So where exactly did things go wrong?”
Qiu Chen did not answer immediately. Outside the window, the setting sun slowly sank, and the glass reflected the two exhausted figures.
After a while, he finally said softly, “Maybe it was me.”
Wanhua froze. “What?”
“You wrote the screenplay. There’s nothing wrong with the story.” Qiu Chen gave a bitter smile. “But I made the movie.”
“Qiu Chen...”
“This was my first time being a real director.” He lowered his head and looked at the box office report on the desk.
“Maybe my filmmaking techniques are still too immature. The pacing, the camera work, the way I handled the actors... Maybe I still haven’t truly mastered how to make a commercial movie.”
Wanhua looked at him. “So you think it’s your problem?”
Qiu Chen raised his head. There was no attempt to shirk responsibility in his eyes, only an almost stubborn sense of responsibility.
“I ruined this movie.” He gently pulled the box office report toward himself. “Then I’ll carry the responsibility.”
Wanhua said nothing.
She looked at the man in front of her and suddenly remembered the days when he had been treated like a gofer at the film company. She also remembered how he had fallen while doing a wire stunt, broken his ribs, and still refused to leave the set.
She suddenly understood—some people pursue their dreams not because they have never failed, but because even after failure, they are still willing to stand up again.
Wanhua slowly reached out and picked up the screenplay from the desk.
“Then let’s start over.”
Qiu Chen looked up. “What?”
“If this one wasn’t good enough, then we’ll make the next one.” She looked at him, a faint smile appearing at the corners of her mouth. “You’re responsible for making the movie well. And me? I’m responsible for writing the screenplay well.”
The two looked at each other and smiled.
Outside the window, the last ray of sunset disappeared beyond the city skyline.
And their life in filmmaking had only truly begun.
- Wanhua Stands Her Ground
The box office performance after the movie’s release was not as impressive as expected. Not long after the news spread, Chai Xin found out.
The head writer at the television station sat in her office, looking at the newspaper on her desk. Her eyes rested on several inconspicuous lines in the entertainment section.
“The Single Society Has a Lukewarm Box Office, with Mixed Reviews...”
Chai Xin tossed the newspaper onto the desk, a faint, almost imperceptible smile appearing at the corners of her mouth.
She knew that Lin Wanhua’s dream of making movies did not seem to be going as smoothly as she had imagined.
“Looks like... it’s time to call her back.”
In the afternoon, the gate of The Single Society was pushed open.
“Is Wanhua here?”
A familiar voice came from the living room.
Sister Bao, who was washing cups in the kitchen, poked her head out. When she saw Chai Xin, she was slightly taken aback.
“Who are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for Wanhua.”
“She’s in her room.”
Chai Xin nodded and walked down the hallway in her high heels.
Before she reached the door, Qiu Chen came out from the other side.
Their eyes met. Chai Xin merely gave him a slight nod.
“Director Qiu.”
“Teacher Chai.”
The two exchanged polite greetings, but the atmosphere was somewhat subtle.
Chai Xin pushed open the door.
Lin Wanhua was sitting at the desk, holding a screenplay in her hands. The desktop was piled high with film books and notes.
“Wanhua.”
Wanhua raised her head. When she saw Chai Xin, she was initially startled, then stood up.
“Sister Chai, what brings you here?”
Chai Xin did not sit down. Instead, she walked to the window and glanced at the screenplay on the desk.
“I heard you haven’t been doing so well lately.”
Wanhua gave a bitter smile. “When you make a movie, how can everything go smoothly?”
“The movie’s box office was poor. Doesn’t that make you sad?”
“Of course I’m sad.” Wanhua answered honestly. “But being sad is one thing. Whether I continue down this road is another.”
Chai Xin looked at her. “So you still don’t plan to come back to the television station?”
Wanhua was silent for a moment.
“No.”
“Wanhua.” Chai Xin’s tone became somewhat gentler.
“The television station is preparing to produce a new contemporary drama series. I can save the head writer position for you.”
Wanhua looked up.
Chai Xin continued while the opportunity was there. “And this time, it’s different. I can officially put your name on the writing credits, and I can increase your writing fee as well.”
But Wanhua merely smiled faintly. “Thank you.”
“So you’ll accept?”
“No.”
The smile slowly disappeared from Chai Xin’s face. “Why?”
Wanhua looked at her. “Because I don’t want to write for other people anymore.”
Chai Xin frowned. “What do you mean, write for other people? Aren’t you writing for Qiu Chen now that you’re making your own movie?”
“That’s different.” Wanhua’s voice was very calm. “At least this time, I know what I’m writing, and I know what this story will ultimately become.”
Chai Xin sneered. “Wanhua, you can’t eat ideals.”
Wanhua did not argue. After a while, she said, “I know.”
“Then why do you still—”
“But if I throw away my dream before I’ve even had a meal, then every time I sit down to eat in the future, I might feel pathetic.”
The room suddenly fell silent.
Standing outside the door, Qiu Chen heard every word clearly.
His eyes rested on Wanhua, and for the first time, there was a deep sense of admiration in them.
Chai Xin was silent for a moment, and her expression gradually darkened.
“Fine.”
She picked up her handbag. “Since you’re so determined, then I wish you success.”
“Thank you.”
Chai Xin turned and walked out of the room. When she passed Qiu Chen, she paused.
“Director Qiu, good luck.”
With that, she walked away in her high heels without looking back.
The gate slammed shut.
Qiu Chen watched her disappear, then turned back toward Wanhua.
“You really don’t regret it?”
Wanhua lowered her head and flipped through the screenplay. “Regret what?”
“Turning down Chai Xin.”
Wanhua shrugged. “Back when she had me write scripts for her, I already knew I didn’t want to spend my whole life as a ghostwriter.”
Qiu Chen smiled. “You’re even more stubborn than I imagined.”
“You’re only realizing that now?”
“Now I know.”
That evening, Qiu Chen carried a large stack of books into Wanhua’s room.
“What are these?” Wanhua looked up.
Qiu Chen placed the books on the desk one by one. “American textbooks on commercial screenwriting.”
“So many?”
“This is only the first batch.”
Wanhua casually picked up one and flipped through two pages. “They’re in English?”
“Of course.”
She rolled her eyes at Qiu Chen. “It’s not like I can’t understand English.”
“I know.” Qiu Chen pulled out a chair and sat down.
“But you mainly wrote television dramas before. The writing style for commercial movies isn’t exactly the same.”
Wanhua frowned. “Are you criticizing my screenplay?”
“No.” Qiu Chen smiled. “I think you have talent, so I don’t want you to stop here.”
Wanhua looked at him. “What are you trying to do?”
“Make up for what you missed.”
“Who’s teaching whom?”
“I’m teaching you.”
Wanhua burst out laughing. “You?”
“What? I didn’t spend all those years in the United States for nothing.” Qiu Chen opened a screenwriting guide.
“Making a movie isn’t just a matter of shortening a television drama. The first thing a commercial movie needs to do is grab the audience’s attention. The second is pacing. The third is—”
“Conflict.” Wanhua finished for him.
Qiu Chen froze. “You know?”
“I knew that when I was writing screenplays, too.”
“Then we’ll start with what you don’t know.”
“Sure.”
From that day on, the two of them spent almost every day tucked away in the room.
They studied screenplays during the day.
At night, they discussed the characters.
Sometimes they could argue for half an hour over a single joke.
“You can’t write it this way.”
“Why?”
“Because the audience has already figured it out.”
“Then what should we change it to?”
“Let the audience figure out half of it.”
“What does that mean, figure out half of it?”
“It means making them think they’ve figured it out, and then, at the end, letting them discover that they were wrong.”
Wanhua froze for a moment. “A twist?”
“Exactly.”
“Then you write it.”
“Me?”
“Aren’t you the teacher? Give me a demonstration.”
Qiu Chen shook his head helplessly. “You’re a difficult student to teach.”
The two of them laughed at the same time.
Sometimes they argued until their faces turned red. Other times, when a sudden idea came to them, they would both slap the table and burst out laughing.
Gradually, everyone at The Single Society noticed something—
Qiu Chen and Lin Wanhua were together almost every day.
They discussed things together in the morning.
They ate lunch together.
They watched movies together in the afternoon.
They revised screenplays together at night.
Even when they went to the kitchen in the middle of the night to pour themselves a glass of water, they might still find the two of them sitting at the table discussing the plot.
Sun Qing saw all of this, but it made her feel increasingly uncomfortable.
One evening, Sun Qing finally could not hold it in any longer and knocked on Wanhua’s door.
“Wanhua, can I talk to you?”
“Of course.” Wanhua closed her laptop.
Sun Qing walked in but did not sit down immediately. She paced back and forth in the room twice before finally looking at Wanhua.
“You and Qiu Chen... have you two been getting a little too close lately?”
Wanhua froze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean...” Sun Qing bit her lip.
“You two are together every day.”
Wanhua smiled. “We’re working.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
Sun Qing fell silent. She did not want to admit that what she was really afraid of was that Qiu Chen might one day fall in love with Wanhua.
One understood movies, while the other understood screenplays. One had a dream, while the other had talent. They spent every day together, from morning until night. With two people like that, who would believe there was no possibility between them?
“Wanhua...” Sun Qing finally spoke. “Do you like Qiu Chen?”
The room suddenly became quiet.
Wanhua stared at her in a daze. After a few seconds, she suddenly smiled.
“You’re overthinking it.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Wanhua walked to the window and looked at the dim yellow lights in the courtyard.
“The person I like... isn’t Qiu Chen.”
Sun Qing stared at her. “Then who is it?”
Wanhua did not answer immediately.
She was silent for a while before saying softly, “Yukan.”
Sun Qing froze. “Yukan?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you really like him?”
Wanhua nodded. “At least... when I see him, my heart becomes calm.”
Sun Qing said nothing.
Wanhua turned around and smiled. “Qiu Chen is my work partner and also my friend. That’s all.”
Sun Qing looked at her, seemingly trying to find a trace of a flaw in her expression. But Wanhua remained calm.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Sun Qing finally nodded. “All right.” She turned and walked to the door.
Just as her hand closed around the doorknob, she turned back and looked at Wanhua again.
“But...”
“What?”
“I still think there’s something different about the way Qiu Chen looks at you.”
Wanhua froze for a moment.
Sun Qing smiled. “I’m leaving.”
The door closed gently.
Wanhua stood alone in the room. Outside the window, the night was deep and dark.
She walked to the desk and opened her laptop again. The screen lit up. The cursor blinked on and off. Yet she did not start typing immediately.
For some reason, the image that suddenly appeared in her mind was Yukan sitting beneath a tree in the park, playing the harmonica.
The corners of her mouth lifted slightly.
“Yukan...”
Yet another person’s voice echoed in her memory.
“You really are a difficult student to teach.”
Wanhua gently shook her head. “Lin Wanhua, what on earth are you thinking?”
She placed her hands back on the keyboard.
Click.
The first word appeared.
The night became quiet again.
- Yukan’s Story
In the afternoon park, sunlight streamed through the branches and leaves of an old banyan tree, casting a patchwork of light and shadow across the pedestrian path.
Walis Yukan sat at his portrait stand, his head lowered as he drew a portrait of a little girl.
The charcoal pencil made a soft scratching sound against the drawing paper. His wrist moved sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly. A few minutes later, a bright, innocent smiling face came alive on the paper.
“Done.” Walis handed the drawing to the little girl.
The girl took the portrait, and her eyes immediately lit up. “Uncle, you made me look just like me!”
“Not just like you. You really are this beautiful.”
The little girl giggled and took her mother’s hand as they walked away.
Lin Wanhua, sitting on a bench nearby, could not help laughing. “You’re really good at making children happy.”
Walis gathered his drawing pencils. “Children are easy to satisfy. One drawing can make them happy for half a day.”
Wanhua closed the novel in her hands and looked at him.
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“What would make you happy for half a day?”
Walis was stunned for a moment, then smiled. “That’s a difficult question to answer.”
“That’s why I’ve been coming to find you so often lately.” Wanhua took a notebook and a ballpoint pen out of her bag.
“I want to write a story.”
Walis looked up. “Another screenplay?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of story?”
Wanhua looked at him and deliberately paused for a moment. “About you.”
The drawing pencil in Walis’s hand stopped in midair.
“Me?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s there to write about me?”
“I think your life would make a good story.”
Walis gave a bitter smile. “A good story?”
“I don’t mean that your life has been good. I mean...” Wanhua thought for a moment. “You’ve fallen so many times, yet you can still sit here drawing portraits for strangers and still joke and laugh.”
Walis was silent for a moment and lowered his head to look at his hands. “That’s not because I’m strong.”
“Then why?”
“Because I’ve gotten used to it.”
Wanhua did not press him immediately. She simply opened her notebook and wrote several words on the first page.
The Life of Walis Yukan
“Where should we start?”
Walis looked into the distance and was silent for a while. “Hongye Village.”
Hongye Village in Hualien was where Walis’s life began. It was a small tribal community surrounded by mountains.
When he was a child, his favorite thing to do was sit beside his father and watch him look through faded baseball photographs.
In the photographs, a group of boys wearing simple baseball uniforms stood in the middle of a baseball field, their faces filled with sunshine-like smiles.
“Dad, did you really play Little League when you were young?” Little Walis asked with his eyes wide.
His father nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I want to be a baseball player when I grow up, too!”
But his father’s expression suddenly darkened. “No.”
Walis froze. “Why?”
“Because you can’t put food on the table with baseball.”
“But didn’t you really like it before?”
His father did not answer. He simply put the photographs back into the drawer and shut it hard.
“You need to study hard.”
Little Walis did not understand why his father had suddenly become angry. He only knew that from that day on, baseball became a subject that could not be discussed at home.
“So you really gave up baseball later?” Wanhua sat on the park bench, listening and quickly taking notes.
Walis shook his head. “No.”
“No?”
“I just traded the baseball for a drawing pencil.”
Wanhua looked up.
Walis smiled. “When I was in middle school, my art teacher discovered that I could draw.”
“He supported you?”
“Very much.”
That teacher once told him, “Walis, if you study art, you can go farther than you could with baseball.”
Those words were what first made Walis believe that his future might be different.
Later, he was admitted to the Department of Fine Arts at National Taiwan Normal University.
It was his first time leaving the tribe and coming to a bustling city. He was excited, but he was also lost at times.
He attended classes during the day and worked part-time at night. Restaurants, moving companies, construction sites—if there was work, he did it.
Sometimes, after finishing work in the early hours of the morning, he would drag his exhausted body back to his rented room. He was so tired that he could not even be bothered to take off his shoes before collapsing into sleep.
“It must have been hard back then,” Wanhua said.
“Very hard.”
“Did you ever regret it?”
Walis thought for a moment. “Yes. We’re human. How could anyone never have moments of regret?”
The two looked at each other and smiled.
But what truly changed his life happened during his junior year of college.
That night, he was driving a taxi through an intersection. The light was red.
A pedestrian suddenly ran across the road.
The screech of the brakes sharply tore through the night.
Everything happened too fast.
By the time he came to his senses, the world had already fallen silent.
That accident became a dividing line in his life.
The court sentenced him to two years in prison. The school expelled him because of it.
The fine arts degree he had been about to earn became a dream he could never complete.
Even harder for him to bear was that his girlfriend also broke up with him during that period.
“I’m sorry.” The girl stood outside the prison visitation room, crying. “I can’t wait for you anymore.”
Walis looked at her through the glass.
After a long time, he gently nodded.
“Go.”
The girl turned and walked away.
He did not cry.
But that night, for the first time, he felt as though he had lost everything in his life.
Wanhua’s pen slowly stopped when she reached this part. “What happened after that?”
Walis looked into the distance. “I served one year and was released on parole.”
“Did you ever think about going back to school?”
“I did.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Walis smiled. “Because reality swallowed my dream.”
He began looking for work.
But whenever employers saw “college incomplete” on his résumé, their attitude would immediately change.
Once, he applied for a job at an advertising company. The hiring manager flipped through his résumé.
“You can draw?”
“Yes.”
“Did you study art?”
“The Department of Fine Arts at National Taiwan Normal University.”
“Did you graduate?”
Walis fell silent.
The other person closed the résumé. “Then start with odd jobs.”
“Will I have a chance to do some drawing?”
“Let’s talk about that after you do a good job.”
As a result, every day he did nothing but move things, run errands, take out the garbage, and buy coffee.
He was never given a chance to do the actual art work.
Until one day, he met an old craftsman who painted movie posters for a movie theater.
After seeing his work, the old craftsman patted him on the shoulder.
“Kid, you’ve got some real talent.”
Walis smiled.
“Sir, would you be willing to teach me?”
“If you’re willing to learn, I’ll teach you.”
That period was one of the rare stretches of peaceful time in his life.
The old craftsman taught him, stroke by stroke, how to make an actor’s face look lifelike, how to use color to create light and shadow, and how to make a huge movie poster catch the eyes of passersby from far down the street.
But the good times did not last.
As online movies and digital advertising gradually emerged, movie theaters closed one after another, and the demand for traditional movie posters disappeared along with them.
The old craftsman could no longer find work, and his health also deteriorated.
Then one day, the old craftsman passed away.
Walis stood before the old craftsman’s memorial hall and looked at the black-and-white portrait for a long time without saying a word.
He knew that his last path had also been cut off.
From that day on, he came to the streets with his art supplies.
A sheet of drawing paper, a charcoal pencil, and a simple lamp—
That was everything he had now.
A breeze suddenly swept through the park.
Wanhua lowered her head and looked at the pages upon pages of notes. She remained silent for a long time.
Walis instead smiled. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to write a story?”
Wanhua raised her head. “I’ve just realized that your life is even more fascinating than I imagined.”
Walis shook his head. “Fascinating?”
“Yes.”
“Why do I feel like it’s mostly been one piece of bad luck after another?”
Wanhua smiled. “Because you only see the things you’ve lost.”
She closed the notebook.
“But I see something else.”
“What?”
“Every time you lose something, you find another path and keep going.”
Walis froze for a moment.
Wanhua looked at him seriously. “You lost baseball, so you picked up a drawing pencil. You lost your chance to finish college, so you went to learn how to paint movie posters. You lost your teacher, so you came to the streets to draw.”
She paused.
“So I think you’re not someone who was defeated by fate.”
Walis said nothing.
The setting sun slowly sank beyond the treetops, casting a faint golden glow across the side of his face.
After a long time, he finally said softly, “Wanhua, do you really think... anyone would want to read my story?”
Wanhua put the notebook into her bag and stood up.
“It’s not about whether anyone will read it.”
She turned back to look at him.
“I have to write it.”
Walis smiled. “Am I going to be a lot of trouble?”
“Very much so.”
“Why?”
“Because starting tomorrow, I’ll have to keep asking you questions.”
“What questions?”
Wanhua deliberately blinked mysteriously. “You still haven’t told me about the most fascinating part of your life.”
Walis froze. “Which part?”
Wanhua turned and walked forward. “You figure it out.”
In the setting sun, their shadows stretched long.
Walis packed up his art supplies and watched Wanhua walk away, a faint smile slowly appearing at the corners of his mouth.
He suddenly had a strange feeling.
Perhaps the things from his past that he had once been unwilling to look back on could truly become a story someday.
And perhaps the next page of that story was only just beginning.
“Wanhua, what are you doing?”
“I’m moving out.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
Sister Bao walked into the room and grabbed the clothes from her hands. “Put those down first.”
“Sister Bao, please don’t interfere.”
“How can I not?” Sister Bao stared at her. “What exactly happened?”
Wanhua bit her lip. “Yukan’s ex-girlfriend is back.”
Sister Bao froze for a moment. “Wang Qiuyue?”
Wanhua looked up. “You know her?”
“Yukan mentioned her to me.” Sister Bao sighed. “But so what?”
“She said she still loves Walis.”
“So?”
Wanhua did not answer.
Sister Bao suddenly raised her voice. “Are you just going to give up like this?”
Wanhua’s eyes reddened. “She’s his ex-girlfriend.”
“So what if she’s his ex-girlfriend?” Sister Bao put her hands on her hips. “How many roads have you walked with him? How many difficult days have you gone through together? When he was down and out, who stayed by his side? And after he became successful, who has been with him every day?”
Wanhua froze. “You’re not even going to ask me anything or let me say anything, and you’re already packing your bags and running away?”
“But...”
“No buts!” Sister Bao snatched the travel bag from her hands. “You’re not going anywhere today.”
“Sister Bao...”
“I’m telling you, love isn’t about whoever shows up first winning.” Sister Bao looked at her. “What really matters is who is in his heart now.”
Wanhua lowered her head, and the tears finally fell.
Sister Bao walked over and gently patted her on the shoulder. “If you really like him, don’t hand your happiness over to someone else.”
That evening, Yukan returned to The Single Society after finishing work.
The moment he stepped through the door, Sister Bao was already sitting in the living room waiting for him.
“Yukan.”
“Sister Bao?”
“Sit.”
Seeing her serious expression, Yukan immediately sat down. “What happened?”
“Did your ex-girlfriend come looking for you today?”
Yukan nodded. “Yeah.”
“She said she still loves you.”
Yukan was silent for a moment. “That’s what she said.”
Sister Bao asked directly, “So what do you think?”
Yukan looked up. “I never thought about going back.”
Sister Bao was slightly taken aback. “Why?”
Yukan gave a bitter smile.
“Because there’s already someone in my heart.”
“Who?”
Yukan did not answer.
Sister Bao deliberately put on a stern face. “I know even if you don’t tell me.”
She stood up.
“Wanhua.”
Yukan lowered his head. “I’m afraid she’ll misunderstand.”
“She already has.” Sister Bao pointed toward the hallway. “She’s already packed her bags and is getting ready to leave.”
Yukan suddenly stood up. “What?”
“What are you still standing there for?” Sister Bao gave him a shove. “Go tell her everything face-to-face.”
“But...”
“No buts. If you don’t make yourself clear today, I’ll kick you out of The Single Society.”
Yukan gave a bitter smile. “Sister Bao, are you forcing me to get married?”
“Yes.” Sister Bao glared at him. “I’m forcing you to face your own heart.”
She pulled open Wanhua’s door.
“Wanhua!”
Wanhua looked up. “Sister Bao...”
The next second, Sister Bao pushed Yukan straight into the room.
“You two talk it out yourselves!”
The door slammed shut.
The room suddenly became quiet.
Yukan stood by the door.
Wanhua sat on the edge of the bed.
The two remained silent for quite a while.
Finally, Yukan spoke first.
“You’re leaving?”
Wanhua lowered her head. “I just... don’t want to make things difficult for you.”
“I’m not in a difficult position.”
“But your ex-girlfriend...”
“She’s just part of my past.” Walis slowly walked closer. “You are my present and my future.”
Wanhua raised her head. Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes.
“You really feel that way?”
“Really.”
Walis crouched down so that they were at eye level.
“When I was at my most miserable back then, you never looked down on me.”
“When I was drawing in the park, you stayed with me every day.”
“When I was making the movie, you stayed by my side through all of it.”
He paused.
“Now that I’ve finally achieved a little something, would I really let myself lose you instead?”
Wanhua’s tears kept falling. “But... you’re already a movie star now.”
Walis smiled. “What movie star?”
He pointed at his own hands.
“I still draw with these hands. I’m still the same Walis Yukan.”
“But from now on...” He took her hand. “I want to walk forward with you.”
Wanhua finally smiled. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“You won’t regret it?”
“I won’t.”
The two looked at each other and smiled.
Outside the door, Sister Bao had already pressed her ear against the door.
Beside her, Sun Qing could not help whispering, “How did it go?”
Sister Bao’s eyes narrowed with a delighted smile. “It worked.”
Sun Qing breathed a sigh of relief.
“Really?”
Sister Bao nodded. “These two idiots finally figured it out.”
After a while, the door opened.
Yukan came out holding Wanhua’s hand.
Sister Bao deliberately put on a stern face. “Finished talking?”
Wanhua nodded, her face flushed.
But Yukan suddenly said, “Sister Bao.”
“What?”
“There’s something we’d like to ask you to help us with.”
Sister Bao looked at the two of them. “What is it?”
Yukan and Wanhua exchanged a glance.
Then they spoke at the same time.
“Please be our wedding officiant.”
Sister Bao froze for two seconds, then burst out laughing.
“Of course!”
She stretched out both hands, taking Walis’s hand with one and Wanhua’s with the other.
“I’m definitely going to be your wedding officiant!”
A burst of cheers immediately came from the living room.
The tenants poked their heads out from their rooms.
“You’re really getting married?”
“That’s wonderful!”
“The Single Society is having another wedding!”
Wanhua lowered her head shyly.
Yukan, however, held her hand tightly.
Outside the window, the night was deep.
The lights of The Single Society came on one by one.
The old house that had once taken in a group of people who had lost their way now had another love story about to bloom and bear fruit.
Standing in the middle of the living room, Sister Bao looked at the couple before her and smiled especially brightly.
She knew—
Some people have to travel a very long road before finally realizing where they truly want to return.
And sometimes, happiness lives in the very place you have never left.
- Lovers Finally Find Their Happy Ending
At dusk, The Single Society was covered in the orange-red glow of the setting sun.
Freshly washed clothes hung in the courtyard, their hems gently swaying in the evening breeze.
The sounds of pots and bowls clattering came from the kitchen.
Several tenants were busy preparing dinner, with bursts of laughter occasionally coming from inside.
Qiu Chen, however, sat alone on a wooden chair in the corner of the courtyard.
He held a cup of tea that had already gone cold, but he had not taken a sip for a long time.
Sister Bao walked out of the house with a smile she could not hide.
“Qiu Chen, I have some good news for you.”
Qiu Chen looked up. “What good news?”
“Walis and Wanhua... have decided to be together.”
Sister Bao was practically beaming.
“They even want me to be their wedding officiant!”
Qiu Chen froze for a moment.
The lively sounds that had filled the courtyard seemed to suddenly fade into the distance.
“Really?”
He forced a faint smile.
“That’s... great.”
Sister Bao did not notice anything unusual about him and continued excitedly.
“I told you! Those two are together every day. Sooner or later, something was bound to happen. That girl Wanhua has finally found her happiness.”
Qiu Chen nodded.
“Yeah... she deserves to be happy.”
After saying that, he lowered his head and stared at the teacup in his hands.
At that moment, another image appeared in his mind.
Lin Wanhua, hunched over a screenplay beneath a solitary lamp.
Dark circles under her eyes, messy hair, leftover instant-noodle containers piled on the desk, while all ten fingers danced like butterflies over the keyboard, typing nonstop.
And there was the exhausted yet proud look on her face the first time she handed him a screenplay.
“What do you think? If you dare say it isn’t good, I’ll throw the screenplay at you.”
At the time, he had smiled and answered, “It’s great. If we keep working together like this, I’m sure we can make movies that truly belong to us.”
He had said those words so naturally.
Even in his imagination, the future had already quietly taken shape.
He would direct, and she would write the screenplays.
One understood the camera, while the other understood words.
One would bring the story to the screen, while the other would write the characters into the story.
They would work together, argue over movies together, and celebrate a successful movie together.
He had even secretly wondered—
What if one day they became more than just work partners?
But now, those imaginings were like an unfinished strip of film suddenly pulled away and thrown into a darkroom.
Qiu Chen took a deep breath.
“Sister Bao, I’m a little tired. I’m going back to my room to rest.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
Sister Bao did not think much of it.
Qiu Chen got up and walked into the house.
His back still looked straight, and his steps were still steady.
But at that moment, no one saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
Not far away, Sun Qing stood at the kitchen doorway, watching everything.
That night, The Single Society gradually became quiet.
Qiu Chen sat in his room with several movie screenplays spread across the desk, but he could not take in a single word.
He picked up a pen and wrote a few words on the paper:
“Urban Nomad...”
Halfway through, he stopped.
He gave a bitter smile and put down the pen.
A soft knock came from outside the door.
“Come in.”
Sun Qing opened the door and walked in, carrying a cup of hot tea.
“You’re not asleep yet?”
“I can’t sleep.”
Sun Qing put the tea on the desk and sat down across from him.
The two remained silent for a while.
Finally, Sun Qing said softly, “Are you disappointed?”
Qiu Chen did not answer.
“Because of Wanhua?”
Qiu Chen raised his eyes and looked at her.
After a moment, he gave a bitter smile.
“Is it that obvious?”
“You’ve been staring into space since dinner.”
Qiu Chen leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.
“I just... feel that it’s a shame.”
“A shame about what?”
“That we had such a good partnership.”
He looked at the screenplay on the desk, his voice gradually becoming softer.
“I really admire Wanhua’s talent. The way she writes stories fits so well with the way I make movies. She can think of things I can’t, and I can turn all those strange ideas in her head into images.”
He smiled.
“I originally thought that if we could keep working together like this one day, maybe we really could make a lot of good movies.”
Sun Qing looked at him.
“Have you only lost a work partner?”
Qiu Chen fell silent.
This time, he did not answer.
Sun Qing did not press him.
After a while, she said gently, “Qiu Chen, sometimes missing your chance at something doesn’t mean you’ve lost everything.”
Qiu Chen looked up. “What do you mean?”
“Who Wanhua loves is her own choice. But it’s also true that she admires your talent.”
Sun Qing smiled faintly.
“You still have movies between you, and you still share the same dream. There are many kinds of love, and friends can stay by each other’s side for a lifetime, too.”
Qiu Chen lowered his head and thought for a moment.
“You mean... we can still work together?”
“Why not?” Sun Qing said. “You haven’t had a fight, and you haven’t become enemies. She has found her happiness, and you can continue pursuing your dream of making movies.”
She paused, then added with a smile, “Maybe one day, the two of you will even make a movie that makes the whole world know your names.”
Qiu Chen looked at her.
After a moment of silence, he finally smiled.
“You’re pretty good at comforting people.”
“Of course.”
Sun Qing stood up.
“I’m the best person in The Single Society at helping people untangle their hearts.”
Qiu Chen smiled as well.
“Thank you, Sun Qing.”
“No need to thank me.”
Sun Qing walked to the door, then turned back.
“Qiu Chen.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t let one person’s choice make you give up on your dream.”
Qiu Chen froze for a moment.
Sun Qing said nothing more and turned to walk out.
The door closed gently.
Qiu Chen sat alone at the desk.
Outside the window, the city lights came on one by one.
He picked up the pen on the desk again and wrote a line in the blank space of the screenplay:
“I still have to keep making movies.”
After writing it, he looked at the words, and a faint smile finally appeared at the corners of his mouth.
Some loves may be destined never to become marriage.
But some soulmates can accompany each other much farther.
And he knew that Lin Wanhua would still be one of the most important partners on his filmmaking journey.
- Ji Baozhu’s Admirer
In the afternoon, Guo Wuyong arrived at The Single Society dressed in a sharp suit, holding a large bouquet of red roses.
In the courtyard, Ji Baozhu was helping Lin Wanhua put on a necklace and a pair of earrings.
Zhang Ningjing, standing nearby, exclaimed, “Sister Bao, this jewelry set you designed brings out Wanhua’s facial features perfectly—that natural, wild beauty.”
Sister Bao smiled and said, “Ningjing, you’ve been learning jewelry design from me these days, and your sense of aesthetics has improved very quickly. You’re able to grasp the ideas behind my designs. Wanhua has deep-set features, like a brightly colored leopard. She is suited to makeup that emphasizes her wild beauty.”
Wanhua’s expression froze for a moment, and she smiled bitterly. “What? I’ve become a leopard?”
“Actually, Sister Wanhua’s wild beauty comes from her personality as a strong, capable woman in the workplace—the fact that she refuses to admit defeat, has principles, and dares to take the initiative. Those are the qualities of her personality.”
“Ningjing, your analysis is right on target. Wanhua is a young woman with a strong personality and her own opinions.” Sister Bao continued, “Even that tight-lipped fellow Yukan was pried open by her.”
Just as the three women finished speaking, Guo Wuyong came up to Ji Baozhu.
“Baozhu, do you know what day it is today?”
Sister Bao thought for a moment and said, “My birthday already passed, and Valentine’s Day isn’t here yet!”
Guo Wuyong suddenly dropped to one knee and held out the roses with both hands. With a sincere expression, he said, “Today... is the day I confess my feelings to you.”
Sister Bao was startled by Guo Wuyong’s sudden move. “Mr. Guo... you...”
Guo Wuyong smiled. “During the time I’ve spent with you, I’ve gradually realized that you have such a kind and beautiful heart. You are the woman I sincerely want to grow old with.”
Overwhelmed by the unexpected declaration, Sister Bao stammered, “I’m not... I’m not really as, as good as you make me sound, am I?”
Zhang Ningjing and Lin Wanhua exchanged a glance and immediately understood each other.
“Mr. Guo, our Sister Bao is absolutely at the level of a leading actress,” Wanhua said. “With Sister Bao by his side, Mr. Guo is truly the happiest man in the world.”
Zhang Ningjing also chimed in, “Once you leave this village, you won’t find another place like this! Mr. Guo, you’d better seize this good match.”
Sister Bao’s cheeks turned red, and she hurriedly said, “Hey, hey, hey! You two girls, I haven’t even said yes, and you’re already rushing to be bridesmaids?”
Ningjing and Wanhua said in perfect unison, “Of course we’re going to be bridesmaids at your wedding with Mr. Guo!”
(The End)
