Did she come?
Dawn Sword
After disappearing for a year, the well-known female poet Zhi from Green City has reappeared in Green City.
As a coastal open city, from officials to laborers, from elegant professors to those in lowly occupations, people come and go like a revolving door, just as an old song goes, “one group leaves, another arrives.” Therefore, almost no one cared about Zhi's disappearance. By common worldly judgment, it was simply that she couldn't make money and could no longer endure the hardships of poverty and wandering. Either she went to Beijing to seek a bigger stage, or she returned to her hometown to marry an ordinary person and enjoy the nostalgia of home.
However, those familiar with Zhi cannot help but pay attention to her return, because it is rare for people to go and then return to Green City, whether their wishes have come true or their dreams have been shattered.
Xi Zhi got out of the Mercedes 600 sedan, took a deep breath of the damp, salty air, and tasted the familiar bitterness, but looking at the rows of tall, handsome men of coconut trees, she felt the environment here was still as soul-stirring and as conducive to poetic inspiration.
She rented the Mercedes sedan from the five-star hotel where she was staying for 2,000 yuan a day. Once, she agonized over 20 yuan, but now, 2,000 yuan is as effortless for her as spending 2 yuan on an old-fashioned popsicle.
She gently smoothed her raven hair, which had been scattered by the morning breeze, brushed off the almost imperceptible dust from her designer dress, and arrogantly ascended a few steps before entering a somewhat old office building. On the third floor of this building was a film and television company; it was at this company, called "Tian Ya Hai Jiao," that she had her first job when she came to Green City hoping to change her fate.
She felt a bit breathless climbing three flights of stairs, having taken the elevator for even two flights for over a year. She couldn't help but blame herself, admitting she had indeed become a bit too pampered.
Tianya Haijiao Film and Television Company still hangs that copper-plated sign, which is already covered in green rust. The salty air here is very corrosive, but not as corrosive as the atmosphere that erodes people. Almost everyone who comes to Green City changes their ideas within three months; some men and women even change their beliefs overnight.
She pushed open the glass door and found that the interior was still the same: a screen, a few sofas, and neatly arranged desks for employees. A small space enclosed by aluminum alloy and tea-colored glass in the corner was the general manager's office. One wall was covered with stills from movies and TV shows, which were the only achievements of Tianya Haijiao Film and Television Company in its several years of existence: a 20-episode television series depicting island life, which was reportedly not approved for broadcast on television due to its somber tone.
As a young woman adorned in jewels and exuding an arrogant demeanor entered, the gazes of several male and female employees converged on her. These gazes, unfamiliar to her, left her feeling somewhat dejected. She had hoped that only acquaintances, by comparing her past and present, would reveal surprise and envy, which was one of the reasons for her return.
The door to the general manager's office opened, and out walked a middle-aged man with a large beard and a woman in a serious-looking suit who didn't quite look the part.
She was no longer disappointed, because these were two people she was no stranger to!
The man is the general manager, and the woman is the general manager's assistant. Of course, it might be more accurate to say she's the general manager's mistress.
It was this general manager who, after failing to seduce her into bed, furiously told her: “I'm sorry, you're no longer a good fit for our company. Don't be surprised, I can frankly explain the reasons. First, you can't attract sponsors; second, you can't write scripts; third, while you're not unattractive, you're not photogenic enough to be a star; fourth, you have no connections in high places, so you can't bring any benefits to the company; fifth, since you're unwilling to accept my love, your last bit of value no longer exists. Therefore, you'll have to find employment elsewhere.”
She didn't feel any humiliation and left without hesitation. At the time, she had only been in Green City for a short while and firmly believed that she could find a more suitable job with her own abilities. Less than three days after she left, the girl who started at the company as an intern with her got into bed with the general manager.
“You, you are... Zhi.” The general manager's mistress turned her eyes, half in shock and half in delight, scrutinizing Zhi's attire. This is the first reaction any woman, whether elegant or vulgar, has when observing another woman's outfit. She quickly recognized that the black dress Zhi was wearing was authentic Parisian fashion, the jade on her hand was a flawless, spinach-green variety, her shoes were handmade by Italian artisans, and the bag on her shoulder was an alligator-skin Hermès. She was immediately impressed with Zhi.
The general manager naturally noticed the huge change in Zhi, but he didn't realize it from her attire, perfume, or hairstyle. Instead, he concluded it from her proud demeanor, a kind of indescribable demeanor that can basically reflect a person's state of life. He tried to remain calm and composed, maintaining his usual stern expression, only his voice instinctively became more polite: “Ms. Zhi, what wind blew you here? What brings you to my humble place?”
Zhi squeezed a gilded business card from a small bag and handed it to the general manager, which read: President, Asia (Hong Kong) Media Enterprise - Zhi.
The general manager had no choice but to show the respect due to Zhi in front of him. He quickly asked Zhi to be shown into the office and ordered his mistress to make a cup of coffee.
Zhi sat on a worn European-style sofa and stated her intentions directly: “I want to invest in co-producing a TV series with you. The story is about a young woman's experiences in a certain city. In the end, she lives an enviable life, but her soul has no home.”
“Great, this is typical postmodernism, a breakthrough in contemporary female themes, it is, it is... How much are you prepared to invest?” The general manager was overjoyed. He was facing financial difficulties, and if he didn't get any filming projects soon, he might also become one of those who quietly disappeared from Greenway.
“Thirty million Hong Kong dollars, and if it's not enough, we can add more,” Zhi replied calmly.
“This, this would be enough for a 30-episode series if the local government assisted. Of course, we'll announce the investment as 100 million. I, I want to invite a big-name screenwriter. Oh, no, Zhi, you have screenwriting genius, you'll write it yourself, you can also star, and be the executive producer and general producer. If you want to direct yourself, that's fine too.” The general manager was a bit animated, ecstatic.
“No, I won't write scripts, I can't be in front of the camera, and even less can I direct,” Zhi did not forget what the general manager said when he fired her.
The general manager was a little embarrassed, but immediately rationalized: “After three days, one should look at a person with new eyes. Moreover, I was trying to put you in a desperate situation so you could find a way out. Hahaha...”
Zhi also smiled, but her smile was full of disdain and arrogance. She felt she had gained a certain satisfaction and stood up, saying, “Then draft a contract as soon as possible, and I'll come to sign it another day.”
She walked out like a noblewoman. The general manager and his lover busied themselves seeing her off, staring dumbfounded as she got into a Mercedes-Benz 600 sedan.
After returning to the hotel and changing into apple-print jeans and a loose Hangzhou silk blouse, Zhi took a car to the literary department of the Green City Daily. It was here, in earnest, that she began her journey as a female poet.
Before coming to Green City, she had written many poems, but none had ever been published. She almost thought she had no talent for poetry. For some time after being fired by Tianyahaiao Film and Television Company, she bought Green City Daily every day and scanned the classifieds in the gaps and back pages for a more suitable job. As a result, she naturally glanced at the entertainment section, which was published daily.
She discovered that most of the poems published in the literary section were not as beautiful and moving as hers, nor were they as modern and avant-garde in form. A natural feminine defiance led her to the literary department of the Green City Daily with hundreds of her previously written poems. The person who received her was a chubby old man with a receding hairline; she later learned that this chubby man was not old at all and that he was the department head.
The portly old man read her submitted poems with indifference, but in the end decided to grandly feature three of them and mentioned the possibility of starting a column for her to regularly publish her excellent works.
She was half-doubting at the time, and three days later, holding the Green City Daily, which exuded the smell of ink, she saw her three poems, introduced as the masterpieces of a female poet of the "feeling school," occupying almost half of the arts page. She felt a perfectly round sun rising in her life, heralding the dawn of another morning in her life!
She was no longer in a hurry to find a job, but instead immersed herself in creating poetry every day. Her soul was filled with too many laments about life and love, which she categorized under the grand theme "I Want to Speak to the Universe," dividing her poems into works numbered one, two, three, and so on. After publishing the thirteenth piece, the name "Yi" became well-known within the literary circles of Green City and on university campuses.
She was grateful to the department head, and even had a worldly, unseemly thought that if the stout old man needed her to repay him with her body, she shouldn't and wouldn't refuse.
However, that stout old man suddenly died, reportedly of a heart attack. The man who succeeded him was a sharp-featured, sallow-faced local poet who disdained almost any poem written by other poets. His greatest wish was to formally publish a four-volume collection of poems, divided into Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. However, no publisher agreed to his request.
He no longer published Zi's poems, nor did he publish other people's poems. He preferred to feature gossip about film and television stars and so-called one-minute novels on his pages. Zi went to see him, first arguing that it was incorrect for a newspaper's literary supplement not to publish poetry, and then trying to tempt him, hoping to make him her captive. But he was impervious to both her anger and her seduction, simply letting out a cold哼 (hum/snort) and saying, “Come back to me with your poems when you're a real poet.”
“What is a true poet?” she asked.
“There are four sets of poetry collections.” This is his standard for a true poet, and not one of the hundreds who claim to be poets in Lūchéng actually meets it.
More than two years later, Zhi walked into the Green City Daily again, hoping the thin-faced department head was still alive and well. When she pushed open the door to the literary department office, her face lit up instantly. The department head was indeed there, with his feet propped up on his desk, drenched in sweat as he looked at the proofs. Another female editor, engrossed in a fashion magazine, was also familiar. She had once flattered Zhi as a rising star in poetry alongside the old, overweight director, and had later joined the new director in mocking Zhi's poems as mere word trash.
Shi placed two bundles of new books on an empty table, and coughed softly, only then did the people in the room notice her arrival.
“You...” Their confusion showed that she had long since disappeared from their memories.
“I'm Zhi, here to visit you and deliver the poetry collection I published,” she said, pointing to two bundles of new books on the table.
This is a 10-volume set of personally selected poetry collections published by a renowned Beijing publishing house. Each volume is printed on paper of a different color, totaling ten colors. The covers are made of high-grade coated paper, featuring portrait photographs taken from various angles, which are clearly the work of a master artist.
The department head with a sharp mouth and monkey-like cheeks stared intently at the poetry collections, which could be described as super luxurious, as if struck by lightning. His eyes, however, revealed envy, jealousy, and hatred. The female editor also couldn't help but exclaim, “Wow.”
“Sorry, I have to go. I'm delivering books today. I'll chat with you another time.” Zhi once again felt a sense of psychological satisfaction and turned to leave.
The department director finally came to his senses, caught up with Zhi, and asked repeatedly, “What are you doing now? Leave your contact information, and we'll formally commission you. It will be featured as a full-page spread.”
Zhī Xiào Xiào said, “I'm not writing poetry anymore.”
Zhi asked Benz sedan to take her to a small restaurant called "Waixiangren" on Zhongshan Road in Greentown, which serves Northern Chinese cuisine.
It's just 11 o'clock, and the small restaurant with only eight tables is still empty of customers. It's said this is a result of the demolition of urban villages nearby. A few years ago, this place was packed with customers from 10 AM until midnight.
Zhi called over the proprietress, a mature woman who was still heavily made up, took out 2000 yuan from her bag, put it on the table, and said, “I'm booking your little restaurant for lunch today.”
For this income, which was almost equivalent to a day's revenue, the proprietress was naturally overjoyed. With a professional smile, she asked, “Miss, would you like to order now, or shall I arrange it for you? What time will your guests arrive?”
“I'll have a plate of fried noodles and a bowl of egg drop soup. I'm the only customer,” Zhi said as she sat down, her face expressionless.
The proprietress was startled, but she didn't want to satisfy her curiosity, as this might offend the customer. Therefore, she didn't press further. After all, rich people nowadays often suffer from all sorts of “ailments.” So, she had the waitress hang out the "Closed" sign and arranged for the chef to make fried noodles and egg drop soup.
More than a year ago, Zhi often came to this small restaurant to eat. The "meal" actually consisted of a plate of stir-fried noodles for 8 yuan and a bowl of egg drop soup for 2 yuan. Her financial situation at the time only allowed her to afford these items, and only on very special occasions would she add a Northern-style stir-fried dish. Fortunately, this small restaurant did not discriminate against customers who spent less money. No matter how much they spent, the owner always treated them warmly and never gave them the cold shoulder.
Zhi came to this small restaurant naturally for nostalgia, just as all great figures who have achieved brilliance in life like to return to places where they endured hardships to reminisce deeply and tragically. She dared not claim to have achieved great feats now, but compared to being scorned and humiliated everywhere in her pursuit of a job more than a year ago, compared to only being able to eat a plate of fried noodles and a bowl of egg drop soup back then, the difference was worlds apart, or rather, incomparable.
With a shout, the fried noodles and egg drop soup were served. The proprietress enthusiastically told her, “Miss, this is specially prepared for you by the chef, stir-fried with shrimp pieces, dried scallops, pork tenderloin, shredded abalone, bok choy, and noodles. The egg drop soup contains shark's fin and bird's nest.”
Zhi smiled wryly. Perhaps the ingredients the proprietress mentioned were genuine, but her original intention was to eat cheap fried noodles and egg drop soup. The proprietress, however, probably felt bad about the 2,000 yuan, or perhaps wanted to curry favor with her as a potential rich patron, and completely misunderstood her purpose for booking out the small restaurant. "Low emotional intelligence, uncultured!" she sighed inwardly.
She didn't eat a single bite, just stared blankly at the fried noodles and egg drop soup. For some reason, tears welled up in her eyes, and she unconsciously recited a line of poetry she had written: “Why can we never go back to the past? Why must we endlessly yearn for the past?”
Zhi arrived at the Dream Twilight Cafe.
She changed into another outfit, a white dress that looked very simple at first glance. Wearing this dress made her look much purer. She then unbound her hair, which had been tied up high, and let it fall over her shoulders. Suddenly, she looked just like a college student who had just graduated.
She was dressed like this when she met him, and he was her first lover in Green City. She met him at the Dream Dusk Cafe.
The Dreamy Dusk Cafe is located down a quiet alley, a place where dusk is never seen, only night. The door and heavy curtains divide the small house into over a dozen narrow spaces, with not a sliver of natural light filtering in, only candlelight flickering. Several scantily clad girls lounge boredly on a long sofa by the entrance, waiting for single men to walk in.
Here was his first date with her, when she was a newly renowned poetess in Greentown, and he was a wandering painter. He claimed his paintings had been exhibited at the National Art Museum of China and sold for tens of thousands at Rongbaozhai, but in reality, no one in Greentown would buy his paintings for even a hundred yuan. Big spenders would purchase works by Qi Baishi, Li Keran, Shi Lu, or Fan Zeng, even if they were forgeries.
It was only after he wrote twenty near-fanatical love letters to Zhi that she agreed to meet him in the elegantly named coffee shop. In his letters, he praised her with words more beautiful than her poetry, and each letter contained a portrait of her as he imagined her: sometimes petite, sometimes slender, sometimes tall, sometimes plump, sometimes chaste, sometimes wanton, sometimes vibrant, sometimes languid and weak. Finally, moved by his infatuation, she wished to meet him and also hoped he could paint the real her.
Here, they met. He told her she was the girl he had been searching for in his dreams for many years, and she felt he was the man she had long imagined. They dated more than ten times in the dim light, discussing all topics of life, and then he took her to a house he had rented, built of wood and bamboo. Just as she was preparing to fully enjoy the beautiful moments between a man and a woman that inevitably come with love, she discovered that he, who appeared strong on the outside, was now impotent. He was dejected and ashamed, then explained that it was due to excessive excitement. She understood and forgave him, looking forward to the next time. However, one after another "next time" disappointed her, yet she continued to see him, only with longer intervals between meetings. She admitted that, on a spiritual level, he was indeed her lover, but physically, he could not satisfy her at all. Does a relationship between lovers require sex? This became an unsolvable paradox for her.
Zhi returned to Green City, and of course, she longed to see him. So, she invited him to the Dream Twilight Cafe. After disappearing for over a year, she truly needed to revisit many of the past good times, even though more of them were bitter.
He arrived in a Toyota pickup truck. The waitresses swarmed him, vying to pull him into their embraces. He pushed them away with impressive dignity and walked resolutely toward the booth where she was sitting, their usual spot.
Without embracing, they gazed at each other silently across the candlelight.
“You haven't changed,” he said.
“You haven't changed either,” she also said.
He shook his head: “My life has changed, and my paintings are finally recognized by discerning people for their due value. I've bought a house and a car. It's so good that you're back, we can live together now.”
“Can we really live together?” she asked, implying something more.”
His face flushed, and then he nodded affirmatively: “Really, I, I... can do it.”
She let out a soft sigh, relieved that she could finally fulfill her long-held desire with this lover. She took his hand and whispered, “Come to my hotel tonight.”
He thought she was testing him, no, examining him, so he said without hesitation, “I will definitely come.”
They started looking at each other silently again. Sometimes, words are simply superfluous.
The Grand Tycoon Ballroom is the most luxurious entertainment venue in Green City. It's said that the interior decoration alone cost thirty million. This is also the last place Zhi worked before leaving Green City. At the time, her position was public relations manager. And anyone with a little experience in this line of work understands what a public relations manager does.
Here, she wrote a long poem that caused a sensation in Green City's literary circles, titled "Dance Until Dawn, Sing Until Death." This poem was not published but spread online through the Tianya community. A famous critic believed this poem had long surpassed Shu Ting's work and could be compared to Whitman's writings, while many young women struggling to survive wept profusely after reading it.
Zhi booked the largest private room at this nightclub. The room, which can accommodate over 30 people for singing and dancing, is decorated like a palace and has a minimum charge of 15,000 yuan.
Zhi invited over 20 guests, men and women she met in Greentown, mostly cultural figures, but also officials and businessmen.
She deliberately arrived a little late, so by the time she entered the private room, most of the guests had already arrived. These people, who were not unfamiliar with her, all turned their gaze on her as one, because her attire was exceptionally striking. She wore a black tank top that was very tight, obviously without a bra, revealing a large portion of her cleavage, with her nipples faintly visible. On the bottom, she wore a very short leather mini-skirt, her snow-white, straight legs glistening under the lights. Her hair was tied up high again, with a blood-red silk ribbon tied around her head, starting from her forehead. A pair of platinum earrings, the size of cup mouths, almost reached her shoulders. On her wrist, a glass-grade jade bracelet stained half of her arm and half of her palm green.
She paid no mind to the stares of the onlookers, casually greeting everyone before handing out gifts: pure gold rings weighing about 10 grams to the men, and pure gold necklaces weighing about 20 grams to the women. Then, she smiled and said, “Please, enjoy yourselves to your heart's content.” With a wave of her hand, a dozen or so gaudily dressed women, referred to as waitresses, fluttered into the private room like butterflies.
She heard people whispering:
“Did she rob a bank? She got a Mercedes 600!”
“Her bracelet is worth at least a million!”
“She must have snagged a rich guy. Tonight alone, the gifts cost tens of thousands. She's really made it big!”
“She's much more beautiful than before, like an ugly duckling transforming into a swan.”
“Hey, didn't you notice she got plastic surgery? Her double eyelids are from surgery, her eyebrows are plucked, her nose is augmented, and her lips were stitched to make them smaller. Her breasts are firm but lack elasticity, undoubtedly the result of artificial enhancement...”
“But she already had a good figure, and then to add...”
“I heard she also published a ten-volume poetry collection, and the binding is very ornate.”
“She has the capital to flaunt it in front of us!”
“A nouveau rich woman.”
Zhi let out a cold laugh. She knew people would talk about her like this, and she invited them precisely to verify her deductions. She would then incorporate these people's mindsets, as well as her own current state of mind, into the television series she was about to film.
“Come on, let's go wild first!” Zhi signaled the waitress to turn on the karaoke machine. A disco dance by an African American teenage girl appeared on the big screen, and harsh disco music blared from the speakers.
The lights dimmed, and shadows loomed...
Zhi was staying in a suite at the five-star hotel, room 508. Late at night, her lover arrived at her door and gently rang the doorbell. He knew it would be a warm and passionate night, as he had indeed cured his internal ailment and had tried it out many times on a model who adored him and whom he did not dislike.
They barely slept a wink. Besides making love to their hearts' content, they recounted their experiences of the past year to each other. She described her encounters with others during her recent trips back to Emerald City, which made him laugh heartily, then sigh about the fickleness of the world and the changing nature of people. As dawn broke, he left Room 508 at Zhi's place with lingering reluctance, promising to return that evening. They exchanged vows of eternal love, pledging to be entwined every night from then on.
He left to return to his studio to paint her a true portrait of her. The passion of the night had filled him with the confidence that he could create a painting that would satisfy both her eyes and her heart.
After a day without eating or drinking, he finished her portrait. At 10 PM, he went to the five-star hotel where she was staying and rang the doorbell for room 508 once again.
The door opened, and a fat woman in a transparent nightgown peeked out, asking him gruffly what he wanted.
He thought he had misread the room number, but after confirming, it was correct. He asked back, “Where is the girl who stayed in this room yesterday?”
“Aren't I a young lady?” The stout woman's voice turned coy after she got a clear look at his face and strapping physique.
“I was asking about yesterday's.”
“Yesterday I was here, and the day before too. I've already been staying in this room for five days. Come in, I won't disappoint you.” The obese woman made a money-counting gesture, clearly mistaking him for one of those men called gigolos.
He stepped back a few paces, then quickly left, and immediately went to the main service desk in the lobby, asking the lobby manager where the guest named Zhi, who had stayed in room 508 yesterday, had moved to.
After diligently checking his ID, the lobby manager searched on the computer and told him, “The guest in room 508 has been staying for five days, is not named Zhi, and has not checked out.”
“Which room is guest Zhi staying in? Perhaps I've misremembered.”
The lobby manager searched on the computer again, shook her head, and said, “There's no guest named Zhi staying here.”
He was stunned, but immediately, he took out the portrait he was going to give to Zhi and opened it for the lobby manager to see: “It's this girl. Her appearance should be easy to remember.”
The lobby manager shook his head again: “No, she didn't check into our hotel.”
He didn't know what to do for a moment. Was his reunion with her just a dream?!
No, it's not a dream at all! His physical and psychological senses both told him that his meeting with her was real. Was she playing a vanishing game with him again? He decided to follow the path she had told him about to Green City to find her whereabouts, believing she was testing him to see if he would be persistent and unwavering in his pursuit of her!
The next day, he first went to Tianyahaijiao Film and Television Company and asked the general manager if Zhiyoulai had signed the contract for investing in the television series that came to them a few days ago.
The general manager sneered at the painter and snorted, “That Zhi can invest in TV dramas? When I knew her, she didn't even have the ability to invest in her own clothes! Sorry, she disappeared from our place a long time ago.”
The painter could tell the general manager wasn't lying, nor was he bribed by Zhi. So, he hurried to the literary department of the Green City Daily and met the not-unfamiliar department head. He inquired about Zhi's whereabouts, as Zhi had told him that she had given this department head a 10-volume set of poetry.
“What? Zhi published a 10-volume set of poetry?” The department head exclaimed in disbelief. “Impossible, absolutely impossible! If any Chinese poet could publish a 10-volume set of poetry at once, it would be major literary news, and I definitely would have heard about it. As for Zhi herself, I haven't seen her in a long time and don't particularly care to know her news.”
The painter observed the department head suspiciously, finally concluding from his worldly experience that the department head was telling the truth. Not wanting the other person to think he was abnormal, he left dejectedly and went to the small restaurant that Zhi had mentioned, which she had booked for lunch, and explained his reason for being there.
The owner of the small restaurant said with a worried face: “I've never had such generous customers, and I don't expect them. If only the urban management, tax, health, and public security officials, and thugs would bother me less, I'd be satisfied.”
Go to the Twilight Cafe! the painter commanded himself. After all, the Sky's End Film Company, the Green City Daily's literary department, and the diner were all things he had narrated himself, but the Twilight Cafe was a place he had personally visited, where he gazed at her in silence for a long time. This could not be false.
As soon as they arrived at the entrance of the Dream Twilight Cafe, several waitresses swarmed them, greeting them warmly: “Big brother, you haven't been here in so long, we've missed you terribly!”
“A long time? Didn't I just come by the day before yesterday? Having a date with a woman in that corner.” He pointed to the place where he and she were sitting opposite each other.
The hostesses looked him up and down, then snickered, “Big brother, are you infatuated? Dreaming? Delusional? Crazy? We weren't even open the day before yesterday; we were all at the hospital for check-ups to see if we had AIDS!”
Even refusing to admit his and Zhi's presence in places he himself had visited, isn't that surreal? The artist was completely flustered. He had one last chance to verify: finding the guests who attended the Rich magnate ballroom party. Among these twenty-odd men and women, there were a few the artist knew, so he approached them one by one, explaining his intention. Upon hearing this, they looked at him as if he were mentally ill: “What Rich magnate? What about giving gold rings and gold earrings? Even if Zhi turned into a ghost, she wouldn't invite us to a place that costs over ten thousand yuan a night, let alone give us such expensive gifts!” Subsequently, each person explained what they were doing that night, which was nothing more than working overtime, accompanying their children to cram schools, or cooking and washing dishes at home. The most romantic one was kicked out of the house by his wife for drinking too much and was standing in the residential complex counting stars.
The painter fell into complete despair, lost in deep confusion. Everything Zhi had told him was a lie! No, even meeting himself was a lie!
So, what about him? What about the silent gaze in the Twilight Cafe, the passion and sleepless nights in Room 508 of the five-star hotel? He can doubt the existence of Zhi, but does he doubt his own existence? Could it be that all of this is a magical realism story he made up? But why would he make up such a story for himself? Why?
There's only one question: Has she been here? Has she been to Greentown, been to the human world, been by his side?
This should also be a problem for many people: have you been here before?
Painters cannot solve philosophical problems, much less crack the enigma that Zhidai brought to Green City.
He can only keep the greatest mystery of the century in his heart: Did she come?
Xiao Jian, a renowned writer and screenwriter. A member of the China Writers Association and the China Film Association, he previously served as the Vice Chairman of the Hainan Provincial Writers Association.
Real name Wang Jian, ancestral home in Nangong, Hebei. Born in Tangshan, Hebei in 1952. Admitted to Renmin University High School in Beijing in 1965. Went to Hekou, Yunnan in 1969 to work as an educated youth. Returned to Beijing in 1975 to work as a worker at the Beijing Heavy Machinery Plant. Entered the screenwriting class at Beijing Film Academy in 1978. After graduation, worked as a reporter for Beijing People's Radio. Entered the writer's class at Wuhan University in 1985. Transferred to the journal of Hainan Normal University in 1989 and worked there until retirement.
Xiao Jian began publicly publishing literary works in 1973. To date, he has published a large number of novellas and short stories in magazines such as *People's Literature*, *Contemporary*, *Harvest*, *October*, *Chinese Writers*, *Youth Literature*, *Tianya*, and *Hong Kong Literature*. He has also published over a hundred poems in magazines like *Poetry*. His works have been repeatedly selected and published in *Fiction Selection*, *Fiction Monthly*, and *Novella Selection*. *People's Daily*, *China Youth Daily*, *Southern Weekend*, *Beijing Daily*, and *Hainan Daily* have all featured his works in full-page spreads.
Since 1983, over 50 works including full-length novels, short story collections, essay collections, and poetry collections have been published by People's Literature Publishing House, Zuojia Publishing House, China Youth Publishing House, Shiyue Publishing House, China Federation of Literary and Art Circles Publishing House, China Workers Publishing House, Shanghai Literature and Art Publishing House, Yunnan Literature and Art Publishing House, Sichuan Literature and Art Publishing House, Huacheng Publishing House, Nanhai Publishing House, and others. These works include titles such as "Youth Dream Symphony," "The World," "Faint Autumn Love," "Hainan Tycoon," "Secret Records of Chinese Educated Youth," "Chinese Educated Youth Overseas," "Heaven's Envy," "Restlessness," "Hainan Romance," "Hainan Godfather," "Vicissitudes," "Returning for Love," "Men's Life Records," "No Snow in Hainan," "Xiao Jian's Poetry Collection," and "Xiao Jian's Collected Works" (6 volumes).
Xiao Jian is the screenwriter for the theatrical films "Our Fields," "September," "Queen of Hearts Under the Gun," "Woman of Vengeance," "Secret Infiltration of the Golden Triangle," "The Mystery of the Double-Headed Eagle," "Righteousness Beyond Clouds," "Extreme Crisis," and "Crossing the Rainforest," as well as the television series that have aired on CCTV and other television stations, such as "Merger," "The Richest Man," "The Women's Red Army," "The Seventh Grade Sesame Official," and "The Red Tiger Tally."
Xiao Jian has won over 10 national and provincial literary awards, and his works have been translated into the United States, Japan, and Italy.
Xiao Jian donated his personal savings of 11 million RMB to establish the Xiao Jian Young Writers Award. He also used the name "Xiao Jian Study" to jointly host the "Xiao Jian Study Forum" with the Hainan Normal University Library and the Hainan Normal University Education Development Foundation, with twelve sessions held annually.
