Chapter 48: “Unity of Opposites” Part 2

The woman had left her another lighter.

Fu Tingli rose slowly and picked up the blue-gray lighter. With a click, the fuel ignited into a blue flame, flickering in the empty air.

She wandered aimlessly around the twenty-square-meter room, dazed and forlorn, until she spotted what was missing.

The leftover birthday cake from yesterday that hadn’t been cleared away, the twenty-five and twenty-nine birthday candles, and…

She squinted and leaned close to the photo frame hanging on the white wall, scrutinizing it for a long time.

One photo was really gone.

Just that one—specifically the one she’d taken on an old street in Chongqing: the road dipping down a steep slope, a stone bridge spanning between two rows of buildings, and beneath it, shops nestled at the base of apartment blocks.

The most eye-catching shop was a hair salon, its door flanked by two cheap spinning light globes. On the glass door, the name was scrawled in faded red tape:

Little Jade Hair Salon.

~~~

A WeChat message yanked Fu Tingli’s thoughts from the hazy dreamscape.

It was from Wen Yingxiu:

【Done with the interview? How’d it go?】

Right—the interview results. Fu Tingli suddenly remembered, then relaxed when she realized it wasn’t a workday yet. She replied to Wen Yingxiu:

【Results aren’t out yet. Probably have to wait till the workweek /crying laughing face】

Wen Yingxiu’s reply was crisp:

【You free today? If so, come by the studio?】

Fu Tingli took it seriously: 【Is there an issue with some movie detail?】

Wen Yingxiu: 【No】

Wen Yingxiu: 【Unrelated to the movie. It’s about you】

Wen Yingxiu: 【Anyway, come over if you can】

Wen Yingxiu: 【Bring your portfolio】

The flurry of WeChat notifications buzzed against Fu Tingli’s palm until it tingled. Staring at those three words—”portfolio”—even she could guess Wen Yingxiu’s intent.

But her work on the crew had ended over two months ago. Why would Wen Yingxiu think of her now, and ask her to bring her portfolio?

Still, rather than speculate endlessly in her rental, Fu Tingli preferred to prepare thoroughly for what might be her best shot yet.

As expected, on that bustling Art Street—dusty, muddy, and reeking of sawdust even on a non-workday—the sculpture studio awaiting her held another interview.

It wasn’t difficult for her. Over the past two months, she had plenty of interview practice. She knew her portfolio inside out, able to discuss her painstaking works both abstractly and concretely, and she tackled Wen Yingxiu’s hands-on tasks with focused command of the skills honed over more than a decade.

In the end, Wen Yingxiu neatly tucked Fu Tingli’s portfolio into her own drawer and said,

“It looks like I can give you an answer sooner—and a better one.”

Fu Tingli exhaled in relief. Still wearing her work apron, her hair loosely tied back, she bowed slightly alongside Wen Yingxiu and said,

“Thank you, Teacher Wen, for the opportunity.”

“You don’t need me to give you an opportunity,” Wen Yingxiu replied. “You earned it with your own skills—passed my interview fair and square. And honestly…”

She tilted her chin toward the students peeking over Fu Tingli’s shoulder.

“I didn’t expect your work to fit my requirements better than these students I’ve trained myself.”

She didn’t call it “superior”—just “fitting.”

Fu Tingli understood and replied brightly, “I still have to thank Teacher Wen for the opportunity.”

“Enough with the thanks,” Wen Yingxiu said. “Three-month trial period. Fail it, and you’re out.”

“Got it.” Fu Tingli knew sculptors in the industry held sky-high standards and never cut corners—not even for someone from a movie set.

But one question lingered.

“Teacher Wen, why the sudden opportunity? The movie wrapped ages ago.”

Perhaps caught off guard by her bringing it up, Wen Yingxiu narrowed her eyes, took a sip of coffee, crossed her arms, stared at her for a long moment, then chuckled deeply and asked,

“What if I said Kong Liyuan came to see me at the wrap party yesterday?”

Fu Tingli froze, her fingertips trembling at her sides.

“What?” Wen Yingxiu set down her coffee cup leisurely. “Gonna righteously turn me down? Say it’s nepotism, get all indignant?”

That snapped Fu Tingli back to herself. She caught Wen Yingxiu’s half-smiling expression, then grinned openly and shook her head gently.

“I don’t think Teacher Wen is the type to pull strings for actors.”

Wen Yingxiu arched a brow, then nodded, her smirk softening.

“You’ve got my personality pegged.”

Just as Fu Tingli suspected. It wasn’t so much that she knew Wen Yingxiu never favored “actors.” More that she trusted Kong Liyuan wouldn’t “wish her smooth sailing” through back channels like that.

“What did Teacher Kong say to you?” she still had to ask.

“You know the key final sculpture in the script got changed to a flying bird?” Wen Yingxiu said.

Fu Tingli blinked in surprise. “They really swapped it?”

“Yeah, they did.” Wen Yingxiu smiled. “Seems your Teacher Kong went to the screenwriter herself, pitched the idea. The writer wasn’t sold at first, then looped me in…”

Teacher Wen and Kong Liyuan—and Fu Tingli too—had all shared the same vision.

“Got it.”

“But I have to admit, for an actor, Kong Liyuan’s a damn good one.”

“Teacher Wen, you’re still dodging the point.”

“…It’s coming right up.” Wen Yingxiu took a sip of coffee, as if reminiscing.

“At the wrap party yesterday, Kong Liyuan came to me. Surprised me—an actress approaching the lead sculptor for what? Turns out she led with the final imagery change, then got to it…”

Here, Wen Yingxiu gave Fu Tingli a meaningful look. “She said she knew I’d sent you solo to the Northern Border to test your adaptability. And that she’d guessed, from the resume stage, I’d spotted your potential and wanted you in my studio—hence the high bar.”

This statement was indeed true.

When she received that thick stack of resumes and portfolios from Li Weili and spotted Fu Tingli’s name among them, she pulled out that densely packed resume. She examined the impressive list of awards, large and small. Then she retrieved the hefty portfolio and pored over Fu Tingli’s sculptures—some eerie, others bursting with life. The works had a bold, aggressive style, radiating a raw, untamed talent.

In one slim portfolio, she caught a glimpse of the sheer vitality pulsing through a particular sculpture.

“Someone like this? Are you sure she’s actually coming? Sculpture work on a film set offers zero creative control—frankly, it’s just grunt work. You didn’t pad the numbers with someone who’s not really showing up, did you?” Wen Yingxiu frowned as she asked Li Weili.

“So she’s really that impressive even in Teacher Wen’s eyes?” Li Weili smiled. She caught the look in Wen Yingxiu’s eyes, then let out a sigh and explained Fu Tingli’s situation.

Wen Yingxiu understood immediately. Fu Tingli had returned from abroad with no local connections and none of the family wealth that had once supported her.

In their line of work, you needed a comfortable family background to fund the first decade or more of training.

Without it, once you’d finished your time as a pure student and wanted to stick to fine arts—keeping that artistic edge just a hair sharper than commercial standards—it was a tall order.

—Of course, pretending sculpture could stay completely untouched by the smell of money was unrealistic.

But anyone with a shred of ambition, unwilling to drift into those fringe fields that only brushed against sculpture, needed connections in the inner circle.

The everyday types latched onto a good teacher in school, hustled through every nook and cranny of the scene, and after graduation flowed into studios and factories of all sizes.

Those from better backgrounds could open a modest studio, pursuing art purely for its own sake without chasing fame or fortune. But without either path, who had the stamina or vision to chase an artistic dream relentlessly, day and night?

She flipped through the portfolio back and forth, mulling it over for ages before asking Li Weili what Fu Tingli planned to do after wrapping this film.

Li Weili looked blank. “I don’t know.”

An idea began to form in Wen Yingxiu’s mind. Her studio desperately needed a young sculptor in this vein; Fu Tingli’s style was precisely what her team lacked right now.

The only question was whether the girl’s temperament would fit.

Wen Yingxiu always sized people up by their character first. If they were too arrogant, she’d pass. She had no patience for conceited geniuses.

Later, as she shadowed the production through the entire shoot, she discovered Fu Tingli’s temperament was mild-mannered yet brimming with creativity.

Wen Yingxiu knew she herself was picky, with a quirky temper to boot, but Fu Tingli never uttered a word of complaint.

She was a solid young talent.

Wen Yingxiu had already made up her mind on the matter, but once the crew returned from the Northern Border, a school exhibition swallowed her time, and she shoved it to the back of her mind.

Then at yesterday’s wrap party, Kong Liyuan brought it up out of the blue. She even said something else that lodged deep in Wen Yingxiu’s thoughts.

With that in mind, Wen Yingxiu spoke slowly.

“She told me, since you’ve already decided on her, why not fast-track the process and focus on the outcome?”

In her daze, Fu Tingli remembered—yesterday, after downing all that alcohol, sitting at her doorstep for who knew how long, soaked by a summer downpour, desperately craving a simple embrace. Kong Liyuan had actually gone and done this.

“In any case,” Wen Yingxiu sighed, “I’ll retract what I said before. At least Kong Liyuan is decent—not some phony who only dishes out empty pleasantries.”

What statement? Fu Tingli nearly blurted it out, but in the next instant, she knew. It was that one—

Managing your public image is an actor’s job, so don’t get swept away by her kindness.

That had been Teacher Wen’s very first warning to her.

“Thanks, Teacher Wen.”

As they parted, Wen Yingxiu studied the young woman, who hadn’t quite recovered. Recalling her own harshness earlier, she suddenly felt uneasy. She said mildly, “No need to thank me.” Then she watched Fu Tingli’s retreating figure.

Her back was straight, slender yet resilient.

—Much like the quality captured in one of the pieces from that portfolio.

Wen Yingxiu let out a sigh and suddenly recalled yesterday’s wrap party, when Kong Liyuan had sought her out amid the crowd, unnoticed by others.

At the time, after hearing her out, Wen Yingxiu had pondered a moment before asking, “Why go out of your way to help? She’s just a sculpture consultant with no real tie to you. Once the film’s wrapped, what does she have to do with you?”

“Do I need to track you down at the wrap party and circle around like this, downplaying my involvement?”

Wen Yingxiu had brushed shoulders with the entertainment world plenty of times. Even just catching glimpses of its scandals and triumphs from afar, she couldn’t quite fathom Kong Liyuan’s actions.

How could someone who’d spent half her life under those hypocritical spotlights reveal such genuine intent in a moment like this?

Kong Liyuan had simply smiled in response. “She’s helped me so much. I just…”