In the twelfth month of the lunar calendar, Linjiang City was bitterly cold. Damp air carrying the chill of the river slipped beneath collars and crept into people’s clothes.
Yet outside the Grand Bright Theater, the scene was hot enough to melt the cold away.
Two rows of automobiles had completely clogged the road. Rickshaw pullers huddled beside their shafts, stamping their feet for warmth as they watched, enviously, while ladies and young women wrapped in fur coats hurried inside in small, delicate steps.
The red carpet stretched all the way down the steps. After countless shoes had trampled over it, it was already wrinkled and rumpled. Whenever a camera flashed, the creases shimmered like ripples on water.
Tonight was the premiere of Night Falls Deep.
Shen Che had been dragged there by Zhou Muqing.
“You’ve been back from Beining for almost a month, and you’ve spent every day cooped up in your residence. Aren’t you afraid you’ll grow mold?” Zhou Muqing had parked his car right outside Shen Che’s residence and leaned on the horn until the man finally came out. “The leading actress tonight is Yu Shuang. You’ve at least heard of her, haven’t you?”
Shen Che hadn’t.
He had spent an entire year on the Beining front line. He could barely get his hands on a newspaper, let alone find the time to keep track of some movie star.
But Zhou Muqing had been pestering him since they were children. Shen Che knew perfectly well that if he avoided him today, Zhou Muqing would only come back tomorrow.
So he simply threw on his overcoat and got into the car.
The entrance to the Grand Bright Theater was decorated as extravagantly as a New Year celebration. Three strands of colored lights wound around the facade, while red silk ribbons hung down and fluttered in the wind.
The entrance was packed with people. Reporters clutching cameras tried to push their way inside, only to be stopped by stagehands in black uniforms.
Zhou Muqing was a man of some standing, so naturally they entered through the side entrance.
The Zhou family of Linjiang was in the shipping business. Seven or eight vessels were docked at their wharf, and the family had a distant connection to the Shen family through marriage. Zhou Muqing’s cousin had married one of Shen Che’s distant cousins. Technically, that made Zhou Muqing a relative of Shen Che’s distant cousin-in-law.
Zhou Muqing loved bringing up that connection whenever he could.
“I reserved a private box on the second floor,” he said, glancing back as they walked. “I specifically asked for this one. The view is perfect—not too high, not too low, and directly facing the center of the screen.”
Shen Che merely answered with a quiet hum.
His gaze swept over the jeweled and lavishly dressed women around them, but he showed little interest.
He was tall, dressed in a dark navy military uniform made of fine wool, with a matching military cloak draped over his shoulders. As he entered, he lowered the brim of his cap slightly.
Even so, people still recognized him.
“Isn’t that the Young Marshal of the Shen family?”
“The Young Marshal? I thought he was still in Beining.”
“Shh, keep your voice down…”
Shen Che paid them no attention and followed Zhou Muqing upstairs.
The private box was small, furnished with two wicker chairs and a little table covered with tea and fruit.
Zhou Muqing dropped into one of the chairs, crossed his legs, pulled a cigarette case from his pocket, and offered one to Shen Che.
Shen Che waved it away.
“You still don’t smoke?” Zhou Muqing lit one for himself. “You don’t drink, you don’t smoke. What a waste of a life.”
“I quit,” Shen Che said.
Zhou Muqing gave a derisive laugh. “You quit in Beining? Since when could that place make someone give up smoking?”
Shen Che said nothing.
He glanced down at the theater. The hall was packed, row after row of dark heads filling the seats. The people in the front were familiar faces—officials from city hall, members of the chamber of commerce, and chief editors from several newspapers.
The seats farther back were mostly occupied by ordinary theatergoers. The women huddled together, whispering into one another’s ears, while the men sat stiffly upright, occasionally adjusting their ties.
The lights dimmed.
The words Great China Film Company appeared on the screen first, followed by the title Night Falls Deep, written in sweeping calligraphy with an unmistakably classical air.
Zhou Muqing leaned toward him.
“It’s about a dancer. Yu Shuang plays the lead.”
Shen Che gave another absent-minded hum.
He had never intended to pay much attention to the film.
And then she appeared.
The scene opened on one corner of a dance hall. The orchestra was tuning their instruments, sheet music stood crookedly on its stand, and a pile of tables and chairs had been pushed into one corner.
The camera moved in from the doorway, passing several empty tables before finally settling on a mirror.
There was a figure reflected in it.
She was touching up her makeup, her face turned slightly to the side so that only half of her features could be seen.
Her qipao was a deep shade of green, its collar embroidered with intertwining lotus vines in silver thread. The sleeves were narrow, revealing a slender, fair wrist.
She held a powder puff in her hand and gently dabbed her cheek twice before lifting her head to look at her reflection.
It was that single glance.
Shen Che’s fingers stopped in midair, the cigar between them still unlit.
The camera moved closer.
Her features filled the screen. They remained understated and delicate, the corners of her eyes lifting ever so slightly. The shadows cast by her lashes rested beneath her eyes like a thin veil of mist.
She looked at herself in the mirror, the corners of her lips moving faintly.
It was impossible to tell whether she was smiling or sighing.
Then she turned.
The camera followed her.
The hem of her qipao hugged her calves as she walked, revealing the delicate curve of her ankles with every step.
The lights of the dance hall came on, illuminating her figure.
Her face seemed almost translucent beneath the light, like a piece of the finest white jade—warm and lustrous, yet carrying a trace of coolness.
“Yu Shuang.”
Someone called her name from the screen.
She turned at the sound.
Those eyes looked straight out through the screen—
Shen Che’s heart gave a sudden, violent beat.
He knew she wasn’t looking at him.
He knew that perfectly well.
And yet there was something in those eyes, something that seemed to reach across a thousand mountains and rivers. At the same time, it felt as though she were standing right in front of him.
As he stared into those eyes, Shen Che suddenly remembered a winter morning in Beining.
The fog had lifted, slowly revealing the outline of the distant mountains. Their colors had been deep—so deep that they seemed to have no bottom.
“What’s wrong?”
Zhou Muqing’s voice came from beside him, laced with teasing amusement.
“Did that movie star steal your soul?”
Shen Che didn’t answer.
He brought the cigar Zhou Muqing had practically forced into his hand to his lips, only to realize that he still hadn’t lit it.
Laughing, Zhou Muqing handed him a lighter.
The flame sprang up, illuminating Shen Che’s face.
His features were usually cold and stern, but at that moment, there was a faint trace of distraction in his eyes, as though he hadn’t quite managed to pull himself away from the screen.
“Yu Shuang,” he murmured.
His voice was low, as though he were quietly repeating the name of someone he had never met.
“Yu, as in Chinese sweet osmanthus, and Shuang, as in frost and snow,” Zhou Muqing explained. “She’s the biggest star of the past two years. The leading lady of Great China Film Company. You really don’t know who she is?”
Shen Che shook his head.
The story on the screen continued.
The dancer moved through a world of wine, lights, and glamour. She was looked down upon, desired by men, and constantly surrounded by temptation.
Yet she remained detached, like a flower blooming quietly in the shadows.
In one scene, she stood by a window while rain fell outside. Water streamed down the glass, blurring the neon lights beyond it.
She raised her hand and wiped the glass. Her fingertip traced a clear line through the mist.
Shen Che’s eyes followed her every movement.
Beside him, Zhou Muqing continued talking.
“I heard she comes from a pretty respectable family. She was educated, too. No idea what made her enter this line of work. The boss of Great China has been heavily promoting her, but she rarely shows herself in public. You can’t even get her to attend social gatherings. She should be here tonight for the premiere…”
Shen Che listened without saying a word.
On the screen, she turned her face slightly. A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared at the corner of her lips.
It was impossible to tell whether it belonged to the character or to the actress herself.
When the lights came back on, Shen Che realized that he had been sitting unusually stiffly.
He rolled his shoulder and crushed the cigar into the ashtray.
He had barely smoked it at all.
“Come on. I’ll take you backstage,” Zhou Muqing said, rising and straightening the hem of his suit. “You said you’d never met her, right? I’ll let you see her in the flesh.”
Shen Che glanced at him.
“What are you going backstage for?”
“I know the manager at Great China. He said there’s a reception after the premiere tonight and invited a few familiar faces.” Zhou Muqing raised his eyebrows. “What? You don’t want to go?”
Shen Che said nothing.
But he stood up and followed him.
The corridor was already crowded.
The audience streamed toward the exits after the screening, while theater employees squeezed through the crowd carrying promotional pamphlets.
Zhou Muqing led the way, greeting people as he went.
Shen Che followed behind him. Every now and then, someone recognized him and tried to approach him, only to retreat after receiving one cool glance from him.
Two uniformed stagehands stood at the entrance to the staircase leading to the second floor. When they saw them approaching, they reached out to stop them.
Zhou Muqing gave them his name.
The stagehands immediately stepped aside and opened the door.
“Miss Yu is in the dressing room,” one of them said, gesturing inside. “She’s probably busy right now.”
The door to the dressing room was slightly ajar, and voices could be heard from within.
Zhou Muqing was just about to knock when a man’s voice suddenly came from inside.
It wasn’t loud, but there was an unmistakable pressure in it, the kind that left no room for refusal.
“Shuangshuang, now that this film is finished, we should settle on your next one. Think over what I told you.”
There was a brief silence.
Then a woman’s voice answered.
It was clear and crisp, like beads of ice falling onto a porcelain plate.
“Manager Chen, I already told you. I won’t take that kind of role.”
Shen Che stopped walking.
Her voice sounded different from what he had heard on the screen.
Her lines in the film had been dubbed in post-production, giving her voice a soft, gentle quality with the delicate lilt of a Jiangnan accent.
But her real voice was crisp and distinct, each word pronounced clearly.
It was like bamboo that refused to bend.
“What kind of role?”
The man’s voice carried a smile now, but there was something unpleasant beneath it.
“Miss Yu, you’re Great China’s star. The company has invested so much in you, so you should think about the company, too. What’s wrong with this kind of film? I’ve read the script. It’s excellent. Much more interesting than those films you made before.”
“Then find someone else.”
Her answer was short and decisive.
There was no room for negotiation.
The door suddenly opened.
A middle-aged man in a gray suit stood in the doorway, his expression rather unpleasant.
When he saw Zhou Muqing and Shen Che, he clearly didn’t recognize Shen Che. But he knew Zhou Muqing.
He froze for a moment before quickly forcing a smile onto his face.
“Mr. Zhou! You’re here? Please, come in, come in—”
Before he could finish, he stepped aside.
And Shen Che saw the person inside.
She was standing by the window, her back turned toward the door.
She was still wearing the deep green qipao from the film.
Outside, neon lights flickered on and off, red and green reflections falling across her figure in turn and tracing a blurred outline around her.
Hearing the commotion, she slowly turned around.
Shen Che’s breath caught for a moment.
She had been breathtaking enough on the screen.
But only after seeing her in person did he understand what it meant for someone to be truly capable of stopping a man’s heart.
Her features were even more delicate than they had appeared on screen, as light and understated as a single brushstroke in an ink painting.
But her eyes were deeper.
Far deeper.
Deep enough that he could not see their bottom.
She looked toward the doorway.
Her gaze passed over Zhou Muqing’s face before settling on Shen Che.
Just one glance.
Then she lowered her lashes slightly, as though avoiding his gaze without meaning to.
Her lashes were long, casting a small shadow over her eyes and concealing every emotion hidden within them.
“Miss Yu,” Zhou Muqing said with a smile as he stepped forward. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s finally a pleasure to meet you in person tonight. This is—”
“Mr. Shen.”
She suddenly spoke.
Her voice was still clear and crisp, but there was a hint more softness in it than before.
“The Young Marshal.”
Shen Che froze.
She knew who he was?
She lifted her eyes and looked at him again.
This time, her gaze lingered a little longer.
Under the light, her eyes resembled two deep pools, something hidden beneath their surface, impossible to discern.
“I’ve seen you in the newspapers,” she said calmly. “You’ve just returned from the front lines. It must have been hard.”
Shen Che said nothing.
He simply looked at her.
He looked at the shadows cast by her lashes, at the faint, almost imperceptible smile resting at the corners of her lips.
At that moment, the voices and sounds of cars outside the theater seemed to fade farther and farther away, as though they were separated from him by a thick layer of water.
And she was on the other side of that water.
Earlier, surrounded by a sea of people, she had happened to glance down from above—
And her eyes had met his deep, unfathomable gaze.
At that moment, she didn’t tell him that she, too, had been stunned for a heartbeat.