There's Something Wrong With My Little White Flower - Chapter 72

Chapter 72: A Century of Love Letters

“Ruan Ruan is going to hold a concert!”

Xiao Tao was queuing up outside the kindergarten to pick up her daughter when she saw this message. A light rain was falling. She held an umbrella with one hand and struggled to type with the other.

“Oh my God! A once-in-a-lifetime event! Ruan Ruan hasn’t returned to the country for several years since that incident… Wuuu I miss my daughter so much!”

This fan group was created seven years ago. At that time, they gathered every day to talk about their idol, spending countless long nights together.

After the incident was exposed, for a long time, the name “Ruan Jiyun” was like a tumor. Any mention of it was instantly followed by mad attacks. To protect her, the fans had to fall silent.

“I heard it’s a small-scale concert. I wonder if I can grab a ticket. I need to practice my long-lost ‘octopus hand speed’!”

“Inside scoop: this concert is for fundraising for the ‘Egalitarian Declaration’ project. ‘Feng Yun Ji Hui’ CP fans are ecstatic!”

The pleasant sound of music interrupted Xiao Tao’s thoughts. The kindergarten iron gate opened, and children in white school uniforms walked out holding hands. Xiao Tao quickly put away her phone and walked toward her daughter.

But the long-awaited news affected her mood. When her husband returned from work, he found an extra dish of braised pork ribs on the table.

“Did Mommy encounter something good today?” he asked, picking up their daughter who was playing with building blocks.

Xiao Tao smiled and placed the dish on the table: “My idol is having a concert! Honey… I want to go…”

“The celebrity named Ruan… what’s her name?” her husband recalled. “Didn’t she go abroad? Of course, you can go. Just let me know in advance, and I’ll ask Mom to pick up Xiao Yun from school.”

He rarely saw his wife show such a girlish demeanor. When they met on a blind date, his wife was gentle and generous. Their married life was warm, but this was the first time he felt close to a part of her youthful years he had never witnessed.

Tickets for Ruan Jiyun’s concert were not sold publicly but allocated through a lottery on the “Egalitarian Declaration” Foundation’s website. All proceeds would be donated to the foundation to fund activities supporting domestic legislation.

To win a ticket, Xiao Tao practically mobilized all her relatives and friends, asking each of them to register on the foundation’s website. This nearly caused a misunderstanding. Her seventy-five-year-old grandmother called her, trembling: “Tao Tao… Whatever it is, tell Grandma first, but don’t tell your mother!”

The elderly woman couldn’t quite grasp it. Why would two men or two women want to get married? Isn’t that chaos? But her protective instinct for her granddaughter won out. She tentatively asked, “Are you telling me you like girls?”

Xiao Tao burst into laughter: “Not me, Grandma. It’s the celebrity I admire. She likes girls. Grandma, she is a truly, truly good person, but because she likes girls, many people curse her… I want to support her…”

Her eyes suddenly blurred, and her voice became choked up, as if she was seeing the overwhelming curses online again. No matter how hard they tried to fight the negativity, they couldn’t drown out the voices. Later, account after account was banned. They couldn’t speak out, only watching the person on the other end of the screen silently.

The most severe incident was at an awards ceremony red carpet. A malicious anti-fan mixed into the crowd and threw a bottle of prepared red paint at Ruan Jiyun just as she stepped onto the red carpet.

Xiao Tao was watching the live stream on her computer and was startled by the sudden sight. Ruan Jiyun was wearing a white dress. The red paint splattered on it like glaring bloodstains. She saw Ruan Jiyun lower her head, letting her assistant wipe the marks from her face.

Then, she continued facing the cameras, flashing a familiar and sweet smile. She walked the entire red carpet in that miserable dress.

From start to finish, she never showed a hint of weakness.

Xiao Tao took a deep breath. Her grandmother’s voice on the phone continued: “Tao Tao, Grandma doesn’t understand young people’s things anymore, but remember, no matter what, there are still people in this world who love you.”

There are still people who love you, so even if the road ahead is difficult, you must keep walking.

On the day of the concert, Xiao Tao arranged for her mother-in-law to watch the child early and took a cab alone to the high-speed rail station to meet her friends.

They were all former fan club partners. Now, the youthful shyness had faded, but the look in their eyes still reflected the former brilliance.

It was a small gymnasium with no flashy stage design. Blue spotlights hung from the steel frame, enveloping the slender figure in the center.

Xiao Tao couldn’t remember how many times she cried that night. The glow stick in her hand waved with the same enthusiasm as in her youth, and her ears echoed with the loud chorus of the crowd.

During the encore, Ruan Jiyun suddenly placed her index finger to her lips, giving them a playful “shush.”

“I have a special encore for you, but you have to promise not to scream too loudly.”

Another familiar figure appeared in the light—Jiang Peifeng, who had long since transitioned from idol to behind-the-scenes, studying film directing in France. Although the fans vaguely expected it, they still couldn’t help but scream when they saw the actual star couple.

“This isn’t a collaboration, it’s fan service! Ruan Ruan, you’re too mean!”

“Is she bringing her girlfriend to show us? We approve!”

The fans below were still shouting, and the two on stage exchanged smiles and raised their microphones simultaneously.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high…”

“And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true…”

For several years, Ruan Jiyun and Jiang Peifeng lived in a villa in the French countryside.

On one hand, Jiang Peifeng was studying in Paris, and on the other, Ruan Jiyun’s health wasn’t great. Living in the scenic countryside helped her mood adjust.

In the initial years, the online malice was overwhelming. Jiang Peifeng withdrew from all front-of-camera work under her family’s arrangement, transitioning to behind-the-scenes development, while Ruan Jiyun insisted on continuing to make films.

However, the roles she could secure were limited. And during the years Jiang Peifeng was ill, the heavy workload and psychological pressure caused Ruan Jiyun to suffer from severe neurasthenia. Therefore, as soon as Jiang Peifeng recovered, she took her abroad for recuperation.

The decision to return to China was the result of careful consideration. As time went on, the public opinion environment slowly began to loosen. Sexual orientation was no longer an avoided topic. Simultaneously, other Asian countries also raised the rainbow flag, beginning to fight for the rights of same-sex partners.

Seven years later, the first “Egalitarian Declaration” Foundation appeared in China.

Jiang Peifeng and Ruan Jiyun were invited by the foundation to be the public welfare spokespersons for the project.

They returned to China and continued their respective careers. Although they inevitably encountered many difficulties, they all got through them safely. A year later, Ruan Jiyun received an invitation from the prominent director Yan Sheng to star in her new work, Amber Bridge.

It was a film about female growth. Ruan Jiyun played the painter Cheng Yiqiao, a rebellious young woman from a wealthy family. She dedicated her life to the pursuit of pure art. Her reckless and innocent personality prevented her from pleasing society, and she struggled and became destitute for half her life. After her death, people discovered the female artist’s shocking talent in her attic.

This film won the top prize at the film festival that year. The jury went against the crowd and awarded the Best Actress prize to Ruan Jiyun. Although the film later faced malicious attacks in China and was forced offline after only nine days of screening, this did not prevent it from becoming a classic.

This was Ruan Jiyun’s first Best Actress award. After that, she continued to star in many films, creating one classic role after another.

The new wind finally blew into the ancient, sleeping window frames.

My dearest Jiyun,

I hope this letter finds you well.

In the blink of an eye, you and I have known each other for seventeen years. Seventeen years is enough time for a child to grow into an independent adult, but applying it to us, it feels like a flash of white light, gone in an instant.

I still clearly remember the first time I saw you. The air conditioner in the practice room was broken that day, and over thirty people were crammed inside, making the situation even worse. Then, suddenly, you walked in.

Even on such a hot day, only you were like a ray of moonlight, with a clean coolness. I selfishly wanted to keep that first meeting to myself, as my private memory.

That was the first time I understood what love at first sight meant. With just one look, I knew your future would involve me.

The days in the training room became something to look forward to. You were already a celebrity then, but you were still like a little girl, who liked to secretly put a candy in your mouth when the manager wasn’t looking, chewing it while looking around cautiously, like a little hamster.

You were actually very sensitive to pain, but as soon as the music started, you always smiled in front of the camera, never slacking. Only once, you were probably too exhausted. In the backstage area where the lights couldn’t reach, you quietly took off your high heels.

You stood there barefoot on the floor for five minutes. You must have been very happy then, because the expression on your face was so lively, like a child who did something naughty and wasn’t caught. But I noticed, shhh, and I will keep your secret… for a very, very long time.

I have seen many different versions of you: the one who secretly wiped away tears because of the pressure of memorizing lines; the one whose cheeks flushed crimson because you read a fan letter; and the beautiful, gentle you when I kissed you…

Jiyun, I often don’t know how to talk about love, but looking back, every minute and second we spent together was actually love.

I once read a line that said: Never has there been an affection like mine, wishing that when I wake up tomorrow morning, I will already be eight years older.

We will write down our New Year’s wishes on the eve of every New Year;

We will travel to all the beautiful places and take photos together;

We will also argue, but we must reconcile quickly. It’s simple: a hug is enough to make up;

We may or may not have children, but no matter what, we will always be happy.

I hope that until the end of our lives, we will still be together, looking back and saying: This was a simple yet beautiful life.

Jiang Peifeng, written on July 16th, the eve of the Zhiyuan Wedding.

The camera worked quietly, focusing the lens on the beauty in the white gown in front of the screen. The beauty held the letter, reading slowly, and the audience below listened quietly, remaining silent for a long time.

It wasn’t until the sound of piano music slowly began that the people on stage and off realized themselves, followed by applause.

“This is the Qixi Festival special program of The Filmmaker’s Love Letters. This love letter comes from the famous director Jiang Peifeng. Director Jiang’s era is already more than a hundred years ago, but the affection in this letter, read today, still makes one feel its depth.”

The host smiled and said: “We also thank Film Queen Lu, for spending this special day with us.”

The director yelled “Cut,” and the atmosphere instantly relaxed. Staff came up to tidy up, and the female star who had just been on stage quickly took off her microphone and handed it to her assistant.

She didn’t bother greeting anyone else, instead turning and running toward the safety exit. Another tall woman was standing there. Seeing her run over, she smiled and turned around.

“Be careful not to fall.” Zhen Zhen hugged her wife, taking a closer look at her expression. “Eh, why are you crying?”

“It’s too moving,” Lu Jiaren sniffed. “A love letter from a hundred years ago, wife, do you know? In that era, the law didn’t even recognize their love!”

Her partner gently stroked her hair: “Yes, the law didn’t recognize it then.”

“But, you know, love doesn’t need legislation to exist.”

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