funbook-pk Chapter 55, Scumbag, or Scumbag?
Chapter 55, Scumbag, or Scumbag?
Late at night.
The Shanghai night streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, neon lights twinkling one by one, and the Oriental Pearl Tower in the distance shimmering in the night like a glowing needle piercing the sky.
The room was dimly lit, with only the desk lamp on the desk shining, its orange light illuminating the keyboard and script while pushing everything around it into shadow.
Gao Huan sat at his desk, a document on his computer screen titled "Descendants of the Sun - 9th Draft of the Script Adaptation".
He stared at the words for a few seconds, then leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.
Descendants of the Sun.
This drama made him hesitate for a long time.
The previous life was a Korean drama, which aired in 2016 and became a ratings hit, instantly catapulting Song Joong-ki to Hallyu stardom.
Set in a war zone, the story tells of a love story between a peacekeeping soldier and a military medic that blossoms amidst gunfire and ruins.
Is it pretty? Yes, it is.
But Gao Huan's hesitation wasn't about whether it looked good or not, but whether he should plagiarize it at all.
The South Korean production of this is an idol drama—a romantic fantasy that uses war as a backdrop and love as the foreground.
He revised it several times, changing the background, character settings, and main storyline, turning the fictional world into one based on real peacekeeping missions, and adding battlefield rescue, humanitarianism, and patriotism to the simple love story.
But after making all the changes, he realized one thing—it was still fundamentally an idol drama.
It's not that he can't change it, it's that the core of this genre is idol drama.
You can replace the flesh, skin, and blood, but once the skeleton is removed, it's no longer the same thing.
He thought about it for a long time, and finally understood.
There's nothing shameful about watching idol dramas.
What's shameful is that they made an idol drama that didn't resemble an idol drama at all.
It's not that China can't produce idol dramas, it's that too many idol dramas are made too fake.
It's so fake that the audience can't relate to the idea of you two dating at all, and they don't care about the context in which you're dating.
What he wants to do is to add a layer of realism, a layer of texture, and a layer of weight to the idol drama, making it feel like "this wasn't filmed in front of a green screen, but that real people are experiencing these things."
He typed a line into the document, not a line from the protagonist, but the last words of a fallen peacekeeper: "The reason we cannot see the darkness is because someone has blocked it from our sight."
Then save it and close your computer.
Gao Huan leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed.
The thermos next to him contained goji berry and polygonatum tea, the temperature just right; it was hot water that Nazha had refilled for him.
The phone screen on the table lit up briefly, and a WeChat message popped up. He picked it up to read it.
Chen Duling's video call.
He accepted it.
On the screen, Chen Duling's face came close, she wasn't wearing makeup, her hair was loose, and she was wearing a white T-shirt with a slightly large neckline, revealing half of her collarbone.
She leaned against the headboard, with her bedroom in her Xiamen home in the background. The curtains were drawn, and the bedside lamp was on, its warm yellow light illuminating half of her face.
"Gao Huan," she called him, her voice soft but carrying a soft, intimate tone that only comes with the night.
"Um."
Guess what song I'm listening to?
Gao Huan glanced at the time in the lower right corner of the computer screen: March 12th, early morning.
"The Puppet Show"
Chen Duling paused for a moment, then smiled, her eyes crinkling into two crescent moons. "How did you know?"
"You posted two things on your WeChat Moments today. The first was 'This song is so good,' and the second was a screenshot of the lyrics to 'Puppet Show.'"
Chen Duling pouted.
"Can you please not be so smart? I was hoping to give you a surprise, but you guessed everything."
Gao Huan's lips curled slightly, but he didn't reply.
"So guess why I suddenly listened to this song today?"
Chen Duling turned over, placed her phone against the pillow, and lay on her side looking at the screen. Her face was very close to the camera, so close that Gao Huan could see the curve of her eyelashes and the tiny mole on the bridge of her nose.
"Because you've been learning this song recently."
Chen Duling's eyes lit up for a moment, then dimmed again.
"Did Sister Yangyang tell you?"
"Your last post on WeChat Moments was 'I practiced all afternoon and my voice is hoarse,' accompanied by a picture of a cup of Malva nut."
Chen Duling was silent for two seconds, then buried her face in the pillow and mumbled:
"Gao Huan, you're so annoying."
Gao Huan's smile widened slightly.
Chen Duling lifted her face from the pillow, a few strands of her hair were messy and stuck to her cheeks.
She ignored him and just stared at the screen, her eyes filled with a tenderness that said, "I can't do anything with you."
"Gao Huan, I've been listening to this song you released on March 10th on repeat for two days now."
Her voice softened, as if she were talking to herself, "'With your pull, I dance like the wind; with your guidance, I know when to advance and when to retreat'—I especially love these two lines. Tell me, do the puppets in a puppet show actually like the person pulling the strings?"
Gao Huan thought for a moment. "Puppets have no choice, but people do."
Chen Duling was silent for a few seconds, then smiled.
That smile was a little bitter, a little sweet, carrying a knowing "I knew you'd say that" quality.
She rolled over, lying on her back, looking at the ceiling. She held her phone above her face at a bad angle, but her face still looked good even from that unflattering angle—people with good bone structure aren't afraid of any angle.
"Gao Huan, I have a question for you."
"explain."
"Why is Sister Shi Shi liking your posts on WeChat Moments so much lately?"
Gao Huan's finger paused on the table for a moment.
"Really? I didn't notice."
"Good heavens, it was so obvious, I wasn't the only one who noticed. I went to visit the set of 'Brotherhood of Blades' that day, added her on WeChat, and that's when I found out."
Chen Duling's tone carried a hint of the kind of probing that only girls would have, like "I've known for a long time but I've been hesitating whether to say it or not."
She retweeted your Weibo post about "Puppet Show" with a heart emoji. Not a thumbs-up emoji, but a heart emoji.
Furthermore, she has liked seven of your Weibo posts in the past month, something she never did before.
Gao Huan remained silent.
Chen Duling raised her phone a little higher, looking at him on the screen with a complex emotion in her eyes.
A little jealous, a little questioning, and a little curious—"I want to know what you're thinking."
"Gao Huan, what's going on with you guys?"
Gao Huan leaned back in his chair, looking at the clean face on the screen, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.
"A story that only lasts a few nights."
He said this in a very calm tone, as if he were talking about what he ate that day.
On the other end of the screen, Chen Duling's expression remained unchanged, but her finger lightly tapped the edge of the phone. The movement was so subtle that it was almost unnoticed unless you looked closely.
Naza stopped what she was doing under the table.
She was curled up in the space under the table, her body in an uncomfortable position.
She was doing yoga—doing yoga in a small space is a habit she's recently developed; the space is small, so the movements can't be too big, but she's practicing very seriously.
When Gao Huan answered the video call, she didn't say anything, just stayed quietly, like a cat curled up in a corner.
Then she heard that sentence.
"A story that only lasts a few nights."
Her teeth gently landed on Gao Huan's thigh.
It's not heavy, it's like a cat tentatively biting you, wondering if you'll dodge.
Gao Huan didn't dodge, nor did he even look down at her.
He continued talking to Chen Duling, his voice as calm as if nothing had happened.
Chen Duling smiled on the other end of the screen, a smile that conveyed a sense of "I knew it."
"Gao Huan, you..."
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing." Chen Duling put her phone next to her pillow, turned over and lay on her side, looking at the screen. "I just think you're pretty open and honest."
"Isn't being open and honest good?"
"Being open and honest is good," Chen Duling's voice softened, "but sometimes, open and honest people are more heartbreaking than those who hide their true feelings."
Gao Huan did not respond.
Chen Duling was quiet for a while. The night wind from Xiamen outside the window came through her microphone, whistling like someone whistling from afar.
Then she changed the subject.
"Gao Huan, you said yesterday you were going to Paris at the end of March?"
"Okay, let's take a picture of GG."
"What GG?"
"It's Dove; the brand said we'll discuss it in more detail later."
Chen Duling thought for a moment and said, "I also want to go to Paris."
"I can take you this time."
"You said it."
"I said it."
Chen Duling smiled, her eyes curving into crescents, like a little girl who had received a promised candy.
She stretched on the other side of the screen, the hem of her T-shirt slipping up a little to reveal a slender, white waistline. Then she rolled over, buried her face in the pillow, and mumbled, "I'm sleepy, goodnight."
"Good night."
The video is down.
The screen went dark, and the room fell silent again.
The tea in the thermos was still warm.
Naza was still curled up under the table.
Her lips pressed against the skin of his thigh, neither letting go nor pressing hard.
She could feel the temperature of his skin and the thin layer of muscles on his legs taut slightly—not from pain, but from some kind of instinctive reaction to stimulation.
Gao Huan lowered his head and looked at her curled up under the table.
"Have you had enough?"
Naza opened her mouth, but didn't come out from under the table.
She raised her head and looked up at him.
The space under the table was small, and the light couldn't reach her face, so her expression was hidden in the shadows, but Gao Huan could see the light in her eyes.
Wet and shiny, like glass beads soaked by rain.
Her lips still held the warmth of his thigh skin; she pursed them, as if savoring something.
Gao Huan looked at her, remained silent for two seconds, then bent down, reached out, and pulled her out from under the table.
Naza did not struggle.
Her body was very light. When he pulled her out from under the table, she was like a kitten being taken out of a cardboard box, her limbs curled up, not knowing where to put her.
She was placed on his lap, sitting in his arms, face to face, so close that their breaths mingled.
Her eyes reddened, the kind of red that said, "I've been holding back for so long, but I just can't hold back anymore."
Tears clung to the corners of her eyes, not yet falling, but ready to spill at any moment.
Gao Huan looked at her, reached out, and used his thumb to wipe away the tear that was about to fall from the corner of her eye.
His fingertip brushed against her lower eyelid, and her eyelashes trembled slightly on his fingertip, like a butterfly's wing being touched.
"Can you handle it?" he asked.
Naza looked at him without saying a word.
Her lips were trembling, but she was clenching her teeth to keep them from trembling too much.
"If you can't stand it, just leave."
Gao Huan's tone was very calm.
"Anyway, you're not my first woman, and I'm not your first man, right?"
Naza's tears fell, one after another, like beads from a broken string, welling up from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks, dripping onto the back of his hand, onto his clothes, and onto the spot on his leg where she had bitten him.
She didn't wipe it away; she just watched him cry.
Tears streamed down her cheeks; they tasted salty.
"I knew it." Her voice trembled, but each word was clear. "You've always cared about this, haven't you?"
Gao Huan remained silent.
"So that's why Chen Yao is different in your heart, right? Because she gave her first time to you, while I gave it to someone else."
Naza's voice grew louder and louder, a accusation filled with grievance and resentment, the kind that had been suppressed for a long time and finally found an outlet.
Her fingers gripped his clothes so tightly that her knuckles turned white and her nails dug into the fabric, as if she were grasping at something that might disappear at any moment.
"Gao Huan, you're a scumbag, do you even know that?"
Gao Huan looked at her, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
"I know."
Naza's tears flowed even more fiercely.
She reached out and slapped him hard, then grabbed the front of his shirt tightly, squeezing it even harder.
Her body was trembling, starting from her fingers, spreading to her arms, and then to her shoulders; she looked like a leaf about to fall from the wind.
"Do you have any humanity?"
She asked, her voice changing from a choked sob to a sob.
"That was before you met me. How could I have known I would meet you? If I had known... if I had known I would like you this much, how could I have..."
She couldn't continue.
Gao Huan watched her cry, watched her clutch her clothes, watched her sit naked and defenseless in his lap like someone whose armor had been stripped away.
He reached out and tucked the hair that was falling beside her face behind her ear. The movement was very gentle, just as gentle as when he had wiped away her tears.
"Now you know," he said.
Naza looked up at him, her eyes blurred with tears.
"Please, please forgive me?"
Her voice was as soft as a thread about to break, "I didn't mean to, I really... really like you. Gao Huan, I've never liked anyone this much before."
You can yell at me, you can hit me, you can do whatever you want, just don't leave me or break up with me because of this.
Gao Huan looked at her.
Her face was covered in tears, her eyelashes were stuck together, her nose was red, and her lips were slightly dry from crying so hard.
She didn't look good; in fact, she looked a bit disheveled.
But in the way she looked at him, there was something in her eyes, something that said, "I'm willing to give my life for you."
Gao Huan did not answer.
He stood up and picked her up. Naza's body was very light; when he held her in his arms, she was like a curled-up cat, her face buried in his shoulder, her tears rubbing against his neck, wet and cool.
He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
The night view of Shanghai unfolds beneath my feet, with illuminated cruise ships on the Huangpu River gliding slowly by like beads floating on the water.
The skyscrapers of Lujiazui gleamed with a cold white light, while the lights of the Oriental Pearl Tower flickered in the night, as if breathing.
The distant neon lights dyed the sky an ambiguous orange-red, making it impossible to distinguish whether it was light or fog.
Naza buried her face in his shoulder, her voice muffled, hoarse from crying.
"Gao Huan."
"Um."
"You're a jerk."
Gao Huan lowered his head and looked at the fluffy head in his arms.
"I know."
"But I can't live without you." Her voice was very soft, so soft that it sounded like she was talking to herself, not to him.
Do you think I'm sick?
Gao Huan did not answer.
He held her in his arms, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the Shanghai night.
A breeze blew in through the cracks in the window, causing the curtains to billow gently.
In the distance, there are the sounds of car horns, the heartbeat of this city that refuses to quiet down even in the dead of night.
This city, like him, doesn't care about too many things.
Naza's fingers were gripping the front of his clothes, and she hadn't let go since.
Her face was buried in the crook of his shoulder, her breath warm and damp, hitting his neck with each breath, like a small, living thing breathing.
A long time passed, so long that Gao Huan thought she had fallen asleep, before she spoke again.
"Gao Huan."
"Um."
"I'm willing to accept everything about you. In that case... could you stay with me forever?"
Gao Huan lowered his head, his lips touching the top of her head.
The scent of the shampoo wafted into my nose—coconut, sweet, but not cloying.
Her hair was soft, clinging to his lips like a thin, warm velvet.
"Okay," he said.
"real?"
"real."
Naza's fingers slowly loosened their grip on his clothes, from "clutching" to "draping," from "grabbing" to "letting go."
Like a ship that has finally reached the shore, the mooring ropes are still attached, but no more effort is needed.
She lifted her face from his shoulder and looked at him. Her eyes were red, and tears still clung to her eyelashes, but her expression was no longer one of crying.
That expression was hard to describe; it wasn't a smile, nor a cry, but a kind of reassurance tinged with a hint of despair, as if saying, "I've given myself to you."
"Gao Huan."
"Um."
"You scumbag."
Gao Huan's lips curled up slightly.
"I know."
"But you're my scumbag."
Gao Huan remained silent.
He held her in his arms, turned around, and walked back to the bedside from the French windows.
The Shanghai night view slowly receded behind me, and the neon lights shone in through the window, casting a blurry shadow on the floor, like a river flowing from the window to the bedside and back again.
He put Nazha on the bed.
She lay there, looking at him, her eyes still wet with tears, but the corners of her mouth had already begun to turn up.
She reached out and grabbed his fingers, her grip light but firm, like a small anchor holding him in place.
Her fingers were cool, pressed against his warm palm, like a stone that had been washed by water for a long time, smooth, clean, and a little cool.
"You go to sleep too," she said.
"Um."
Gao Huan turned off the lights.
The room darkened, with only the light from outside seeping in through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a thin white line on the ceiling.
It's not straight, but slightly curved, like a person's electrocardiogram, beating intermittently.
He lay down, and Naza immediately rolled over, burying her face in his chest like a cat that had found its den, curling up and shrinking away.
Her hand rested on his waist, her fingertips slightly curled, like a half-open flower.
Her legs were wrapped around his, her knees pressed against his thighs, and she clung to him like an octopus, wishing she could embed herself into his body.
The room became quiet.
The wind is still blowing outside the window, and the neon lights in the distance are still flashing. This city never sleeps, but at this moment, in this room, the world is very small, so small that there is only a bed and two people.
Gao Huan stared at the ceiling with his eyes open, while Nazha's breathing rose and fell beside him.
He recalled many things that happened tonight. Chen Duling asked him, "Do puppeteers like the person holding the strings?" He replied, "People have choices."
But do people really have a choice?
Naza didn't choose the right path for the time before she met him.
He did not choose how he came into this world.
They were all walking along a pre-drawn line, occasionally veering off course or turning back, but most of the time, they could only move forward.
A long time passed, so long that Gao Huan thought she had fallen asleep, before Nazha finally murmured a sentence.
The sound was very soft, so soft that it was like a thread about to break, floating in the darkness.
"I'm not taking my medicine today."
Gao Huan's fingers paused for a moment.
He lowered his head, unable to see her face in the darkness, but he could feel her breath against his chest, warm and moist, one breath at a time, like that of a tiny baby.
Her heartbeat also reached me, through the thin nightgown, each beat faster than his.
He didn't ask what kind of medicine it was.
he knows.
She doesn't want to eat tonight.
Gao Huan lowered his head and kissed her forehead.
His lips pressed against the skin of her forehead, and he could feel her body temperature, slightly elevated, just like she had been just moments before.
"Okay," he said.
Naza's fingers tightened slightly on his waist, then slowly loosened, and then completely relaxed.
Her breathing went from deep to shallow, then from shallow to deep, gradually becoming even, like the sea after the tide has receded—calm, soft, and without ripples.
She really fell asleep this time.
Gao Huan kept his eyes open; the wind was still blowing outside the window, and the city was still lit up.
Many images flashed through his mind: Chen Duling laughing and saying in the video, "I'll cook for you next time too"; Liu Shishi asking him in bed, "Are you a scumbag?"; Meng Ziyi lying on top of him and asking, "Do you only see me as a lover?"; Chen Yao saying in the photography studio, "If I'm going to do it, I'll be the real girlfriend"; and that WeChat message, "Baby~ Are you coming over tonight?"; and Mao Xiaotong's face turning as white as a sheet when she picked up her phone.
These questions came one after another, like waves crashing against the wall he had spent so long building.
The wall was high and thick; he thought it could block everything.
But now, in the quiet of the night, those sounds seeped in through the cracks in the wall, subtle and fragmented, like the winter wind sneaking in through the crack in the door, impossible to block.
Gao Huan lowered his head and looked at Nazha, who was sleeping in his arms.
Her face was buried in his chest, only half of it visible. Her eyelashes were long, trembling slightly in the darkness, like butterfly wings trying to take flight in a dream.
Her lips parted slightly, her breathing was light and shallow, like a small animal curled up in its den, finally letting down its guard.
Gao Huan reached out and brushed a strand of hair that had fallen onto her cheek.
His movements were very gentle, as if he were afraid of disturbing something. His fingertips brushed against her cheek; her skin was warm and slightly damp, traces of her crying earlier. He gently rubbed it away with the back of his fingers, removing the dampness.
Her eyebrows twitched slightly in her sleep, as if she sensed something, but she didn't wake up.
Gao Huan's hand paused there for a few seconds, then withdrew and placed it on her back.
Her back was thin, and the shape of her shoulder blades could be felt through her pajamas, like two wings that hadn't fully grown out yet.
Is he a scumbag, or just a piece of trash?
He asked himself the same question.
Then he laughed.
Leave it alone.
Both.
He closed his eyes.
Shanghai is still bright outside the window.
Gao Huan turned over and pulled her closer to him.
Naza hummed softly in her sleep, like a kitten making a muffled sound after being petted comfortably.
Then everything fell silent.
There was only the sound of breathing and the wind outside the window.