That evening, Ni Bingyan sat at her desk, reading the script.
This was her first-ever female lead role, and even though the plot wasn't complicated, she was still preparing with the utmost care.
Usually, at this time of night, she would have already begun simulating the plot in her head, repeatedly mulling over the details of her performance. But tonight, as she read, her gaze drifted out the window.
Most of her neighbors were elderly and had already turned in for the night, making the surroundings exceptionally quiet.
It was a muggy summer night, the kind that promised rain.
Tiny insects fluttered against the window screen, RUSTLING softly. Unidentifiable summer bugs chirped from the grass. A passing breeze playfully tapped the wind chimes under the eaves before mercilessly moving on…
The outdoor air conditioning unit hummed with a low roar, a reliable knight diligently guarding the coolness of the room.
Ni Bingyan took out her phone, sighed, and slumped onto the desk. She posted a message on Weibo: How long has it been since you last went home?
At this moment, she felt particularly lonely.
She wanted to find someone to talk to, but unfortunately, no one was there for her.
Her account was new, and she hadn't even made friends with a single familiar netizen.
She had been an orphan. After the old director of the orphanage passed away, most of the people she knew there had also left, and she had never gone back. Loneliness like this was routine for her.
She should have been used to it.
But now, she had family, relatives connected by blood.
And that made it harder to bear.
'Get closer?'
'Or stay away?'
It seemed that no matter what she chose, she would have to face moral pressure.
For a person whose soul has transmigrated, are the original owner's relatives still your relatives?
It was an excellent ethical question.
Unfortunately, no one researched it.
Because in the world of science, transmigration doesn't exist.
Frustrated, she went downstairs and ran on the treadmill for half an hour, then did several sets of pull-ups. Drenched in a waterfall of sweat, she took a shower and returned to her study.
When she spread the script open again, she was much more focused.
People who overthink are just not tired enough. Once you're exhausted, your mind clears. You feel the pressures of life and realize that working hard is the most important thing.
This low-budget arthouse film was titled *Children of the Mountains*.
It told the story of a "golden phoenix" who flew out of a mountain valley. After graduation, she chose to return to her hometown to be with her family and lead her fellow villagers to prosperity.
The girl, Yingzi, whose parents had died when she was young, was raised by her grandparents. After getting into university, she left the mountain valley that had raised her, carrying the 1,800 yuan her fellow villagers had scraped together for her living expenses, along with the tuition scholarship awarded by the government.
When she arrived in the big city, she wasn't dazzled by its splendor. Instead, she locked onto a single goal and marched steadfastly forward.
While others were addicted to games and playing around, she studied diligently, excelling in every class. While others bought a new lipstick today and a new dress tomorrow, she, despite her beauty, was never vain or competitive. While others were falling in love, all lovey-dovey, she managed to guard her heart, always smiling at her male classmates and saying, "I'm sorry, I just want to focus on my studies right now." While others spent their parents' hard-earned money without a second thought, she worked hard in her spare time to support herself, even sending what little money she had left over to her frail grandmother…
During that time, her grandfather passed away. Afraid of distracting her from her studies and worried about the high cost of a round trip, her grandmother chose to hide it from her. By the time Yingzi finished her winter break part-time job and returned home for the New Year, the grass on her grandfather's grave was already several inches high.
After graduation, she went through several rounds of interviews and joined a large international company. The work was hard, but because of her strong abilities and willingness to put in the effort, she was quickly promoted and given a raise.
Reaping rewards proportional to her efforts was gratifying enough, but deep down, she often thought of that 1,800 yuan, of the villagers who were still poor, and of the reluctant look in her elderly grandmother's eyes every time she saw her off.
[Yingzi, you have to do well! Grandma is old now. Every time I see you might be one time less, so don't mind your grandma's nagging. No matter when, no matter where you go, Grandma just hopes that you are well. Everything's fine at home, I'm fine, so you just focus on your own things and don't worry about us!]
That night, she dreamed of her grandmother.
She lay awake all night. Then, she chose to resign.
Her grandmother had never been to a big city like this. She had lived her entire life in that mountain valley. The farthest she had ever gone was the county town, and the farthest place she could imagine was the Capital. She had toiled in the fields her whole life, and her greatest pride was raising a "golden phoenix" who had flown out of the mountains.
The places her granddaughter went, it was as if she had gone there too. The food her granddaughter ate, it was as if she had eaten it too. The stories her granddaughter told her, it was as if she had experienced them too…
She was so content.
But Yingzi's heart was so empty.
If she persevered in the city, she would slowly put down roots and become a city person. But if she returned to her hometown, could there be another kind of possibility?
The tree wishes to be still, but the wind will not cease; the child wishes to care for their parents, but they are no longer there. This was truly the kind of regret that could haunt a person for a lifetime.
When she had read the script before, she hadn't felt a deep resonance with the theme of kinship and always felt something was missing. But after seeing her dad's livestream during the day, where he couldn't go three sentences without mentioning "my daughter," she looked at the script again and suddenly understood.
So this was what it felt like to be cared for.
The script was thin, but it contained a great deal of content, all depending on the reader's interpretation.
There was a warning for contemporary university students, a question posed to the children who leave the mountains, an interpretation of the national poverty alleviation policy, and also an exploration of the developmental paths for young people in this ever-changing new world…
Perhaps all arthouse films had this trait: no matter how simple the story, it had to be told with depth.
It had to touch people's hearts, be thought-provoking, and if it could bring about even a tiny change in the world, that would be even better!
After playing so many supporting roles, she needed to change her way of thinking. Simply memorizing lines and designing small details wasn't enough. Without grasping the spirit of the role, the character wouldn't come to life, and the story wouldn't feel complete.
The former grassroots Ni Bingyan had never understood these principles, but the original owner of this body had received a proper academic education in acting. The combination of the two was like opening the door to a new world.
Ni Bingyan hugged the script and fell into a contented sleep.
When she woke up, the sun was already high in the sky.
She quickly washed up, packed her luggage, turned off the water, gas, and electricity, and locked the door, preparing for a long absence. Ni Bingyan let out a breath and opened the back door.
It had indeed rained last night. The air was fresh, and the temperature had dropped a few degrees. Water was still dripping from the eaves, and the stone slab path was already half-dry under the sun. She had slept so soundly that she hadn't even heard the rain, only discovering it when she came downstairs.
It felt like a pleasant surprise upon opening the door, and her whole mood lifted.
She closed the courtyard gate, locking her anxieties inside with it. With a determined look in her eyes, Ni Bingyan stepped on the gas and got onto the highway.
Out of Beijing, across Ji Jin, and into Sichuan via Shanxi.
Like a moth drawn to a flame! Without a hint of hesitation!
Along the way, she barely stopped, except for two hours when she was so sleepy in the middle of the night that she pulled over at a service area and dozed in her car.
It was as if a fire were burning inside her!
Because she knew that if she didn't do this in one go, she would most likely lose her nerve the next time.
After rushing the entire way, she parked her car in front of her home early the next morning.
The Ni family's ancestral Sichuan cuisine skills had been passed down for many generations.
Her earliest ancestor to learn cooking had served as an Imperial Chef in the Qing Court, and her grandfather had cooked for state banquets. As for her father, he had been running a high-end private kitchen for decades. The family wasn't fabulously wealthy, but they had a rich heritage.
The Ni family estate was backed by Qingcheng Mountain. It had been designed by a master, exquisitely crafted, with a new view every few steps, picturesque enough to inspire poetry or a painting.
It was hard to imagine that a child raised in such an environment, radiating elegance, would fall in love with someone like Jiang Sheng, who had received a Western-style elite education.
The workings of fate were truly sigh-inducing.
Pulling out a large ring of keys, Ni Bingyan opened the main gate and drove her car to the front of the small building where her family lived. Before she could even get out, Ni Guangli, having heard the noise, had already opened the door.
"You're here this early? Have you eaten? If not, come in for a bowl of beef noodle soup."
He had thought it was his young apprentice, who was scheduled to pick him up, but he was surprised to see an unfamiliar car.
The car was very ordinary, a dusty gray Volkswagen.
Just as he was wondering why his apprentice had brought such a low-grade car for today's business meeting, the car door opened, and the Little Fairy he had doted on since she was a child stepped out.
'Oh, it's not that the car is ordinary, it's that its owner is low-key!'
'Low-key is good, low-key is wonderful, getting rich in silence—she really is my daughter! So smart!'
"Da-Dad…"
Looking at the spirited little old man with graying hair on the steps, Ni Bingyan's heart pounded furiously. She was terrified he would realize his daughter had been replaced by someone else and not only refuse to acknowledge her but demand she return the original.
'I admit I'm being despicable. I never had a father, so I was envious of those who did. Now that I have half of one, I want to be greedy for a moment…'
But before she could sort through the tangle of her thoughts, the man, who had been unable to suppress a smile just a moment ago, suddenly lunged toward a nearby flower bed and pulled a large broom from behind a camellia bush.
"You little brat! You finally remember the way home?"
"You good-for-nothing kid! Getting all defiant and picking a fight with your old man!"
"I raised you as both a father and a mother, and you say you don't want a dad anymore, just like that?!"