Chapter Ninety-Five: The Film Festival

With all of Li Tong and Li Ran’s efforts ending in vain, everyone had no choice but to return to their quiet lives. Yet a single phone call left Jiang Yihan still standing inside the world of entertainment, unable to step out of it.

“Yihan, it’s me, Uncle Park,” Park Yinghu said, his voice carrying an unusual note of delight.

“What is it? Did something happen, Uncle Park?” Jiang Yihan asked in confusion.

“It’s about what I told you before—about the film festival,” Park Yinghu said, still not quite getting to the point.

“What film festival?” Jiang Yihan remained utterly bewildered.

“Oh, honestly, your memory,” Park Yinghu laughed helplessly. “I told you before that our film had been selected for the competition section of the Cannes Film Festival, and they even invited us to walk the red carpet. They gave us three passes. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh, that!” Jiang Yihan struggled to stir his distant memory and finally recalled it dimly. “Right, that! I remember now. But would they still invite me now?”

“Of course they would. They’re not like the local media here, petty enough to twist every little thing. What they care about is the quality of the film,” Park Yinghu said happily.

Yes, it was an international film festival. Jiang Yihan was, at best, only a Korean national celebrity—no, not even that, hardly more than an entertainer. Why would they care so much about what happened here? He gave himself a wry smile.

The rest of the arrangements for the trip to France would have to be discussed with Li Ran.

After hanging up, Jiang Yihan felt as though he were still dreaming. After months of oppression, to suddenly have such a chance to show himself to the world brought a feeling of bright release. Without realizing it, he let out a long-unseen smile. Whatever he was going to France for, whatever he might gain from it, just getting away for a while was already a kind of happiness. To leave this baffling place behind, to relax a little—perhaps the horizon would truly widen.

“I can love you?”

Because the investors included Samsung of Korea and Ziyi of China, the project was considered a joint Korean-Chinese film, and in the film Jiang Yihan represented the Chinese side. So when the film was submitted to Cannes, there was a long dispute over which country it should be listed under. In the end, because Ziyi had contributed the larger share of the funding and Jiang Yihan was the male lead, the film was submitted as a Chinese production. This caused considerable dissatisfaction on the Korean side, but those were the rules of cinema.

As one of the largest and most important film festivals in the world, the Cannes Film Festival is also known as the festival of sea, sex, and sun. Every year during the festivities, the famous seaside promenade and the nearby beaches are crowded with beautiful women hoping to be discovered by major figures in the film world and talent scouts, each dreaming of becoming a star.

And now Jiang Yihan was strolling along that famous promenade with Li Ran and Jiang Ziyi. Because they were abroad, almost no one recognized Jiang Yihan, and the rare ease of the past year was deeply enjoyable to him. Forgetting the clamor on the Korean side, Jiang Yihan was simply a handsome young man—just a boy, delightfully free.

“Today makes me think, if only we could enjoy this kind of peace in Korea too, how wonderful that would be,” Jiang Yihan said with a growing smile as he looked at the crowds playing exuberantly on the beach.

“If you want to, why not? Don’t mind what others think,” Li Ran said in his flat, even tone. To him, all the talk in Korea was nothing but scrap paper, not a word of it worth trusting.

“Yes, it’s easy to say not to care what others think, but I’ve only just realized how hard it really is to do,” Jiang Yihan said with a helpless stretch. When people you once believed in suddenly stand there with blank faces—or worse, with looks that kick you when you are down—what kind of feeling is that, really? It is hard to describe; so absurd, so laughable, it almost makes one want to laugh out loud.

Seeing the mood grow a little cold, Jiang Ziyi smiled and said, “Brother, let’s go play on the beach. It looks so fun.” As she spoke, she tugged Jiang Yihan and Li Ran toward the sand.

To embrace the ocean, to embrace the beach—just hearing it sounded joyful. There was the clear blue sky, the blond-haired foreign charm, the gentle sea breeze blowing toward them. Even running on the sand felt like a pleasure.

When one’s view opens wider, the heart grows wider too. Sea breeze, blue sky, azure water, soft sand, laughter—all of it was enough to delight the soul. At this moment, Jiang Yihan was not an entertainer, not the center of Korea’s whirlpool, not a man who had lost faith in trust. He was a student, a child, a simple person, simply enjoying his holiday. His long-missed laughter joined the laughter of the others, and with his teeth flashing white, Jiang Yihan’s smile was pure and bright.

“Oops! Sorry.” Jiang Yihan suddenly realized he had bumped into someone and hurried to apologize in his newly learned, awkward French. Looking more closely, he saw he had collided with a very tall European man, somewhat worn-looking, but smiling with striking brilliance. After they apologized to each other, Jiang Yihan moved on again.

Then the man, as if thinking of something, suddenly called out in English, “Are you an entertainer?”

Jiang Yihan stopped, turned back, thought for a moment, and then gave the brightest smile he could manage. “No, I’m not.” He left behind a string of laughter and ran off happily.

The man remained standing there, thinking carefully about something. After a while, when he looked up again to find Jiang Yihan, he could no longer see him anywhere. He could only let out a long sigh and leave with evident reluctance.

Standing in the middle of the vast dressing room, Jiang Yihan could not help marveling that even this dressing room was larger than the home he lived in now. Around him, a designer was carefully examining him, while about six assistants surrounded him as well, measuring and noting all sorts of things, which made him feel rather awkward. After enjoying his holiday, it was time for Jiang Yihan to attend to business. The opening ceremony of the film festival was such a grand, world-class event that, as Jiang Yihan’s first appearance, it naturally had to be treated with the utmost seriousness. So now the group was choosing formal wear.

“What are they doing?” Jiang Yihan asked Li Ran for help, while Jiang Ziyi beside them looked equally fascinated.

“Brother, they’re measuring your size so they can find you the right clothes. I heard every piece here is unique—only one of each,” Jiang Ziyi said, sharing all the intelligence she had gathered, which made Jiang Yihan sigh that the fashion world was indeed troublesome.

Men’s formal wear may all be suits, and it is difficult to make them look fresh, but careful selection is still necessary. Often it is different pairings, subtle handling of details, and the harmony between clothing and the wearer’s temperament that allow an ordinary suit to reveal a different charm. That is fashion.

After the first step of tailoring was completed, the designer set the assistants to work, and half an hour later the rack before Jiang Yihan was full of suits. Though they all looked similar at first glance, there were differences in the details, and naturally they would wear differently as well. The size of the collar, its shape, the design of the breast pocket, whether the waist was tapered, and countless other details gave these seemingly identical suits distinct temperaments.

After trying on the thirteenth set, Jiang Yihan finally collapsed in despair. “My God, how many more do I have to try on?”

“Brother, just bear with it a little longer. Film festivals are like this. You can’t fail to present yourself well,” Jiang Ziyi said. She was clearly enjoying the scene; girls are born with a sharper sensitivity to fashion.

At last, after trying on fifteen sets, the designer, Li Ran, and Jiang Ziyi reached a unanimous decision about what Jiang Yihan would wear. Jiang Yihan, however, paid no attention to what the clothes looked like. The only thing on his mind was dinner, because he was truly starving.

“How am I supposed to describe the taste of French snails?”

That was Jiang Yihan’s torment after dinner, because he really could not find the right words.

“I want biscuits!”

That was his second torment, because a French “feast” was simply not filling.

Beyond that, France was truly a place suited to travel. The air, heavy with the scent of tulips, was intoxicating.

After enjoying a few rare days of rest, Jiang Yihan now sat in a luxury car bound for the awards ceremony with Park Yinghu. Because Jin Jaejoong was tied up with a concert in Japan, he had no way to come and had had to give up this rare opportunity. Kim Xiaoxi could not make it because he had taken on a new drama. Han Ji-hye, meanwhile, did not have enough screen time in the film to draw sufficient attention, so she had not been able to come to Cannes.

“Yihan, when the time comes, you just walk the red carpet. I’ll go straight to the back,” Park Yinghu said.

“What? Why?” Jiang Yihan stared at him in surprise.

“Our film shouldn’t attract that much attention to begin with, and I’m an old man besides—a director. Who would want to look at me? I’m not going out there to make a fool of myself,” Park Yinghu said, looking ready to retreat.

“Really? Then you’re letting me be the one to make a fool of myself?” Jiang Yihan was so nervous he nearly fainted; his heartbeat was close to bursting through the ceiling.

“You’re young. You should seize this chance and let the great directors of the world see your brilliance, so that you may have a path toward the world stage. And besides, you’re so handsome that even if they only feast their eyes on you, they’ll cheer. Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid,” Park Yinghu finally persuaded him.

The car stopped at one end of the red carpet. Jiang Yihan could even feel the surging heat from outside pressing in. He took a deep breath, patted his chest, and forced himself to calm down. After Park Yinghu’s brief “good luck,” Jiang Yihan opened the door and stepped out.

Standing on the red carpet, his legs felt weak. This truly was a world-class stage, and it was indeed different. Security staff on both sides were guiding the cars away in orderly fashion, and dense clusters of photographers and reporters had all their lenses pointed toward the start of the carpet. From the edges, one could glimpse an endless tide of people.

Jiang Yihan forced himself to steady his breathing, took another deep breath, and took the first step.

Today Jiang Yihan wore a black suit, the cuffs set with two diamond buttons. The collar was designed with a small lapel and a slightly irregular neckline, the hem falling with only a single button fastening; once fastened, the shirt beneath remained clearly visible. On the left chest was a satin pocket, and instead of a handkerchief there was unexpectedly a small satin flower pinned there, its purple petals seeming almost alluring in the reflected light.

The shirt beneath was mainly white, with a square collar neatly resting against the suit lapel. Along the outer edge of the collar was a violet trim, and down from the neckline on either side of the buttons were small lace-like details that were hard to notice unless looked at carefully. From a distance, they resembled shadows, making the garment appear even more three-dimensional. The buttons were properly white, yet upon closer inspection, their backs were purple. As for the tie, Jiang Yihan was apparently wearing black, but a closer look revealed it to be deep purple, which only appeared black under the lights.

Though the suit appeared restrained and proper, its many small details highlighted Jiang Yihan’s transcendent charm, bringing out the fine lines of his features. Combined with his slightly long hair, only casually tousled into a sense of deliberate disorder, and the fringe at his brow lifted lightly by the breeze, Jiang Yihan revealed a different kind of allure.

The moment he stepped onto the red carpet, the previously noisy venue suddenly fell quiet, leaving only a faint murmur. The reporters’ flashbulbs also paused, because everyone was wondering who this person was.

At that instant, Jiang Yihan very much wanted a hole to crawl into. In his heart he kept repeating, “Of course no one recognizes me. How embarrassing, how embarrassing. That awful Uncle Park should have come out here with me and shared the shame.” Though he thought this way, Jiang Yihan still forced himself to keep smiling and wave to the people on both sides. But the more he went on, the more awkward he felt; his smile stiffened, and even his hand could not keep waving.

If he could, Jiang Yihan would gladly have remained in the carefree holiday of the previous two days instead of suffering like this now. Thousands of eyes were fixed on him, yet no sound came from them, and everyone wore strange expressions.

“Ah... please give me a shovel. I want to dig a tunnel and disappear,” Jiang Yihan cried helplessly in his heart. If he could, he really would have turned around and run.

Now Jiang Yihan finally understood what it was like when stars on television wore radiant smiles while secretly being terrified inside. Good heavens, such days were pure torment. A mere stretch of red carpet was enough to make one’s heart leap out of one’s chest.

Jiang Yihan gloomily thought that if he could choose, he would rather stay in Korea and endure those side-glances, that distrust, those idle whispers. He thought it furiously.

But ten seconds later, he overturned that thought himself. Fine, he admitted it: this place was still better. If the feeling now was like suffering in hell, then before, he must have experienced all eighteen levels of hell. Heh, so this is better after all—enjoy it, then. Even if it is this embarrassing, enjoy it.

That he still had the heart to joke about himself was actually a good sign. Indeed, even in such an awkward situation, he had learned to enjoy it. Being silently watched by everyone as he walked—a person could scarcely experience that many times in a lifetime. In the end, Jiang Yihan comforted himself by thinking, at least my walking posture is pretty decent. Heh!

Then suddenly the entire scene erupted with thunderous applause and cheers. What was happening? What had changed?