Chapter Ninety-Six: Honor

The first page.

Entertainment at Hand, no pop-ups.

Story date: June 2006.

Recommended song: FT Island — Train.

Disclaimer: This work is entirely fictional. Please do not identify yourself with any character; any resemblance is one hundred percent coincidental.

An awkward silence had already stretched on for quite a while across the venue, and Jiang Yihan had nearly reached the halfway point of the red carpet. By then, his confidence was almost gone, and he could only keep his mind busy with random thoughts, trying not to be nervous, trying not to panic. Then, all at once, the place erupted in thunderous applause and cheering. His first reaction was that some superstar had appeared behind him, but when he turned around, there was still only himself on the carpet.

How strange. He lifted his brows and looked around. The cheering spectators were all staring at him, shouting for him with unrestrained excitement. The photographers’ flashes burst to life as well, and in an instant the once-calm crowd turned into a surging tide of noise and light. Before his eyes, everything had gone white.

His head was full of question marks, and Jiang Yihan had no idea what had happened. He paused in place for a moment before continuing forward. As he walked, he realized the crowd around him was growing louder and louder, until their voices were nearly hoarse. The cold night wind seemed to have vanished; the warmth at the scene was astonishing. The question marks in his mind only multiplied as he wondered, more and more baffled, what on earth was going on.

By the time his ears were ringing and his vision was blurring, Jiang Yihan finally reached the end of the red carpet. The host immediately came forward to interview him, all smiles and even a little excited, speaking in French: “Jiang Yihan, do you know what happened on the red carpet just now?”

Just as Jiang Yihan was wondering what exactly the other person had said, the interpreter beside him translated in simultaneous Chinese, and naturally Jiang Yihan replied in Chinese as well.

“Well, I don’t know either. I thought everyone didn’t know me. But then…”

He still looked bewildered.

The host then explained with a smile, “When you first appeared, no one recognized who you were, so everyone was surprised that a stranger had shown up. Otherwise our audience would never have been so rude as not to applaud. Later, through our introduction, everyone realized that you were the lead of the film Can I Love You? This film is truly wonderful, and the audience loves it very much, which is why they burst into such enthusiastic applause.”

“Oh, so that’s what happened. Then I really have to thank everyone for their love.”

After hearing the translation, Jiang Yihan also answered with a smile.

He was stunned. He had never imagined things would turn out this way. Even less had he imagined that Can I Love You? would receive such an immense welcome in France, in this European country. Jiang Yihan had not expected it at all, and probably the entire crew had not expected it either. The gentleness and restraint of Asia had always been regarded in Europe as something incomprehensible, so why had this time produced such a different chemical reaction? Was it the subject matter, or simply extraordinary luck? No, it should be that collective good fortune had exploded all at once. Jiang Yihan found that thought rather amusing.

After understanding the situation, the host said a few more words on the spot, and only then did Jiang Yihan enter the venue, leaving behind the spectators who were still shouting at the top of their lungs. That night suddenly no longer felt cold; instead, it grew warm. A heart that had spent months in subzero temperatures also gradually began to thaw. Jiang Yihan smiled—a true smile, one that came from within—simply because of those lovely spectators outside.

The film festival awards ceremony was very dull. After enduring the first hour of boredom, it truly remained dull, because Jiang Yihan could not understand a word, there was no translation, and he had not seen most of the films being shown. Still, when he saw everyone onstage accepting their awards, that raw excitement was deeply moving. Aside from applauding and sincerely congratulating them, Jiang Yihan also found himself wondering when he would ever have such a day—standing on the world stage, receiving everyone’s attention, everyone’s recognition. He had no idea what it would feel like to stand there himself: excitement? Gratitude? Tears in his eyes? Or sobbing uncontrollably?

Suddenly, Park Young-ho nudged him, and Jiang Yihan snapped back from his wandering thoughts. Looking up at the giant screen, he realized it was their film’s turn in the nominations. And when he looked closely, he discovered, to his astonishment, that it was for Best Actor.

Good heavens. His very first film had actually been nominated for Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival. Good heavens!

Jiang Yihan could not suppress his excitement at all. A nomination was already the finest praise he could receive. At that moment, he wanted nothing else; this was the best reward he could have received for the past few months. The suspicion he had faced in Korea, the pressure he had endured there, all seemed suddenly unimportant in that instant. Everything became weightless because of this nomination.

To be continued.

It was a world-class film festival, after all, and Jiang Yihan was a complete beginner in film. From knowing nothing to finishing his first movie, even he thought the whole process had been miraculous. The film’s strong box office performance had already been praise enough; now it had received such a nomination as well. Good heavens. He truly did not know what words to use to describe his feelings. Sweetness, bitterness, bitterness, and sweetness all mingled together. The clouds over his life were still dense, yet at that moment a dazzling beam of sunlight broke through them. It felt as if his heart had been hurled off a cliff, only to be suddenly flung up into the sky. It was an indescribable sensation.

As for winning, Jiang Yihan held no hope whatsoever, nor did he dare. This was only his first film. This was a world-class film celebration. His rivals were the likes of Wind-Blown Wheat and Road to Glory, the kind of productions that could even contend for the highest prize, the Palme d'Or. Yesterday he had been coldly treated in Korea, and today he had received such recognition; to ask for more would be greed. For Jiang Yihan, simply being nominated for Best Actor alongside such world-class performers was already an honor.

After the presenter spoke a long string of words onstage, the camera cut, just as on television, to the seven nominated actors. Seeing the tension on the other faces, Jiang Yihan felt much more relaxed, smiling his brightest, as if the task had already been completed. Though he was still somewhat nervous as he looked at himself on the giant screen, he could not deny that the feeling was subtle—mostly subtle, with only a little nervousness. Perhaps the next time he had the strength and the chance to compete for Best Actor, the nerves would be greater. If others knew that Jiang Yihan, while waiting for a nomination to be announced, could be so carefree and still wander through his own thoughts, they would not know what to think.

After a tense drumroll, one name was spoken by the presenter. Without thinking, Jiang Yihan immediately broke into enthusiastic applause. Seeing the disappointment on the face of the actor who had not been chosen on the screen, he also felt some regret. After all, they had worked hard for a year, and having been nominated, it was only natural to hope to win. He felt sorry for those who had missed out.

But then Jiang Yihan realized that everyone around him was standing and applauding him, and Park Young-ho was pulling him up as well. After a moment of baffled confusion, Jiang Yihan saw that the final freeze-frame on the giant screen was actually himself.

Which meant... which meant he had won the grand prize. The grand prize? Best Actor? The Cannes Film Festival’s Best Actor?

My God.

Jiang Yihan raised a hand in shock to cover his mouth and stood there for a long time, not knowing what to think or do. His mind was a complete paste, and his feet seemed nailed to the floor, unable to move at all. Park Young-ho was saying something beside him, but all Jiang Yihan could hear was a single long beep; nothing else reached his ears. In the end, led by the master of ceremonies, he walked “dazedly” onto the stage and accepted the trophy handed to him by the presenter. Standing before the microphone, Jiang Yihan did not speak at once. Instead, he carefully looked over the trophy, his emotions surging. Only then did he truly understand the meaning of that phrase. A little timidly, he leaned toward the microphone, trying hard to calm himself, and after finally gathering his thoughts, he said in English, “Are you sure it’s me?”

The hall once again broke into thunderous applause, confirming it.

Jiang Yihan looked at the trophy, then at the crowd below, applauding fervently. In such a difficult period, such an enormous prize had suddenly appeared. It was entirely unexpected—completely unexpected—and Jiang Yihan felt at a loss. In the blink of an eye, this reward brought back the past few months in Korea: the framing, the mob attacks, the internet’s tidal wave of abuse, and finally the loss of Castle’s trust. His heart beat violently.

His memories began to rewind. The making of the film, the year since his debut—such short years, yet in those few seconds his mind exploded with too many things. His eyes grew moist before he even realized it, and his eyelids turned red. Jiang Yihan covered his eyes and remained silent for a long while.

“Since I truly never expected this, I didn’t prepare anything.”

At last, he managed to steady his heart, and the tears were held back. Though his eyes were red beyond reason, Jiang Yihan still spoke fluent English so that everyone could understand him. “I just want to thank everyone who worked on this film, including our director, my fellow leading actors Jin Zai-zhong, Jin Xiao-xi, and Han Zhi-hui. I also want to thank the company that helped bring this film into being, Violet. And of course, I must thank the festival committee for giving me this tremendous prize. This is only my first film, and to receive such a huge award already—I am truly grateful.”

Just as everyone thought he had finished, Jiang Yihan hesitated for a moment and then said, “Because I am Chinese, and I am proud to be Chinese. So, would you allow me to say a few heartfelt words in Chinese?”

After receiving the host’s consent, Jiang Yihan used the Chinese he knew best to sort out his jumbled thoughts. He took several deep breaths, trying to say something, but everything seemed blocked in his throat. In the end, with difficulty and a choked voice, he managed to say, “Grandmother, can you see this? Little Han won the grand prize.”

And then he could say no more.

His tears would not be controlled any longer and flowed freely.

The entire hall erupted in applause!

For nearly three months, Jiang Yihan had stood at the center of a storm of events. Pressure, despair, and pain had made him dare to hope for nothing. Yet today he received such encouragement, and so immense an encouragement it was. Jiang Yihan was stunned by the sudden joy. After stepping down from the stage, he made no attempt to hide it and simply burst into loud, broken sobs, crying with anguish.

Only now did Jiang Yihan understand what it truly felt like to hold such an award in his hands. No matter how beautifully or perfectly one had imagined it beforehand, the instant the trophy was received, the thoughts in one’s head became impossible to contain.

To continue.

For Jiang Yihan, since he had chosen in the beginning to sign with ABC and debut through Castle, achieving such enormous success, then the glory of Can I Love You?, followed by his grandmother’s death, and then the disordered months after that, these years of life now seemed even more dramatic than the sum of his previous twenty.

Two years ago, Jiang Yihan would not even have dared imagine what it felt like to stand on a world-class stage. And now he had not only stood there, but had also received the grand prize that belonged to him: Best Actor. As for everything that had happened before—from his grandmother’s death to his girlfriend’s departure, from the scheming within the industry to the final loss of trust—this sudden joy made him unable to believe it. Aside from crying, Jiang Yihan truly did not know how to express his feelings.

Perhaps, truly perhaps, his grandmother was still watching him from heaven, and now there should be a smile on her face—a most radiant smile.

By the time he returned to the hotel, it was already past midnight.

Jiang Yihan lay on the bed, his eyes swollen from crying, recalling the events of the past two years, especially those of recent months. Thinking of his present situation in Korea, he did not know how to put it. “Jinran, tell me—what does it mean, for the Korean entertainment industry, that I won this grand prize? And what does it mean for me?”

Li Ran did not answer immediately. After taking a sip of the cocktail in his glass, he said, “Lazy Cat, for the Korean entertainment industry, this award means nothing, because we submitted under Chinese nationality. Because it was won by you, a Chinese man. Because right now, in Korea, you are practically nothing. But for you, it means a great deal. A very great deal.”

Li Ran and Jiang Yihan had never hidden anything from each other, nor was there any need to. They always spoke plainly; it was habit, and it was also tacit understanding. “For you, it means recognition. It means your ability. It means an explanation to your grandmother. It means the answer you give yourself.”

Li Ran truly was the person who understood Jiang Yihan best. After losing everyone’s trust, Jiang Yihan had indeed begun to doubt himself—doubt his ability, doubt his character, doubt whether he truly was not worthy of trust. This award, though only an award, carried far too much meaning.

“Lazy Cat, we have always believed in you. You need to believe in yourself too.”

Li Ran said this with deep meaning.

When others do not trust you, it is merely their own crisis of faith. But if the whole world no longer believes in you, and even you no longer believe in yourself, then that is your true crisis. Jiang Yihan had lost much trust, yet he still retained plenty: Li Ran, Jiang Ziyi, Lee Hyo-ri, Kang Ho-dong, Kwon Ji-yong, Jin Zai-zhong, Han Geng, Li Tong, and even Zhang Dong-jian, who knew nothing of this yet...

Jiang Yihan looked at Li Ran and suddenly understood something.

What sort of impression the Cannes Best Actor award would leave on Korea, nobody knew. But the effect it had on Jiang Yihan was not something that could be explained in a sentence or two. Recovering confidence was more precious than anything.