Chapter 39: Half Radiant, Half Sorrowful

After a simple meal, Lin Shenlu stepped outside as well.

Ye Yaochen was sitting on the ground, tearing open packages with wild abandon, wholly devoid of any aristocratic air. At times, Lin Shenlu couldn’t help but wonder if this fellow’s antics would have had even the emperor confiscating his family property, had they lived in ancient times.

Then again, upon reflection, those princes and royal offspring of old always did have that wayward, dissipated look about them. Only, the Ye Yaochen before her had none of the elegance of nobility left—just a head of tousled hair and the frenzied motion of a man obsessed with unpacking parcels.

“These wine bottles have a nice finish, but the designs are too repetitive,” Ye Yaochen remarked as he fished out another empty bottle.

“Oh, here’s a bottle of ‘Power Locomotive’—I could drink three of these at once!” he tossed it aside.

“This bottle looks nice. What is it?” Ye Yaochen’s curiosity was piqued as he held up an exquisitely crafted bottle.

Lin Shenlu glanced at it. It was a matte, obsidian-black bottle with a white cross on the label. The bottle’s silhouette was elegant, and its texture exuded quality.

“That one… I actually know it! Let me think,” Lin Shenlu mused. “This isn’t something you can just buy. It’s a beer you almost never see. The most expensive beer you’ll find in shops is ‘Snake Venom,’ which goes for a couple thousand yuan a bottle, with a frighteningly high alcohol content—so strong that several people would share one bottle. This one, though, is a limited edition. I heard there were only six cases at the launch event, and even with money, it’s nearly impossible to get.”

“They say a single bottle goes for about five hundred U.S. dollars… and its name is just as unique: ‘The Truth of the Lost Monastery.’”

After Lin Shenlu finished, Ye Yaochen shook his head. “Even I’ve never tasted that. It must be truly rare.”

“Don’t throw it away! I think it’s beautiful. I’ll use this bottle to hold my story,” Lin Shenlu said with a smile.

Ye Yaochen blinked. “You have a story?”

“Did you forget? Last night, Blue Whale said I should write the story of how I came here, and the story of her waiting for me, and seal it in a bottle—the very first one to go into the wishing pool…”

Lin Shenlu’s words trailed off.

“Wait, aren’t you forgetting what I said to you last night? If you don’t have feelings for her, don’t lead her on. What are you doing with this? Are you really planning to make her believe in something that isn’t real?” Ye Yaochen asked.

“That’s not what I mean. You’re overthinking it. I’m just chasing my own ideal world… If the livestream hits fifty thousand viewers, I’ll show my face… By the way, for today’s noon event smashing the Sky Mirror, I won’t appear. You take the lead,” Lin Shenlu replied.

Ye Yaochen knew he couldn’t out-argue Lin Shenlu, but after all, they were both men. A man might not understand another man’s thoughts, but he should at least know why a woman’s affection gradually deepens into love.

…

Before long, eighty empty wine bottles were neatly lined up on the ground.

Yesterday, Lin Shenlu and Ye Yaochen had spent quite some time on Xianyu, finally finding a shop specializing in secondhand wine bottles. In chatting with the owner, they learned it was a bar about to close its doors. Business had faltered during the pandemic, and the decision had been made to shut down for good.

So, the bottles accumulated over the years, once the bar’s cherished mementos, had now become scrap. Lin Shenlu’s purchase was, in a way, salvaging what would have gone to waste.

Otherwise, for a bar that collected wine bottles, a single bottle of The Truth of the Lost Monastery would never have been sold off.

…

Another box was filled with small wooden stoppers, specially for sealing the bottles to keep water out and the stories inside safe from damp.

The third box held various tools.

The workers who’d been scheduled in advance had arrived at the door, one already hefting a sledgehammer, while two or three others carried up cement and other materials.

“Everyone, listen up! Here’s what I have in mind!” Ye Yaochen began directing.

Blue Whale had originally planned to go live at noon to stream the smashing of the Sky Mirror, but considering most of her fans were active at night, she realized a daytime broadcast might not have much effect. Instead, she’d record the smashing as a special feature for today’s video.

Besides, as Lin Shenlu had just said, Ye Yaochen would be the one on camera, leaving a little suspense for the fans.

Thus, the action began.

…

An hour later…

Ye Yaochen stood atop the mirror, sledgehammer in hand!

Blue Whale’s cameraman was now on his eighteenth take.

“Ye, try to look less stiff—make it seem casual,” the cameraman urged.

Ye Yaochen was exasperated. An hour had gone by and he hadn’t even brought down the first blow. It wasn’t that he was camera-shy—there was always some issue with his posture, or the angle was wrong just as everything was ready. He’d just started swinging the sledgehammer when they called cut, and he’d nearly thrown out his back.

His lower back really wasn’t in great shape.

“Action!”

Ye Yaochen swung the sledgehammer in a full arc and brought it crashing down onto the Sky Mirror at his feet.

In an instant, the mirror shattered—glass shards flying everywhere.

The camera followed, capturing the lens as it fell onto a floor covered in fragments.

Within the shattered pieces, dozens—perhaps hundreds—of tiny reflections of Ye Yaochen appeared, an odd and fascinating sight.

That was the concept behind the video.

The smashing of the mirror had to look impressive. The camera angle and the sunlight had to work in tandem. The opening shot was to capture the beauty of standing atop the Sky Mirror—an upper and lower reflection—only for that perfect white cloudscape to be suddenly shattered into a field of broken glass.

“Okay!”

…

“My back’s gone… someone give me a hand!” Ye Yaochen grumbled, wincing.

Lin Shenlu just laughed and, instead of helping, called out to the workers, “Start the job!”

The workers weren’t in any rush—they could enjoy the show and still get paid.

The busy afternoon began.

The foreman looked over Lin Shenlu’s design sketches and quickly understood the idea. The project was simple enough—should be done within the afternoon. All it required was a large wishing pool, breached on one side to connect with the water flow on the other.

Lin Shenlu stood to one side, lighting a cigarette, and flashed an “OK” gesture to Blue Whale, who was overseeing the work.

Blue Whale felt a genuine pang of regret.

In Dali, nearly every inn had a Sky Mirror. And not just that—there would be white staircases, transparent glass spheres, swings draped with flowering vines, and every imaginable prop for capturing beautiful reflections.

The Sky Mirror had become an iconic feature of the Erhai lakeshore in Dali. Everyone who came here would check in and snap a photo. No matter how it looked in reality, with the right filter, the photos always turned out stunning.

But now, her place was the very first to smash a mirror.

Yesterday’s livestream had gone well, but it was never easy to turn a scenic spot into an internet sensation.

Was it Lin Shenlu’s confidence that made it all seem so simple, or was it her own lack of confidence that left her so worried?

Blue Whale sighed, lifting her gaze to the sky.

The sunlight was half bright, half melancholy.