Chapter Seventy-Eight: Ambiguity

“Screech!” The sound of rubber tires scraping against the pavement rang out, especially loud on the deserted street.

It was a silver-gray Mercedes 300SE—a truly luxurious car for its era, worth around four hundred thousand dollars, enough to buy a small flat in Hong Kong or Kowloon.

Through the car window, a Golden Statue Award trophy could be seen resting behind the glass. In the front seats sat two people: Yan Xu and Vivian Chow, just returned from the Golden Statue Award ceremony.

“Are we there?” Vivian’s face was lit with an irrepressible smile. She had worn that expression almost the entire way, so lost in her excitement that she hadn’t even noticed when they reached her doorstep. Her elation was akin to someone high in a nightclub, completely immersed in her own happiness, oblivious to the world around her.

“Yes, we’re here. Let me walk you up.” Yan Xu looked at Vivian, remembering that she was, after all, just an eighteen-year-old girl. Even he couldn’t fully hide his emotions in the face of such excitement, let alone her. All the way home, she had clutched her trophy so tightly that her knuckles had turned white, as if she feared it might vanish into thin air.

Indeed, in Vivian’s hands was also a trophy shaped like a double-headed monster.

Yu Zheng’s announcement had taken many by surprise: Vivian Chow had won the first trophy of her life. The moment her name was called, she shot up from her seat—not rushing to the stage, but instead hugging Yan Xu beside her, bouncing and squealing with joy.

Her acceptance speech was almost incoherent; she thanked everyone she could think of, and expressed her gratitude to Yan Xu no fewer than seven or eight times. For a young girl winning her first award, her complex, overwhelming emotions were understandable. At least she hadn’t dissolved into a sobbing mess on stage.

Yan Xu was more than satisfied with this Golden Statue Awards ceremony. Of the four nominations connected to him, he had taken home two—a result well worth celebrating. For his first time at the awards, such a haul hinted at a bright future ahead in the industry.

Although he missed out on Best Screenplay, the Best Newcomer award more than made up for it, perhaps carrying even greater significance.

He felt like a butterfly whose fluttering wings had shifted a few things, but the biggest winner of the night was still “Flowing Years,” which claimed five out of nine nominations—including Best Director, Best Picture, and Best Actress, the most prestigious honors. Two other awards went to filmmakers from the mainland, and Yan Xu could already imagine tomorrow’s newspapers filled with headlines about it.

In contrast, “Shanghai Nights,” which the committee had strongly favored and promoted, came away empty-handed despite eight nominations—a result that must have driven its producers and crew to curse the heavens.

Of course, due to the dominance of “Flowing Years,” the perennial favorite “Provincial and Hong Kong Rangers” also took home three awards, though mostly minor ones. Missing out on Best Director and Best Picture, their only consolation was the Kodak Honorary Award.

It’s worth noting that this year’s Kodak Honorary Award was presented by the renowned director and film figure Cheung Chik, one of the most influential names in the Hong Kong film scene, often called a kingpin of his generation. Tsui Keung, Wu Ma, David Chiang, and Lee Sau-hin were all his protégés.

The streetlights on both sides of Aberdeen Street were not especially bright. Large trees lined the road, their trunks so wide two people couldn’t encircle them, shrouding the street in shadows. Yet it was these very trees that lent the street its tranquil charm.

“Brother Xu.” Yan Xu had walked Vivian to her door, but before he could speak, she grabbed his sleeve.

“What is it?” Yan Xu had never seen Vivian look like this before—her pretty face flushed, excitement shining through her shyness.

“Thank you.” Suddenly, Vivian rose onto her tiptoes and, before Yan Xu could react, pressed her soft lips to his cheek, the barest brush of her mouth grazing his as well. A delicate, girlish fragrance flooded his senses.

The kiss left Yan Xu momentarily stunned. Though they had shared moments of closeness before, nothing had ever been as intimate as this.

Even the accidental glimpse of Vivian’s half-naked form before the awards ceremony had not breached the distance in his mind; she had remained the unattainable star from his memories.

But this kiss shifted everything. In that instant, Vivian was no longer a distant celebrity, but the girl next door—tangible, real.

As he gazed at her crimson cheeks, at the way she gripped her trophy in one hand and the hem of her skirt in the other, head bowed in shyness, a tide of emotion surged in Yan Xu’s heart.

A girl so bold—it was nothing short of an invitation. Though Yan Xu had lived with restraint in this era, in his past life he was no stranger to such things. He wrapped his arm around Vivian’s slender waist, pulling her into his embrace. As her chest heaved like a startled rabbit, he covered her tender lips with his own, this time taking the initiative, his kiss commanding and fervent.

Vivian’s lips were as soft as spun sugar, drawing Yan Xu in with their sweetness and the faint fragrance that seemed to contain all the world’s delights.

Caught off guard by his sudden kiss, Vivian tried to speak, but Yan Xu seized the opportunity, his rough, masculine tongue plunging into her delicate mouth like a beast unleashed.

Vivian offered no resistance—she had imagined such a moment countless times, but reality was far more overwhelming. She surrendered to Yan Xu’s caresses, his presence intoxicating her. Her body, weak to begin with, now tingled and softened, feeling as though his kiss might lift her up to the heavens.

The world around them faded to unreality; all that remained was the solid strength of the man beside her, to whom she clung, losing herself in his embrace.

Although it had been some time since Yan Xu had indulged in such passion, old instincts guided his every move. While kissing her, one hand gripped her rounded hips, the other kneading her soft chest through her clothes, his touch both aggressive and irresistible.

Their passionate embrace tumbled across the narrow stairwell, heedless of the occasional bump or scrape—such things were meaningless to those lost in the moment.

They moved together like dancers entwined, drunk on each other. But just as their passion reached its peak and their bodies collided with Vivian’s front door, a voice called out from inside.

“Is that you, Ah Min?”