Chapter One: A Heart More Bitter Than Wine

In a private room awash with neon lights and intoxicating colors, a group of recent graduates reveled in wild abandon. Four or five of them fought over the microphone, belting out Beyond’s “Boundless Oceans, Vast Skies,” their voices hoarse as if, in that moment of desperation, they could grasp the dreams of their future.

Ma Jun curled up in a corner, clutching a beer bottle, downing it in great gulps. His cheeks were flushed, his gaze unfocused—he had clearly had more than his share to drink.

Beside him, Gu Xinghua, his close friend and roommate, tried to dissuade him. “Come on, Ma, enough drinking! What problem can't a man get over?”

Ma Jun shook his head with a tipsy grin, paying no mind to the beer dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He let the empty bottle slip from his hand, where it toppled to the floor, and reached clumsily for another on the table, pouring it down his throat.

Gu Xinghua snatched it away, snapping, “Can’t you act a little more like a man?”

Four years ago, Ma Jun was full of youthful pride—a star among his peers, having been admitted to the Beijing Film Academy.

Such a prestigious artistic institution was several times harder to get into than the gaokao, the infamous college entrance exam. Ma Jun himself never quite understood how he’d managed it. Even if it had been a stroke of luck, his pride remained undiminished.

Not only that, but during the pre-admission military training, he’d pulled out all the stops and managed to win the heart of Yan Rong, the most beautiful girl in their year.

He fancied himself a modern Zhou Yu, confident and radiant as he won his “Little Qiao.” Life had never tasted sweeter, though perhaps only he saw himself that way.

Four years passed. Ma Jun excelled academically, always cast as the lead in class productions. Yet, as time went on, by the time of the graduation play, he found himself relegated to the sidelines.

He’d played games, joked with friends, but he’d never burned out in reckless abandon.

As for the reason, it left him with a sense of loss. Becoming a star was not as simple as he had imagined; dreams, it seemed, were meant to stay dreams.

Many of his classmates had found their own paths—some had landed roles in various productions long before graduation, even students from the sound engineering class had managed to snag third male leads in web dramas.

Perhaps his admission into the film academy had only been a fluke, a moment of carelessness on fate’s part. His father drove trucks for a living; his mother was an accountant in a humble private firm—neither had any connection to the film industry.

Ma Jun didn’t blame anyone. Instead, he gradually came to understand the ways of the world, to learn what society truly meant.

All of this he could accept—but what truly left a bitter taste in his heart was that his goddess, Yan Rong, was no longer what she once was.

Suddenly, a commotion swept through the room as the door swung open and a woman entered.

Her smile was sweet and alluring, clad in a tight black dress that barely covered her hips, accentuating her graceful curves. Her hair fell in large, voluminous waves, her face adorned with makeup, her lips painted a bold, seductive red. She strode in on high heels, holding an expensive handbag, surveying the crowd.

“Hey, hey, Superstar Yan, you’re late! Are you looking down on us ordinary classmates?” a female classmate teased, embracing her arm with a broad grin.

“Not at all, just got held up for a bit,” Yan Rong replied with a coquettish laugh, giving her friend a gentle pat as they walked together to the center of the room.

Several male classmates immediately made room for her to sit—after all, Yan Rong was now the most successful among their cohort.

Meanwhile, some people cast sidelong glances at Ma Jun, sly amusement flickering in their eyes.

“What a phony! Why’s everyone fawning over her?” Gu Xinghua muttered with a sneer.

At that moment, the singing had ceased and Gu Xinghua’s words carried across the room.

“Who’s making that noise? What a foul mouth!” a male classmate scoffed, waving his hand in front of his nose and speaking loudly with a frown.

Gu Xinghua’s expression darkened in anger; he stood up to retort, but Ma Jun pressed him back down forcefully.

A handsome young man at Yan Rong’s side stood with a warm smile, waved his hand, and spoke loudly, “Alright, enough! We’re all graduating and going our separate ways—let’s not dwell on unpleasant things.” Turning to Ma Jun, he added, “Brother Jun, you’re the best singer in our class. For old time’s sake, sing ‘Love You Unwillingly’ one last time for everyone!”

Laughter erupted.

“Yeah, sing it for us again!”

“Come on, Brother Jun, don’t be shy!”

Back during military training, one night, all the classmates had sat on the lawn while Ma Jun serenaded Yan Rong with “Love You Unwillingly” on his guitar—winning her heart.

Now, to make him sing that song under these circumstances was clearly meant to embarrass him.

“Damn you, Dong Tianhai! What’s your problem?” Before Ma Jun could respond, Gu Xinghua shot to his feet and cursed at him.

“What’s wrong with singing a song?” Dong Tianhai’s face darkened. “Can’t we just have a little fun? Show some respect!”

Ma Jun let out a few cold laughs, seething inside. But he was an adult now—fighting would do no good. He stood, patted Gu Xinghua on the shoulder, glanced at the silent Yan Rong, and said, “If Xinghua hadn’t persuaded me, I wouldn’t have come tonight. It’s better if I just leave.”

“Hey, don’t be like that!” Dong Tianhai blocked his way, smiling. “What, you’re not going to give everyone face? After four years together, you’re just going to walk out on us?”

“Can you speak for everyone?” Ma Jun retorted with a cold smile. “Dong Tianhai, if you want to kiss up to Yan Rong, go ahead, but don’t use me as your tool. I’m not playing along.”

“Ma Jun! Watch your mouth!” Yan Rong stood up, her voice sharp with anger.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll make sure you never work in the entertainment industry!” Dong Tianhai’s face twisted with rage.

“Screw you! If you’re so capable, I’ll cut off my head and let you use it as a chamber pot!” Gu Xinghua jabbed a finger at Dong Tianhai’s chest.

“I’ll second that!” Ma Jun nodded.

“That’s enough, Ma Jun!” Yan Rong frowned, her tone softening. “Let’s part on good terms—we can still be friends. There’s no need to make trouble.”

Ma Jun turned and fixed his gaze on Yan Rong for a long moment before finally smiling. “Let me call you Rong’er one last time. Everyone has their own path. I don’t hate you, nor do I blame the world. I just regret that you speak to me in such a false and distant way. I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

His spirits sank as he finished, his eyes reddening as he turned away, bracing himself against the doorway and staggering out.

“What a joke!” Dong Tianhai spat, then turned to the others with a smile. “Let’s keep singing. Don’t let him ruin the mood.”

Yan Rong stared blankly at the closed door, her face unreadable. No one knew what was going through her mind.

Only Gu Xinghua cursed under his breath and chased after Ma Jun.

Outside, the flashing neon signs cast Ma Jun’s shadow long and distorted.

Supporting himself against a tree by the steps, Ma Jun bent over, wracked with painful retching. He remembered the innocent Yan Rong of the past, then the coquettish woman perched on a boss’s lap—the two images gradually melding into one.

He vomited until he was utterly spent, tears and snot streaming down his face—whether from the sickness or the ache in his heart, he could not tell.

After a while, he fished a tissue from his pocket, wiped his face haphazardly, and strode forward.

“Ma, look out!” Gu Xinghua’s panicked shout came from behind.

Ma Jun paused, swaying, and turned his head in confusion—just in time to hear the screech of brakes. In the next instant, he was sent flying.