On the night Ava Sinclair won the International Best Director Award, I died an untimely death. She stood center stage, nestled in her new boyfriend’s arms, answering reporters’ questions. One reporter asked her how she viewed her first love. Ava smirked, “First love? That was just a fling. Who would take it seriously?” But Ava, I did take it seriously. I was diagnosed with terminal cancer on New Year’s Eve. To prevent my condition from worsening, I still checked into the hospital. The hospital was quiet and empty, most doctors had gone home for the holiday. The sporadic sound of fireworks outside sketched out a brilliant city night scene. In this city, I, stricken with cancer, had nowhere else to go. After spacing out for a while, I turned on the TV in the ward. Instead of watching the New Year’s Gala, I flipped through a few channels and stopped at a movie channel. Today was the announcement day for the Golden Palm Director Award. Staring at the familiar figure holding the trophy on TV, I smiled resignedly. Sure enough, this year’s Best Director award went to Ava Sinclair. She had changed a lot. The Ava now no longer had the fresh-faced look of a recent college graduate. She wore bright red lipstick, dressed in a flowing champagne-colored evening gown, exuding an overwhelming presence. Just standing there casually, she could attract everyone’s attention. She had gotten what she wanted. When we broke up, Ava had screamed at me with tear-filled eyes, saying she would definitely win the Best Director award. Today marked the third anniversary of our breakup. She did it. I coughed a few times, my breath unsteady. Suddenly, my gaze froze. Just now, I had only noticed Ava holding the trophy, overlooking the man beside her. He looked somewhat familiar. I frowned, trying hard to remember where I had seen him before, but couldn’t recall at all. …Who was that man? After the group photo session, Ava suddenly linked arms with the man beside her. It was time for the reporters to ask questions. Faced with reporters wielding cameras and microphones, Ava didn’t show any stage fright. She had grown. At this moment, a reporter suddenly spoke up, asking about Ava’s relationship with the man beside her. She glanced around at the crowd below, smiling as she slowly began to speak. “Him? He’s my current assistant, and also—” As if deliberately creating suspense, Ava paused for a few seconds before continuing. “My boyfriend.”
The reporters below erupted into a frenzy of excitement. Ava’s answer had practically caused an uproar throughout the venue. I could clearly feel a dull pain in my heart. The pain wasn’t intense, more like a hangnail—just a slight touch would trigger a fine, dense ache. I watched her nestle in her new boyfriend’s arms, smiling happily and sweetly. At this moment, a reporter held out a microphone. “Miss Sinclair, may I ask how you view your first boyfriend, Liam Carter?” The world seemed to fall silent for a moment. I am Liam Carter. Back then, quite a few people in the industry knew about my relationship with Ava. She was an emerging director showing early promise, while I was the assistant to an internationally renowned director. After falling in love with Ava, I gave up my million-dollar annual salary and moved into a cramped rental apartment with her, who hadn’t produced many works yet. In the directing circle, experience and age matter. Even though Ava had undeniable talent, her lack of experience meant she couldn’t earn much, especially since she preferred art films. At that time, we had almost no money at all. One night, Ava’s stomach condition flared up. Back then, smartphones weren’t as advanced, and we couldn’t call a cab. In a panic, I rode our old bicycle, carrying Ava all the way from the suburbs to the downtown hospital. She hugged my back and told me she would definitely marry me, spend her life with me, even if we had to live on scraps for the rest of our lives, she wouldn’t regret it. “Liam, I love you,” she whispered, her falling tears feeling like they could pierce through my back. At the hospital, the doctor said we were lucky to have arrived in time—Ava had acute gastroenteritis. I don’t remember how exhausting that day was, but I do remember Ava saying she wanted to marry me. After all the twists and turns, she still broke that promise. I snapped back to reality and continued watching the TV. Ava’s expression was blank. The reporter still held out the microphone, seemingly waiting persistently for an answer. Entertainment reporters love these tricky questions. After a while, Ava seemed to come back to her senses and let out a cold laugh. Her expression was somewhat playful, as if she had heard an amusing joke. “You mean first love? It was just a fling, who would take it seriously?” Whatever questions the reporters asked afterward didn’t matter anymore. At least at this moment, I had become the butt of this joke. I realized that Ava had just been playing around with me. After our breakup, we had no further contact. I originally thought she would never mention me again. I didn’t expect her to bring up my name in such a setting. In an instant, I felt a sense of being in another world. Suddenly, a brilliant firework exploded in the sky above the city. While watching the fireworks, I felt short of breath. At first, I thought I was just upset by the live broadcast, feeling a bit down. As time passed, I found it increasingly difficult to breathe. Realizing something was wrong, I quickly pressed the nurse call button. A flurry of footsteps sounded in the corridor. I struggled to reach out towards the ceiling, but seemed to grasp nothing, touching only emptiness. Before being wheeled away on the surgery cart, my gaze fell on the TV in the ward. It was still showing Ava. This TV was quite old and seemed to be experiencing some minor lag, making the live broadcast a bit choppy. But I think I’ll never forget how Ava looks now. She’s all dressed up, accepting everyone’s adoration. This is how the 22-year-old Ava most wanted to be. She said she wanted to become the brightest sun. “Patient’s emotions unstable, quick, put on the oxygen mask…” “Anesthesia… anesthesia…” Amidst the chaos, I passed out. The last words I heard were the cold “resuscitation failed.” My hand fell to the side of the operating table. In my dying moments, I thought, congratulations, Ava. I hope you’ve gotten what you wished for. On the night she gloriously won the Best Director award, I died in the operating room of a hospital. Actually, there was still something I hadn’t told Ava. But… This is something she probably will never know now. I thought I would die. Suddenly, I opened my eyes. I found that— I was actually floating in the air above the hospital corridor. What’s going on?
I looked at my hands in bewilderment, then glanced at the mirror at the end of the hallway, finally confirming a fact. Now, I should be temporarily not dead. But I had indeed separated from my body. I looked down and saw the on-duty nurses pushing me into the morgue. Although I was alone in the world, I was still a once-famous director’s assistant, and now that Ava had become famous, I had gained even more notoriety than before. Some entertainment reporters arrived at the news, got some information from the hospital, and left after taking some photos of the scene. All the while, I floated in the air, watching everything around me. This world was still bustling with activity, only my life had stopped a few hours ago. Suddenly, I had an almost crazy idea. …I wanted to see how Ava was doing now. As soon as this thought emerged, I felt a bit self-mocking. All my life, I could never stop worrying about Ava. At the awards ceremony, Ava had drunk quite a bit. She always skipped meals, and her stomach condition wasn’t light. If she didn’t eat properly, she might end up in the hospital. Over the years, she had been to the hospital countless times. At this moment, I realized I could still move. Which means— I should be able to move around normally. Amidst my surprise, I felt a bit excited. I knew roughly where the awards ceremony was held. Thinking this, I floated towards that direction. As I was no longer human, my speed wasn’t slow. When I arrived there, Ava hadn’t left the venue yet. The post-awards banquet must have ended, she was retching violently in the restroom, no longer the glamorous image she had on stage. Her whole person looked pale and light. Her face showed heavy fatigue. Ava’s assistant stood beside her, seemingly wanting to pat her back, but Ava dodged. I remembered, this man’s name was Jack Reynolds, two years younger than Ava, considered her junior. I heard he had always admired Ava, even confessed to her in college, but Ava didn’t accept him then. Now, Ava allowed him to stay by her side, what this meant, she had already said at the ceremony. Jack was already her boyfriend. My heart ached with a sour, bitter feeling. “Ava, drink some hangover soup, you’ve had too much to drink tonight.” Jack spoke with concern. But this word seemed to touch Ava’s sore spot. She frowned and looked at Jack, seemingly annoyed by his presumption. “Who wants to drink hangover soup?” “I’m sorry… Ava… I didn’t know you don’t drink this…” Jack’s apology sounded somewhat pitiful. I frowned, feeling their interaction didn’t quite resemble that of a couple, yet unsure how to define their relationship. Finally, Ava stared at the mirror for a long time, lost in thought. When it was almost dawn, she finally left the venue. With Jack’s support, Ava walked unsteadily, looking like she might fall over with a gust of wind. She wore a pair of very high heels. I knew Ava didn’t like high heels. When we were dating, she loved wearing flats and standing on tiptoe to kiss me. But now, she seemed to have gotten used to the glamour that high heels brought. People always change. Just like how Ava, once devoted to art films, had started making commercial films. It seemed everything had changed. The only one still lingering in place was me. I always thought Ava wouldn’t know about my passing. Unexpectedly, the next day, news of my death topped the trending topics.
At breakfast, Ava habitually scrolled through the latest news. Even after staying up so late, she still got up at seven o’clock sharp to go to the film set. Ava probably wanted to see news about herself. After clicking into the news, her gaze froze. Following her gaze, I first saw myself. “Liam Carter passes away.” These simple words summarized everything from last night. I couldn’t help but feel emotional. Ava seemed to disbelieve this news, reading it over and over again before finally clicking in. I could see her fingertips trembling. Ava muttered repeatedly, saying this news must just be a name coincidence. I noticed she was gripping the hem of her clothes. This was Ava’s habitual action when nervous. After clicking into the news, she looked at the editor’s name, then snorted lightly and closed her phone. Jack noticed Ava’s reaction and asked cautiously what had happened. Ava laughed coldly: “Nothing. Just saw some gossip news. I knew those entertainment tabloid reporters love to sensationalize, publishing such unrealistic stuff.” Hearing Ava say this, I understood. She didn’t believe I was dead. She thought this kind of news was just a clickbait title made up by those reporters for traffic. I smiled bitterly. But, Ava, I really am dead. Tortured by cancer for so long, I’ve finally found release. Although, the process of release might have been painful. I closed my eyes. Today, after finishing breakfast, Ava went to the film set. But her state was off. She called cut countless times, and when explaining the script to the actors, she couldn’t adjust her emotions at all. After half an hour, Ava put down the script, saying she was going to the rooftop for some air. The whole set fell silent. They hadn’t expected that Ava, who had always been sharp and insightful, would have such an irritable side. She came to the rooftop and opened her phone. I keenly noticed that Ava’s screen saver was still me. She typed something in her notes app. After floating over, I was stunned to find that this message was written to me. After I left, Ava probably didn’t know who to talk to about certain things, so she wrote them in her notes. I watched her type a line. “Liam Carter, just try dying and see what happens.” “I haven’t seen you fall from grace yet, how dare you die?” She typed with heavy strokes. I knew that Ava was angry now. She must still believe that I was alive. She still thought that those news reports were all fake, all fabricated. I closed my eyes and smiled bitterly. Ava would probably never know my secret. Actually, the reason I got cancer was for her. At that time, her film was just starting production, but our savings had been completely swindled by fraudsters. The money we had saved for so long was gone in a flash. Without sufficient funds, Ava’s film, which she had poured two whole years of effort into, would be ruined before it could even start. I told Ava I would find a way. But what way did I have? That day, I contacted a friend I hadn’t been in touch with for a long time, flew to an overseas lab, and voluntarily participated in their experiments. As long as I participated in one experiment, I could get $18,000. $18,000, that was a whole $18,000. I stayed abroad for three days, participating in a total of ten experiments. Each experiment would bring side effects to the body, but I gritted my teeth and endured them all. There was no special reason. That was $18,000. After each experiment, I vomited violently, feeling like I might die there. Everyone said I didn’t have to push myself so hard. But I didn’t listen to them. A few days later, I returned to the country with a bank card. Ava was still worrying about the startup funds, sitting in the living room with red-rimmed eyes, calling people she knew, asking if they could lend her money. At that time, no one thought much of Ava, and no one believed she would be able to repay the money. They cursed Ava for being shameless, then hung up the phone. I came to her side with that bank card. Such a good Ava, the Ava I loved so much. How could she cry? I told her I had raised the money. Ava widened her eyes in disbelief, then cheered and threw herself into my arms. I stroked her hair, also forcing out a somewhat ugly smile. After Ava’s film started production, my stomach suddenly began to feel uncomfortable. When I went to the hospital for a check-up, I found out I had indeed been diagnosed with cancer. Before participating in the experiments, I had signed a waiver. Since I had taken the money, if anything happened, I had to take responsibility myself. I understood very clearly. It was also on that day that I bought an insurance policy. I wrote Ava’s name as the beneficiary. Without realizing it, Ava had already typed a long paragraph. She put away her phone and turned to leave the rooftop. In the following shooting, Ava obviously got into the state. She became that decisive and experienced Director Sinclair again. Everyone on set regained their composure and continued with their respective duties. I could notice that Jack’s gaze towards Ava was still unusual. Suddenly, I remembered that Jack and Ava’s rooms were separate. Compared to a boyfriend, Jack was more like an ordinary life assistant. Moreover, Ava wouldn’t let Jack touch her much. The two of them… indeed didn’t look like a couple. Ava worked until late at night before finishing work. By the time she got home, a phone call came through on her phone. Seeing the flashing “Insurance Company” on her phone screen, my eyelid twitched. ——I think I know what this call is about. Sure enough, after Ava answered the phone, I heard a somewhat familiar voice.
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