Watching a Movie

Saturday night, Starsea Cinema.

This cinema stood in the middle of East Sea City's commercial street. Neon lights flickered outside, while the huge electronic display looped trailers for this week's hottest releases. Weekend evening showings drew the biggest crowds. A winding line stretched before the ticket checkpoint, filled with young people carrying tubs of popcorn and holding hands with their boyfriends or girlfriends.

Wu Changkong stood beside the third pillar to the left of the ticket checkpoint, dressed in a gray overcoat and black trousers, standing as straight as a sword. He had arrived twenty minutes early. He had little experience waiting for people, but he was used to being early. People flowed around him, and several girls passing by together glanced at him twice before whispering and giggling among themselves. When his gaze happened to sweep over them, they all fell silent and hurried away.

He checked his watch twice. It was 6:55. The movie started at seven. Lu Menge had not arrived yet. Being late did not fit her usual habit of arriving at work right on time. But tonight was not work, so Wu Changkong did not think much of it and continued waiting by the pillar.

"Changkong—"

He turned toward the voice.

Then he froze.

Beneath the neon lights of the commercial street, Lu Menge walked toward him in lace-up stilettos. She wore a wine-red spaghetti-strap minidress, its hem swaying gently in the night breeze and making her legs seem impossibly pale, untouched by the dust of the world. Her long hair was unusually left loose, spilling over her shoulders with softly curled ends that gleamed silver in varying shades beneath the neon. She wore light makeup—more refined than when she taught, but not so much that it looked deliberate. Her glittering eyeshadow gave her upturned fox eyes an extra layer of dewy shine, and the beauty mark beneath her left eye looked more than ever like a carefully laid trap.

Wu Changkong's gaze rested on her for less than a second. Yet within that second, his pupils went through a complete adjustment. He looked away.

"Let's go. It's about to start."

"Oh, what's the rush—" Lu Menge strolled over unhurriedly and tipped her head back to look at the enormous electronic display above the cinema entrance. The amber in her fox eyes shimmered beneath the neon lights. "So this is a movie theater—it's bigger than it looks from outside."

Wu Changkong heard that and saw nothing strange about it. Movie theaters really did look bigger in person than in pictures. A lot of people said that.

He bought popcorn and two drinks, then led her into the screening hall. The lights had not fully dimmed yet, but more than half the seats were occupied. Their seats were in the middle toward the back, chosen by Wu Changkong. He had heard from a colleague that this was the best spot for watching a movie.

Lu Menge sat down and placed the popcorn bucket on her lap. Her posture was still as lazy and casual as ever. She leaned back against the seat, crossed her legs, and lightly swung one stiletto from her toes. But the hand resting on the armrest was tightening slightly, her fingertips tapping against the leather one beat at a time, the rhythm far more honest than her expression.

Wu Changkong noticed that detail. He merely assumed she was excited.

The lights went out.

The instant the screen lit up, Lu Menge stopped moving altogether. Her back left the seat, and she leaned forward slightly. Those fox eyes that were usually half-lidded opened completely for the first time.

At first, Wu Changkong did not notice. He did not watch movies very often himself. The action movie opened with a car chase, rapid cuts flashing across the screen as deafening sound effects accompanied cars swerving wildly across the highway. It took him about three minutes to confirm his viewing preferences—he did not particularly like car chases. They were too loud.

Then he heard an incredibly soft intake of breath beside him.

He turned his head. Lu Menge was staring at the screen. Not staring in the ordinary sense—her upper body had unconsciously risen fully away from the seatback, her spine straight, her fingers gripping the edge of the popcorn bucket so tightly that the paper container had slightly warped. Her lips were parted, and her fox eyes were wide open—not narrowed, not even a little. In her amber pupils reflected the speeding cars and fiery explosions on the screen. Light and shadow shifted in her eyes so quickly that they could not keep pace with the cuts. Her lashes fluttered now and then, very quickly, before going still again.

Her entire body was like a fully drawn bow, all her attention shooting toward that glowing silver screen.

Wu Changkong watched her profile for a full five seconds.

Then he turned back. A very small voice in his heart said, It seems like she really has never watched a movie before.

At first, it was merely an objective statement of fact. But as the plot unfolded on the screen, that statement began to ferment in his mind.

He did not take in much of the story. Part of his attention was uncontrollably drawn to the person beside him. He heard her let out a tiny "wow" at the climax of the car chase, sigh in relief when the protagonist escaped an explosion, and frown when the villain appeared. Every reaction was so sincere and unguarded, as though she were witnessing something utterly new and unheard-of.

An adult. An adult living in a modern city like East Sea City. How could she take the light and shadows on a screen so seriously?

Wu Changkong's thoughts began to drift. He remembered the first time he had watched a movie. He had been very, very young, and his parents had taken him. He no longer remembered what movie it was, only that his mother had bought him cotton candy and his father had carried him on his shoulders. Later, he entered the path of soul masters and became a "genius," cultivating all the way to where he was today. He had visited movie theaters so few times they could be counted on one hand. That was because he had chosen this path, trading endless time for cultivation, leaving no room for entertainment.

But what about her?

He had read her file. There was no record of any family background. She never spoke of her past. She was always smiling, always joking, always acting so warm and familiar at the dinner table, like a girl who had been pampered since childhood. But a girl who had been pampered since childhood would not be entering a movie theater for the first time in her twenties.

At the office, she always drank that dark tea, black as ink. He had thought it was some peculiar preference of hers, but now that he thought about it—perhaps it was not preference at all. Before coming to Eastsea Academy, her circumstances might have only allowed her to afford that kind of drink. In that environment, the price of a movie ticket could probably feed her for several days.

That day in the office, she had said, "It seems pretty interesting," in such a casual tone. It had not been feigned casualness. She truly regarded watching a movie as something new and unfamiliar, something very, very far removed from herself. She had not come to him because she wanted to watch a movie. She had come because she had finally found someone who would not refuse her. A colleague who, like her, was alone and had no family on weekends.

Wu Changkong's fingers tightened slightly on the armrest.

On the screen, the protagonist was fighting the villain in their final showdown. Lu Menge was engrossed in it, and her body unconsciously tilted slightly toward him. Then an explosion suddenly erupted—a blinding flash, a thunderous sound—and she jolted faintly in her seat, instinctively grabbing his sleeve.

Wu Changkong froze for a moment.

It was not because she had grabbed his sleeve. It was because of the temperature of her hand. It was warm, but her palm was sweaty. She was nervous. Not because the plot was tense, but because it was the most primal instinctive reaction of someone encountering a huge screen and surround sound for the first time.

She did not let go. Wu Changkong did not pull away.

The showdown ended, and the protagonist won. Lu Menge punched the air once—a very small motion, a very restrained one, but Wu Changkong caught it completely from the corner of his eye.

Her eyes sparkled.

Wu Changkong lowered his gaze. In his heart, every impression he had accumulated of Lu Menge since first meeting her was being completely overturned.

All that laughing and joking, all that excessive warmth, all those tones that hid her attempts to please others beneath teasing—it was not frivolity. It was a person using the only warmth she had to warm herself. Her soul power was only in the twenties. She had probably been judged a talentless low-level soul master from the day her martial soul awakened. No one had taught her profound techniques, and no resources had ever been directed toward her. She could only grope forward step by step on her own. That white lab coat, that attitude of not caring about anything, were the only armor she could put on.

At the academy, she was kind to every student, courteous to Director Long, and easygoing with Ye Ying—but no one truly understood her. Perhaps she had never had a real family. Since her first awakening, she had always eaten alone, waited for tomorrow's sun to rise, then pretended not to care.

Until she came to Eastsea Academy. Until she met Tang Wulin and Gu Yue. Perhaps these two children were the first people in her life to make her feel the urge to care for someone. That was why she chased after Gu Yue every day with lunchboxes, and why she had brought braised pork to Tang Wulin's home.

This was not simple enthusiasm. This was someone who had never been treated seriously, using her own way to treat others.

Wu Changkong's throat moved.

The movie ended. The credits slowly rolled, and the lights in the screening hall came on. People around them began leaving one after another. Lu Menge remained seated, unmoving. Her eyes were still fixed on the screen, and a satisfied smile hung on her lips, like someone savoring the aftertaste of a grand meal.

"Changkong."

"...Mm."

"That—" She turned to him and pointed at the screen, which had become white words on a black background. Her expression was incomparably serious. "Is there anything after the credits?"

Wu Changkong was silent for a moment.

"No."

"Then next time, I'll bring Gu Yue to see one too. But we should choose something less noisy—this definitely wouldn't work for putting a child to sleep. She seems to have been having trouble sleeping lately." As she spoke, she rose and stretched lazily. Beneath the spaghetti-strap dress, her curves were drawn into a perfect silhouette by the aisle lights.

Wu Changkong stood up. The two walked out of the screening hall side by side. The night wind swept in from the mouth of the commercial street, carrying the salty scent of the sea and stirring her long hair and dress hem. Lu Menge lowered her head to look at her stilettos, then raised it to look at the long line outside the milk tea shop across the street, her expression thoughtful.

"Changkong," she said, pointing at the milk tea shop, "what's that?"

Wu Changkong did not speak. He only watched her quietly. Her eyes were still sparkling. It was probably not because she was moved. More likely, she had simply been awed by her first movie. But that bright-eyed look reminded him of something—many, many years ago, he had looked at his teacher the same way and asked what he should do next.

"A milk tea shop," he said.

"Is it good?"

"...I've never had it."

"Then let's go." Lu Menge grabbed his sleeve and dragged him across the street. Her stilettos tapped out a rapid rhythm across the crosswalk. "You treated me to a movie today, so your teacher will treat you to milk tea—don't be polite, don't be polite. I haven't spent all my salary yet."

Wu Changkong let her drag him along. He lowered his gaze to the sleeve she held, her fingers clenched tightly around it, just as tightly as when she had been frightened by the explosion in the movie theater.

He thought of the half drawer of pale gold candy wrappers in his desk, of the expression on her face when she had gathered those two children to her side in the Star Dou Great Forest, and of what she had said in the office: "It seems pretty interesting."

Then he understood something.

No one had ever told this woman—if there's something you want, I'll help you get it.

Now, someone had.

Outside the milk tea shop, Lu Menge tilted her head up at the menu, looking even more focused than she had during the car chase. Her fox eyes swept from pearl milk tea to mango pomelo sago, then from mango pomelo sago to cheese grape, as though she had fallen into indecision.

"Changkong—which one tastes better?"

Wu Changkong was silent for a moment.

"One of each."

Lu Menge turned to look at him and blinked. Then she smiled. That smile held none of her usual laziness or teasing. It was simply happy, clean and pure.

"Alright. I'll listen to you."

She turned to the clerk and held up two fingers. "Two signature drinks, two cups. Thank you."

Wu Changkong watched her take out her money, silently storing away a thought in his heart.

Before next month's payday, he could treat her to a few more movies. If she wanted to come, anytime.