Chapter 130
From the very centre of the seating area, he walked toward the middle aisle. Everyone stood up, clapping, smiling, or offering friendly pats on his shoulder to express their congratulations. The short path seemed endless, as a surge of people filled every corner of his vision. The bright lights blurred his sight, turning everything into dazzling points of light—brilliant, yet out of focus—leaving only a surging wave of heat and a misty haze stretching infinitely.
His footsteps felt as though they were treading on cotton, his mind went completely blank, and he relied solely on instinct to move toward that spotlight ahead. This path was so long, beginning from the meticulously planned childhood of his previous life, through a joyless, playless, and unrelenting adolescence, past the bedridden monotony of a stifled existence, through the dark, confined corridor after death, across the rigidly structured childhood of this life, the rebellious and free-spirited youth, and the crossroads of defying his parents that led to familial collapse.
At last, he had arrived.
“You can only rely on yourself. No one can help you. Dreams and freedom are the most useless things.”
“You are not a genius. That’s just an illusion. You are merely one among countless ordinary people going nowhere. Stop daydreaming—it will only make your life more miserable.”
“You have fifteen minutes to rest. Don’t play with those kids; they are of no benefit to your future. If you like, sit down and read a book to relax your mind.”
“Disgraceful! Acting isn’t a dream, not even a profession—it’s a shame to the family.”
“No, you can’t do this!” “This is useless…” “Reality does not allow the existence of dreams.” “Freedom and dreams are excuses poor people use to console themselves…” “No!” “Forbidden!” “Rejected!” “Impossible!”
Those cold and harsh words were like sharp blades, stabbing deeply into him, and leaving his body covered in scars.