Revenge to The Devil

In a world with him, even the wind was gentle.

"Miss Li, your schedule, is it arranged properly? If there is any problem, I will adjust it for you," the person talking to me was an assistant Shawn arranged for me to help out with my job and life for a period.

I took it and examined it, it was not too busy, offering some leisure too.

"It is ok, but …I don't want to stay at the Gardens Hotel, please change that for me," I said.

"Okay, I'll change it right now," said my assistant.

She did not ask the reason, negotiated it on the phone, and told the driver, "Excuse me, to the Western International Hotel, please."

She gave an apologetic smile, saying in a polite but formal tone, "Miss Li, sorry for the improper arrangement, it's my fault."

I smiled sweetly, "Sorry, I don't mean to bother you, it is the terrible memories that I have of the Gardens Hotel."

She showed a little surprise in her professional smile, scrutinizing me for a long time, then spoke hurriedly, "I'm Irene Green."

"Irene, I like people calling me Desiree, so you can call me Desiree."

At the hotel, while I took a hot shower, she filled the closet with dresses and suits. She put her personal belongings in the room outside, and it seemed that she intended to attend to me all day long.

"Do I need so many clothes?" I glanced at the new clothes even without tags. I didn't think that I needed those gaudy costumes in the studio.

"Perhaps!" she replied.

Her words were obscure. Drying my hair with the towel, I reflected over her meaningful tone.

It seems that the motivation to persuade me to come back was not that simple. Since I came back, I didn't care about the reason. After all, he couldn't trade me, even if I had caused his huge economic loss.

"Miss Li..." I heard Irene say.

"Call me Desiree," I smiled at her. Perhaps it was my occupational habit to smile at others. Because I thought the sweet smile had the same charm as music, bringing two strange people closer.

"Desiree," she called me stiffly, "This is the script for the movie. The director allows you to understand the plots and the emotions the music is intended to express."

"Alright," I picked up the freshly brewed coffee prepared by Irene from the table. It was Blue Mountain, bitter and sour. I looked at the coffee, then turned to Irene, saying, "Thank you."

Tasting a cup of coffee, I felt a warm current flowing through my blood. It was difficult to spot Shawn.

The reason I refused Shawn was not that he was not great, but rather that he was extraordinary. In the movie world, it was taken for granted that the stars married the rich, and the beauties married heroes. At the entertainment company, many staff regarded my indifference as flattering. I was vulnerable to Jonathan's love. "How long would Shawn be infatuated with me?" I wondered.

Leaning against the bed, I tasted the coffee. The script told a realistic story of an extra-marital affair. An excellent and charming heroine fell in love with a married man, become entangled in bitter love. Therefore, it was doomed to be a moving tragedy.

After lingering between deep love and self-accusation, the heroine gave up on him and married an affectionate supporting actor. In the end, with the sad piano music playing in the background, the heroine saw that the hero attended her wedding. He watched her from the corner. But she held the arm of the bridegroom and smiled at him. During the toast, the hero asked her in a low voice, "Why do you love him?"

She smiled and answered, "I love him because he is a man who I can love." He left feeling lonely and upset, it made the heroine emotional.

The groom held her shoulders from the back, "I will let you fall in love with me, one day," he said.

When I got to "The End", I closed the script and sighed.

"The story has been distorted, and so is the scriptwriter's mind," I commented.

"Oh?" Irene, sitting near me, was shocked by my words and looked up at me, "You are the only woman I have seen who hasn't been moved by it."

I put down the coffee and rubbed my half-dry hair, saying, "If she loves that guy, she shouldn't have given up."

Irene smiled and stared at me curiously, "What if you were the heroine?"

"I?" I lifted the soft, silky quilt in my arms, got off the bed and went up to the piano. I touched the cold and rigid keys, 'I would rather love a man who I can't love than marry another."

"She would complete the hero and bring him happiness. She gave up on love," I added. She looked at me in silence and continued, "The director let you weigh the moods of the heroine and see her love and pain."

"Okay, I will focus on that," I said to Irene.