Years later I saw this DVD in many movies and picked it up. I finally know the truth, about disillusionment.
The opening is the famous Japanese opera - Madame Butterfly. Sung by Chinese actors. That enduring love tragedy deeply stirred the hearts of Western men. The love and desire for the mysterious East.
The woman wears white silk clothes like a butterfly. Indifferent. Stand proudly. Talk to him. A smile on his lips. The words were full of disdain and irony.
It was the eloquence that he couldn't resist.
Beijing in the 1950s. Before the big movement hits. Calm and beautiful. That kind of atmosphere is the best hormone to give birth to love.
The blond man was caught in the dimly lit theater among a group of Chinese with blurred faces. The woman in the stands, Feng Guanxia, moved her lotus steps gently, and a delicate orchid was born between her fingers. Sing a drunken concubine.
He could not understand this foreign language and opera. He didn't know that at this moment, the wanton and beautiful concubine on the stage was finally hanged by her lover at the foot of Mawei Po. So lively on the field. The gongs and drums roared. Knock thump thump. Knock on his heart. He couldn't wait. Can't find reasons or excuses. to see her.
see her. Then love her. Nothing can stop it.
He was amazed that his butterfly lover was so oriental and shy. But he gave her the utmost respect. He is an exotic gentleman. noble envoy. No insight into the cruel truth about fate.
So many years.
many years. From Beijing to Paris. Thousands of miles away, never separated. In fact, if it was just a dream, God had already given him too much time.
He spent most of his life floating in hallucinations. Not unhappy. The beauty is by his side, his wife. The years are so quiet. Too good to be true. It's fake because it's too real.
The truth is peeled back in front of you. Layer upon layer, naked, like a hammer hitting his eyes violently. That kind of truth, even if you dig out all the brains, you will still feel the truth of the pain.
He was crushed by reality. There is no room for it. Broken into pieces.
In that spacious judgment hall shrouded in sunlight, under the command of the Goddess of Justice, who was blindfolded, holding a sword and a balance, and under the clear gaze of countless pairs of well-defined eyes.
He was suddenly confronted with the truth—the truth was a deception. And he had bet everything he owned long before and over the years. In exchange, it was the heaviest blow.
He collapsed in an instant.
It was too shocking, so it was calm at that moment. So calm, so silent. Indifferently stared at the stranger by the pillow. Wearing a gray suit in the dock, speaking fluent English, and clearly explaining the cause and effect. between countries. A product of politics and conspiracy.
It turned out that he was just a pawn. Back and forth.
He shoved him away from the bumpy prison van. Him, his former wife. He was trembling all over and could barely speak. what to say. Such a disgusting dirty deal. What he loves deeply is an illusion that does not exist at all. I just hate that this life is too long, why is it not finished before that day. He would rather never see the truth. What he embraces, touches, cherishes, upholds. They all shattered in an instant, shattered into thousands of pieces, and pierced into his body with the wind. Pain is inevitable. But what's even scarier is the dirty. So dirty. His limbs, skin, blood, bone marrow. There is nothing to wash off.
And he's still talking about love. He stripped himself naked and knelt before him, begging for a kiss. The man who is used to playing women on the stage has lost his role in most of his life.
But he can't forget.
That body with the same characteristics as him. Even though it is delicate, white, silky and beautiful like a woman, it still cannot change the truth.
Really has the desire to make him want to vomit.
long deception. The drama of the virtual phoenix and the fake phoenix. He has been in the play for so many years without realizing it. He was suddenly drank in the head.
It is too late to return. The false first half of his life, the second half of his life will be spent in prison.
How beautiful it used to be. How painful it is now. Those memories are like sticks attached to the bones, and they can't get rid of them.
I watched him cut the shards down his throat. He held it so tightly that he was determined to kill himself with all his might. The surging red blood flowed out, flowing over his face that had been smeared with white powder and lost the truth. Slowly, he fell to the ground convulsively.
He just wished he wouldn't remember it again. Don't live anymore.
When living has become an unbreakable nightmare, death becomes easy.
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