On the iceberg.

I see icebergs -- from emergence, to recruitment, to change, to rehearsals, to editorials, to performances, to the screenings, and to the subsequent grass-and-brand lines.

From the beginning of last spring, when we met with Mandarin, "I'm afraid he won't let me climb the iceberg", to me personally, "The iceberg is officially on display".

Because of this gravity, I have carefully read the editorials after this gathering of eight members. By looking at the text over and over again, an attempt is made to recognize every player who is about to be present on the first day of the new year before seeing it.

I was moved by this story and looked forward to it; I had a feeling that it had nothing to do with me; yet, until now, this gravity has continued to work for me. It's not just the work itself, it's the people who make it.

When "it" appears before me, I would very much like to judge it, but when someone attacks it, I will consciously defend it.

The silent audience.

For more than 20 years, I have served as a "silent audience".

In general, we interpret silence as caring and polite.

But I think everyone should know: This silence is arrogant, standing by, watching off the coast, protecting and separating, and looking down on the creators.

Speaking from this unequal perspective - "I do not want to be reduced, to talk to you, or to take the risk of calling back; then let me give you my good will, and let you remain in your fantasy until you die. Anyway, it's always none of my business."

Likewise, the creators who are afraid of communication, whether they like the professional sense of retreat at the end of the curtain, or displaying a high-school student-like indifference, or the official response promised with a smile, or using the time light as an excuse, I think, are afraid to escape.

It's really hard. Hard. Very cruel. It's like a ready-to-exit examination, which is over, and it's at a time when it's easy to get out, and it's a mixture of discomfort and joy. But I found out I'm not out yet, and I'm finished with the flashcard.

It is truly cruel to publish results in the first place, even if they are judged by a "unprofessional teacher". This is not something that an "actor in the ordinary sense" has to bear. But if it does, it happens. Whatever the situation, there must be hope. I am convinced of that.

Also last spring, I played a play. It took me a month to prepare it, a night to present it, a month to get rid of it, and six months to think about it. The day after the show, I felt very sad. So far, whenever and wherever I allow that feeling to come back, I'll wake up with tears.

After the show, the director had the official curtain with all the staff. The audience smiled with warm and kind smiles, and none of us said we were bad, except for the little ones. I can't see a thing in a big white light. I stood up, and I laughed with all the radians, and I thought I had a dream, but I ran away. I was dazed before midnight that night, and I was convinced that this was the best day of my life.

An Education

If you've seen the '09 movie "An Education for Growth", you'll see that the best day of my life is the best day of my life, and the best day of my high school girl Jenny's first time in a fancy dress, talking to a gentleman and a girl. No money, no clarity, no fame, and no sarcasm. Just like Jane at Oxford, he didn't dare to "reveal" and "recognize" that college was just another trick.

I'm beginning to understand why I'm sad, but I should know that applause is a comfort in distance, and that happiness in dizziness is a sorrow in loss.

Dreams are worse than dreams.

Nobody said anything bad to me, but I was told I had amber eyes. Until now, I do not know whether to be thankful for the kindness of the audience or for the resentment, and some choose to remain silent because of ignorance, others are lying, concealing and harming. This means that they abandoned us.

I have always held that "I must not be weak when it comes to shame and shame". I'm far from being brave and smart enough to do that. I must bring the defensive distance to 10,000 miles and wear impeccable plastic smile masks. And then I knew that it wasn't scary to break it.

In that instant, I had the dream of roses, and I was stuck on stage with the radiant bubble couch. The fine, beautiful, bright, colorful couch is like a giant metaphor across the stage. Those who want to sit on it will fall asleep. I sat there and slept for six months before I came back -- I lacked a kind of education.

Dreams are worse than dreams. I hope I can increase that courage, and I do not want to give up hope for performance because I am afraid and afraid.

I don't want to be another good audience. Does the audience want to be an actor or an actor? Should the director treat the actor as a human being or an actor as a pawn?

What kind of performance is good and what effect is right? I'm confused, I'm shaking. But I don't want to stop because I'm arrogant, because I'm not.

Each person's expression can only reflect herself, whether speaking or writing. And I saw myself in the Mirror, smitten, faceless, afraid to come forward, with a bluff of indifference and a lack of foundation. I want to break this mirror, scratch my face with a tight glass, scratch out Amber's eyes, and stick it in the back of my back until I'm skinless, broken and sticky, and rip my name off like a clear article.

I think I'll be able to perform then.