Eighteen years ago, he was a poor student wearing a 150-yuan down jacket in the dormitory of Peking University. He saved a vague screenshot of an advertisement into a folder called "1". On the other side of the screen, she is a female star who no one knows how to star in a big production worth 150 million yuan.
Eighteen years later, he had tens of billions of assets and was waiting for her in a 47th-floor apartment near Victoria Harbor in Hong Kong. She sat opposite him and said, "People like you are the most terrifying. You are neither thirsty nor hungry nor tired. You feel nothing."
Then she smiled. The first cracks on the lake surface in winter.
From a friend request that was never approved, to a $50 million phone confrontation. "My Celebrity Girlfriend" is not a story about getting, it is a story about "nothing happened". The hotel was empty, the plane was on standby, the windows were covered with tape, the surrogate mother was already waiting, and a box of ovulation-stimulating needles was not opened. All the grandness is spinning, only love remains in place, repeatedly confirming whether it really existed.
