Chapter 35: Grabbing Seats (Part 1)

While they were getting their tickets checked to enter the cinema, a crowd of people who hadn’t gotten tickets or were hoping to sneak in still hovered outside. Under the envious gazes of the crowd, Ye Tian and the others walked into the cinema.

“Brother Fengzi, wh… why is it so dark in here?”

After crossing a large lobby, Feng Kuang, who was walking ahead, pulled aside a thick curtain, plunging Ye Tian’s sight into darkness. It wasn’t pitch black, but he definitely couldn’t make out the faces of the people next to him.

“It’s fine. Close your eyes and then open them again. See, the screen’s lit up…”

Feng Zi seemed unimpressed by Ye Tian’s surprise, forgetting how loudly he himself had exclaimed during his first cinema visit. Back then, an employee had to shine a flashlight to guide him to his seat.

“Hey, you’re right…”

Ye Tian did as Feng Kuang suggested. He closed his eyes, then reopened them. Sure enough, the darkness felt less intense. Standing still, he could clearly see the silhouettes of heads seated in rows, thanks to the light coming from the huge screen at the front.

The cinema seats were arranged in steps. The entrance was at the highest level, and the seats sloped downwards. Not far from Ye Tian, just a dozen meters away, a thick beam of light shone directly onto the massive screen ahead.

This screen was far bigger than any Ye Tian had seen back in the village. Even from such a distance, he could see the images on it clearly. It was completely different from the blurry scenes during movies in the countryside.

Currently playing on the big screen was an educational film. Usually, before the main evening movie started, they’d show a few minutes of these films to buy time while the audience filed in.

“Ye Tian, come on. Don’t block the entrance.”

Everything felt so new and captivating that Ye Tian stared, spellbound. He didn’t even hear Feng Kuang calling him to come down and find their seats.

“Ye Tian, come on, give Sister your hand. I’ll find our seats…” Before Ye Tian could snap out of his amazement, he felt someone grasp his right hand. Turning, he saw it was Sister Yingying.

“Sister Yingying, I can walk by myself. It’s not dark anymore.”

Even though he was only ten, Ye Tian felt embarrassed. Growing up without women around made Sister Yingying’s warmth feel unfamiliar and a bit awkward.

“It’s okay. You don’t know this place. There are steps further down; I don’t want you to fall.” Unable to see Ye Tian’s face in the dim light, Wang Ying thought he was just being stubborn. She gently tightened her grip and led him downward.

Ye Tian pulled his hand back slightly but couldn’t free it. Instead of struggling further, he allowed Sister Yingying’s slender hand to hold his. For some reason, it gave him a feeling of being cared for – something he had never experienced before.

From a very young age, living alone with his father, Ye Tian had learned independence and toughness. A fall at three years old meant picking himself back up. This sudden sense of gentle protection, this feeling of warmth focused solely on him, flooded Ye Tian with warmth and drastically deepened his liking for the woman beside him.

Fate brings people together in mysterious ways. Some people see each other daily yet never become more than casual acquaintances in a lifetime. Others meet only once and forge a deep, lasting closeness. Ye Tian couldn’t know it then, but this chance meeting would lead him to unknowingly gain a sister later on.

“Thank you, Sister Yingying…”

Holding Wang Ying’s hand, trailing behind Feng Kuang and the others, bending slightly to navigate the path forward, Ye Tian felt completely at ease. That “Sister Yingying” slipped out naturally, straight from his heart.

“Feng Kuang, is it Row 13?” Wang Ying stopped by a row of seats.

Hearing her, Feng Kuang squinted at the tickets under the dim light from the distant screen. “Yes, Row 13. Seats eighteen, twenty, twenty-two, and twenty-four are ours…”

Seat numbers in cinemas alternated odd and even. Though the numbers weren’t consecutive, the seats themselves were next to each other. Feng Kuang’s luck held; their seats were right in the center section.

“Hey? That’s our spot…”

When they reached the row numbered for seats eighteen to twenty-four, Feng Kuang froze. Their seats were occupied. Several people were already sitting in them, chatting quietly and looking perfectly at ease.

Finding his seat taken, Feng Kuang wasn’t about to back down. Waving his ticket, he tapped the shoulder of the person sitting on the aisle seat. “Hey, sir? You’re in the wrong seat. That one belongs to us.”

What he didn’t expect was the hostility of the seat-stealers. Before Feng Kuang could finish, the guy snapped back, “Hey kid, who’re you patting? What do you mean your seats? There are plenty of other seats. Just go find another one!”

Seat-stealing happened a lot at the cinema then, mostly done by groups of young people. Couples or individuals often just swallowed the insult and found empty seats elsewhere to avoid trouble. But Feng Kuang didn’t know this was common. He’d only been to the movies twice before, and both times he’d rushed in first, so no one had a chance to take his spot.

Plus, he had Wang Ying, the girl he fancied, beside him. Backing down wasn’t an option. He raised his voice firmly, “I have the tickets right here! These are our seats! Move, please!”

Feng Kuang’s raised voice drew the attention of nearby moviegoers. The young man sitting down clearly hadn’t anticipated him making a fuss. Anger or embarrassment flooded the guy’s face.

“Looking for trouble, punk?”

The other guys sitting in their seats suddenly stood up. One of them shoved Feng Kuang hard. They were obviously all together.

“Feng Kuang, just let it go. Let’s find seats further back…”

Sister Hong, standing beside Feng Kuang, tugged his arm. Having grown up in the county town, she knew better than to mess with the youngsters who hung around cinemas and skating rinks.

The major Three Strikes crackdowns of 1983 had swept many troublemakers away, but by then, years had passed. Younger siblings who couldn’t take over their parents’ jobs often formed gangs and loitered, causing trouble most people wisely avoided.

“Sister Hong, they started it! My tickets clearly show these seats. Hey! You think taking someone else’s seat is okay?!”

Normally smart and level-headed, Feng Kuang wasn’t himself right now. As the saying goes, love makes intelligence plummet – Feng Kuang’s brain registered zero fear.

“He’s right! What nerve stealing seats!”

“Look at them. Hair like that? Probably flirting trouble!”

“Give back the seats! The movie’s starting! Any more trouble, and we’ll send you straight to the police station!”

People in the eighties weren’t shy about standing up for what was fair. As Feng Kuang argued with the group, spectators nearby voiced strong disapproval.

“Who says we’re flirting? We… we didn’t say we wouldn’t move…”

The accusation of “flirting” or “playing the hooligan” was serious back then. The crowd’s disapproval changed the group’s attitude; their tone softened, their faces wary.

“You gentlemen, your tickets? May I see them?”

A staff member, flashlight in hand, came over. Seat disputes happened several times a day at the cinema; he knew the drill well.