SEVEN JARS

That day, I spoke to seven jars about the stories of seven men. These seven men were individuals who had once appeared in my life. They included my English teacher who

rape me, my high school classmate, and even people I encountered when my parents sent me to a juvenile detention center, among others. Each of them has left an unbearable burden in my life, and from certain perspectives, they have influenced who Yu Guanqiao has become today. I sat calmly in a chair, narrating each story to each jar, and after finishing with each of them, I would shatter the jar.

After finishing the seven stories, the shards of glass were scattered all over the floor. I stared at the broken pieces, realizing that I had actually shared those stories of the people who had hurt me right in front of an audience. It was an incredibly challenging thing for me to do. Every shard was exceptionally sharp, and without hesitation, I lunged forward. As the glass shards cut into my skin, it went from a faint stinging sensation at first to eventually drawing blood. These people who had hurt me had finally physically wounded me.

In that moment, I crawled into the blue plastic sheet laid out beneath the audience's feet, while the audience retreated to either side. Underneath the plastic sheet, I rolled around, feeling the air gradually thinning, making each breath more and more difficult. Layers of mist began to form on the surface of the plastic, and as I looked through it towards the audience, it seemed as if we were in two entirely different worlds. Through the thin film, I could see the expressions in the eyes of the spectators, filled with compassion, concern, and a hint of confusion. There was an invisible barrier between us, like a membrane of time and space, separating me from them.

The sensation of suffocation slowly enveloped me, and my breathing became rapid and irregular, as if I were teetering on the brink of life and death. Yet, this suffocation wasn't just physical; it was also a mental oppression. In each moment, I revisited those moments of hurt and pain, the past that was sealed off by the plastic sheet. These memories were like venomous snakes coiled around my heart, biting and stinging, making it unbearable.

Ultimately, I was pushed to the limit by this suffocating feeling and the entanglement of memories. Without hesitation, I extended my teeth and tore open the plastic sheet with all my might. In that moment, I felt a sharp pain, but also a sigh of relief. The plastic sheet was torn apart, and I escaped from that tense environment.

And finally, I began reciting a poem that I had prepared in advance.

I am not original sin, not original sin.

You, Let me love you, Like that hand, pulling me into you.

You, Let me love you, Like tofu in a blanket, neatly disheveled.

You, Let me love you, Like a pull-tab on a beer can, destined to be appreciated by you when opened.

You, Let me love you, Like a series of hotel reservations, leading me into unfamiliar beds.

You, Let me love you, Like the utopia you've created, forever a refuge.

You, Let me love you, Like footprints in the sand, step by step into endless waves.

You, Let me love you, Like the infamous house, scorned and fallen into the riverbed,

I am a frivolous fool, I am excessive stomach acid secretion, I am a dying harlot! Harlot! Harlot!

Let me go! Let me go! Begging for your forgetfulness, Begging you not to forget. I'm deeply immersed in the fantasies of tenderness! Tenderness! Your tenderness!

Alone? Alone? Alone? No! Alone? Alone? Alone? No!

Coldness is my warm bed, Inside my spine lies a fragile nerve, Touched, touched, Gradually withering, withering. In moments of sorrow, I am incredibly moving, Tell me It won't be too long, won't be too long, I listen to the endless solitude, Thinking that this will earn someone's affection.

Yes, It seems painful, Like those knives, I can't touch life, It's a lamb with green eyes, barely alive. It's a lamb with green eyes, barely alive. Planes should come with a notebook by my side, So that I won't forget you before the next journey.

Tomorrow doesn't often wave to me, Tomorrow doesn't often wave to me, But how can I not look towards the warm sunlight? Tell me that it's Utopia, Tell me it's not a stigmatized mistress, Tell me stones won't always be someone's despair.

Dear whoever, whoever won't always be, But I'm not blind. Dear whoever, whoever won't always be, But I'm not blind.

How could I not love my life?

Precisely because I love it, I keep telling myself Endless prologues,

I keep telling myself Endless prologues,

Endless prologues,

Endless prologues.

SEVEN JARS full version video

（English subtitle）

SEVEN JARS full version video

（Chinese subtitle）

In this project, I once again delved into an exploration of my own loneliness. Every night spent tossing and turning, I found myself pondering why I felt so alone, and why I couldn't establish intimate relationships. During this process, I began to reflect on why I struggled to develop strong emotional connections with others. Gradually, I attributed this difficulty to the men I had encountered in my past, believing that it was their influence that hindered me from forming intimate relationships or meeting the right person in my current life.

Each memory that radiated out seemed to transform into a solitary star, casting its light on the abyss within me. I looked back on my past, attempting to understand why I was surrounded by loneliness, and why every attempt at love seemed to end in failure. These men, who were once a part of my life, now acted as internal barriers, obstructing my path towards intimacy.

Perhaps it was the past hurts, or maybe the betrayals, but these experiences had left profound imprints on my heart. I tried to avoid falling into similar emotional whirlwinds again, which led me to keep a certain distance in my relationships. I began to doubt my own capacity for emotions, fearing the prospect of being hurt once more. Consequently, I chose loneliness as a way to shield myself from further pain.

However, I also understand that loneliness is not the state I genuinely desire. I yearn to share my life with someone, to build profound and intimate connections, and to find that person who can understand and support me. Yet, this journey seems to be growing increasingly challenging, as I harbor doubts within myself about whether I still possess the capacity to love and trust.

Nonetheless, I remain hopeful. Hopeful that one day, I will overcome the loneliness deep within me and emerge from the shadows of my past. I believe that time will heal the wounds, making me stronger and more courageous in facing the uncertainties of love's future. This journey may be long, but I am willing to continue, seeking the happiness that truly belongs to me. For I know that even though loneliness may have been my companion, I can still find love and warmth that is rightfully mine.

Planning: Cao Aizhu

Video photography:

Si Yunhao, Meng Guanbo, Wang Hongyue

Art: Dai Qingshu

Art execution/on-site execution:

Peng Yuanyuan, Chen Yifei, Wang Qichen, Zhang Han, Zhang Xuandi, Liu Ziheng, Chen Yongchang

Film shooting: Wang Zong

Picture taken by: Zhang Huibin, Liang Shibo, He Bingjie

Arranger/On-site voice control: Rao Zihao

Video color grading: Zhang Jiankun

Makeup: Hiro HUANG

"We kept on climbing, he in front and I behind, until I could make out from the round opening a multitude of beautiful things laden in the heavens. From there we emerged and beheld the vast expanse of the stars."

— Divine Comedy: Inferno