rslcontracting Chapter 319: Taking the Field While Ill: A “Fragile Beauty” Forged by Fever
Chapter 319: Taking the Field While Ill: A “Fragile Beauty” Forged by Fever
Chapter 319: Taking the Field While Ill: A “Fragile Beauty” Forged by Fever
The next morning.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, the mist among the mountains not yet fully dispersed.
Sun Zhou pushed open the door holding a bowl of freshly cooked hot porridge, only to see a lump huddled under the covers on the bed.
Jiang Ci was completely curled up inside the quilt, only a tuft of black hair visible, his body trembling faintly.
"Bro? You awake? Have some porridge to warm your stomach." Sun Zhou placed the bowl on the bedside table and reached out to pull back the covers.
The moment his fingertips touched Jiang Ci's forehead, he recoiled in shock at the scorching heat.
He yanked the quilt away.
Jiang Ci lay curled up, his cheeks flushed a deep red, his lips cracked and dry.
He was in a semi-conscious state, making incoherent murmurs in his throat.
Sun Zhou panicked, fumbling around to find a thermometer.
Thirty-nine degrees Celsius.
"No, we need to go to the hospital!" Sun Zhou decided instantly, grabbing his jacket and rushing for the door. "I'll go ask Director Jiang for leave!"
Just as he turned around, a burning hot hand clamped onto his wrist.
Jiang Ci had opened his eyes at some point. Those eyes were bloodshot, hazy with a layer of moisture from the high fever, appearing unfocused and fragile.
"Don't go."
His throat was so dry it felt like it was smoking, the two words spoken softly and hoarsely.
Sun Zhou stomped his foot in frustration. "Bro! You're burning up like this! What kind of acting can you even do now!"
"The location... rental period..." Jiang Ci struggled to breathe. "Every day we stop, we're burning money."
He couldn't let the entire film crew's schedule be delayed because of him.
This was his subconscious principle.
Jiang Ci let go of his hand, trying to use his arm to push himself up from the bed, but his whole body felt weak. He tried twice and slid back down each time.
He finally gave up, lying on his side on the bed.
"Have the Medical Team... give me a fever-reducing shot."
"Then go to the Film Set."
Sun Zhou looked at him like this, his own eyes reddening.
He knew he couldn't win against this madman.
Half an hour later, Jiang Ci leaned back in the seat of the entourage van, a cotton ball still pressed against his arm from the injection he'd just received.
The vehicle bumped its way to the Film Set.
He pushed open the car door, and the moment his feet touched the ground, a wave of dizziness hit him, making his body sway.
He steadied himself by holding onto the car door, took a moment to recover, and suppressed the feeling of nausea.
The Film Crew was busy setting up the scene. Jiang Wen, holding a Loudspeaker, was yelling at the Lighting Team.
"Are you all fucking pigs! The light is so bright! Are we shooting an idol drama!"
He turned his head and saw Jiang Ci walking towards them.
Jiang Ci's walking posture was somewhat unsteady, his steps uneven and heavy.
Jiang Wen's temper flared up instantly, and he was just about to open his mouth and curse.
But when Jiang Ci approached and lifted his head, Jiang Wen swallowed the profanities that had reached his lips.
What kind of face was that.
Because of the high fever, his skin showed an unnatural flush, with dark shadows under his eyes.
Most deadly were those eyes, bloodshot,
the pupils appearing somewhat unfocused due to the high fever,
yet carrying a neurotic vigilance.
A physiological sickness.
Jiang Wen was stunned.
In that instant, all the settings for the character "Jiang He" flashed through his mind.
Long-term undercover work, mental strain, the torment of drug addiction, the dual devastation of body and mind.
This... this fucking doesn't even need acting!
He threw away the Loudspeaker in his hand and strode over to Jiang Ci.
The makeup artist was about to step forward to apply concealer to Jiang Ci, but was pushed aside by Jiang Wen.
"Don't touch him!"
Jiang Wen's roar instantly silenced the surroundings.
Pointing at Jiang Ci's face, which was sick and gaunt, he gave orders to the makeup artist and the Cinematographer.
"This state! This is the state I want!"
"See it? This physiological exhaustion! The red veins in his eyes! The texture of his skin! This is all treasure!"
"All subsequent makeup and styling, keep this sickly look!"
Having said that, he turned to look at Jiang Ci.
"Can you still hold on?"
Jiang Ci nodded.
"Good." Jiang Wen patted his shoulder. "Go change clothes."
The shooting location quickly moved inside the factory.
It was a replica of a drug lord's office, cramped and simply furnished,
with only a heavy solid wood desk and a few filing cabinets.
The only window was sealed shut with blinds, light squeezing in through the gaps.
All departments quickly took their positions.
Following Jiang Wen's instructions, the lighting technician dimmed the light to its lowest, leaving only a single beam of overhead light above the desk.
Lei Zhong had already changed into his costume and was sitting in the shadows behind the desk,
playing with a cigar in his hand, his entire person exuding an aura of authority without needing to show anger.
The clapper loader stepped forward.
"Icebreaker, Scene 187, Shot 1, Take 1."
"Action!"
The crisp clap of the clapperboard fell.
The camera slowly pushed in.
In the shadows by the office door, Jiang Ci crouched there.
He had changed into thinner black clothes, like a vicious dog tamed by its master, quietly guarding its territory.
In his hand, he played with that now-familiar prop Dagger.
In this scene, he had no lines.
The physical discomfort brought on by the high fever now became his best prop.
He would occasionally twitch his nostrils nervously, mimicking the anxiety of the early stages of cravings are hitting me.
The back of the dagger scraped against the newly grown stubble on his chin, making a faint "rustling" sound.
He wasn't looking at anyone, his gaze empty.
He portrayed the soul-sucked numbness of a long-term Addict under the influence of drugs with incredible depth.
Behind the Monitor, Jiang Wen remained silent, but his body involuntarily leaned forward.
Behind the desk, Lei Zhong extinguished his cigar.
He closed the account book in front of him and gestured towards the shadows by the door.
A simple action.
Jiang Ci, crouching in the shadows, reacted instantly.
At the same second Lei Zhong raised his hand, he put away the dagger and sprang up from the ground.
He hunched his back slightly, taking small, quick steps as he rapidly approached the desk.
A posture of subservience.
Lei Zhong stood up, walked around the desk, and went over to the wall.
He raised his hand and violently yanked down a landscape painting hanging on the wall.
Behind the painting was not a wall.
But a complex border map, pinned to the wall with thumbtacks.
On the map, a dozen or so red circles, large and small, were marked with a red marker.
This was Cha Cai's "kingdom territory," the core secret he was showing to Jiang He.
The camera immediately cut to a close-up of Jiang Ci.
He stood behind Lei Zhong, leaning forward slightly to look at the map.
On the surface, he put on a careless, even somewhat foolish and simple-minded appearance, as if he didn't understand.
But if you zoomed in on the shot, you could see his eyeballs trembling slightly.
His gaze swept over every red dot on the map.
Frantically memorizing the locations, routes, and interconnections of these coordinates, etching them all into his brain.
The high fever made his brain function sluggish, but it also brought an unusual excitement.
On his forehead, fine beads of cold sweat uncontrollably seeped out,
gathering into a single drop that slowly traced the contours of his gaunt cheek before falling.
In the camera's interpretation, this drop of sweat became the character Jiang He's uncontrollable tension and greed when faced with this immense fortune and deadly secret.
It hung from his jawline, teetering on the edge.
Just as Jiang He was desperately memorizing the map's routes,
Lei Zhong, playing Cha Cai, suddenly turned around without warning.
Those eagle-like eyes fixed on Jiang Ci's sweat-covered face,
and he asked in a sinister, probing tone, "Ah He, you're sweating? ... Are you afraid of something? Or are you remembering something?"