rslcontracting Chapter 339: A Battle of the Hearts Spanning a Thousand Years
Chapter 339: A Battle of the Hearts Spanning a Thousand Years
Chapter 339: A Battle of the Hearts Spanning a Thousand Years
A beam of dim light split the screening room into realms of light and shadow.
A figure took a seat in the empty space to Jiang Ci's left.
It was Su Qingying.
She wore a sharply tailored black dress, no accessories, her long hair simply tied back.
After sitting down, her gaze swept over the simple white shirt Jiang Ci wore,
a flash of understanding flickered in the depths of her eyes, then calmly turned towards the screen ahead.
She understood.
This was the firewall Jiang Ci had set up for the audience, and for himself.
The unadorned Jiang Ci contrasted with Ye Chen on screen, the one stained with the blood of Shangdu.
Only by completely stripping away the persona outside the film could the immersion within it create a more violent sense of rupture.
The lights in the screening room went out completely.
Darkness enveloped the surroundings.
Only the faint light from the large screen outlined Jiang Ci's clean profile.
Old Zhou, sitting behind him, glanced at that silhouette and let out a soft snort through his nose.
Putting on a show.
The screen lit up.
No dragon logo, no production company information.
The first image was a face, magnified.
Ye Chen before his demonic transformation.
Old Zhou held his pen, ready to write the comment "piled-on special effects, opening with flashy technique" in his notebook.
The pen tip hovered over the page, but couldn't fall for a long time.
That face held no demonic aura, no sinister charm, nothing at all.
Only the bewildered confusion of having been abandoned by the entire world.
Old Zhou's hand holding the pen froze.
The scene changed.
A thousand years ago, beneath the Divine Tree, the half-demon was sealed by his beloved with the Heartstring Arrow.
On screen, Ye Chen's figure was swallowed by light.
In reality, in the dark screening room, Jiang Ci unscrewed a bottle of mineral water and took a sip.
The calm action formed an eerie synchronization with the tragic sealing on screen.
A chill shot up from deep within Old Zhou.
He inexplicably felt that, rather than Jiang Ci acting as Ye Chen,
it was more like Ye Chen was one selected from among Jiang Ci's countless tragic personas.
The movie plot advanced.
A Li was awakened in the modern era, traveled through time, met Ye Chen, and journeyed together.
When the plot reached the point where A Li, controlled by Chi Jie, tearfully drew the Lingxi Bow,
the occasional rustling of paper in the screening room vanished completely.
Su Qingying's hands resting on her knees unconsciously tightened.
Even though this scene had been filmed long ago, that feeling of being controlled against her will was still etched into her muscle memory.
Just as her hands tightened, an extremely faint yet rhythmic tapping sound came from the armrest beside her.
Tap, tap, tap.
Jiang Ci's index finger tapped the armrest with measured force.
Su Qingying's tense body miraculously relaxed, bit by bit.
Zhang Mouyi's camera movement showcased his skill at this moment.
The camera was no longer an objective third-person perspective.
It became Ye Chen's first-person perspective.
All the audience faced that arrow, shimmering with dark energy, drawn taut and aimed at them by their beloved.
They could clearly see the tears rolling down A Li's face, see her mouth twisted by extreme agony.
A young girl in the back row, probably one of Jiang Ci's "black fans," under this immersive cinematography,
shrank back uncontrollably.
Old Zhou tried to break free from this emotional manipulation from a professional angle.
He rapidly analyzed the lighting of this scene in his mind: the main light source came from the side-back, outlining A Li's desperate silhouette;
the fill light illuminated the cold glint on the arrowhead—a classic emotional guidance lighting setup.
The composition was standard rule of thirds, placing the visual focus...
"It's okay, A Li."
A line mixed with heartache and tenderness came from the screen.
All the professional terms about lighting, composition, and depth of field vanished from Old Zhou's mind.
That wasn't acting.
That was a dying person's complete acceptance of his fate, and the last, most powerless comfort for his lover.
The next second.
The arrow left the string.
The theater's top-tier surround sound system didn't emit a shrill whistling sound.
Only a dull thud.
Thump.
The arrow pierced through Ye Chen's shoulder, its immense force pinning him firmly to the giant tree behind him.
Jiang Ci adjusted his sitting posture slightly, leaning back comfortably into his seat, his back relaxed.
His spotlessly white shirt remained excessively clean in the darkness.
Not far from him, the "black fan" who had instinctively shrunk back earlier,
covered her mouth with her hand.
On screen, A Li, erupting in extreme pain and guilt, broke free from her restraints and threw herself towards the lover she had personally pierced.
She was crying, screaming, using all her strength, trying to rouse the body that had already lost consciousness.
In reality, Su Qingying, watching herself on screen, her breathing grew slightly ragged,
she forcibly suppressed it, but her eyes uncontrollably reddened rapidly.
She instinctively turned her head, wanting to look at Jiang Ci beside her.
Then, she froze.
Jiang Ci wasn't looking at the screen, nor at her.
His attention was on a media professional in the back row, a tough-looking man in a leather jacket with tattoos on his arms.
That burly man sat upright, expression serious.
One hand, at an angle unnoticed by others, quickly rose, using his sleeve cuff to vigorously wipe his cheek.
Then, as if nothing had happened, placed it back on his knee.
Su Qingying: "..."
Right then, Old Zhou behind her finally couldn't hold back any longer.
That pen, suspended in mid-air for so long, ultimately did not fall.
Unaware of what he was doing, his hand, as if possessed, reached for the pack of tissues between their armrests.
The movement was somewhat stiff, as if doing this for the first time.
He tore open the packaging, pulled out a tissue, and clenched it tightly in his hand.
The tissue was crumpled into a ball.
Yet, he didn't raise his hand to wipe.
As the "Iron-faced King of Hell" of film criticism, he had his own pride.
Zhang Mouyi, sitting in the farthest corner of the back row, took all of this in.
Satisfied, he fished out those two glossy, polished walnuts from his pocket and started rolling them in his hand.
"Click-clack, click-clack."
The movie plot entered its first climax.
Ling Xi's vengeful spirit appeared, forcibly separating A Li and Ye Chen.
That kind of life-and-death separation, so close yet torn apart by fate,
made the audience forget this was a movie.
They felt they were witnessing a real, millennia-spanning murder and love suicide.
Old Zhou felt he was about to suffer internal injuries from holding back.
Just then, a demonic whisper sounded in his ear.
"Don't hold it in."
Jiang Ci leaned forward slightly, his breath carrying a hint of coolness, precisely invading Old Zhou's ear canal.
"If you hurt yourself holding back, it counts as an occupational injury."
Old Zhou's body stiffened.
He turned his head, wanting to use the most vicious words to attack this ungrateful young man.
But when he turned and met Jiang Ci's face, still calm in the darkness,
all the prepared words clogged in his throat.
His eyes were red-rimmed.
The pen in his hand could no longer be held, with a "tap" sound,
it fell onto the carpet.
He gave up on taking notes.
And it was at this moment, on the large screen.
That life-and-death tragic separation underwent a change no one expected.
A Li, played by Su Qingying, before being completely swallowed by the Glowing Gate,
looked at her lover, nailed to the tree, lifeless,
all the despair and unwillingness on her face suddenly transformed into a kind of near-mad love.
She lowered her head.
Amidst the audience's held breath,
she kissed Ye Chen's lips.