Font Size
15px

Wei Song's single command of "Action" instantly ignited the entire "Pengcheng Great Hall."

The pre-set clamor flooded every inch of space in an instant.

Dozens of background actors playing the Chu Army soldiers raised their bronze wine vessels high, erupting into cheers.

"Long live the Great King!"

"Sweep across the world! Unify the Hegemony!"

The chi bells and large drums were struck forcefully, the ancient, majestic music mingling with rough, hearty laughter.

Yet, at the very center of this fervor,

Jiang Ci, portraying Xiang Yu, sat alone upon the throne.

The seat was too massive, making his figure appear solitary and lonely.

He was utterly indifferent to everything around him.

There was no triumphant spirit of a victor, no ecstatic joy of ruling the world.

He sat there, expressionless, isolated from the boiling human commotion within the tent.

Veteran actor Huang Shengqiu, playing the role of Honored Father Fan Zeng, stepped forward.

Following the script, he delivered a brilliantly worded toast in an impassioned tone, extolling Xiang Yu's unparalleled achievents.

"Congratulations, Great King! Thirty thousand iron cavalry shattered an enemy force of five hundred and sixty thousand! This is an unprecedented, miraculous feat through the ages!"

The surrounding soldiers erupted once more in echoing shouts.

Jiang Ci on the throne didn't even look at him directly.

Only when Huang Shengqiu raised his wine cup high did Jiang Ci make his first movent.

The movent was extrely slow. He lifted his hand and picked up the bronze wine cup from the low table.

He brought the cup to his lips and took a symbolic sip.

Then, he set it down gently.

"Clink."

A crisp sound of tal on tal.

Through the precise on-site audio equipnt, this sound pierced through all the noise, reaching everyone's ears.

It wasn't loud.

Yet, it caused a montary freeze in the hall's clamor.

The featured actors closest to the throne were the first to feel this suffocating "anti-acting" aura.

The smiles on their faces stiffened at the corners of their mouths.

The cheers that had just been roaring deafeningly weakened involuntarily, becoming awkward and hollow.

They were "acting" happy.

But the person on the throne, he was acting "bored."

Under this stark contrast, their performance appeared ridiculous and laughable.

Behind the monitor.

Wei Song didn't call "Cut." Instead, he trembled with excitent, grabbing the arm of the cinematographer beside him, lowering his voice:

"Push in! Give a close-up on him!"

"Push in on his hand! Yes! That hand, the one that set down the wine cup!"

On the screen, Jiang Ci's fingers were slender and pale, resting on the cold bronze vessel.

That sense of utter boredom, of finding even lifting it a little more an unnecessary bother.

It was all there, in those slightly curled fingertips.

"Get it! Get all of it!" Wei Song's voice was filled with exhilaration.

On the other side.

In a corner, set apart from the clamoring ministers.

Zhao Yingfei, playing Yu Ji, sat quietly.

She had no lines, no movents.

In the entire great hall, she was the only one not participating in that false revelry.

Her very existence was a form of resistance.

Across the sea of bobbing heads, across the hypocritical laughter and chatter, she quietly watched the man on the throne.

Her stillness was the only frequency within the full hall's uproar that could resonate with his "emptiness."

Then, the plot advanced to the next scene.

A captured general, bound tightly, was escorted before the hall by two soldiers.

According to the original, unmodified script, Xiang Yu would fly into a rage here, listing the captive's cris,

then order his imdiate execution on the spot, using blood to liven up the victory banquet and display his formidable majesty.

The actor playing the captured general was fully prepared, with the blood-splatter prop for his neck already in place.

He was roughly shoved to the ground, prostrating himself at Xiang Yu's feet.

Within the great hall, the music and laughter ceased. Everyone's gaze focused here, awaiting a bloody slaughter.

Jiang Ci on the throne finally showed a slight reaction.

He lowered his gaze and looked at the captive general on the ground.

Just one glance.

No anger, no killing intent, not even any emotional fluctuation.

His eyebrows didn't even twitch.

It didn't feel like he was looking at an enemy whose life he was deciding.

He casually waved his hand.

Uttering two words.

"Drag him out."

His voice was light, yet it carried an extre indifference.

This indifference was more chilling than any ticulously designed brutality or cruelty.

"..."

The actor playing the captured general was completely dumbfounded.

His prepared lengthy plea for rcy, his tearful expression, his death scream upon execution...

All rendered useless.

He knelt there dazedly, mouth agape, unable to utter a single word.

The rhythm was completely disrupted.

The two soldier actors holding him also looked bewildered, unsure whether to drag him or not.

The atmosphere of the entire victory banquet was sliding from "fervor" toward "absurdity" at a bizarre speed.

"Cut!"

Finally, Wei Song's voice rang out.

But there was no trace of anger in that voice; instead, it held a sigh of extre satisfaction.

He stood up from behind the monitor, a look of utter exhilaration on his face.

"Yes! Yes! This is it!"

He pointed at Jiang Ci, who looked bewildered, as if gazing at a priceless treasure.

"This is the exact flavor!"

Then, he spun around sharply, facing all the other actors on set, the smile vanishing from his face instantly.

"But you!"

"All the rest of you, you're all wrong!"

He pointed at the background actors and supporting actors still maintaining their stiff smiles, cursing angrily.

"What are you doing? You're 'acting' celebration! You're waiting for him to react!"

"And he, he is 'becoming' boredom!"

"You're not even on the sa frequency! Your performance is fake!!"

Wei Song's roar echoed in the empty great hall. Everyone lowered their heads, chastised.

"Your task is not to cater to his boredom, not to observe his loneliness!"

He walked up to the group of actors playing the soldiers, pointing at their noses one by one, roaring.

"You need to completely 'ignore' his boredom!"

"You are a pack of starving wolves who just won a great victory, ready to divide the spoils! You are a mob of victorious maniacs who see nothing but money, land, and won!"

"What your king is thinking, you don't care about at all! And you don't understand it at all!"

"His loneliness belongs to him alone! It has nothing to do with any of you!"

"You just revel! Just make noise! The louder, the rowdier, the more ignorant you are, the better you set off his loneliness! Do you understand?!"

After his speech, the entire set fell silent.

All the actors wore thoughtful expressions on their faces.

Wei Song, panting heavily, walked back behind the monitor.

He stared fixedly at the monitor, at Jiang Ci's face, which still held little expression.

The "boredom" presented on that face had already exceeded his expectations.

But he wanted more than that.

He picked up the walkie-talkie. This ti, the instruction was for Jiang Ci alone.

"Jiang Ci."

Wei Song's voice ca clearly through the earpiece to Jiang Ci's ear.

"You gave the 'boredom' I wanted. Good."

"Now, give one more thing."

He spoke slowly, each word carrying a sense of guidance and enticent.

"Right at the peak of this boredom, the most tedious mont."

"Give a 'crack.'"

"A crack only you know about."

"Tell , what was Xiang Yu really thinking at that mont?"

You are reading The More Tragic I Act, the Stronger I Get — My Fans Beg Me to Stop Killing Off My Roles Chapter 131: The Tyrant’s Boredom on novel69. Use the chapter navigation above or below to continue reading the latest translated chapters.
Share with your friends
Library saves books to your account. Reading History saves recent chapters in this browser.
Continuous reading

You may also like

No reviews yet. Be the first reader to leave one.
Please create an account or sign in to post a comment.