The next day, Sun Zhou barged into a corner of the film set, sporting two massive dark circles under his eyes.
His face was a mix of extre exhaustion and a near-manic excitent.
"Bro! Bro! It's exploded!"
Jiang Ci was sitting on a broken wooden crate, letting the makeup artist apply a new layer of artificial gri to his face.
The shadow of last night's water torture hadn't faded yet. With every breath, a dull, needle-like pain shot through his lungs, making him unconsciously hunch his back.
Sun Zhou grabbed his shoulders, his voice cracking with excitent.
"Two billion! 'The Legend of Han and Chu' officially broke two billion at the box office yesterday!"
He shoved his phone screen right in front of Jiang Ci's face. It displayed predictive promotional articles from several authoritative dia outlets.
The headlines were each more eye-catching and jarring than the last.
"The industry predicts the final total will land above 3.5 billion! Three point five billion, bro! Do you have any idea what that ans?!"
The makeup artist's hand paused. She looked at the astronomical number on the phone, then at the young man in front of her, covered in "wounds" and deathly pale, feeling like the world she was in wasn't quite real.
Jiang Ci's reaction was remarkably calm. He just raised a hand and gently pushed away the phone that Sun Zhou, in his over-excitent, had practically jabbed into his face.
"I know."
Sun Zhou was montarily choked by his excessively cool attitude.
That was two billion! Not two hundred bucks!
Seizing the mont while the makeup artist went to mix a new batch of "blood," Jiang Ci closed his eyes and opened the system panel.
The ongoing positive buzz for the movie ant that every sigh for Xiang Yu in cinemas across the country was being converted into Heartbreak Value.
On the pale blue light screen, the numbers were crystal clear.
[Heartbreak Value Balance: 15,820 points]
Jiang Ci's gaze slowly drifted down, landing on the most crucial line.
[Remaining Lifespan: 15 years, 6 months, 19 days]
Fifteen years.
From the initial seven days struggling on the brink of death, to now, fifteen years—enough for him to plan a life.
At that mont, he thought of his father.
He thought of the unmarked stone tablet in the Martyrs' Cetery.
He thought of the line from his father's letter that was never sent: "Live peacefully, live in the sunlight."
He could live in the sunlight now.
His father's final wish was branded into his heart.
But this sunlight was bought with the lives and unwavering perseverance in the darkness of countless people like his father.
He looked at his own hands, trembling slightly from hunger, and thought of the man codenad "Ice Chisel" in 'Icebreaker'.
He thought of that unmarked stone tablet in the cetery.
The two words "actor" took on a completely new weight at this mont.
He not only had to live up to this profession, but he also had to live up to the real "Jiang He"s who lived behind the script, in the real world, who traded their lives for this sunlight.
His phone vibrated again, interrupting his thoughts.
Sun Zhou glanced at the caller ID and imdiately handed the phone over.
"Bro, Director Lin's call."
The mont the call connected, Lin Wan's signature voice—clear, bright, and tinged with barely suppressed excitent—ca through.
"Jiang Ci!"
Even through the phone, Jiang Ci could picture her triumphant queen-like deanor in the office right now.
"Sun Zhou told you about the box office, right?"
"Yeah."
"This is just the beginning." Lin Wan's laughter was full of confidence. "Besides the box office share, the reason I'm calling you today is to share so internal news."
She deliberately paused, giving this bombshell enough ti to sink in.
"The preliminary review results for the Golden Rooster Awards are out."
"'The Legend of Han and Chu' passed with unanimous votes."
Lin Wan's voice lowered a bit, but it beca even more penetrating.
"Your 'Best Actor' nomination is a done deal."
Golden Rooster Awards.
Best Actor.
Those words shot from his eardrums through his entire body, sending a montary tremor through his body, numb from hunger and exhaustion.
"I understand," he replied softly.
"Focus on filming. Leave the rest to ." Lin Wan hung up decisively.
Jiang Ci put down the phone and slowly opened his eyes.
Jiang Ci, whose market value had skyrocketed and who was about to be nominated for Film Emperor, was currently sitting on a patch of ssy, muddy ground, wearing a tattered black tank top.
In front of him sat a bowl of plain water-boiled noodles.
The noodles had long gone cold, congealed into a lump, with a few specks of dust that had fallen from the rafters floating on top.
This was his "lunch" for the day, and also a prop for the scene.
"All departnts, attention! Prepare to start filming!"
Jiang Wen's roar ca from behind the monitor not far away, making the entire warehouse buzz.
"Jiang Ci! The emotion! I want the emotion of soone who's been starving for three days!"
Jiang Ci picked up the bowl of noodles.
To find the most authentic feeling, he hadn't eaten anything since noon yesterday.
He looked at the lump of cold, sticky carbohydrates in the bowl, and his stomach convulsed.
He thought, if "Jiang He" really existed, this might be the best al he could get.
To bring him to life, he had to eat this bowl of noodles.
Jiang Wen roared the command from behind the monitor.
"Action!"
Jiang Ci didn't use the chopsticks prepared by the Props Team.
The "Jiang He" he was portraying was on the run, like a wild dog, who would care about utensils anymore.
He stretched out his hands, covered in mud and fake blood, and plunged them directly into the bowl.
He grabbed a large handful of the cold noodles and, without any hesitation, shoved it fiercely into his mouth.
He ate too fast, too urgently.
The noodles choked in his throat, so he used his fist to pound forcefully on his own chest, emitting dull thuds.
He wolfed the food down, completely forgetting the caras and people around him.
The whole world had shrunk to just this bowl of food that could keep him alive.
Physiological tears mixed with sweat slid down his mud-sared cheeks.
They finally dripped into his mouth, carrying a salty, bitter taste.
The set was completely quiet.
This stark contrast made the mocking expressions on the faces of those few guys who had been gossiping earlier freeze, transforming into a silence mixed with awe and confusion.
Jiang Wen stared intently at the image on the monitor. A sickly flush appeared on his square-jawed face.
Real.
This was what he wanted, realness without a single trace of impurity!
"Don't stop!"
He grabbed the walkie-talkie, his voice hoarse with excitent.
"Cara! Push in for a close-up! Get it right on his face!"
The cara slowly pushed forward, focusing on Jiang Ci's face.
He had already finished all the noodles in the bowl.
Then, he made a move that made everyone on set feel their hearts clench.
He tilted the bowl and, using his mud-stained finger, ticulously scraped up the last bit of oil residue and noodle broth clinging to the bottom.
Then he put his finger into his mouth, greedily sucking it clean.
Every movent was filled with the most humble craving for food.
Jiang Wen's breathing stopped.
Only when Jiang Ci put down the bowl, which was cleaner than his face, did Jiang Wen seem to snap out of a dream and roar.
"Cut!"
After wrap, the set remained unusually quiet.
Lei Zhong walked over silently with a bottle of water and sat down beside Jiang Ci, who was still on the ground.
He unscrewed the cap and handed it over.
Jiang Ci took it and gulped down several mouthfuls.
Lei Zhong fished a sausage out of his own pocket, peeled off the plastic wrapper, and handed that over too.
Jiang Ci's eyes lit up. He took it and imdiately stuffed it into his mouth.
Watching him like this, Lei Zhong let out a long, heavy sigh.
He patted Jiang Ci's shoulder, his rough thumb unconsciously rubbing against an old scar on his wrist.
"Damn it, people in our line of work are born to suffer."
He stared at Jiang Ci, complex emotions swirling in his eyes.
"You, kid, have real talent. But don't you really break yourself over a bowl of crappy noodles. It's not worth it."
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