Chapter 321: “Operation Icebreaker” Begins
The next day, the clapperboard snapped crisply in front of the lens.
"Icebreaker, Scene 219, Shot 1, Take 1."
"Action!"
Ti raced forward on the film stock.
A series of rapid montage shots cut between scenes.
The date on the clapperboard jumped from "October" to "December."
In the fra, Jiang Ci, portraying Jiang He, was constantly changing.
He was thinner and darker. His cheeks were deeply sunken, his cheekbones prominent, making his eyes appear even larger and more somber.
The scar on his face from the shrapnel wound, which started as a grueso bloody gash, scabbed over,
and now, only a pale pinkish-white mark remained on his dark skin, giving off an air of ferocity instead.
His movents grew sharper, his gaze more ruthless.
In one shot, he could still show gentleness to a stray dog when no one was around.
In the next, he could expressionlessly twist the arm of a low-level dealer who stole goods into a pretzel.
Behind the monitor, Assistant Director Wang watched the increasingly unfamiliar Jiang Ci on screen, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
Today's scene was an internal eting of the drug dealers.
Lei Zhong, playing Cha Cai, sat in the main seat, listening to his subordinates' reports.
Jiang Ci, as Jiang He, stood guard behind him, hands hanging at his sides, motionless.
Mid-eting, Cha Cai grew uncomfortable from the gun holster digging into his waist.
Without even looking, he casually unbuckled his gun belt, holster and all, and handed it backhanded to Jiang He behind him.
"Hold this."
A perfectly natural action.
Jiang Ci reached out with extre naturalness and took it, holding it with one hand.
In the eting room, the breath of all the background actors playing "drug dealers" hitched.
This single gesture spoke more about Jiang He's current status than any reward or title ever could.
The film crew moved to another location.
Red River Hope Primary School.
The Props Team was carrying boxes of "charity stationery" into the classrooms.
Lei Zhong, cigar in mouth, nudged Jiang Ci with his elbow.
"Ah He, go on. The kids want to learn drawing. You're educated, teach them."
His face wore that hypocritical smile belonging to a philanthropist.
Jiang Ci was montarily taken aback, then nodded.
"Okay, Uncle."
He walked into the makeshift art room.
A dozen or so local children sat around the table, clutching brand-new paintbrushes, looking at him curiously.
Jiang Ci picked up a charcoal pencil and began sketching on the white paper.
"Today, we'll learn to draw landscapes."
His voice was steady.
"First, draw the mountains. Mountains need edges and ridges."
The charcoal pencil moved, creating jagged, rugged lines.
They were the continuous Karst mountain ranges along the border, a natural barrier and also a breeding ground for sin.
"Between the mountains, there must be roads."
He drew a few more winding, curved lines traversing the mountains.
That was Route B, the smuggling trail hidden in the dense forest, which he had morized with his life.
"Where there are mountains, there must be water."
Jiang Ci changed angles, drawing a wide river, marking a few inconspicuous points on it.
That was Route C, the dead-end path across the cliff gorge, and the nodes where cableways could be set up.
He taught earnestly, and the children learned earnestly.
No one knew that these innocent, carefree scribbles, these disassembled lines and color blocks,
once pieced together, would form a death map capable of shaking the entire Golden Triangle.
A woman had appeared at the art room door at so point.
She wore a faded cotton shirt and a pair of black-rimd glasses.
Her calm gaze fell on the man teaching drawing inside the classroom.
She was the final insurance planted here by the police, codena "Kite."
The class ended.
Jiang Ci packed up his things and walked out of the art room.
The female teacher also happened to be walking from the other end of the corridor, carrying a stack of howork books.
The two were about to pass each other in the middle of the hallway.
Jiang Ci looked straight ahead, his gaze fixed on his charcoal-stained fingertips.
At the mont they crossed.
The index and middle fingers of his right hand, hanging by his pants seam,
quickly tapped three tis on the rough fabric of his trousers.
One long, two short.
Morse code, "intelligence."
The female teacher's steps didn't falter in the slightest, but the arm holding the howork books tightened imperceptibly.
She walked past.
Silent, without a trace.
The intelligence had been transferred.
Just then, the roar of an engine sounded in the courtyard.
Lei Zhong's booming voice exploded: "Where are the kids! Sing a song for Uncle!"
A layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on Jiang Ci's back.
Lei Zhong strode into the art room with a few of his n,
scooped up a little girl, and hoisted her onto his shoulder.
"Co on, sing a song for Uncle Lei."
The children were too scared to make a sound.
Lei Zhong wasn't angry. He started humming first.
That eerie Burse nursery rhy again.
The tuneless lody echoed through the hellish hope primary school.
Jiang Ci stood to the side, a sycophantic smile plastered on his face, clapping along.
"Uncle sings so beautifully!"
He poured all his strength into playing the role of a loyal lapdog utterly in awe of his master's refined taste.
The farce finally ended.
The female teacher seized the opportunity to step forward, saying respectfully:
"Boss Lei, there's a county drawing competition. I'd like to send the children's drawings to try."
Lei Zhong was in high spirits and waved his hand grandly.
"Go! You must go! If you need more money, talk to Ah He!"
"Thank you, Boss Lei!"
The female teacher bowed gratefully, turned, and hurried away, holding what seed like the children's future in her arms.
Jiang Ci watched her retreating back, his fingernails digging deep into his palm.
That night, a night scene.
Jiang He stood alone on the hillside.
Below, a beam of headlights cut through the darkness, heading toward the county town, eventually rging into the boundless night.
It was the volunteer teacher's car.
A close-up shot focused on Jiang Ci's face.
That mask of numbness belonging to Jiang He silently cracked open a fissure at this mont.
Through the crack, madness seeped out.
A desperate longing for the dawn, for going ho.
Just for one second.
Then the light went out.
Leaving only deeper, thicker despair.
He knew the intelligence had been sent.
It also ant this blade of his was not far from breaking.
"Cut!"
Jiang Wen's excited voice ca through the walkie-talkie.
"Perfect! The light! The shadows! Absolutely stunning!"
He yelled at the cinematographer: "Now that's what I call the darkest mont before dawn!"
The shoot ended.
Lei Zhong walked over and patted Jiang Ci on the shoulder.
"Kid, that shot of yours just now gave the creeps."
Jiang Ci tugged at the corner of his mouth, saying nothing.
He knew the real Asura's battlefield was about to begin.
At the sa ti, at Jiang Wen's request to his superiors, in pursuit of authenticity,
a follow-up scene from the script was being fild in a seldom-used conference room at the Yunnan Provincial Public Security Departnt.
Those scribbles that were supposed to appear at the children's art exhibition were now spread out one by one on the huge conference table.
A white-haired veteran criminal investigation expert, playing himself, wearing reading glasses,
placed the final drawing of a little bunny and mushrooms into the blank space on the map.
A complete map of the Golden Triangle drug trafficking network, marked with over a dozen secret routes and hundreds of coordinate points, was suddenly revealed.
The actor playing the Provincial Public Security Departnt Director, Zhang Yifeng, stood up.
He stared at this map of sin pieced together from countless fragnts of childlike innocence, silent for a long ti.
Finally, he picked up the red secure phone on the table.
"This is Lu Guoxun."
"Order: Operation 'Icebreaker' is now officially launched."
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