Jiang Ci's exercise routine, which was purely for the sake of "sustaining his working life," looked completely different in the eyes of his roommates.
Zhao Zhen looked up from his phone screen, watching the sweat-drenched figure on the balcony, and couldn't help but lower his voice in awe. "Damn, look at Brother Ci. Just finished performing such an emotionally draining play, and he's back doing extra physical training. Is this the self-discipline of a top-tier artist? It's fucking terrifying!"
Chen Mo also pushed up his glasses, nodding with a serious expression. "Rational allocation of energy, maintaining the body's optimal condition—this is the most basic professional quality of an actor. Jiang Ci's success is no accident."
Jiang Ci finished his final set of crunches, sweat soaking the stray hairs on his forehead, his chest heaving violently. He wiped the sweat off, picked up his phone, and dialed a number.
Lin Wan.
The call was answered almost instantly. "Hello? Jiang Ci? Is the graduation play performance over?" Lin Wan's voice sounded a bit tired, but still efficient.
Jiang Ci got straight to the point. "Sister Wan, the graduation play is done. It went pretty well." He gave a concise report. Then, as if rembering a minor detail in passing, he added, "Oh, right. Director Wei Song from Huaxing Pictures ca to watch. Seed a bit interested in . Had his assistant leave a business card, said he wants to chat about a new project later." His tone was as flat as if he were talking about today's cafeteria nu.
On the other end of the line, there was a dead silence that lasted several seconds. A few seconds later, Lin Wan's voice ca through again, laced with barely suppressed shock. "Who? Wei Song... from Huaxing?"
"Yeah," Jiang Ci confird.
"He... is interested in you?"
"Probably," Jiang Ci replied sowhat uncertainly. "Didn't say specifics, just ntioned a new project."
Another stretch of silence from Lin Wan's side. Jiang Ci could almost picture her frantically searching her brain for all of Wei Song's recent public activities.
Wei Song!
That was a true artistic monunt in the dostic director circle! His films never bowed to capital, serving only art. Getting a role in his film, even a supporting one, ant having one foot already in the core of the film industry.
And Jiang Ci, a student who hadn't even graduated yet, had caught his eye!
Lin Wan forced herself to calm down. "Jiang Ci, this is extrely important. Director Wei's project is very likely that historical film he's been preparing for a long ti. The investnt... exceeds five hundred million." She deliberately emphasized the pronunciation of "five hundred million."
Jiang Ci had already heard about this "five hundred million" project from Liu Guodong. He still asked in a tone filled with genuine curiosity and utmost sincerity, "Sister Wan. About that five hundred million historical film... Is it... 'ripe'?"
'Ripe'?
These three words made Lin Wan feel a rush of blood surging to her head, her vision even going a bit dark.
A five hundred million S grade historical epic! The artistic pinnacle of the film world! The cradle of future film emperors!
And you're asking ... if it's 'ripe'?!
On the other end of the phone, she suppressed the urge to smash her phone, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. "Jiang Ci. What are you talking about?"
Jiang Ci completely missed the murderous intent in her tone. Thinking Sister Wan didn't understand, he patiently explained again. "I an... how 'ripe' is the tragic drama elent? Can it make the audience cry their hearts out, be utterly devastated, preferably taking a whole month to recover after watching? Best if there's also so tragic love, unrequited affection, life-and-death separation..." Jiang Ci counted on his fingers, earnestly listing those classic elents that could efficiently produce "Heartbreak Value."
He grew more excited the more he talked, completely unaware that Lin Wan on the other end had shifted from shock to horror.
Listening to his well-reasoned list of "tragic drama elents," Lin Wan suddenly rembered sothing. After Jiang Ci finished filming the young general's scenes in "Palace Conspiracy," when she sent him scripts, he had asked the exact sa question.
An absurd and terrifying thought struck her mind like a thunderbolt.
This kid... Could it be he's had so kind of ntal breakdown? Did he get too deep into his role as Ma Lu in "Rhinoceros in Love" and bring that obsessive, neurotic energy into real life?
The mont this possibility occurred to her, Lin Wan's heart sank heavily. The greatest fear for a talented actor is not being able to co out of a role. She didn't want Jiang Ci to end up a madman obsessed with acting.
"Jiang Ci." Lin Wan's voice suddenly dropped low, every word heavy with gravity. "Where are you right now?"
"In the dorm, obviously," Jiang Ci replied, baffled.
"Tell honestly," Lin Wan's tone was as solemn as if she were delivering end-of-life care. "Right now... do you feel okay? Can you tell the difference between being Jiang Ci and being Ma Lu?"
Jiang Ci: "???"
He was stunned. What the hell is this about? I just want to find a job, earn more KPI to sustain my life. How did this turn into a ntal health issue?
"Sister Wan," Jiang Ci said, torn between laughter and tears. "I'm perfectly fine. Just finished a set of planks, core stability is rock solid. I'm just simply trying to understand the project's prospects."
"Prospects?" Lin Wan's voice shot up an octave. "Being the male lead in Director Wei Song's film is a teoric rise to the top! That's the prospect! What does it have to do with being tragic or not!"
Looking out at the night sky from the balcony, Jiang Ci felt the deep helplessness of talking across completely different wavelengths.
...
At the sa ti.
In a study filled with various books on drama theory, Xia ng's father was holding his phone, lost in a prolonged daze.
Before him lay a copy of a book he had personally authored, "A Structuralist Analysis of Postmodern Dramatic Performance." Every printed character on the page now seed strangely unfamiliar.
He was chewing over the term his daughter had just thrown at him over the phone.
A performance that can defeat technical acting, with humor at its core?
What on earth is this?
Brecht's alienation effect? Artaud's Theatre of Cruelty? Or Dadaist performance art?
His brain, ard with countless theories, was now running at full speed, yet couldn't find a single entry that matched.
The rigorous, precise, and unassailable technical drama theory he had built over decades now bore invisible cracks before the two words "humor."
"Xiao ng..." Professor Xia spoke with difficulty. "This thing you ntioned... can you describe it in more detail?"
On the other end of the line, Xia ng was silent for a long ti. She couldn't describe it either.
How could she explain it to her father, whose mind was filled with technical theories? Explain how Jiang Ci used an "eight-hundred-word reflection report" to kick her out of the world of Ma Lu and Ming Ming? Explain how he made her twenty years of accumulated emotions completely burst their banks in the rehearsal hall with a nearly calm recitation?
That person himself was an existence that couldn't be categorized by any theory.
In the end, Xia ng gave up. "It's nothing, Dad. I was just asking casually."
She hung up the phone and looked out at the night sky beyond her dorm. Perhaps so things simply exist beyond theory.
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