FS-novel Chapter 332: What He Lost Was That Pure Immersion Into the Role
Chapter 332: What He Lost Was That Pure Immersion Into the Role
Chapter 332: What He Lost Was That Pure Immersion Into the Role
Passing through that door, the camera flashes and clamor of the outside world were completely cut off.
Inside, the venue was brilliantly lit, a splendor belonging to the vortex of fame and fortune.
A young girl wearing a work pass had been waiting there.
When she saw Jiang Ci, her cheeks flushed involuntarily, yet she didn't dare look directly at him. She merely bowed slightly and spoke in a low voice to guide him.
"Teacher Jiang Ci, this way, please."
Jiang Ci followed her, walking down a corridor paved with thick carpet.
Entering the main hall, crystal chandeliers illuminated everything with crystal clarity.
Countless gazes, some covert, some overt, were glued to him.
Jiang Ci paid them no mind.
His seat was in the first row.
As he walked step by step toward that position,
the actors, directors, and producers along the way, regardless of their status ranking, all subconsciously stopped their conversations.
He was too quiet.
Quiet to the point of being completely out of place amidst the clamor of this vortex of fame and fortune.
Finally, he reached the first row, a seat by the aisle.
From the inner side of the seat, a middle-aged man dressed in a custom-made dark gray Zhongshan suit slowly stood up.
Qin Feng.
He watched Jiang Ci approaching step by step, without the customary pleasantries and small talk an elder would normally offer a junior.
As if time had reversed.
They were back in that oppressive, dimly lit tent,
one the Conqueror of Western Chu seated high on the throne, deciding the life and death of others,
the other the Duke of Pei, Liu Bang, bowing his head in submission, struggling to survive amidst humiliation.
Jiang Ci stopped walking.
He and Qin Feng locked eyes.
All the cameras on-site focused on them at that moment.
The media-anticipated explosive tension of a "changing of the guard between old and new monarchs" did not materialize.
Qin Feng took the initiative and extended his hand.
Jiang Ci grasped it.
The moment their two hands clasped, Qin Feng's psychological defenses quietly loosened.
As a veteran actor who had won the Golden Rooster Award for Film Emperor three times, he had never found it so difficult to let go after a scene ended.
He had won the world, yet on the film set of *The Legend of Han and Chu*, he had clearly felt,
to make his "victory" as the winner seem reasonable, the young man playing the "loser" had paid a price a hundred times more brutal than his own.
"I knew then," Qin Feng lowered his voice, "that you would be sitting here."
This statement carried a double meaning.
It was both Liu Bang's lament over Xiang Yu's destiny.
And also Film Emperor Qin Feng's most direct acknowledgment of the actor Jiang Ci.
Jiang Ci did not reply, he merely tightened his grip slightly in return.
Releasing the handshake, he took his seat.
To his right, Zhao Yingfei had also stood up long ago.
Today, she wore a modified dark red embroidered gown. The red was not bright, but somber, like congealed blood from the heart.
She didn't speak, just looked at him. Their gazes met, and their thoughts were fully understood.
Jiang Ci nodded to her.
And in the row behind.
Huang Shengqiu and Liu Hanyu also stood up.
Veteran actor Huang Shengqiu, who played the role of the Honored Father Fan Zeng, his temples graying, walked around behind Jiang Ci and gave his shoulder a firm, heavy pat.
"Ji'er."
He didn't call him Jiang Ci, but called Xiang Yu's courtesy name.
That one word, "Ji'er," made the veteran actor's own eyes turn slightly red.
Liu Hanyu stood quietly to the side, watching this scene, and sighed silently.
The entire *The Legend of Han and Chu* film crew, at this moment, formed a field that outsiders could not penetrate.
Not far away, separated by several rows of seats, Liu Wei swallowed back the prepared set of polite words about "the younger generation being formidable."
He watched those few people gather together as if no one else existed, observing the airtight atmosphere between them.
It wasn't the harmony a film crew should have. It was more like a group of comrades-in-arms who had just returned from the battlefield,
carrying the scent of blood and the weariness of the elements, sitting down in this resplendent hall.
He realized that he might not only lose to that young man in terms of awards.
What he had lost more thoroughly was his immersion into the role.
Liu Wei slumped into his seat, choosing silence.
Throughout the venue, everyone felt an intangible pressure.
It emanated from the *The Legend of Han and Chu* crew as a whole—that desolate, heavy, tragic aura that seemed to have stepped out of the pages of history.
Director Wei Song sat directly behind Jiang Ci, like a protective patriarch, surveying the entire hall.
A clueless young cinematographer, probably wanting to snag an exclusive shot,
hoisted his camera and tried to push to the front, aiming to get a close-up of Jiang Ci's face, which still bore traces of illness.
Before the lens could focus, Wei Song shot him a glance.
The cinematographer flinched as if stung by a scorpion, his hand shook, and he retreated awkwardly.
Only then did Wei Song retract his gaze with satisfaction.
Finally, the lights in the hall gradually dimmed.
A solemn silence fell.
There was no rousing opening music, no dazzling light show.
From the venue's massive surround sound system, a heavy, thunderous drumbeat resonated.
*Thump!*
The sound bypassed the speakers, striking directly on everyone's hearts.
The entire hall fell silent.
*Thump!*
Another beat.
Heavier, duller than before.
Everyone was bewildered. What kind of opening was this?
*Thump!*
A third beat.
On the large screen, no countdown numbers appeared. Instead, against a pitch-black background, following the rhythm of the drumbeats, enormous characters written in what looked like blood appeared one by one.
[Han]
[Chu]
[Julu]
[Pengcheng]
[Gaixia]
[Wu River]
...
The drumbeats grew denser and denser, the momentum of thousands of troops and horses charging forth overwhelming!
The bullet comments in the live stream went completely wild.
[Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Is this the Golden Rooster Awards? I thought it was the Hegemon's vengeful spirit night!]
[This opening! Have the Golden Rooster Awards gone mad? They've turned the awards ceremony into the premiere of *The Legend of Han and Chu*!]
[Look at Qin Feng's face! The way he's looking at Jiang Ci isn't like looking at a junior actor at all. He's looking at that opponent to whom he won the world but lost the hearts of the people!]
[Yu Ji is here too! Fan Zeng is here too! Zhang Liang is here too! They all came! Oh my god, I'm getting goosebumps!]
[This level of grandeur is unique in the domestic entertainment industry! After tonight, there will be no other!]
On-site, the war drums reached their crescendo and then abruptly ceased.
The entire hall fell deathly silent.
A solitary beam of light descended from the dome.
It did not illuminate the host who had long been in position on the stage. Instead, it fell on the very center of the stage.
There, an ancient sword stood upright, no one knew when it had been placed.
The sword's body was simple and unadorned, gleaming with a bluish-black cold light. Faded silk cords were wrapped around its hilt.
It was precisely the sword Xiang Yu used to take his own life by the Wu River!
The breath of the entire audience hitched.
For everyone who had seen the film, this sword was a post-traumatic stress trigger.
It stood there alone and forlorn, silently narrating the tragedy of a hero's end.
Just as everyone was captivated by this sword,
a desolate, mournful melody suddenly and unexpectedly began to play within the venue.
A live performance.
The sound was like weeping, like lamenting.
It was the *xun*.
The ancient sound of the *xun*.
Jiang Ci, sitting in the first row, twitched the fingers resting on the armrest.
He didn't need to think. His body's instinct had already recognized this melody.
It was a memory carved into his bones.
*Chu Songs on All Sides*.