novelraw Chapter 132: An Imaginary Performance—Hunting Down Liu Bang!
Chapter 132: An Imaginary Performance—Hunting Down Liu Bang!
Wei Song's voice echoed through the vast film set.
This question plunged the set, which had just fallen silent due to the director's fury, into another kind of oppressive high pressure, even more suffocating.
Everyone's gaze once again focused on that young actor who had hardly spoken a word from beginning to end.
They all wanted to see.
How an "empty" character could portray "substantial" desire.
Jiang Ci sat on that prop throne.
He slowly closed his eyes.
In his ears, the deafening music of the bianzhong bells, the rough shouts of the soldiers, the clamor of clinking cups and plates... all sounds began to fade away.
He actively blocked out everything from the outside world.
Only one thought remained in Jiang Ci's mind.A huge regret that ran through the entire Battle of Pengcheng, yet was glossed over in the script with a single stroke.
The one and only prey that had slipped through his fingers.
Liu Bang.
He didn't even need to deliberately think about it.
That figure, clad in armor yet running faster than a rabbit, appeared clearly on the canvas of his consciousness.
Jiang Ci's fingertip trembled slightly on the cold bronze armrest of the throne.
Enough.
The "flaw"... was found.
He opened his eyes again.
At the same time.
Wei Song behind the monitor pressed the walkie-talkie.
"Action!"
The command was given, like the crack of a starting pistol.
This time, the atmosphere in the great hall was completely different.
That group of background actors and supporting actors playing the soldiers thoroughly implemented Wei Song's instructions.
They no longer secretly observed the person on the throne.
Their eyes held only the wine cups raised to each other, the piles of meat on the low tables, only the naked desire for future rewards and wealth.
They loudly played drinking games, crudely discussed the newly acquired beauties in the city, shoved each other over a disagreement, erupting in uproarious laughter.
And Jiang Ci.
Remained still as a mountain.
His body was the eye of the storm, the calm center of this tempest of human nature.
But inside him, a monstrous tidal wave was raging.
"Camera A! Camera A, push in! Push to an extreme close-up of his face!"
Wei Song's voice roared through the internal channel into the cinematographer's headset.
The cinematographer personally operated the crane, the massive camera slowly pushing towards Jiang Ci.
Closer and closer.
On the monitor, Jiang Ci's pale face filled the entire screen.
Wei Song and the cinematographer beside him almost simultaneously held their breath.
Right there on that huge high-definition screen.
They clearly saw Jiang Ci's eyeballs begin an extremely slight and precise movement.
His gaze tracked an "shadow" that no one else could see, moving through the midst of this reveling crowd.
His eyes passed over the shoulder of a general who was drinking heavily.
Paused for half a second behind that general, behind a huge coiling dragon pillar.
In that instant.
The lens captured a terrifying detail.
The corner of Jiang Ci's mouth twitched upward.
That wasn't a smile.
It was a muscular spasm, an undisguised, cat-and-mouse-like mockery.
Immediately after.
His gaze moved again.
It began to accelerate.
Scanning irregularly left and right within an extremely small range.
That invisible "shadow" was scrambling and crawling in panic through the gaps in the crowd, desperately trying to hide.
And his gaze was the raptor toying with its prey, accurately anticipating each of the other's panicked, scrambling movements.
Finally, that "shadow" seemed to have found an exit.
Jiang Ci's gaze followed, moving smoothly, slowly lifting, finally fixing on the wide-open entrance of the great hall.
He watched as that "shadow" fled the hall in panic, disappearing into the endless darkness outside.
The entire process lasted only about ten seconds.
Behind the monitor, Wei Song's mouth hung open, the script in his hand falling to the floor unnoticed.
Just now.
He seemed... to have truly seen it.
Seen that disheveled, panicked, fleeing Liu Bang!
At the same time.
Another detail was captured by Qin Feng in the corner.
Jiang Ci's hand resting on the throne's armrest.
His fingers were unconsciously, rhythmically, lightly tapping.
Tap.
The rhythm wasn't fast, carrying a kind of heart-palpitating calm.
When Jiang Ci's gaze finally fixed on the entrance.
The tapping stopped.
The final tap was soft, yet carried a sense of finality, like the closing of a coffin lid.
Qin Feng's fingers gripping his thermos cup suddenly tightened.
He understood very well.
At that moment just now, Jiang Ci had, in his own mental world, genuinely and completely carried out a pursuit and humiliation of his sworn enemy.
Inside the great hall.
Zhao Yingfei, being the closest to Jiang Ci, was the only one who personally felt that terrifying aura.
She had originally been sitting there quietly, using her own "stillness" to echo Xiang Yu's "emptiness."
But just now.
A cold aura, carrying tangible killing intent, silently spread from the throne.
Zhao Yingfei's back instantly broke out in a dense layer of goosebumps.
The scene was actually already over.
When Jiang Ci's gaze withdrew from the entrance, all the phantoms and killing intent in his eyes completely faded away.
Those eyes returned to their previous emptiness and dullness.
As if that soul-stirring mental pursuit had never happened.
However.
The film set was still operating.
The music was playing.
The background actors were making noise.
The camera was still silently recording.
Wei Song stared intently at the playback on the monitor, watching that ten-second close-up over and over again.
He forgot his identity as director.
He forgot to call "CUT."
The actors in the great hall began to feel at a loss.
In the script, the captured general had already been dragged out, the toasts had been said, what were they supposed to do next?
Nothing.
The boisterous atmosphere, having lost the support of the plot, began to turn awkward.
Some of the background actors' laughter even carried a sense of bewilderment.
The entire set fell into a bizarre state of chaos.
Until.
A low, unusually serious reminder sounded beside the monitor.
"Enough, Director Wei."
It was Qin Feng.
He had somehow come to stand behind Wei Song.
He wasn't looking at the monitor.
His gaze was fixed intently on Jiang Ci, who still sat motionless on the throne.
"Keep shooting like this."
Qin Feng spoke word by word, extremely slowly.
"This kid's soul will really get trapped in there."
Those words.
Wei Song jolted violently, as if waking from a dream.
Only then did he lift his head to look at Jiang Ci on the set.
That young man still maintained Xiang Yu's sitting posture, but his face was a nearly drained pallor.
A wave of indescribable, chilling fear surged in Wei Song's heart.
"CUT!"
"CUT!!"
Wei Song grabbed the walkie-talkie, his voice cracking.
"It's a wrap! All of it!"
His voice was like a pardon for the entire set.
Everyone let out a long sigh of relief.
Wei Song stood up from his chair, looking at Jiang Ci on the monitor, who was slowly regaining his vitality.
Then he looked at Qin Feng beside him, whose expression was grave.
He made a decision that no one expected.
He picked up the walkie-talkie again, and this time, his voice broadcast throughout the entire set, carrying an unquestionable finality.
"I announce!"
"The 'Victory Banquet' scenes are all wrapped!"
"Starting tomorrow, the entire crew moves to the next stage!"
"Prepare for the most core battle scene of the entire film – the action sequences for the Battle of Pengcheng!"