novelraw Chapter 149: Look into my eyes and die again!
Chapter 149: Look into my eyes and die again!
Night.
The film and television city on the outskirts of the capital was so quiet you could hear the wind.
In the exclusive dance studio the crew had prepared for Zhao Yingfei, it was pitch black.
The lights were off.
Pale moonlight filtered in through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, outlining a cold shape on the floor.
Zhao Yingfei stood alone in the very center of the dance studio.
She was barefoot, her ankles slender, pressing against the cool wooden floorboards.
In the entire space, the song "Eight Thousand Souls" was not playing.
There was only her own light, almost imperceptible breathing.
Her eyes were closed.In her mind, there was no melody, no drumbeat, and none of the mournful, beautiful notes of that bone flute.
There was only the howling of the wind.
Suddenly.
She moved.
The first movement was not any elegant opening pose.
It was a swift and fierce sweeping motion of her arm, imitating a blade being drawn from its sheath.
Her arm cut through the air, her sleeve creating a faint, sharp sound.
Immediately after, came chopping, hacking, thrusting, blocking.
Every one of her movements was crisp and clean.
Every spin carried the solitary courage of charging into battle.
Every leap was as if stepping over the corpses of enemies, without hesitation.
And every brief pause was Yu Ji's silent tribute to her comrades who had fallen on the battlefield.
This was an offering, emanating from the depths of her soul.
Her dance steps were sometimes swift and fierce like rolling thunder, her bare feet striking the floor with heavy, muffled thuds.
"Thud."
This sound perfectly reproduced the essence of the "Trampling the Camp" war dance described in the fragmented ancient texts.
The fearless spirit of using dance steps as war drums to trample the enemy camp flat.
No one had taught her this.
It was a kind of synesthesia, almost instinctual, belonging to a top-tier dancer.
That song "Eight Thousand Souls" was like a key, opening the floodgates deep within her soul.
It allowed her to cross a thousand years and touch the tragic grandeur and unyielding spirit of that distant era.
The dance reached its climax.
Zhao Yingfei's movements became faster and faster, more and more urgent.
It was as if she was no longer alone.
Countless invisible warrior souls attached themselves to her, charging and singing mournful songs alongside her.
Fine beads of sweat seeped from her forehead, sliding down her cheeks.
Yet, due to her extreme immersion, her face displayed a pallor that was almost holy.
This dance was Yu Ji's final song.
...
Elsewhere.
Jiang Ci returned to the hotel room arranged by the crew.
He did not open the script as usual, nor did he continue browsing properties online.
The room was dimly lit. He sat cross-legged on the carpet.
His eyes were tightly shut.
Over and over, he replayed the song "Eight Thousand Souls" in his mind.
He was adapting in advance, attempting to grasp and control that pure despair belonging to Xiang Yu at his end.
He needed to internalize this despair, make it a part of himself.
Then, at the moment filming began, release it completely.
The passive skill, [Emotional Isolation LV1], allowed him to maintain the absolute clarity of "Jiang Ci" to examine and dissect the pain of "Xiang Yu".
This feeling was strange.
Like the most calm surgeon dissecting himself.
He could clearly feel that overwhelming sense of powerlessness, the anger of being betrayed by all, and the desolation of a hero at his end.
But these emotions were isolated by a transparent membrane.
They surged within him, yet could not truly devour his reason.
This was exactly what he needed.
Only this way could he deliver the most precise, and most lethal, performance in the scene "The Farewell My Concubine".
He wanted not just the audience's heartbreak.
He wanted that scene to become an irreproducible classic.
Over the next few days, the atmosphere on set became unusually strange.
Zhao Yingfei had practically welded herself into that dance studio.
During the day, the door to the dance studio was forever tightly shut.
Her assistant could only leave water and a small amount of food at the door at fixed times, then quietly leave.
People on the crew could only occasionally see that solitary figure late at night, repeating those movements filled with power and sorrow under the moonlight, again and again.
As for Jiang Ci, he became a regular fixture on the Group B film set.
After wrapping up work, he would return alone to his room to continue his secret "closed-door cultivation".
No one knew these two people were honing themselves in their own ways.
They were making their final preparations for the five-day countdown to that destined-to-be-historic scene between them.
The rumors and gossip on set, however, never ceased.
"These two are truly insane."
"One practices dancing until she's practically invisible, the other acts like a wooden statue on set every day."
"I think, after 'The Farewell My Concubine' is shot, they can be sent straight to the psychiatric hospital."
"Getting too immersed in the role isn't a good thing."
Sun Zhou heard these discussions and several times wanted to rush into Jiang Ci's room,
to advise him to relax a bit, not to push himself so hard.
But in the end, he didn't dare.
He could only silently pray that in five days, everything would go smoothly.
Please, for heaven's sake, don't let anything go wrong.
Finally, the day before filming arrived.
Evening.
Jiang Ci finished a day of training and dragged his exhausted body back to the hotel.
He had just finished showering when the doorbell rang.
Opening the door, standing there was Zhao Yingfei.
She had changed out of her plain white practice uniform, wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans.
Her face was still somewhat pale, but her whole person exuded a sharpness never seen before.
"Do you have time?" she asked.
Jiang Ci nodded and stepped aside.
Zhao Yingfei entered the room. She didn't sit down, but walked directly to the open space in the center of the room.
She looked at Jiang Ci.
"I want to dance the complete piece for you."
This was the first time, after days of secluded practice, that she was fully showing her results to anyone.
Jiang Ci didn't speak, just silently stood in the corner, leaving her enough space.
Zhao Yingfei took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she was no longer Zhao Yingfei.
She was Yu Ji.
The woman about to offer her king one final dance with her life.
She moved.
There was no music.
But every one of her movements, every turn, seemed to step on the drumbeats of "Eight Thousand Souls".
Sword light flowed, sleeves fluttered.
In that dance, there was the sorrow of parting, the resolve to go to one's death, and even more, a love that remained unwavering until death.
Jiang Ci watched quietly.
Watching her transform from a proud royal consort into a warrior ready to follow her lord to death.
Watching her use the dance to narrate boundless sorrow and joy.
Finally, the dance ended.
Zhao Yingfei, holding that nonexistent sword, performed the motion of slitting her own throat.
Then, she slowly collapsed.
Fell onto the cold floor, silent and still.
In the room, there was a deathly silence.
A long time passed.
Only then did Jiang Ci slowly speak.
"There's still one thing missing."
Zhao Yingfei, lying on the floor, moved slightly. She opened her eyes and looked at Jiang Ci.
Jiang Ci walked over and crouched down in front of her.
"Your dance is dedicated to Xiang Yu."
"So, you should look into my eyes."
"From beginning to end."