Chapter 441: Welcome Ceremony: Wuling God-Van and Brick-Carrying NPC |
Flower City, Baiyun Airport.
The moment he stepped out of the cabin door, a wave of heat slammed into him.
Jiang Ci tugged his mask higher and pressed the brim of his baseball cap down even lower.
Sun Zhou followed behind, pushing two suitcases, sweat trickling down his temples.
"Bro, Director Jiang said he'd send a car to pick us up. Where is it?"
Sun Zhou looked left and right, his gaze sweeping over the entourage vans parked along the curb.
As the male lead who had just carried a four-billion-box-office hit, he figured they deserved at least this much of a reception, right?
"Over there." Jiang Ci lifted his chin.
Sun Zhou followed his gaze, and his face instantly turned green.
"Beep——!!!"
The Wuling Hongguang honked.
The driver's door swung open.
A thick, muscular arm reached out, bearing an over-the-shoulder dragon tattoo.
A bald, burly man stepped out, wearing a tight black tank top.
He strode over to Sun Zhou in two or three steps, and without a word, he grabbed the thirty-kilogram suitcase with one hand.
"Whoosh——"
The suitcase landed steadily on the roof rack of the Wuling Hongguang.
"Thud!"
Sun Zhou winced, his heart aching: "Big... big brother, there are valuables in there..."
"If it breaks, I'll pay for it." The burly man spat. "Get in! Director Jiang's waiting!"
With that, he slid open the rear sliding door and made an extremely half-hearted "please" gesture.
Jiang Ci looked at this battle-worn "god-van." Instead of getting angry, he actually laughed.
This vibe—it was right.
Jiang Wen was telling him: here, you're not a Film Emperor. You're just a laborer.
Jiang Ci slung his backpack over one shoulder, swung his long legs, and climbed into the van.
"Hold tight!"
The burly man floored the accelerator.
The Wuling Hongguang S roared as it shot onto the airport expressway.
The ride was nothing short of lightning-fast.
This beat-up van handled like a race car in the burly man's hands, weaving and changing lanes aggressively.
An hour later.
The vehicle left behind the bustling skyscrapers and plunged into the maze of Flower City's old town.
The roads narrowed, and weathered arcade buildings began to appear on both sides.
Finally, the Wuling Hongguang came to a stop under a kapok tree.
"We're here." The burly man pulled the handbrake.
Jiang Ci pushed open the door and got out.
What met his eyes made him raise an eyebrow slightly.
This wasn't a film set at all.
It was like turning back a time machine by seventy years.
The entire street had been artificially aged—peeling walls revealed gray brick beneath, the stone-paved ground was polished to a shine, and at the mouth of the alley hung a wooden sign reading "Kapok Alley" in bold, vigorous calligraphy.
The alley buzzed with voices. Background actors in long gowns, short jackets, and qipaos moved back and forth.
But that wasn't the main event.
The main event was the person sitting under the kapok tree.
Jiang Wen.
He was wearing a loose, flowery pair of shorts, with a pair of flip-flops that cost three bucks for three pairs on his feet, legs splayed open in a completely ungraceful posture on a bamboo lounge chair.
In his hand, he waved a tattered cattail-leaf fan, and on the small folding stool in front of him sat a cup of herbal tea that was still bubbling.
And beside him was piled a "mountain."
A mountain of red bricks.
At least two thousand bricks, stacked neatly, blocking half the entrance to the alley.
When he saw Jiang Ci get out of the car, Jiang Wen didn't even lift his eyelids.
He slurped some herbal tea, pointed his cattail-leaf fan at the pile of bricks, then at the faintly visible backyard deeper in the alley.
"Here?" Jiang Wen's voice was lazy. "Before dinner, move these bricks to the backyard."
Sun Zhou exploded on the spot.
He rushed in front of Jiang Wen, shielding Jiang Ci like a protective mother hen:
"Director Jiang! This isn't in the contract! Brother Jiang is here to act, not to be a laborer! And he just had—"
"Shut up."
Jiang Wen shot Sun Zhou a sidelong glance, a look carrying the murderous aura of someone long in a position of power, scaring Sun Zhou into swallowing the rest of his sentence.
Jiang Wen casually tossed a pair of lime-stained work gloves from beside him, dropping them at Jiang Ci's feet.
All around, the background actors and stuntmen who had been busy before now deliberately or unconsciously stopped what they were doing.
Dozens of eyes secretly watched the scene.
This was a power move.
In the entertainment industry, who knew how many so-called pretty boys had lost their cool at this point, either throwing a tantrum or crying like babies.
They were all waiting.
Waiting for this top star, who had just been awarded the title of "Anti-Drug Ambassador," to blow up.
But then.
Jiang Ci bent down and picked up the gloves.
He put them on slowly and methodically, even carefully adjusting the fit around his fingers.
"Director Jiang." Jiang Ci patted the dust off the gloves, a bright smile spreading across his face. "I heard that 'Chen Ji Porridge' at the end of the alley is pretty good?"
Jiang Wen's hand, waving the fan, paused for a moment, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
"Finish moving, and you'll eat your fill."
"You got it."
Jiang Ci turned and walked toward the brick mountain.
Sun Zhou was so anxious he could cry: "Bro! You're really doing it? It's this hot out—you'll get heatstroke!"
"It's fine." Jiang Ci rolled his neck, a series of cracking sounds echoing. "Consider it a warm-up."
He walked up to the pile of bricks but didn't rush to start.
He was observing.
These bricks—the color was off.
Darker than ordinary red bricks, with a rougher surface.
Jiang Ci reached out and grabbed one.
His hand dropped slightly.
Holy crap.
These weren't ordinary red bricks at all. They were specially made training bricks infused with iron sand! Each one weighed three times as much as a regular brick!
No wonder that burly driver had been smirking on the sidelines the whole time.
If this had been any other ordinary pretty boy, ten bricks would have had him flat on the ground.
But who was Jiang Ci?
This kind of weight was just a dumbbell warm-up level for him.
But he didn't want to move them in such a boring way.
Since this was a "comedy," it needed to have some comedic flair.
Jiang Ci suddenly straightened up.
His expression changed.
Vacant, dull, completely unfocused.
Then, he walked toward the brick pile, bent down with mechanical movements, grabbed five bricks, and turned around.
"Zzzzzt——"
He even added sound effects with his mouth.
The people around him were stunned.
What kind of act was this?
Maintaining this eerie "game NPC" posture, Jiang Ci marched with perfectly standard goose steps toward the backyard.
Whenever he encountered an obstacle, he would, like an artificial intelligence with a glitch, march in place and bump into it twice, then make a ninety-degree turn to go around it.
"HAHAHAHA!"
Finally, a young stuntman couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.
That laugh shattered the tense atmosphere across the entire film set.
"Damn, this guy is seriously toxic!"
"Is he cosplaying Steve from Minecraft?"
"Bruh, the sound effects are killing me—he even stutters!"
Jiang Wen, sitting under the tree, couldn't keep his stern face either.
He watched the figure darting back and forth through the alley like an idiot, the corners of his mouth twitching upward uncontrollably.
This kid.
He was something else.
It was clearly a tough, thankless job.
But he didn't take it seriously at all.
He had turned it into a show.
This wasn't just a display of strength; it was a complete mental domination.
Time ticked by.
The sun slanted westward.
Flower City's sunset dyed Kapok Alley a golden red.
Two hours.
Using this ridiculously exhausting "NPC gait," Jiang Ci had managed to move all the bricks, trip after trip.
When the last brick was neatly stacked in the backyard,
Jiang Ci's T-shirt was so soaked it could be wrung out, but his face wasn't red, his breathing wasn't heavy, and his eyes were clear.
He walked up to Jiang Wen and pulled off the now-worn-out gloves.
By now, the expressions of the stuntmen watching nearby had changed.
These weighted bricks—even the well-trained guys among them would have trembling hands after moving them all. And this soft-skinned celebrity was acting like it was nothing?
Jiang Ci plopped down onto a pile of unopened sandbags nearby, took the cup of herbal tea Sun Zhou handed him, tilted his head back, and drained it in one go.
"Director Jiang."
Jiang Ci wiped the tea residue from his lips, staring intently at Jiang Wen's hand, flashing a mouthful of white teeth.
"Where's the porridge? I want double pig liver."
Jiang Wen looked at him, then slapped his cattail-leaf fan down on his leg.
"Fatty!" Jiang Wen shouted at the burly driver not far away. "Go! Buy this kid some porridge! The best kind!"
With that, Jiang Wen stood up, walked over to Jiang Ci, and fixed his eyes on Jiang Ci's hands.
Jiang Ci's hands were steady. Even after moving two thousand heavy bricks, his fingers didn't tremble even once.
"Pretty steady hands." Jiang Wen smiled meaningfully. "Since you've got so much strength, starting tomorrow, no more brick-carrying."
"What?" Jiang Ci recoiled warily.
Jiang Wen pointed to the center of the backyard, at the few smooth, bare plum-blossom stakes.
"Starting tomorrow, you're on the stakes."
Jiang Wen revealed a devilish grin.
"Awakening Lion isn't that easy to dance, and A Jie isn't that easy to play. This is just the first hurdle."