Chapter 455: A Drop of the Film Emperor's Blood, Everyone's Heart Breaks! |
In Kapok Alley, inside A Xiu's lion head workshop from the script.
The rain came down harder, pounding against the tiles of the arcade building in a loud crackling symphony.
Inside, the light was dim and yellow.
The air was thick with the smell of herbs—the medicinal wine the crew had specially brewed for bruises. It was somewhat pungent.
Jiang Ci curled up on the bamboo couch at the very back of the workshop.
Just yesterday, he was the mad dog riding on the neck of the Thai boxing champion, roaring with a brick in his hand.
Now, the flour and blood stains on him hadn't been cleaned off. They had caked into hard lumps, clinging to his tattered vest.
"Cut! Stop, stop, stop!"
Jiang Wen's irritable voice shattered the silence.
"What are your hands shaking for?! In the scene, he's the neighbor you've known since you were a kid, not a man-eating tiger!"
"Is that cotton swab you're using to apply medicine on him, or are you tickling him?!"
The actress playing A Xiu was a rookie who had just turned nineteen, named Lin Xiaoman.
At Jiang Wen's roar, her eyes turned red. The cotton swab in her hand, dipped in medicinal wine, was trembling too.
Tears swirled in her big eyes, but she didn't dare let them fall.
She was afraid of Jiang Ci.
She had watched yesterday's fight scene from the sidelines.
That Jiang Ci, with his face covered in blood and a fierce, brutal look in his eyes—
He was completely different from the Film Emperor who would hand out red envelopes on set.
The overwhelming, murderous aura radiating from him made her instinctively want to escape.
"Director, let's... let's do another take," Lin Xiaoman said, her voice choked with tears.
"A hundred more takes and you'd still be the same!" Jiang Wen was about to explode again.
A hand stained with flour gently pressed down on Jiang Wen's megaphone.
Jiang Ci lifted his head.
"Director Jiang, you're scaring the kid."
Jiang Ci turned his head, looking at Lin Xiaoman, who was shrinking into the corner. He cracked a grin.
"Scared of me?" Jiang Ci asked.
Lin Xiaoman subconsciously nodded, then frantically shook her head.
Jiang Ci didn't say anything. He reached out and grabbed Lin Xiaoman's trembling hand, still holding the cotton swab.
Then, he guided her hand and pressed it against his own ribcage.
There was a large, purplish-black bruise there—a real injury left by Tony's knee strike from earlier, which hadn't been treated yet.
Lin Xiaoman's fingertips touched the hot, hard skin.
"Feel that?" Jiang Ci looked into her eyes. There was no trace of a Film Emperor's superiority in his gaze.
Only A Jie's roguishness and a deep, well-hidden tenderness.
"A Jie is thick-skinned, but he cares about you."
"He's afraid you'll be sad seeing these injuries, but you're the only one he can rely on now."
Jiang Ci gently patted the back of her hand, then let go. He leaned back on the bamboo couch, resuming that half-dead posture.
"Come on, this time, don't hold back. Press hard. Rub the bruise out."
Lin Xiaoman was stunned.
The sensation on her palm was still there. Those words—"A Jie cares about you"—crashed into her panicked heart like a wave.
She wiped the tears from her eyes.
When she looked at Jiang Ci again, her expression had changed.
He was no longer the terrifying Film Emperor. He was Brother A Jie, beaten black and blue while trying to protect her.
"All departments, get ready! Action!"
Lin Xiaoman knelt by the bamboo couch, holding the medicinal wine.
This time, her hands didn't shake.
She soaked the cotton swab in the wine and pressed it firmly onto that bruise.
Jiang Ci's body trembled slightly. Veins bulged on his neck, but he didn't make a sound.
Lin Xiaoman's eyes turned red. She threw away the cotton swab, poured the wine directly into her palm, and began vigorously massaging his back.
A Xiu was a mute girl. She couldn't speak.
She could only use her actions to vent the pain in her heart.
Jiang Ci slowly turned his head.
His gaze fell on the writing board Lin Xiaoman was holding.
Scrawled crookedly on it in chalk were three words: 【Does it hurt?】
Jiang Ci stared at those three words.
In a daze, time seemed to flow backward.
He seemed to see himself a decade ago in the script—A Jie, still a street punk.
He had snatched the malt candy given to A Xiu by her mother and smashed it on the ground.
Back then, A Xiu had looked at him the same way, her eyes as clear as water.
His Adam's apple bobbed. His eyes quickly became bloodshot and reddened.
But he didn't cry.
For someone like A Jie, his tears had long since dried up.
He reached out that hand, still stained with flour, and shakily erased the word 【hurt】 on the writing board.
Then, he pointed at his own stomach, forced a smile uglier than crying onto his face, and mouthed an exaggerated word:
"Hungry."
At that moment, behind the monitor, Jiang Wen's hand, gripping the cattail-leaf fan, tightened.
"Good..." He moved his lips silently.
This was the sophistication he wanted.
To chew up all the suffering and swallow it down, spitting out only a single word: "Hungry."
The camera slowly pushed in.
It focused on the lion head hanging on the wall.
It was the "Zhang Fei Lion" that Uncle Seven had lent to the crew.
Black base with gold patterns, deep-set eyes. In the dim light,
it seemed to come alive, glaring at everything with wide, furious eyes.
Jiang Ci leaned against the wall, his gaze meeting the lion head's.
A Jie looked at the lion, as if looking at the version of himself who wanted to be a hero.
"Back then, I thought that as long as my fists were hard enough, I could be the boss."
Jiang Ci's gaze changed.
From initial evasiveness, it gradually became firm, finally settling into a trace of compassion.
"Now I understand. Martial arts aren't for bullying people. They're for protecting this steady meal."
This was the subtext Jiang Ci added for A Jie in his heart.
Suddenly.
Jiang Ci's gaze landed on the sewing basket on A Xiu's lap.
Inside was a lion robe that A Xiu was mending.
As if possessed, Jiang Ci reached out and picked up the tiny embroidery needle.
Lin Xiaoman was startled. She instinctively wanted to stop him, but seeing Jiang Ci's focused expression, she froze.
Jiang Ci pinched the needle and clumsily threaded it through the red cloth.
"Hiss!"
The needle pricked his fingertip.
A bead of crimson blood welled up.
Jiang Ci frowned. Subconsciously, he put his finger in his mouth and sucked hard.
At that moment.
He was no longer the ferocious thug from the Tiger Gang. He was a child who had done something wrong, wanted to help fix it, but was too clumsy.
This move wasn't in the script.
It was completely Jiang Ci's improvisation.
"Wah..."
On set, the uncle holding the boom pole couldn't help but sniffle.
It was too heartbreaking.
This kind of brokenness, mixed with blood and innocence, was like a tear-jerker bomb.
Lin Xiaoman could no longer hold back. Her tears broke through the dam.
She snatched the needle and thread from Jiang Ci's hand and frantically wrote on the board: 【Don't move. I'll do it.】
Jiang Ci looked at her, his finger still in his mouth, and let out a silly grin.
In that smile, A Jie died.
The Awakening Lion inheritor, willing to use his life to protect Kapok Alley, was alive.
...
"Cut——!!!"
Jiang Wen's shout was incredibly long.
In the corner.
A hunched figure silently stood up.
It was Uncle Seven, who had secretly come to visit the set.
He was wearing an old man's undershirt, holding that long tobacco pipe in his hand. With his one eye, he took a deep look at Jiang Ci on the bamboo couch.
"This kid..."
Uncle Seven blew out a smoke ring, grinning to reveal a mouthful of broken, yellowed teeth.
"His soul is in it."
Having said that, he put his hands behind his back and vanished into the rainy night like a ghost.
Only a puddle of undried water on the ground proved he had been there.
The set finally came back to life.
Lin Xiaoman was still crying. The makeup artist hurried over to touch up her makeup.
Jiang Ci remained sitting on the bamboo couch.
He didn't jump up immediately to find Sun Zhou for water like he usually did, nor did he crack any jokes.
He just sat there quietly, his eyes still holding that compassion and confusion, staring at the rain outside the window.
Sun Zhou approached with a thermos cup. Just as he was about to speak, Jiang Ci's gaze swept over him, and he instantly felt a chill run down his spine.
That wasn't Jiang Ci's gaze at all.
It was A Jie's gaze.
"Bro..." Sun Zhou swallowed his saliva. "Don't scare me. Are you... out yet?"
Jiang Ci blinked. That chilling feeling slowly faded, but the heaviness in his eyes remained.
"I can't get out."
Jiang Ci took the thermos cup, his voice very light. "At that moment just now, I felt like I really died once."
Right then.
Jiang Wen strode over, a strange excitement on his face.
"Spread the word!"
Jiang Wen roared into his megaphone. "The whole crew is off tomorrow!"
Everyone was stunned.
This was Jiang Wen, known as the "Set Tyrant," who wished he could have 48 hours in a day! And he was actively giving them a day off?
"Director, what's wrong? Did something happen?" the Assistant Director asked nervously.
Jiang Wen pulled a cigar out of his pocket, bit down on it, but didn't light it.
He looked at Jiang Ci, a hint of amusement in his eyes, as if he were waiting to see a show.
"Nothing happened. A big shot is about to arrive."
Jiang Wen pointed upward.
"His plane lands tonight."
"Ghost Claw Chen."
Hearing that name, several of the old Stuntmen on set changed color instantly. One old Stuntman almost dropped his teacup.
"Ghost Claw Chen?" Jiang Ci raised an eyebrow. "The final villain in the script?"
"He's more than just a villain."
Jiang Wen struck a match. The flame illuminated half his face, giving it a sinister cast.
"He's a living fossil in the Hong Kong stuntmen world. A real kung fu practitioner."
"He was the top star of the Hung Ga Ban back in the day. He trained in Iron Sand Palm. His hands could tear cowhide apart."
"His temper is even worse than mine. He's been retired for ten years."
Jiang Wen blew out a puff of smoke, looking at Jiang Ci with a malicious grin.
"It took me a month of begging to get him out of retirement."
"But he laid down a tough challenge."
"He said he wants to inspect the goods first when he gets to the set."
"If the kid playing the lead can't handle his moves, or if he's just a poser, he'll turn around and leave, refusing the pay. He won't do this movie."
Jiang Ci listened, then looked down at his finger, the one the needle had pricked just moments ago.
The drop of blood on his finger had already clotted.
He slowly clenched his fist.
"Inspect the goods?"
Jiang Ci lifted his head. The compassion in his eyes faded, replaced by a fighting spirit that radiated from the depths of his bones.
"Alright then."
"Let him come see if this lion's teeth are still sharp."