Chapter 466: Are You a Fierce Tiger or Hello Kitty? Beat Me to Death! |
The funeral scene had long since finished filming, but Jiang Ci didn't move.
He sat in the shadow of the funeral tent wearing that black mourning suit smeared with mud and vomit, his gaze vacant.
The lead makeup artist stood two meters away with a cotton pad for removing makeup and dared not step forward.
The deathly aura that radiated from his bones was more chilling than the white funeral banners lining the street.
"Director Jiang, this… this isn't right." The Assistant Director leaned toward Jiang Wen, lowering his voice, "Jiang Ci is in that state—did he overdo it earlier and get oxygen-starved? Should we take him to the hospital?"
Jiang Wen narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the figure curled up on the monitor.
"Take him to the hospital?" he smiled cruelly, "This heat is at its peak."
He turned, threw the script onto the table, his voice hoarse and exhilarated:
"Notify all departments, move locations! Move up the 'A Jie ruined hand' scene scheduled for three days from now! Shoot it tonight!"
"Shut up!" Jiang Wen's eyes flashed with a mad light, "Only while this pain is still raging can we shoot true despair."
"Jiang Ci isn't acting now, he is that stray dog whose backbone has been broken. Go! Bring that Thai guy here!"
Moments later, Tony Cha, who played the Tiger Gang's top enforcer, was summoned to the monitor.
This ruthless figure who had killed people in Thailand's underground boxing scene now wore a furrowed brow and looked constipated.
"Director, I won't hit him." Tony said in awkward Chinese, repeatedly waving his hands, "He's… very dangerous right now."
"Dangerous?" Jiang Wen laughed, "You're a three-championship-belt boxer, afraid of an actor who falls over at a breeze?"
Tony pointed to Jiang Ci in the corner, fear actually in his eyes:
"It's not that I'm afraid he'll hit me. I'm afraid I might kill him. His eyes… he doesn't want to live."
A pro like Tony could see what others couldn't.
He recognized that Jiang Ci was in an extremely unstable mental state.
"A stand-in?"
A scoffing sound abruptly cut in.
Tony whipped his head around.
Jiang Ci, without them noticing, had already stood up and was staggering over.
He carried in his hand a half brick he had picked from the rubble; his steps were unsteady, but those eyes were fixed on Tony's throat like a predator's.
"Slap."
Jiang Ci loosened his grip and the brick smashed down beside Tony's name-brand leather boots, splashing a puddle of muddy water.
"So this is the so-called champion?" Jiang Ci tilted his head, "Afraid of killing me? Or are you just a soft-shell shrimp?"
Tony's face changed. Boxer pride snapped him into a clenched fist: "You looking to die?"
Jiang Ci grinned.
That grin mixed A Jie's street swagger with a sick kind of mania.
He stepped closer, his nose almost touching Tony's, whispering:
"Tiger Gang? I think it's the Hello Kitty gang."
Jiang Ci poked Tony's hard pectoral once, twice, with a single finger.
"Soft. Just like a woman." Then he raised his voice and shouted at the gangsters playing underlings,
"Haven't you bastards eaten? Come on! Kill me! If you don't dare strike, go home and do embroidery!"
That shout was thick with humiliation and provocation.
All those stuntmen were hot-blooded men, and being called effeminate by a "bookish weakling" lit their tempers instantly.
"Fuck! This kid's too arrogant!"
"He actually thinks being a film emperor makes him special?"
Veins bulged at Tony's temples. He glared at Jiang Ci's provocative eyes and spat between his teeth, "Fine. If you want to die, I'll help you."
Watching from behind, Jiang Wen was so excited he nearly swallowed his cigar.
"Good! That's the fire I want!" Jiang Wen waved his hand, grabbed the walkie-talkie and roared, "Clear the set! Lighting team, get ready! Make the rain as hard as possible! Action—!!!"
Night fell.
Kapok Alley was again swallowed by torrential rain.
This time there was no dirge music during the day, only the drum of raindrops on the corrugated roof, dense and maddening.
"Clatter—"
Jiang Ci as A Jie clutched Uncle Long's memorial plaque to his chest and staggered through the deserted alley.
He was soaked head to toe, hair plastered to his scalp.
Each step left a dragging footprint in the mud.
When he reached the alley's crossroad—
"Vroom—!!!"
A shrill engine roar exploded.
From all directions, a dozen blinding beams of light pierced the darkness.
Headlights from modified motorcycles cut sharp columns of light that immediately pinned the slight figure at the alley's center.
Jiang Ci instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes and shrank back.
The camera pulled up and shot from above.
The tiny figure was surrounded in a ring of motorcycles.
Between light and shadow, the thugs on their bikes held baseball bats and steel pipes; against the glare their silhouettes looked ghostly.
No lines were spoken.
Words would be meaningless at a moment like this.
"Vroom! Vroom!"
The bikes revved in place, the roar rising in waves.
Through his narrowed fingers, Jiang Ci made out the heavy machine in front.
Tony straddled it without a helmet, a mocking expression on his face.
He twisted the throttle; the front wheel rose and slammed down hard.
That was the signal to attack.
"Whoosh—"
A gust of wind announced the first strike.
A stuntman used the bikes as cover and charged from the shadows, swinging an aluminum bat in a wide arc, a crushing blow aimed at Jiang Ci's back.
Although he wore protective padding, that was a genuine, solid strike.
"Thud!"
A muffled impact.
Jiang Ci was shoved forward and fell headfirst into the mud pit.
The memorial plaque in his arms flew free, skidding two meters across the muddy water, the front inscription "In gratitude to teacher Uncle Long" smeared with filth.
"Ah…"
He let out a short cry of pain.
But he paid no mind to his back, crawling with hands and feet through the mud toward the wooden plaque.
That plaque held Uncle Long's last traces of hope.
Even if he rotted in the mud himself, that plaque must not be dirtied.
"Hit him!!!"
Jiang Wen screamed from behind the monitor.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
A rainstorm of bat strikes fell.
This time, the stuntmen really had emotion behind them.
Although they avoided vital points, each blow landed on thick flesh.
The Body of Steel activated.
Jiang Ci became a food-guarding stray dog, curled over the plaque, taking all the blows on his back and head without flinching.
"Uncle Long… Uncle Long…"
He muttered through the flurry of sticks, fingers digging into the mud, clutching the memorial plaque beneath him.
The motorcycles stopped roaring.
Tony got off his bike.
Those oil-stained black military boots stepped through the mud, approaching Jiang Ci step by step.
The underlings stopped, spreading out a circle and giving way to their boss.
Jiang Ci lay on the ground, breathing heavily, each breath laced with blood foam.
He sensed the shadow before him and struggled to lift his head.
There was no fear in those eyes.
Only a gut-churning, predatory hatred that wanted to devour.
Tony looked down at this "madman" and felt an inexplicable chill.
But that chill made him angrier.
"Strong bones, huh?"
Tony sneered and slowly raised the heavy boot.
The sole, caked with gravel and mud, hovered above Jiang Ci's right hand that clutched the plaque.
The camera pushed in for a close-up.
The hand was pale and long-fingered, knuckles defined; now the veins stood out from the strain.
"If you love hugging that rotten plaque so much, then hug it all the way to hell."
Tony's eyes flashed with killing intent; the muscles in his legs tensed.
"Crush it!!!"
Jiang Wen behind the monitor gripped the table edge, his eyes bloodshot with excitement.
"Crack!!!"
The sound of the military boot stomping down was heavy.
Jiang Ci tilted his head back, veins bulging on his neck, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the night sky.
At that moment, the lion awoke.
Agonizing pain roused it.