“What did you say?” The sword in Ji Ying’s hand began to tremble uncontrollably.
The blade pointed straight at the ground, its tip already buried in a thick layer of snow, leaving only a flat surface. Still, one could see signs of the snow loosening as the sword tip shook.
The soldier who had come to report had a face full of snot and tears, but he fought back a sob, wiped his face, and repeated himself. “The entire army at Lu Xi Commandery has been annihilated. The whole city collapsed. The ground split in two, opening up a chasm, and the entire Lu Xi Commandery fell into it. The collapses are severe everywhere. Besides that, the chasm is densely packed with… with corpses.”
“The ground split?” Ji Ying asked through gritted teeth.
“Yes.” The signal soldier lowered his head. “It might have been explosives that caused an earth tremor. Your subordinate watched from a distance for a long time. It wasn’t just our own men. The remaining twenty thousand troops of the Northern Di and Eastern Yi were likely wiped out as well…”
Ji Ying instantly came to her senses. “Where are the gifted people?”
“They have already left,” her adjutant beside her said with a bow. “They said they had finished their task and defended against this crisis, so they have each returned to their own places to live in seclusion.”
Ji Ying mounted her horse and said coldly, “Go investigate—check if any of the gifted people who came this time could have predicted the earth tremor!”
Poisonous insects, flying birds, fierce vultures.
Under normal circumstances, how could these creatures, existing in such a vast mountain range, be so easily gathered by those gifted people and assembled in this valley?
But if it was on the eve of an earth tremor, when all living things were restless and scurrying about like lost lambs, and suddenly something appeared that could guide them all to one place… then everything finally had a possible explanation.
Ji Ying looked down at the enemy forces, trapped in the valley with more than half of them already dead or wounded. She said, “Take two hundred men and follow me.”
The adjutant gave a low affirmation, not asking why.
As he turned, he heard Ji Ying say slowly, “Send the soldiers home.”
The adjutant’s steps faltered, and his eyes instantly reddened.
He made a bow and finally retreated.
The ferocity of the battle at Lu Xi Commandery would soon be known throughout the land.
Eldest Princess Ji Ying of the Li Dynasty, with a mere army of just over five thousand, had soundly defeated the allied forces of the Northern Di and Eastern Yi, severely damaging the enemy’s morale while still having nearly two thousand soldiers remaining.
This was a chapter of victory that could be written in the annals of history with the most brilliant and vivid strokes.
Ji Ying was wounded, with bloodstains visible everywhere. In some places, her skin was split open, revealing the flesh beneath in a gruesome sight. But it was impossible to tell whether the blood was the enemy’s or her own. All she knew was that the blood covering her body had long since frozen through in the vast, snowy expanse.
When the two hundred men stood before the ruins of Lu Xi Commandery, they finally understood why that young soldier had been so distraught.
The Lu Xi Commandery before them no longer showed any of the lively customs unique to a border city.
The mountains had collapsed, and the ground had caved in, creating a chasm nearly six meters deep. The chasm stretched for a hundred meters, and scattered below were tens of thousands of people. Bodies were everywhere, piled layer upon layer, like a massive, century-old burial ground.
A small troop of just over two hundred stood there, as if looking at a natural chasm, so powerless and insignificant.
“Princess…” the adjutant called out, his lips trembling slightly.
Ji Ying squeezed her eyes shut tightly and said, “Go down and find our people. Pair up, be careful. If you encounter any enemy soldiers putting up a last-ditch resistance, kill them on sight. Do not take prisoners or accept surrenders, and don’t let any deserters escape.”
She went down with all the soldiers.
Among the tens of thousands of corpses, finding the thousand or so from their own army was not difficult. But finding a specific person among so many… was harder than ascending to the heavens.
Yet, at the very first place Ji Ying went, she saw that moon-white figure lying amidst a pile of bodies.
She recognized it. It was the robe Jiang Wenmou was wearing when they parted.
She had advised against it, saying that a white robe would easily make her a target, and told her to change her clothes.
Jiang Wenmou had clearly agreed and had changed into the most common military uniform.
But after she left, she had put it back on.
It was as if she had anticipated her own end from the very beginning, which was why she insisted on wearing this white robe, so different from the plain and somberly colored military uniforms.
Ji Ying reached out and wiped the blood from Jiang Wenmou’s face, finally revealing her clean profile. She checked for Jiang Wenmou’s breath and finally, with a choked sob, pressed her forehead against Wen Mou’s, their noses touching. She whispered, “Wen Mou, I’m taking you… home.”
After this scene was filmed, many people on set were stunned into silence for a long time.
Zhang Nanchuan lit a cigarette, watching the completely silent scene on the monitor.
An overwhelming expanse of white, yet mixed with the whistling wind, it appeared exceptionally desolate and solemn.
The blood shed by more than twenty thousand people had dyed many areas a vivid red. The production team was willing to spend money, so it looked particularly shocking.
In some places, pits of blood had even formed. Unidentifiable flags were stuck askew here and there, interspersed with countless broken weapons and blades, looking just like a Shura battlefield.
The snow was still falling, blanketing everything. In just a few hours, a thick layer of snow had formed on the ground. Perhaps because heaven was truly on their side, this final scene went so smoothly that even he couldn’t believe it.
He took a moment to recover before finally picking up the megaphone and shouting, “Alright, cut on this scene, it’s a wrap!”
After shouting, he put the megaphone away and stared at its color for a moment, then suddenly smiled, remembering the previous megaphone that Chu Feiliang had somehow managed to break, leaving it to only repeat the phrase ‘it’s all yours’.
He wondered where that megaphone ended up. He had planned to listen to it for a laugh when he had nothing to do.
Following Zhang Nanchuan’s order, all the extras lying on the ground sat up one by one, helping each other up. Slowly, from that realistic chasm, hundreds of people climbed out. They were all extras that had been gathered; for this scene, Zhang Nanchuan had hired nearly half of the resident extras at the film base.
Rong Guang also opened her eyes.
There were many extras nearby, but she couldn’t pay them any mind. The moment she opened her eyes, her hands spontaneously wrapped around Chu Feiliang, holding her tightly in her arms.
Chu Feiliang’s eyes were closed. She felt a throbbing pain in her head, spreading from her temples to her eyes.
The moment she closed her eyes, pain mixed with a stinging, burning sensation surged up. She couldn’t hold back her tears, which, stimulated by her eyeballs, flowed freely from the corners of her eyes.
Rong Guang held her quietly, feeling a scorching heat coming from her chest. She knew Chu Feiliang was crying, that the scalding temperature was from her tears.
Seeing that they hadn’t come up, Chacha and Wang Lujie both rushed over with down jackets and wrapped them up. The weather was cold, and no one could withstand being blown by the wind like that.
Only then did Chu Feiliang finally lift her head, her brows furrowed tightly, her eyes and the tip of her nose completely red.
Rong Guang looked at her nervously, wanting to approach but not knowing what to say, so anxious she was about to spin in circles.
Chu Feiliang patted her head, thought for a moment, and simply rested her entire arm on her, using Rong Guang’s strength to support herself. She said, “Don’t move. Let me hug you for a bit. I’m a little tired.”
Rong Guang immediately grew tense. “Are you hurt? I heard you accidentally fell off your horse when you went up the mountain, that you fell completely off. Are you okay…?”
“I’m fine.” Chu Feiliang looked at Rong Guang’s face.
She probably didn’t even realize that her own face, body, and hands were covered in scrapes.
It was cold outside, so her skin was too numb to feel the pain. Once she got indoors, who knew how she would be crying her eyes out.
Chu Feiliang suddenly remembered that Chacha had once said Rong Guang was terrified of pain, that the tiniest wound could make her see stars.
She paused, then turned her head and instructed, “Go get some medicine for her injuries.”
Wang Lujie looked at the two of them, thought for a moment, and let Chacha go get it—both of them looked equally miserable, neither one better off than the other. Rong Guang still had only one foot on the ground, the other practically suspended in mid-air. She definitely couldn’t stand without support.
Chacha also knew she was small and not very strong, unable to support Rong Guang’s weight, so she went to find someone without a word.
It wasn’t long before someone came down with a stretcher.
Rong Guang was stunned, then her expression changed. Her first instinct was to look at Chu Feiliang, her hands constantly probing the joints on her body. “Sister, you lied to me. Are you hurt? Where?”
Chu Feiliang let her feel around. Rong Guang had often injured her muscles and bones while practicing martial arts in the past. Having been sick for so long, she had become her own doctor and could tell where the problem was.
Finally, as Rong Guang’s movements gradually stopped, Chu Feiliang said, “I’m fine. The one who’s not fine is you.”
As she spoke, she frowned and propped Rong Guang up a little more, having already noticed that something was wrong with her foot.
Only then did Rong Guang realize that the arm Chu Feiliang had been pressing on her had, at some point, slipped to her shoulder, holding her in a posture that was like an embrace, completely and thoroughly supporting her.
“Teacher Rong, please sit down. We’ll carry you up.”
“The doctor is waiting up there. Let’s go inside first. There shouldn’t be anything else to film today. The crew needs about a week to set up the next scene, so you don’t have many scenes coming up,” another person nodded. He was likely from the production services department and was very familiar with the schedule.
Rong Guang also knew she didn’t have many scenes left—for the few she did have, she just needed to lie in bed and pretend to be unconscious with her eyes closed. After all, her ending wasn’t exactly death, but it wasn’t life either. She was like a person in a vegetative state, lying in bed, unable to move.
Rong Guang nodded and sat down, pursing her lips.
She was too embarrassed to actually lie down, but lying down would actually distribute the pressure on the stretcher better. After a moment’s thought, Rong Guang lay back.
Chu Feiliang held one of her hands and never let go.
Rong Guang gazed almost greedily at where their hands were clasped, not even daring to make a sound to remind her, afraid that if Chu Feiliang heard, she would think it was inappropriate and pull her hand back.
Rong Guang thought, almost a little shyly, that she would just hold on for a little longer, just a little while.
Besides, Chu Feiliang’s hand was really too cold.
Her hand was warm, so she could warm Chu Feiliang up a bit, and make her warmer too.
“How is it?” Chu Feiliang watched as the doctor took off Rong Guang’s shoe and examined her ankle, turning it from side to side.
Rong Guang also looked down, rotating her ankle to feel it out. “It shouldn’t be anything serious. Just a dull ache, and I can’t really put weight on it.”
“How did it happen? A fall? Or a sprain?” The doctor treated it for her. “A soft tissue contusion. But it didn’t injure the bones or tendons, so it’s not serious. However, it will take about two weeks to recover properly. During this time, minimize movement and don’t let your foot touch the ground, or you might worsen the injury.”
Rong Guang acknowledged with a sound and turned back to Chu Feiliang. “I stepped on a protruding rock when I fell. I couldn’t keep my balance. After all, the explosions were real, so there are always unforeseeable dangers… The soil in some places was already loose, so getting injured was inevitable.”
Hearing this, the doctor couldn’t help but sigh a few times. “It’s not wrong to be dedicated, but you’re still young. You should cherish your body. When you get old and it leaves you with chronic problems, you’ll have a tough time.”
Rong Guang smiled and nodded.
This doctor was the one who most frequently treated her wounds. Over time, they had become familiar, and he knew Rong Guang’s temperament. He saw her as a well-behaved child and was a bit of a nag when he spoke, but it was just talk; he never crossed the line from talking to lecturing.
An elastic bandage was wrapped around Rong Guang’s ankle. She tried to put some weight on it and move it. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
There wasn’t much bruising either. It was probably just a sprain.
Although she wasn’t a doctor, Chu Feiliang was something of an expert when it came to soft tissue contusions. Hearing this, she glanced at Rong Guang and said, “It doesn’t hurt much now. By tomorrow morning, you’ll be in too much pain to get out of bed.”
Rong Guang rubbed her nose, already anticipating that she probably wouldn’t be able to part with a simple crutch for the next two weeks.
But she was happy despite the pain. “But I don’t have many major scenes left. I just need to lie in bed, which is very relaxing. And my salary is paid as usual. It feels like I’m counting money in my sleep.”
Chu Feiliang also found it amusing when she thought about it. “That’s true.”
Rong Guang had a few more scenes, and then she would wrap up filming.
During these last few scenes, she would basically be asleep the entire time, not needing to exert any effort at all. Moreover, Zhang Nanchuan had said that if Rong Guang couldn’t fall asleep, that was fine, but if she did fall asleep, that would be even better. They could try different levels of filming techniques, letting her really sleep to see what kind of reactions they could get.
And he was also quite looking forward to seeing Chu Feiliang’s reaction when she found out Rong Guang was actually asleep.
Of course, Rong Guang herself didn’t know about this, since they hadn’t started filming yet.
Chu Feiliang propped her chin on her hand, looking at Rong Guang’s utterly filthy state. “What did the director say about your wrap-up scene?”
Rong Guang thought for a moment. “The wrap-up scene is simple, but the difficult part is finding a sunny day. If there’s no sunny day, then it has to be another heavy snow day to achieve the best effect. Director Zhang said my character has it too rough in this drama, so he wants me to at least look good at the end, especially since there’s a wrap-up ceremony.”
Hearing this, Chu Feiliang glanced again at the dirty clothes on Rong Guang and herself, and said with a laugh, “That’s true—you’re even dirtier than me, and I’m the general who’s always on the battlefield.”
“Of course,” Rong Guang wrinkled her nose. “I have fight scenes every other day. In the early stages, Wen Mou was always stealing chickens and dogs. In one drama, I got pecked by chickens for several episodes, not to mention being chased and rammed by a pig…”
As they talked about this, Chu Feiliang’s eyelids lifted, a spark of interest in her eyes.
She cleared her throat, a strange glint in her eyes. “Director Zhang and I discussed how to shoot that scene to make it look better and more realistic. Not many people on the crew have that kind of experience, and the few attempts we made with others looked a bit contrived. I’m actually a little curious, how did you manage to film it so vividly…”
Rong Guang paused.
Then she lowered her head pitifully, peeking at Chu Feiliang through her lashes, looking like a soft, fluffy marshmallow. “Can I not say…?”
“Of course you can.” Chu Feiliang didn’t refuse at all, nodding directly.
This, in turn, stunned Rong Guang, who couldn’t help but ask back, “Wha… what?”
“Of course you don’t have to say it.” Chu Feiliang looked incredulous, spreading her hands. “It’s your right. Of course you don’t have to tell me.”
Wang Lujie’s hand, which was packing things, paused, and then her teeth began to ache.
—After Rong Guang had been teased by her to the point of hiding for several days, that series of operations was still fresh in her mind!
And she had the nerve to say it was Rong Guang’s right!
Pah!
She had no shame!
Hearing this, Rong Guang also fell into a strange silence.
Then she braced herself and said, “It’s not that I can’t say it, it’s just a bit embarrassing… I was very naughty as a child. When I was eight or nine, I didn’t behave well. Because of a lot of paperwork, I didn’t go to school and had to repeat a grade. I had nothing to do all day, so I liked to go and play with the villagers’ chicks and piglets. I got caught by the mother hens several times. It didn’t leave any scars, but it did leave a psychological shadow. Oh, besides that, I was also knocked flying by a mother pig ramming my butt several times…”
Chacha seized the opportunity to chime in, her spirits rising as her eyes lit up and she began to tattle. “One time, she was even knocked by a pig and broke her arm! After that, her fame spread far and wide! That pig even got on the newspaper with my Sister Guangguang and became the pride of the pig world!”
Chu Feiliang struggled to hold back her laughter, managing to choke out a reply, “And the pig?”
“The pig?” Chacha was taken aback. “Of course it was sold and eaten! The stories about that pig got so exaggerated that some rich fool insisted on buying it. One pig sold for nearly ten thousand yuan, which was a huge sum of money back then.”
As Chacha reached a sad part of the story, she couldn’t help but say, “Unfortunately, the person who owned that pig was not me.”
This time, Chu Feiliang finally couldn’t hold it in. She covered her face with one hand, half-hiding her expression, and laughed until she was bent over. “You really are something…”
So adorable.
Whenever Chu Feiliang imagined a few-year-old Rong Guang, one moment sneaking into the chicken coop to touch chickens, the next going into the pigsty to catch piglets, she couldn’t help but want to laugh.
She held it in, looking at Rong Guang’s melancholic expression, but couldn’t stop another ‘pfft’ from escaping. “No wonder your acting style is so wild…”
So it turned out there was a reason for it all.
An actor’s performance is inherently limited by their own experiences. The older an actor is, and the more they entered the profession later in life, the more easily they can move an audience and the more likely they are to win Best Actor or Best Actress awards. Conversely, actors who have been acting since childhood and grew up in the entertainment industry will, often unconsciously, develop a perfect system of performance.
Their every expression, every movement, even the frequency of their blinks, is like hard knowledge etched into their bones, firmly memorized by them.
The current Duan Nong was just like these actors who grew up on set.
Compared to Rong Guang, although they were about the same age, the difference was immediately obvious.
The spiritual energy in Rong Guang, her development of characters, and her understanding of the entire script were things that many people couldn’t catch up to even if they tried their hardest.
She was too brilliant.
Chu Feiliang herself remembered that Zhang Nanchuan had said more than once that Rong Guang’s eyes were simply too brilliant.
And not just in a lively way.
From the cheerful, outgoing, and optimistic Wen Mou to the low-key, reserved, and elegant Jiang Wenmou, she could interpret any look, any state, to perfection, without a single trace of artificiality. It just looked so comfortable and natural.
That’s why she said Rong Guang’s acting style was very wild, and that she was in a league of her own, one that others couldn’t imitate.
Her innocent cheerfulness was mixed with a reckless wildness that knew no bounds, as well as a meticulous mind. This dual contradiction was something most people found difficult to achieve, but Rong Guang did it.
Not only did she do it, she did it very well.
Rong Guang didn’t know if Chu Feiliang was praising or criticizing her. After thinking about it, she said, “Am I… very wild?”
“Sometimes.” Chu Feiliang seemed to recall something, smoothly changing the subject. Her eyes curved as she said, “Sometimes you’re so wild, it’s like no one can hold you back. The moment I let go, you’d be gone.”
This heavy accusation was dropped on her, leaving Rong Guang dizzy and bewildered again.
“When… when could I not be held back?” Rong Guang stammered. “And I didn’t just disappear, have I not always been…” on the set?
She didn’t say the last part of her sentence, but she saw Chu Feiliang’s extremely reproachful and heartbroken expression.
Rong Guang slowly closed her mouth before she could finish her sentence, lowering her head, preparing to be obediently scolded.
Chu Feiliang narrowed her eyes. “When you kicked Mao Xiaosong, could anyone hold you back?”
Rong Guang shook her head.
“Does that count as wild or not?” Chu Feiliang snorted lightly.
Rong Guang nodded pitifully and said in a small voice, “It counts.”
Chu Feiliang raised her chin in satisfaction and continued, “Earlier, I just said a few more words and it scared you. You wouldn’t even look at me for over a week. Then there was that stupid location shoot, and I didn’t see you for another week or two. Does that count as disappearing the moment I let go?” Rong Guang’s head drooped even lower. “That… that counts too.”
Chu Feiliang spread her hands. “Then what else do you have to say for yourself?”
Rong Guang shook her head, lowering it to obediently admit her mistake. “Nothing more to say.”
“Since there’s nothing more to say…” Chu Feiliang stroked her chin, suddenly moving closer to Rong Guang. Her tone was gentle, with a hint of coaxing. “Why don’t we do something about it.”
Rong Guang looked up at her nervously. Before her brain could even process what Chu Feiliang had said, she had already asked, “Do what?”
“Since you’re so easily unrestrained and prone to disappearing the moment I turn my head…” Chu Feiliang’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “Let’s do this. I’ll go find a rope and tie you to my waist. If you try to run wild again, at least dragging me along will slow you down a bit, giving you a chance to think things through.”
Rong Guang blinked in confusion.
Chu Feiliang studied her expression, then continued to righteously fool the little kid. “Or, the next time you think about suddenly running off and disappearing, I can follow the rope and find out where you are.”
Hearing this, Rong Guang’s head sank even lower.
She looked up, picking at the thin blanket covering her. “I won’t hide from you again in the future…”
Chu Feiliang couldn’t help but think of that broken megaphone.
Although it was a bit embarrassing and awkward, using a megaphone to find Rong Guang was indeed very convenient. It was as if the whole world was making way for her.
Her lips twitched. She quickly pushed that crazy image out of her mind, wiped her face to erase the smile, and tried to look stern. “Talk is cheap. What’s the use of just saying it?”
“Then how about…” Rong Guang was a little shy, a blush spreading across her cheeks. She stole a couple of glances at Chu Feiliang, cleared her throat, and said, “Ahem, but… the crew probably can’t find a rope that long… How are you going to tie me to your waist…?”
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