TriNovel Chapter 317: This Is Jiang He’s Medal of Honor!
Chapter 317: This Is Jiang He’s Medal of Honor!
Chapter 317: This Is Jiang He’s Medal of Honor!
The set fell into complete silence.
The campfire still crackled and popped.
Everyone forgot they were filming.
Their senses were utterly seized by the crisp sound of shattering,
by the slow trickle of blood down the young man's face,
by that desolate, heart-wrenching smile to the extreme.
Behind the monitor, Jiang Wen leaned into the screen, his chest heaving violently.
That blood-stained face, magnified in the lens,
radiated a breathtaking, shattered beauty.
This was alive.
It was the genuine, soul-wrenching howl of a character, beyond the script.
He didn't call cut.
He greedily recorded these dozen or so seconds that exceeded all expectations.
Only when Jiang Ci maintained that teetering posture, the smile on his face completely frozen,
did he utter a single word.
"Cut!"
The moment the word fell, the taut string snapped.
"Medical team! Now!"
Assistant Director Wang's roar jolted everyone awake.
The medical team members rushed onto the set, carrying emergency kits.
Sun Zhou led the charge, his face even paler than Jiang Ci's.
When he reached him and saw the wound still oozing blood, his hands trembled so badly he couldn't even steady the alcohol swab.
"Bro! Bro, how are you?! Don't scare me!"
The fiery, stinging pain on his face peeled Jiang Ci out of the insane shell of "Jiang He."
He blinked, the tinnitus from his extreme immersion gradually receding.
He ignored Sun Zhou's tearful shouts and didn't look at his own wound.
Instead, he immediately turned his head towards the direction of the monitor.
"Director Jiang."
His voice was parched.
"Was that last take usable?"
Silence fell over the set once more.
The medical personnel, who had been scrambling to prepare for disinfection, froze in their actions.
Sun Zhou's hand, holding the cotton swab, hung stiffly in mid-air. He stared at Jiang Ci in disbelief, wondering if his artist had truly lost his mind.
Jiang Wen emerged from behind the monitor. Without answering, he strode quickly to Jiang Ci.
Those turbid yet now frighteningly bright eyes fixed on the wound on Jiang Ci's face.
He extended a rough finger, but didn't touch it, tracing its outline in the air.
Then, he gave Jiang Ci a firm, emphatic thumbs-up.
"A stroke of genius."
This was the highest praise Jiang Wen had given since joining the crew.
He immediately turned and roared at the makeup artist who was about to step forward to treat the wound.
"Nobody touches this wound!"
"All subsequent makeup will be based on this wound! I want it to stay!"
He bellowed, "This is Jiang He's medal! Do you understand?!"
The makeup artist flinched from his roar and nodded repeatedly.
At that moment, Lei Zhong also walked over.
He looked at Jiang Ci's pale, blood-streaked face and remained silent for a long time.
Finally, he shook his head.
"Kid, you're a complete, life-risking lunatic."
That night, after wrap, Jiang Ci sat in the simple room of the guesthouse.
He let the medical personnel treat his wound and apply a small bandage.
After everyone left, he was alone in the room.
[Ding! Detecting intense heartbreak emotional fluctuations...]
[Heartbreak Value Source: Female crew members on set (makeup artists, set assistants, medical personnel)]
[Heartbreak Value Settled: +1389 points.]
[Heartbreak Value Balance: 16,520 points]
[Remaining Lifespan: 16 years, 1 month, and 5 days.]
Jiang Ci looked at the numbers on the system panel.
The increase in his lifespan formed an absurd contrast with the stinging pain from the wound on his cheek.
He felt no joy, only a deep, bone-chilling numbness.
The next day, late at night.
The entire village slept in darkness, except for the muddy ground at the village entrance, which was brightly lit.
The film crew had brought in two rain machines, mounted high.
The water pumps began to roar.
Water sprayed down from the sky, drenching the open ground with a frenzy.
The earth quickly turned muddy, pooling into a mire of varying depths.
A torrential downpour had been artificially created.
Jiang Wen called Jiang Ci aside. The rain was too loud, so he practically shouted the scene directions into Jiang Ci's ear.
"Jiang He drank the blood wine! He crossed the final line! He became one of them!"
"But the cop in his heart isn't dead! He despises himself! He's disgusted with himself!"
Jiang Wen jabbed a finger hard against his own chest, his expression fanatical.
"I don't want simple pain! I want the soul torn apart! Half drug dealer, half cop!"
"I want to see them fighting inside your body! Fighting until it's a bloody mess!"
Jiang Ci listened quietly and nodded.
A set assistant brought the diving thermal underwear and protective gear prepared for the actors.
"Not needed."
Jiang Ci waved his hand, refusing.
Under everyone's gaze, he took off his heavy coat.
He was wearing only that thin, gray shirt and black pants that belonged to Jiang He.
Then, he walked into the curtain of rain.
The rain soaked through the thin fabric, clinging tightly to his skin.
"Action!"
At Jiang Wen's command, the silent figure standing in the rain moved.
Jiang Ci, portraying Jiang He, froze in his action.
He staggered into the center of the mud pit, his legs giving way as he crashed heavily to his knees.
Muddy water splashed everywhere.
He hunched over and began to retch violently.
Nothing came out.
That nonexistent bowl of blood wine was burning his esophagus, his stomach, his soul.
He had to get it out!
Jiang He suddenly shoved the fingers of his right hand deep down his own throat!
It was as if he was punishing this mouth that had drunk the blood wine, this body that had been defiled.
Violent physiological spasms made his whole body curl up. The veins on his neck bulged, turning red from lack of oxygen.
"Gag—"
Under the repeated, brutal stimulation, his stomach finally gave in.
Stomach acid mixed with rainwater streamed wretchedly from the corner of his mouth.
He collapsed onto the muddy water, utterly spent, gasping for breath, making incoherent sounds in his throat.
Behind the monitor, Jiang Wen gritted his molars.
This was the feeling!
In the mud pit, Jiang He struggled to lift his head. The rain washed the mud from his face and soaked the freshly scabbed wound.
He looked at his own hands.
These hands had carried drugs and distributed "prizes."
And this right hand had just lifted that bowl of blood wine representing submission and betrayal.
Dirty.
So dirty.
He lay in the muddy water, frantically rubbing his palms against the ground, trying to use the grit to scrape off the invisible filth from his hands.
But no matter how hard he rubbed, how he tried to wash it away, that sense of guilt clung like a festering bone disease.
Suddenly, his fingers, groping in the muddy water, paused.
His fingertips touched something hard and angular.
It was a stone.
In the depths of his self-loathing, Jiang He found his final path to redemption.
He dug the stone out of the muddy water, gripping it tightly in his left hand.
Then, in the pouring rain of the night, he raised that stone high above his head.
Amidst the collective, sharp intake of breath and gasps from the entire crew, that mud-caked stone,
aimed at his own right hand, tore through the curtain of rain, and smashed down with brutal force!