After eating dumplings on New Year’s Eve, the two nestled on the sofa and watched the Spring Festival Gala for a while. About half an hour later, Ye Zhou suddenly remembered something and dashed back to his room. After a while, he came out mysteriously.
His clothes looked bulky, obviously hiding something inside. He stopped in front of Boss Jiang and, unable to conceal his excitement, deliberately lowered his voice, “Guess what’s inside.”
Jiang Tingyuan raised his eyebrows and guessed a few types of food. Apparently, Ye Zhou’s kitchen antics during this period left an impression on him.
Seeing that he couldn’t guess correctly after several tries, Ye Zhou unzipped his jacket slightly, revealing a small gap for Boss Jiang to see.
Jiang Tingyuan thought it was something to eat at first, but his expression changed when he saw it. He grabbed Ye Zhou’s arm firmly, an unusual display of force, and unzipped his jacket entirely.
Before Ye Zhou could react or dodge, the bag of firecrackers he had secretly stashed in his clothes came tumbling out with a clatter as the zipper opened.
“Ah!” Ye Zhou scrambled to catch them but failed, and various firecrackers scattered across the floor.
His surprise turned into shock. He was a little angry and opened his mouth to say something, but upon meeting Boss Jiang’s gaze, he immediately backed down, shut his mouth, and begrudgingly bent down to pick up the scattered firecrackers from the floor.
Although his sponsor was a bit willful, what else could he do except indulge him?
Seeing Ye Zhou’s aggrieved expression, Jiang Tingyuan also felt a tinge of regret. After some hesitation, he squatted down to help Ye Zhou pick up the firecrackers.
“Next time, don’t put these things in your coat. It’s dangerous,” Jiang Tingyuan said softly as he put the last pack of firecrackers into Ye Zhou’s bag.
Initially, Ye Zhou thought Boss Jiang might dislike firecrackers and got angry, but upon hearing his explanation, he realized Boss Jiang’s extreme reaction was due to safety concerns.
Ye Zhou’s temper flared up quickly but dissipated just as fast. Once he understood Boss Jiang’s intention, the small flame burning within him was instantly extinguished.
“Do you want to go to the courtyard and set off the firecrackers together?” Ye Zhou asked, his voice tinged with a hint of appeasement. He felt slightly guilty for misunderstanding Boss Jiang.
Boss Jiang nodded at the bulging bag in Ye Zhou’s hands and met his expectant gaze, the refusal on his lips turning into acquiescence, “Let’s go.”
Receiving the approval, Ye Zhou, as if fearing Boss Jiang would change his mind, tightly hugged the bag filled with firecrackers and dashed outside in a flash.
Watching his back, Jiang Tingyuan shook his head helplessly but didn’t forget to grab a thick coat for Ye Zhou before heading out.
Perhaps it was a desire to make up for what he couldn’t have in childhood. In his previous life, Ye Zhou loved playing with these little things. Every Chinese New Year, he would buy several hundred firecrackers and set them off alone.
However, later on, his world implemented a policy prohibiting the ignition of firecrackers within cities. With Ye Zhou’s busy work life confined to urban areas, he rarely had the opportunity to visit rural towns. Eventually, he had to abandon this obsession.
In this book world, there was no such regulation, so Ye Zhou had planned and hoarded a bagful of firecrackers before the stores closed, intending to indulge himself thoroughly this year. However, considering safety concerns, he abandoned the idea and only purchased some relatively safe and easy-to-store options.
Whether by chance or accident, as they stepped outside, snowflakes began to fall from the sky. The flakes were small and melted upon touching their skin, leaving only a cool sensation as proof of their existence.
Seeing Boss Jiang come out, Ye Zhou waved at him, “Jiang-ge, come quickly!”
When Boss Jiang approached, Ye Zhou took out several cylindrical firecrackers from the bag and arranged them in a small circle near Boss Jiang’s feet.
“Jiang-ge, don’t move,” Ye Zhou reminded Boss Jiang as he arranged the firecrackers.
After completing the circle, Ye Zhou took out a lighter he had prepared and ignited each firecracker surrounding Boss Jiang one by one.
Beautiful orange and yellow sparks instantly erupted from the lit firecrackers, resembling countless orange threads, creating a mesmerizing sight.
As all the firecrackers were lit, the stunning sparks encircled Boss Jiang. Jiang Tingyuan’s eyes showed an extremely rare tenderness under the reflection of the fireworks.
Standing in the center, surrounded by countless sparks, his gaze remained fixed on the young man outside the fiery ring, whose eyes and brows were filled with joy.
At first, Ye Zhou’s attention was mostly on the firecrackers, but somehow, he subconsciously looked up and met Jiang Tingyuan’s gaze.
Perhaps it was the fiery backdrop, but Boss Jiang’s entire being was bathed in a warm glow, completely devoid of his usual aloofness and indifference. The harsh edges softened, exuding a sense of serenity and gentleness.
Ye Zhou had never seen Boss Jiang like this before. He was so dazzling that Ye Zhou couldn’t avert his gaze. For a fleeting moment, he could even hear the thumping of his own heart resonating in his chest.
Thump.
Thump.
He vaguely knew this feeling wasn’t quite right, but he didn’t want it to stop. He only comforted himself, who could not like beautiful things.
After rummaging in his pocket for a moment, Ye Zhou mustered his courage and waved his phone at Boss Jiang. Seizing the opportunity when Boss Jiang lowered his head, he suddenly called out, “Jiang-ge!”
Jiang Tingyuan turned his head slightly and looked in Ye Zhou’s direction. Ye Zhou stared at him intently, his palms sweating with nervousness. With a light touch, he captured the moment when Boss Jiang glanced back at him.
After taking the photo, Ye Zhou didn’t even bother to look at it and immediately put his phone back in his pocket, acting as if nothing had happened. He randomly changed the subject in an attempt to divert Boss Jiang’s attention, “Be careful and stay safe. Wait for the firecrackers to burn out before coming out.”
Jiang Tingyuan’s handsome brows arched slightly, and he suddenly waved Ye Zhou over.
Ye Zhou didn’t know why and felt incredibly guilty. Before he could react, his body had already unconsciously moved towards Jiang.
When Ye Zhou approached, Jiang Tingyuan extended his hand towards him, the intention clear without words.
“Huh? Wh-what’s wrong?” Ye Zhou feigned ignorance, hoping to brush it off.
But Boss Jiang clearly wasn’t going to let him off the hook, pointing at the pocket where Ye Zhou had put his phone, “Hand it over.”
Failing to brush it off, Ye Zhou’s head drooped. Although reluctant, he didn’t dare openly defy Boss Jiang’s authority and handed over his phone.
Thinking that Boss Jiang would delete the photo he had just taken, Ye Zhou felt a pang of regret. But instead of opening the photo, Jiang grabbed Ye Zhou’s arm and gently pulled him closer. As Ye Zhou looked at him in surprise, Boss Jiang turned the phone horizontally, moved it close to Ye Zhou’s face, and swiftly snapped a photo.
This photo came at a cost…Ye Zhou’s jeans had a small hole burned by the firecrackers, and his priceless stunned expression was permanently captured.
Regardless, Ye Zhou felt this Spring Festival was quite fulfilling.
After the holiday break, filming for ‘Chasing the Light’ resumed. Since the original actor for the role of Cheng Ling was replaced, all the footage Xi Yang had shot in the previous two months became unusable.
Before the new year, due to the impending holiday, there wasn’t enough time, so Ye Zhou asked Duan Jingyuan to focus on filming the later scenes first. Now that the holiday was over, reshooting the earlier scenes had to be put on the schedule.
Although uncommon in the industry, it wasn’t unheard of for the lead actor to be replaced midway through filming.
In cases where a significant amount of footage had already been shot, or there were budget and time constraints, most production teams would opt to use special effects to replace the actor’s face.
While the financial loss from changing leads wasn’t a big deal, the real challenge was that the original shooting plan was completely disrupted. If there were many scenes involving multiple actors, their schedules would need to be coordinated again for the reshoots.
Although Ye Zhou didn’t intend to make money or rush the release of ‘Chasing the Light,’ the highlight of this film was the interactions between the two male leads. Now that one of them had been replaced, a substantial amount of reshooting was inevitable, and Geng Bochuan’s opinion would need to be consulted.
“Currently, there are two options. The first is to directly replace the face in the footage Xi Yang has already shot, which is simpler and would maximize time and cost savings.”
“The other option is more troublesome – discard Xi Yang’s two months of footage and reshoot everything.” Ye Zhou took a sip of his hot tea and looked at Geng Bochuan and his manager. “What are your thoughts?”
“Director Ye, if we go with the second option, about how long would the reshoots take?” Geng Bochuan’s manager asked with a hint of worry after a moment of silence.
For Geng Bochuan, time was literally money. Wasting a day meant losing a substantial amount of income, but more importantly, if the reshoots caused him to miss out on other promising opportunities, it would be a significant loss.
Ye Zhou straightforwardly told him, “At least a month, and if things don’t go smoothly, it could take even longer.”
Upon hearing this, the manager’s expression turned troubled, but he didn’t outright refuse. Instead, he took out a tablet to check Geng Bochuan’s schedule.
After finishing ‘Chasing the Light’, Geng Bochuan was invited as a special guest for a variety show. This show had been running for three to four years domestically. Although not as popular as in its early years, it still had a decent reputation and a solid audience base with steady viewership ratings.
Even if Geng Bochuan could painfully decline the variety show, there was still the role of the third male lead in an upcoming film that his manager could not bring himself to turn down for Ye Zhou, no matter what.
Don’t underestimate this seemingly insignificant third lead role – this film was one that countless actors were vying for. The reason was simple: the director was a heavyweight in the industry. Not only for the third lead, but even a minor extra role had people fighting tooth and nail to be cast.
Initially, his manager and Geng Bochuan had to go through great lengths to secure this role. The director had only one peculiar indulgence.
To cater to his preference, the manager and Geng Bochuan took turns accompanying him for several drinking sessions. Coupled with Geng Bochuan’s decent performance and their request for a relatively unimportant role, the director finally agreed.
The manager learned from the grapevine that this director was aiming for awards with this film, and Geng Bochuan happened to be lacking in that aspect. If he could snag an award, even if it didn’t bring substantial improvement, it would at least elevate his prestige and give Geng Bochuan a touch of glory.
In contrast, the manager had been closely observing the production of ‘Chasing the Light’. Although Ye Zhou had his methods for coaching actors, and Geng Bochuan’s acting skills had greatly improved under his tutelage, the subject matter of this film was frankly unappealing.
In terms of box office, ‘Chasing the Light’ was the least commercially viable tragic drama.
As for awards, putting aside Ye Zhou’s box office success, his mixed reputation in the industry was comparable to that of Geng Bochuan’s. In addition, the heavy subject matter of ‘Chasing the Light’, despite its emotional intensity, was not the kind of realistic drama favored by major mainstream awards shows, making it nearly impossible to win.
So, while the manager was grateful to Ye Zhou and acknowledged his help to his artist, he didn’t have high hopes for this film. He didn’t want Geng Bochuan to give up a potentially award-winning film to spend time on the seemingly unpromising ‘Chasing the Light’.
It was selfish, but after a moment’s hesitation, the manager began, “Director Ye, I’m sorry…”
“I have time,” Geng Bochuan cut off his manager’s impending rejection.
Ye Zhou looked at Geng Bochuan, then at his manager. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “How about this? Don’t rush into agreeing. Discuss it thoroughly, and let me know your decision before we wrap up.”
Relieved that Ye Zhou didn’t readily agree, the manager let out a breath and glared sternly at his artist, signaling him to behave. Seeing Geng Bochuan settle down, he put on a smile and told Ye Zhou, “Alright, thank you, Director Ye. We’ll discuss it carefully and let you know our decision before wrapping up.”
After this conversation, the crew remained busy every day. Ye Zhou spent more time focusing on Duan Jingyuan lately. Although Duan Jingyuan was trained professionally and was hardworking, his long history of playing minor roles meant he had never taken on a leading part before, causing him to hold back in his performances.
In contrast, Ye Zhou paid less attention to Geng Bochuan, as he seemed to have found his groove and fully immersed himself in the role during this period. When discussing scenes, Geng Bochuan often grasped the nuances immediately, no longer requiring Ye Zhou’s guidance. His performances during the actual filming were also highly satisfactory.
Geng Bochuan’s natural image aligned well with his character, and his previous shortcoming was his acting skills. Now that his acting had caught up, he could explore and immerse himself in the role independently, no longer needing Ye Zhou’s constant instruction.
Four months passed, and the filming was largely completed, with only a few final scenes and necessary reshoots remaining. At the latest, it would wrap up within a week.
Ye Zhou sat behind the monitor, closely observing every move of the two actors on the screen.
Cheng Ling, played by Duan Jingyuan1Raw says Geng Bochuan, but GBC’s role is Cheng Ye, received a notification from his superior that an informant had reported an imminent clash between the two most powerful gangs in D City that night. The gang leaders they had been pursuing would also be present. Their mission was to prevent this clash and apprehend both gang leaders.
From the moment Cheng Ling received this mission, his right eyelid had been twitching2“左眼跳财， 右眼跳灾” which translates to “left eye twitching brings wealth, right eye twitching brings calamity”. So, if your right eye twitches, it is seen as a sign of impending bad luck or disaster. While left eye twitching means good fortune or incoming money., and an inexplicable sense of anxiety gripped his heart. Before setting out, as Cheng Ling was putting on his bulletproof vest, a colleague asked if he had just washed his face, only then realizing that his face was covered in a layer of fine, cold sweat.
An unprecedented sense of dread was spreading within him, yet he couldn’t pinpoint its source, no matter how hard he tried.
At 11:30 PM, thirty minutes before the informant’s reported clash time, Cheng Ling and his colleagues hid in the shadows, watching people gradually gather from a distance.
By 11:40 PM, the two opposing sides had formed distinct camps, separated by about 50 meters, with their forces mostly assembled.
At 11:50 PM, all the foot soldiers and henchmen had arrived, and the higher-ranking leaders of the two gangs were also present.
Two minutes before midnight, several vehicles arrived one after another behind the clearly divided camps, signaling the arrival of the big fish they were trying to catch tonight.
The car door opened, and through his binoculars, Cheng Ling saw a tall, slender man wearing an exaggerated pair of sunglasses and a tattered baseball cap emerge first.
The distance and the darkness, coupled with the man’s face partially obscured by his accessories, made it impossible for Cheng Ling to discern his features. Yet, a vague sense of familiarity lingered, preventing him from averting his gaze.
Before Cheng Ling could think further, the two sides seemed to have started negotiations, which apparently didn’t go well. Upon a command from their respective leaders, the already poised gang members let out war cries and charged at each other, erupting into a violent clash.
Everything happened too fast. In just five minutes, it was far quicker than the police had anticipated. By the time they reacted and tried to intervene, the melee had already erupted, and the best opportunity to intervene was missed. The situation had spiraled out of control; it was too late.
Cheng Ling’s gaze unconsciously followed that figure. The man didn’t look particularly strong or like someone who could fight well. Yet, when the brawl started, he moved with vicious brutality, cutting through the crowd with unstoppable force.
The more Cheng Ling watched, the stronger the sense of familiarity grew, as if the answer lingered at the edge of his mind, separated only by a thin veil he couldn’t penetrate to recall the source of this familiarity.
As the clash between the two sides escalated with casualties on both ends, the police could no longer stand idly by. They executed Plan B, rushing out to surround the gangsters.
Although outnumbered by the two gangs, the police’s firearms initially had a deterrent effect, temporarily halting the fight.
However, this stalemate was short-lived as the battle soon erupted again, this time dragging the police into the fray. While the officers had guns, they exercised restraint and would only fire as an absolute last resort. But the enraged gangsters had no such inhibitions.
With a gunshot, those who had already descended into madness completely discarded their last shred of rationality. The fight escalated further, and from that moment on, no one remained unscathed.
As fellow officers fell around him, the chaos singled out Cheng Ling, the police officer, who was surrounded by several gangsters. He had multiple bleeding wounds, and one gangster, eyes bloodshot, charged at him with a knife. Cheng Ling tried to evade, but his legs felt like lead, refusing to obey.
As the blade neared his chest, Cheng Ling calmly closed his eyes, awaiting the impending death. They say in the face of death, one’s life flashes before their eyes. Cheng Ling’s life had been harsh, until his brother pulled him out of the abyss. But his brother… had long since abandoned him.
Unexpectedly, as Cheng Ling closed his eyes, a sense of tranquility washed over him, devoid of regrets or resentment. If there was any lingering regret, it was perhaps not being able to see Cheng Ye one last time.
Perhaps due to his near-death state, Cheng Ye’s face, which had grown increasingly blurred over the past two years, now gradually came into sharp focus – the youthful Cheng Ye, the young adult Cheng Ye, laughing, raging, vividly alive.
Suddenly, a tremendous force slammed into Cheng Ling, knocking him a considerable distance away. When he opened his eyes, he realized it was the slender man whose familiarity had nagged at him earlier.
The man kicked away the gangster holding the knife, then viciously stomped on his hand. The gangster’s screams and cries were drowned out by the noise of the brawl. The gangster’s hand was a mess, blood dripped, and it seemed that he would never be able to hold a knife again in this life. Only then did the man remove his foot.
Cheng Ling watched as the man picked up the fallen knife and approached him step by step. When the man extended his hand, offering the knife, the chaotic surroundings seemed to fade into the background noise. Cheng Ling raised his hand, unsure whether he intended to take the knife or simply grasp the man’s hand.
But at that moment, a bullet pierced the man’s chest, blood blossoming from the wound and staining his shirt crimson, mirrored in Cheng Ling’s eyes.
The man seemed to freeze for a moment, the knife Cheng Ling hadn’t yet taken from his outstretched hand slipping and clattering to the ground.
“Cut!” Ye Zhou called out, but Duan Jingyuan and Geng Bochuan remained motionless, maintaining their previous postures. Tears the size of soybeans spilled from Duan Jingyuan’s eyes, yet his expression was numb despite his silent weeping, as if his soul had been extracted, leaving behind an empty shell.
Assistant Director Meng noticed his state was not quite right and nudged Ye Zhou with concern, whispering, “This kid is too deep into the role. He doesn’t have much experience, and I’m worried he might not be able to break out of it.”
Ye Zhou understood his meaning and shook his head slowly after a moment of silence, “It’s unclear at the moment. I’ll talk to him later. Let’s observe him for a couple of days first. If he still can’t break out of it, we’ll consult a psychologist.”
Immersing oneself in a role is a coveted state that countless actors dream of achieving. When an actor truly immerses, they no longer remain an actor but become the character itself, merging completely. This elusive state can unlock an actor’s full potential, often leading to indescribably surprising performances.
However, immersing too deeply also has its dangers. Once you are too deeply involved in a play and cannot break away from the role, the consequences are unimaginable. In the past, unscrupulous directors would resort to various unethical methods to push actors into immersing themselves for a better performance, ultimately causing the actors to immerse too deeply, leading to mental breakdowns or even suicide.
Duan Jingyuan’s current state was one of immersion. If he could come out of it himself, it would be fine. But if he couldn’t break out on his own without proper guidance from a psychologist to gradually lead him out of the role, it would undoubtedly be detrimental to Duan Jingyuan.
Fortunately, Ye Zhou and Assistant Director Meng’s concerns proved unfounded. Although Duan Jingyuan remained gloomy for a few days after filming that scene, he soon recovered and showed no severe aftereffects.
Nevertheless, Ye Zhou made a point to have a heart-to-heart with him, ensuring he was truly unharmed before finally breathing a sigh of relief.
No matter how remarkable the work or the pursuit of perfection, Ye Zhou firmly believed that sacrificing human life for so-called glory was an utterly absurd and tragic notion.
The following Sunday afternoon, with all the scenes completed, Geng Bochuan knocked on Ye Zhou’s dressing room door.
“Director Ye, I have time. I have availability. I’m willing to reshoot. Let’s do it.” Geng Bochuan’s voice was firm and resolute.
“Have you discussed it with your manager? He came to me earlier, saying you have a new film with Director Lu Cheng next month. It’s a great opportunity. Are you really going to turn down Director Lu to waste time with me?”
Ye Zhou looked at the young man before him, recalling his initial impression half a year ago. Time really flew, he mused.
“I’ve made up my mind.” Geng Bochuan suddenly stood up and gave Ye Zhou a deep, solemn bow. “Thank you, Director Ye, for your guidance and care during this time. This is the first film I’ve ever fully immersed myself in and completed wholeheartedly in my career.”
“I don’t want to have any regrets about Chasing the Light.'”
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