I'm not a drama freak, I can really see through the script

Chapter 398, Chen Kun is completely convinced.
Being an actor, to put it simply, is about empathy and becoming another person.

Even if some people emphasize rational analysis, in the end, genuine feelings are still essential.

Chen Kun felt that he and Zhou Xun were similar, acting based on feeling.

Therefore, when the characters in the play face life and death, they really feel a jolt in their hearts.

Death, and separation—for the living, nothing is more terrifying than these.

It's not like I haven't played dead characters before. The heroes in period dramas always look good even when they die; Chen Kun has played that role several times.

But this time is different.

This time it's illness, it's reality, there's no romance at all, it's the ugliest way to die.

They died in excruciating pain, tortured to death.

But Li Xuan... he wasn't afraid of this kind of thing at all.

He was frighteningly calm about illness and death.

"Watching others die, the pressure was immense, yet he was able to withstand it..."

Chen Kun couldn't help but mutter to himself.

That's incredible mental fortitude.

……

The script reading session was held in a conference room at a hotel near the hospital.

The curtains were drawn tightly, blocking out the sunlight, leaving only the pale light from the overhead lamp, which made everyone's faces look bloodless.

The atmosphere was somber.

After leaving the hospital, no one spoke much.

The script was spread out in front of Chen Kun, but he couldn't concentrate on reading a single word.

My mind is filled with the image of the boy coughing up blood in that hospital room, and his mother's eyes that suddenly went vacant.

He's an actor, a top-notch actor.

He knows how to imitate and how to create.

But this time, he found he couldn't do it; it was really hard to do.

Whenever he tried to recall the boy's frail appearance or to imitate his painful breathing, a strong sense of guilt would well up inside him.

That wasn't a character; that was a living, breathing human life.

How could I, how dare I, use other people's suffering as a stepping stone for my own performance?
In particular, before entering the ward, the emaciated little boy recognized him, a glint of light flashed in his eyes, and he struggled to pull a crumpled notebook from under his pillow, handing it to him with all his might.

"Kun... Brother Kun... I like your 'Painted Skin'... Could you sign it for me?"

He signed it.

My hands were shaking.

Now, that burning guilt is raging in his heart, making him restless.

"let's start."

Li Xuan's voice broke the silence.

He sat in the main seat, his face expressionless, as if everything that had just happened at the hospital had no effect on him.

"It starts with the scene where Lü Shouyi first goes to Cheng Yong to buy medicine after being diagnosed."

All eyes were on Chen Kun.

Chen Kun took a deep breath and forced himself to get into the zone.

He cleared his throat, leaned forward slightly, and tried to adopt a weak yet somewhat ingratiating posture.

"Brother Yong, I...I heard you have...you have medicine here?"

His voice was low and deliberately trembling, and his eyes were darting around.

Technically speaking, there's no problem.

This is what it's like to be a nobody who is tormented by illness year after year, whose self-esteem is crushed, and who can only survive by being humble.

But Zhou Xun frowned slightly as she listened.

That's too much of a performance.

This doesn't feel right.

Chen Kun himself realized something was wrong, and after saying that line, he couldn't continue.

Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was that boy's pale face.

He wasn't playing Lü Shouyi; he was clumsily imitating the despair of a dying man.

This made him feel nauseous.

"Card."

Li Xuan called a halt.

He didn't look at Chen Kun, but instead picked up the script in front of him.

"I'll try."

Everyone in the conference room was stunned.

Including Zhou Xun and Chen Kun.

Is Li Xuan going to play Lü Shouyi?
Isn't he playing Cheng Yong?
Under everyone's astonished gaze, Li Xuan simply adjusted his posture slightly.

Instead of leaning forward, he sank deeper into the chair, his spine seemingly ripped out, his shoulders slumped limply, and he looked a size smaller.

He didn't speak, but first let out a soft, suppressed gasp.

The voice was very soft, yet it was like a small hook that instantly grabbed everyone's attention.

That wasn't feigned shortness of breath, but a genuine feeling of exhausting all your strength with every breath after your lungs have failed.

Then, he looked up at the empty chair opposite him, where Cheng Yong seemed to be sitting.

His gaze didn't waver; instead, it was direct, a reckless, slightly neurotic stare.

"I...I heard from someone..."

The moment he opened his mouth, Zhou Xun and Chen Kun's expressions changed.

The voice was dry, hoarse, and weak; each word sounded as if it were rolling around in a leaky bellows, lacking any strength, yet carrying a unique hoarseness caused by long-term medication use.

This is completely different from the voice Chen Kun deliberately lowered earlier.

"...You have medicine."

After saying those four words, he didn't pause, but followed with a rapid, shallow breath, his chest rising and falling slightly, as if saying those words had exhausted all his oxygen.

His face showed neither humility nor flattery, only an animalistic instinct for survival, born from being driven to the brink by illness and death.

It's a kind of madness where you feel like he's about to pounce on you and bite your throat off.

The meeting room was deathly quiet.

Everyone was shocked.

This...this isn't acting.

This is a real patient, sitting right here.

Chen Kun froze completely.

What is an actor?

That's what an actor should be like.

What is copying?

This is what you call copying!
It has nothing to do with acting skills; the sheer precision and composure required for this kind of imitation and observation is something that even a senior from the class of '96 cannot currently achieve.
This psychological quality
at this time.

Li Xuan did not stop.

Maintaining Lu Shouyi's posture, he continued reciting his lines.

Every pause, every breath, every subtle tremor was so precise it sent chills down my spine.

Even when saying "I don't want to die," his eyes twitched uncontrollably and rapidly—a genuine physiological reaction of extreme fear.

After reciting the last line, he was completely exhausted, slumped in his chair, panting heavily, his face as pale as paper.

It took him a full half minute to recover.

He picked up the water glass on the table, took a sip, and then looked up at Chen Kun, who was completely dumbfounded.

His expression had returned to calm, as if the image of Lü Shouyi struggling on the brink of life and death was just an illusion.

"Do you feel it?"

Li Xuan's voice was very calm.

"Playing a patient doesn't mean portraying how weak or pitiful he is."

"It's about portraying how much he wants to live."

Chen Kun opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

He looked at Li Xuan, feeling not only shock but also a deep sense of fear.

How did this young man manage to do that?
Doesn't he have a heart?
Doesn't he feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable about so calmly analyzing other people's life and death and then perfectly replicating it?

This is no longer just being dedicated.

This is almost...cold-blooded.

Li Xuan seemed to see through his thoughts and suddenly coughed twice.

The cough sounded peculiar; it was dry and short, as if there was something stuck in the throat that couldn't be coughed up.

He put down his water glass, looked at Chen Kun, and suddenly spoke.

"When his mother fed him the porridge, his Adam's apple bobbed three times before he swallowed. It wasn't that he had difficulty swallowing, it was that it hurt."

Li Xuan spoke as if he were talking about a trivial matter. "His esophagus is probably full of mouth ulcers caused by the side effects of Gleevec; it's been rotten for a long time."

During the script reading session, Li Xuan completely took the lead.

"It's not just because of his acting skills, but because of his mental fortitude. I admire him."

At this moment, Chen Kun's expression was somewhat complicated. After the first round of readings ended, he smoked a cigarette with a complicated look in his eyes—and coughed twice.
"You still dare to smoke after seeing cancer patients? You're something else!" Zhou Xun jokingly gave Chen Kun a thumbs up, saying, "That's something else too."

Chen Kun's expression was somewhat complicated.

"Well, even if you know tobacco is bad, you still need it to relieve your boredom when you're feeling down."

"How should I put it, this junior of mine, I feel that this mentality is what destined him to be one step ahead of me. He is willing to sacrifice a lot of things. I don't see any of the 'innocence' of youth in this younger brother of yours, only a lack of confusion and maturity that is more mature than mine."

"Yes, he's always been like this. I knew it the moment I met him. He's the kind of person who's never confused."

At this moment, Zhou Xun squinted and lit a cigarette.

His acting skills have become even more refined. It's not that he's better than Chen Kun or himself, but rather that he possesses an unwavering mindset. In terms of portraying patients, he's far ahead.
Chen Kun's "admiration" wasn't for his acting skills, but for his mindset.
Have you ever heard him sing?

"What's wrong? You've heard of him?" Chen Kun paused and said, "Although he hasn't released any new songs in a long time, his old songs are all classics."

Chen Kun felt that Li Xuan was a genius.
Looking at the swirling smoke in front of him, Zhou Xun said calmly.

"Actually, I always feel that no matter how much a person changes, some things in their core remain the same, from composing songs to writing screenplays now."

He has indeed changed.

But Zhou Xun felt that some things had changed, but others...
At this moment, in the hotel.
Li Xuan was indeed watching.

He wasn't just watching the spectacle; he was experiencing the subtle pain and cries of those terminally ill patients.

He was all too familiar with that kind of despair.

He himself had died once, and he knew what it was like to be sick.

That's a feeling no one wants to experience a second time.

Even before filming began.

Li Xuan still faced some moral judgment. The hospital director welcomed the film crew's visit and said that the hematology and oncology wards were very busy and that visits would cost extra. The medical staff, however, were indifferent and even 'irritable'.
I understand. As an actor, being able to perceive emotions is a fundamental skill.

Li Xuan understood that feeling. In front of the medical staff, his image might be that of an entertainment villain who used the image of a dying person to gain money and fame.
It would be difficult for any moral person to do this.
Disrespect for life

Perhaps that's what those doctors were thinking.
There were even moments when Li Xuan himself felt this way.

What ideas dominate your mind?
Is it the desire for fame and fortune?
To fulfill the bet's objective?
No, that's not it.
The atmosphere in the meeting room was even more tense the next day than the day before.

The script was spread out on the table, but few people were interested in reading it.

Chen Kun hadn't slept all night; his eyes were dark-rimmed. He rubbed his temples, but his mind was filled with what happened at the hospital yesterday, and he couldn't shake it off. The more he tried to forget, the clearer the image of the boy vomiting blood became.

Li Xuan entered the conference room, behaving as usual, his face revealing neither joy nor anger.

He looked around and didn't say anything.

"Today, let's try another round."

He didn't say which event it was, but walked to the middle of the conference room and stopped.

He first lowered his head, and in just a few seconds, when he looked up again, he was a completely different person.

That wasn't Lü Shouyi, nor was it Cheng Yong.

He played the mother in the hospital room yesterday who watched helplessly as her son vomited blood.

He didn't make any big movements, but his shoulders slumped down, as if something was pressing down on him, making it difficult for him to breathe.

He reached out and made a feeding motion, feeding him little by little, like a puppet.

His face was expressionless, just a numb look of utter despair, a numbness from not being able to feel anything.

Suddenly, his body stiffened.

The hand that was feeding the child froze in mid-air.

He didn't look at the "quilt" or the "son," his eyes were fixed on his empty hand, as if he were still holding a spoon in it.

The people inside didn't dare to breathe.

Zhou Xun clenched her fist.

Yes, that's exactly it. That's the expression the mother had yesterday.

Then, Li Xuan began to tremble. He put down the "bowl" and frantically flailed his arms in the air, mumbling incoherently:
"It's okay...it's okay, baby..."

His voice trembled violently, yet he tried his best to remain calm, which was incredibly distressing to listen to.

"you……"

Chen Kun couldn't stand it any longer. He stood up abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the ground with a particularly jarring sound.

"enough!"

His chest heaved as he pointed at Li Xuan, his voice trembling, "I...I can't accept it."

He wasn't really angry, he just felt a tightness in his chest and couldn't figure it out.

"We are actors, not people who profit from others' suffering! We cannot use other people's pain as a performance!"

His last sentence was shouted, and his voice echoed throughout the conference room.

It wasn't out of malice towards Li Xuan.

It's not that they're venting; it's just venting.

Everyone looked at Li Xuan, waiting to see what he would say.

Li Xuan stopped moving, stood up straight, and the feeling of his soul being drained away vanished instantly.

Am I really someone who profits from human suffering?
He remembered the man holding his daughter on the train, and the feeling of lying in a hospital bed waiting to die.

In fact, Li Xuan had been thinking about the answer to this question for the past two days.

It must be admitted that the driving force and starting point for making movies is largely driven by the desire for fame and fortune.

That has to be admitted.

But some things are different.

At least, Li Xuan thought about the answer to this question for half a night.

“Brother Kun,” Li Xuan spoke, his voice low but every word clear, “Do you think I’m humiliating her?”

"Isn't that right?" Chen Kun retorted.

“Quite the opposite.” Li Xuan shook his head. “I’m respecting her. I’m using the only method I know, which is also the only method we actors can use.”

He took two steps toward Chen Kun and stood closer.

"Tell me, what is respect? Is it turning your head away and pretending not to see their pain? Or is it going over to them, saying a few useless words of comfort, and then feeling better yourself?"

"We can't do anything else, but what we can do is to present this pain in its entirety and in its truest form."

Li Xuan's tone softened somewhat.

"We made it into a movie so that millions, tens of millions of people could see it, so that everyone could see that there is such a group of people in this world who live like this, struggle like this, and love like this."

"Let them know that there is a kind of medicine that costs tens of thousands of yuan a month, and if they can't afford it, they will die. Let them know that there is a mother who can only watch helplessly as her child gets worse day by day, and can't do anything about it."

"When the audience sheds tears because of our performance, and feels sad because of this story, then this respect is truly effective."

“We are not consuming their pain; we are transmitting that pain. Only when people feel pain will they think and want to do something.”

Li Xuan looked at Chen Kun, who was already dumbfounded, and continued speaking, each word landing squarely.

“Pointing the camera at them is not for entertainment, but to make them visible. We act not to imitate, but to speak for them, to give a shout to the world for those who cannot speak.”

"This is what I believe to be the greatest respect for life."

"Admittedly, fame and fortune are indeed what I pursue and what I am driven by. Completing the bet, achieving box office success and results will help me become the leader of the seventh generation and win the award."

"But I also have my own thoughts. I want this movie to be a knife, stabbing into the heart of everyone who watches it. I want those who are living well to know how difficult it is to live. I want those who have no one to care for them to be helped."

"This is what making movies is all about."

After he finished speaking, the conference room fell into a deathly silence.

Chen Kun stood there dumbfounded, all his anger and excitement gone, leaving only bewilderment.

His mind was a mess.

These are the honest words.

They were all speaking the truth; he could sense it.
Chen Kun suddenly understood.

It turns out that it was oneself who was attached to appearances all along.

The guilt I felt before, the sin of climbing over other people's pain to get ahead, disappeared in an instant.

If my performance could allow millions of people to see that boy's struggles, and make his suffering worthwhile...

That's not called exploitation, that's called remembering him.

This is an actor who can give the highest respect to a deceased life.

He looked at Li Xuan, a young man almost a decade younger than himself, and for the first time, he was truly convinced.

This has nothing to do with acting skills or fame.

"I'm sorry," Chen Kun said to Li Xuan after a moment of silence, "Let's continue, Director Li."

This time.

Chen Kun was truly convinced.

That "Director Li" was called out with utmost sincerity—Zhou Xun could tell from it that Li Xuan's senior was being incredibly genuine at that moment.

However, these words...

It also made Zhou Xun's eyes flash with a dreamy look.
"Him... he's still the same, my brother."

He hasn't changed.

(End of this chapter)