Huayu: Starting with Xiang Yu, the Hegemon of Western Chu

The crew didn't disband after that scene was filmed.

Luo Yifeng's original plan was to shoot one more insurance film and then call it a day.

The insurance wasn't filmed, but there are three more short scenes planned, which are scraps from the Northern Expedition scene: a short fight scene between Zhu Zhanji and a few guards, a transitional scene between Zhu Di and a few generals, plus an empty shot with extras.

These three scenes were originally scheduled for the afternoon.

After lunch that day, Luo Yifeng did not start filming as originally planned.

He sat on a folding chair outside the monitoring tent. He sat there for about forty minutes.

The assistant director came over and asked him if he wanted to continue.

Luo Yifeng said.

"We're not filming today."

The assistant director was taken aback.

"Should we film that one take today?"

"Just that one."

"What about the rest of the scenes?"

"Postponed, I'll check again tomorrow morning."

The assistant director wanted to say something more, but he was still overseeing the entire production schedule. If they missed shooting three scenes today, tomorrow's schedule would have to be moved up, and a whole series of subsequent schedules would have to be adjusted accordingly.

But after glancing at Luo Yifeng's expression, he swallowed back the words he was about to say.

He nodded and turned to notify the various departments.

The film crew began packing up the equipment.

The lighting crew was dismantling the light stands, the camera crew was packing up the lenses, the art department was removing the sand table and flags, and 180 extras on cavalry dismounted one after another, with horsemen leading the horses away one by one from a distance.

No one spoke on the entire set.

This is not because I was asked to be quiet.

It's because nobody knows what to say.

A film crew of two or three hundred people sometimes has the same feeling after a scene is finished. It's hard to explain, but everyone knows it.

This afternoon, this feeling enveloped the entire film set.

So no one spoke.

Everyone quietly packed up.

It took a long time to tidy up.

Chen Mo sat on the folding chair on the side of the set for about twenty minutes.

He didn't move.

He wasn't tired; he just didn't want to move.

Wang Xueqi had just sat next to him, said three sentences, and left; the lingering warmth of those three sentences still lingered on that chair.

Chen Mo didn't want to stand up and extinguish that lingering warmth.

So he sat down.

He stood up twenty minutes later.

He disassembled the armor, layer by layer: greaves, arm guards, breastplate, backplate, and helmet.

He solved it all by himself, without asking anyone for help.

After he finished removing the armor, he held it in his arms.

He carried it to the clothing department and handed it to Director Lin.

Director Lin took the suit of armor and glanced at Chen Mo.

He didn't ask Chen Mo how she was feeling today.

He only said one sentence.

"Teacher Chen, I'll hang it back on the shelf."

"Um."

"You'll use the same setup tomorrow."

"it is good."

Chen Mo left after he finished speaking.

Director Lin, carrying the 18-kilogram armor set, watched Chen Mo's retreating figure as he headed towards the bus.

He suddenly realized something.

There are several new scratches on this set of nails.

It's not due to wear and tear on the props.

The marks were left on Chen Mo's body by the armor as he rode his horse, shot arrows, turned his head, and dismounted during his series of movements today.

The friction between the nail plates rubbed off a small patch of paint, and the belt buckle was pressed into a shallow mark by the repeated rise and fall of breathing.

Director Lin looked at the marks.

He did not immediately hang the armor back on the rack.

He carried the suit of armor to the clothing department's worktable and put it down.

He took out a soft cloth.

He began to polish the nails little by little.

It was wiped very slowly.

He wiped it for a whole hour.

Chen Mo boarded the bus.

There were already more than a dozen people on the bus, all of whom were core members of the film crew, and no one spoke.

Chen Mo sat down by the window.

He rested his head against the car window.

The car window glass was cool.

He closed his eyes.

The car started.

It takes about forty minutes to drive from the filming location to the accommodation.

Chen Mo fell asleep during those forty minutes.

This is the first time he has fallen asleep in public since joining the crew. He didn't sleep all night, and his nerves completely relaxed after that scene was filmed.

The assistant director was sitting across the aisle. He saw that Chen Mo was asleep, so he quietly got up, took his coat from the luggage rack, and placed it on Chen Mo's lap.

Chen Mo didn't wake up when the coat was put down.

The assistant director returned to his seat.

He turned his head and glanced out the window.

The grasslands of Bashang are golden in the sunlight. The wind blows through the car window, and the horses that were lined up in the distance have now dispersed and are grazing on the grass.

The assistant director looked at the horses and suddenly his eyes welled up with tears.

He himself didn't know why.

He just felt that he would remember this scene for the rest of his life.

According to the arrangements at the base, dinner is served at 6:30 pm.

Around 6:30, most of the people in the canteen arrived—actors, staff, stagehands, lighting technicians, and prop masters. Everyone quietly got their food and sat down to eat.

Chen Mo didn't come.

Chen Mo returned to his room and didn't come out.

Wang Xueqi also didn't come.

The cafeteria chef asked the assistant director what to do, and the assistant director told him to send a portion to Wang Xueqi's room.

The chef took the lunchboxes away.

The chef returned ten minutes later.

"It can't be sent in."

"What's wrong?"

"Teacher Wang's room door was locked from the inside. I knocked twice, and he told me to leave it at the door and thanked me."

The assistant director nodded.

"it is good."

"Go again tonight and see if he's eaten."

The chef responded.

Around 8 p.m., the chef went again.

The lunchbox is still at the door.

I didn't touch a single bite.

The cook brought the lunchbox back.

He told the assistant director about it.

The assistant director remained silent for a moment.

"understood."

"You should go back now."

The chef left.

The assistant director sat alone at a table in the corner of the cafeteria.

In front of him was a bowl of cold shredded pork with garlic sauce over rice.

He didn't touch his chopsticks.

The lights in Chen Mo's room were turned off around nine o'clock.

It's not that he wants to sleep.

He can't sleep.

He slept for forty minutes on the bus during the day, thinking he would be able to lie down on the bed and sleep until dawn when he arrived at his residence.

He was wrong.

After returning to his room, he lay down and stared at the ceiling for an hour.

That scene was still playing in his mind.

The dust cloud from 180 horses, the pupils dilating in an instant, the breath that made the breastplate heave, the corners of the mouth that curled up for less than a second.

These things went through his mind over and over again.

It's not about reminiscing.

It's something he himself can't quite explain.

For those few hours during the day, he was completely dressed by Zhu Zhanji.

By this time, he had returned to his room, and Zhu Zhanji should have already left his body.

However, they did not completely leave.

There was still something left inside his body.

That little bit of food kept him awake.

There's a saying in the industry about this situation: "The role hasn't been completely played out."

There are two types of acting.

One way is to act, where the actor observes the character from the outside and uses technology to bring the character to life. The other way is to immerse oneself, where the actor relinquishes themselves and allows the character to live inside.

The first type is to remove all makeup after the performance, go home to eat and sleep, and then go back to work the next day.

The second one is different.

The second type is lending yourself out.

After filming is completed, the portion that was lent out will only be recovered gradually.

Some actors can recover their losses in a few days, some can't recover them in a few months, and some actors never recover a part of their careers.

Chen Mo hasn't finished collecting the money he lent out today.

He knew about it.

He knew he had to shoulder this responsibility himself; no one else could help, not even by eating or sleeping. He could only wait.

Wait for that part to slowly come back on its own.

Chen Mo lay in bed for two hours, then he got up.

He walked to the table but did not turn on the light.

I touched his notebook, opened it, and touched the pen.

I wrote a line of text in the dark.

He couldn't see what he was writing, but his hands knew what he was writing.

Put down the pen after you've finished writing.

He stood up and walked to the door.

Open the door a crack.

Light from the corridor seeped in through the crack in the door.

He glanced back at the notebook on the table.

In the peripheral light of the corridor, the line of words he wrote was barely legible.

"It's not that the performance is over, it's that the performance has become immersive."

This sentence is Chen Mo's summary of his day.

In the morning, he thought it was just a regular scene. When he got to the set, he filmed the first take, but it didn't turn out well. He thought about it all afternoon and night, and this morning he went back to filming the second take.

The second one is approved.

But when he walked off the set today, he was no longer entirely himself.

He had a piece of Zhu Zhanji's belongings on him.

That thing wasn't acted out; he earned it by staying up all night and sitting on the cold wall until dawn.

What we got in return was real.

The real thing won't be taken back just because someone says "that's too much."

Imagine, hundreds of years ago, on the same land, a group of people had a momentous story unfold.

Time rolls on, washing these things away like waves.

Centuries later, another group of people recreated the scene on this land.

Even though hundreds of years have passed, two nearly identical souls still resonate with each other.

"Zhu Zhanji..."

Chen Mo murmured to himself and silently walked out of the room.

The corridor of the prefab houses is a long, straight passageway with prefab houses on both sides. At the end of the corridor is a staircase leading to the second floor, where Wang Xueqi and several other lead actors live.

Chen Mo walked to the stairwell but did not go up immediately.

He simply stood at the top of the stairs, looking up.

The lights on the top floor of the stairwell were on, and a figure was standing by the window at the end of the corridor.

That figure was Wang Xueqi.

Wang Xueqi was wearing a dark gray loungewear set. He had his back to Chen Mo.

He rested one hand on the windowsill.

He held a cigarette in his other hand.

The red glow of the cigarette butt flickered in the night sky over the grassland outside the window.

Chen Mo stood at the top of the stairs without moving.

He watched Wang Xueqi's retreating figure.

Wang Xueqi hadn't smoked all day, and he wasn't a regular smoker. This was the first time Chen Mo had seen Wang Xueqi smoke during the twelve days he was on set.

Chen Mo didn't know whether he should go up or go back.

He stood at the top of the stairs for half a minute.

The figure upstairs never turned around.

Wang Xueqi finished smoking his cigarette.

He didn't use an ashtray; he simply pressed the cigarette butt against the outer edge of the windowsill.

After he finished pressing the button, he didn't go inside immediately.

He stood at the window for a while longer.

Then he turned around.

He saw Chen Mo at the top of the stairs.

Wang Xueqi was stunned for a moment.

He didn't expect anyone to be standing at the bottom of the stairs at this time.

After recognizing Chen Mo, the stiffness in his eyes relaxed slightly.

It's not a laugh.

It's a very light, tiring kind of relaxation.

The two people looked at each other from a distance.

Wang Xueqi remained silent.

Chen Mo didn't say anything.

About ten seconds passed.

Wang Xueqi nodded to Chen Mo.

He didn't say "get some rest."

He didn't say "Let's talk tomorrow".

He didn't say anything.

But with that one nod, Chen Mo understood.

Wang Xueqi's nod conveyed the message: "You can't sleep either, I know."

Then he pushed open the door to his room and went inside.

The door closed.

Chen Mo stood at the top of the stairs for a while longer.

He did not go upstairs.

He turned and walked towards his room.

He stopped when he walked back to the door of the room.

He turned around and walked down the corridor to the other end.

There is also a window at the other end of the prefab house.

Chen Mo walked to the window.

He reached out and pushed open the window.

The night breeze blew in through the window.

The night on the grassland is dark, with a few scattered lights in the distance, and nothing but darkness beyond that.

Chen Mo peeked his head out a little.

He doesn't smoke. He doesn't smoke.

He just stood there by the window.

I stood there for a long time.

When he returned to his room, it was already past 1 a.m.

He lay down on the bed.

This time he fell asleep.

I'm sleeping very soundly.