Chapter 376: New Year’s Blessing: Don’t Catch a Cold!
New Year’s Eve drew closer, and CCTV finally issued the final notice.
All artists confirmed to appear in the Spring Festival Gala must record a short personal New Year’s greeting video for the official channels’ pre-release promotion across the entire internet.
This was both a task and an unwritten contest of status ranking.
Lin Wan’s phone had long been filled with leaked photos and sample clips released by major rival studios.
“Look at the others.”
Inside the entourage van, the heater was blasting.
Lin Wan handed the tablet to Jiang Ci. The screen was playing a compiled video collection.
In the frame, a popular young male idol, wearing a custom-made red suit, stood before a floor-to-ceiling window ablaze with lights.
The backdrop was a luxurious riverside apartment overlooking the entire city’s nightscape.
He raised a champagne flute, smiling flawlessly.
“In the new year, I wish everyone great success and prosperity.”
The next clip showed a rising young actress, dressed in a traditional-style embroidered red gown.
She sat in a study room with an antique charm, the Four Treasures of the Study laid out before her.
She was putting the finishing stroke on a massive character for “fortune”.
She offered the camera a gentle, graceful smile.
“May you have no worries year after year, and have abundance every year.”
Every video was as polished as a fashion magazine spread.
Every artist’s makeup was perfect.
They all uttered the same, universally safe, auspicious phrases.
Detached, expensive, and full of distance.
“See? This is the battlefield.”
Lin Wan took back the tablet. “I’ve already had the stylist send the clothes over. A new Chinese-style Tang suit, handmade frog buttons, Suzhou embroidery with dark patterns. It will definitely outshine them.”
She needed Jiang Ci to crawl out of the “Chen San” quagmire, even if just for a few minutes, and become the radiant Film Emperor Jiang Ci again.
Jiang Ci didn’t respond. He was struggling to peel himself out of the sweat-soaked costume.
Hearing her, his movements paused briefly.
“No need.”
Lin Wan thought she misheard.
“What?”
“Sister Wan, no need to prepare clothes.”
Jiang Ci finally managed to take off the old T-shirt clinging to his skin and tossed it aside casually. “We’ll record it wearing Chen San’s clothes.”
A vein throbbed at Lin Wan’s temple.
“Jiang Ci, get a grip. This is a pre-release video for the Spring Festival Gala, not behind-the-scenes footage for ‘King of Extras’.”
“I’m perfectly clear-headed.”
Jiang Ci picked up a towel and roughly dried his hair.
“Right now, I am Chen San. If I put on that Suzhou embroidery suit costing tens of thousands, I wouldn’t know how to speak, wouldn’t know where to put my hands and feet.”
That intense sense of dissonance would make him unable to perform.
Lin Wan tried to reason with this lunatic who was too deep into his role.
“You’re playing an extra, not a beggar. Doesn’t Chen San wear new clothes for the New Year?”
Jiang Ci thought for a moment, then actually nodded seriously.
“That makes sense.”
Lin Wan had just breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Jiang Ci, wrapped in the towel, push the car door open and walk out again.
He walked straight back to the film set, ignoring the puzzled gazes of the crew.
He plunged headfirst into the cluttered prop warehouse in the corner.
A moment later, he rummaged through a pile of old clothes and pulled out a scarf.
It was a bright red woolen scarf that looked like it came from another era.
To meet the film crew’s requirement for a weathered look, the prop master had put it through the wringer.
Its surface was covered in thick pills, and the edges were even a bit frayed.
Jiang Ci casually wrapped the scarf around his neck. The length was just right.
Then, he pointed at the set of Chen San’s drafty rented room inside the “Pig Cage Tenement”.
“We’ll film it right there.”
Lin Wan followed him over. Looking at this “home” with bare walls plastered with old newspapers and a broken window, she felt her blood pressure had skyrocketed to a critical point.
In the end, she gave up on communication.
You can’t reason with a madman.
The filming began in this bizarre atmosphere.
No professional lighting panels, no reflectors, and certainly no beauty filters.
The cinematographer hoisted the camera, finding an angle that captured both the broken window and the newspaper-plastered wall.
Jiang Ci sat on the edge of the creaky wooden plank bed.
He was still wearing that old sweater, the eye-catching red scarf wrapped around his neck.
He huddled deeper into the scarf, his whole person appearing somewhat timid, revealing only a pair of eyes that remained clear and bright even in the dim light.
The cold wind from outside poured in through the hole in the broken window.
Jiang Ci couldn’t help but sniffle, his nose red from the cold.
“Action.”
At the cinematographer’s command, Jiang Ci looked into the lens.
He didn’t smile, just looked on calmly.
“It’s New Year’s.”
“Eat less greasy stuff, it’s hard to digest.”
He rambled on, saying nothing but plain, unadorned words unfit for a grand stage.
Lin Wan had completely given up struggling.
She resignedly pulled out her phone, wanting to see what promotional articles the rivals had released, to mentally prepare herself.
On the trending list, hashtags like #TopIdolXXXNewYearBattleAttire# and #XiaohuaXXXHandwrittenFortuneCharacter# were flashy yet hollow.
The comments underneath were all fan-controlled praises: “Gege is so handsome,” “Sister is so beautiful.”
She scrolled through these soulless contents, while in her ears echoed Jiang Ci’s plainspoken words with a nasal tone.
“The weather’s cold. Wear your thermal leggings if you need to. Don’t freeze yourself just to look good. You’ll suffer for it when you’re old.”
Lin Wan’s finger paused.
She remembered staying up late for a project just yesterday past midnight.
Today, she only wore thin professional attire, and indeed, her knees felt a chill right now.
An absurd yet genuine emotion struck her.
While everyone else was busy wishing you “great success” from the clouds above,
Only this fool, stuck in the mud, reminded you “don’t catch a cold.”
Jiang Ci continued.
“Find time to call home more often. Don’t always say you’re busy.”
As he spoke, he suddenly paused.
At the very end of the video, as if remembering the most important thing,
He leaned forward slightly, closer to the lens.
He extended a finger, as if reaching through the screen to tap directly on the forehead of every viewer.
In that moment, the somewhat muddled, weary state that belonged to Chen San vanished from him.
A sharpness and concern emanated from him.
“In the new year, I wish everyone,”
He enunciated each word, with utmost seriousness.
“Don’t catch a cold.”
“Cut.”
The cinematographer, Old Zhang, called for a stop.
Lin Wan looked at the final frozen frame on the monitor—that man who was hopelessly tacky yet terrifyingly sincere.
He wasn’t playing an extra. He was speaking for all the ordinary people, hustling for life with no time for glamorous blessings,
Uttering the most practical concern.
She deleted the flowery, pre-written publicity copy from her phone’s memo.
Then, below the video, she typed a new line.
“New Year’s wishes from extra Chen San.”
Click. Send.
The video had just finished uploading. Lin Wan didn’t even have time to glance at the netizens’ comments.
She directly pulled up Jiang Ci, who was still immersed in the mood.
“Let’s go.”
“Where to?” Jiang Ci was still a bit dazed.
Lin Wan, leaving no room for argument, pushed him into the entourage van already waiting nearby.
“The capital.”
“The Spring Festival Gala, final dress rehearsal.”
The car door slammed shut. The engine roared, speeding off towards the airport.