Chapter 378: The "Silent Storm" of Studio One
The capital, backstage at CCTV’s Studio One.
Staff wearing headphones moved about expressionlessly.
Lin Wan led Jiang Ci past rows of mobile clothing racks hung with splendid garments.
This was a silent battlefield.
Veteran artists, dressed in simple clothes, sat quietly in corners, eyes closed, conserving their energy.
Meanwhile, the currently popular traffic stars were surrounded by assistants and makeup artists under the most glaring lights.
And Jiang Ci’s appearance crashed bluntly into this vortex of fame and fortune.
The door to the neighboring makeup room was slightly ajar. Inside was the currently popular singing and dancing boy band “N-Code”.
The captain, sporting a striking head of silver hair, caught sight of Jiang Ci’s figure in the mirror and let out an undisguised snort of derision.
“Who’s that? Is the station even letting scrap collectors in now?”
A teammate beside him quickly chimed in to please him, “Bro, keep it down. I checked the program list. It’s Jiang Ci, last year’s new Film Emperor. He’s performing some kind of one-man show this time.”
“One-man show?” Another member made an exaggerated expression. “A one-man show on the Spring Festival Gala stage? Does he think he’s a comedy master?”
These few deliberately whispered remarks floated clearly, word for word, into Lin Wan’s ears.
Lin Wan’s footsteps halted.
Calmly, she took her phone from her trench coat pocket, unlocked it, and tapped lightly with her fingertip.
On the phone screen, a red recording button lit up silently.
She just held the phone casually, screen facing outwards, aimed at that half-open door.
A silent action, yet more powerful than any reprimand.
The jeering from inside the makeup room came to an abrupt stop.
At that moment, a director’s assistant jogged over. Seeing Jiang Ci, he was first taken aback, then lowered his head to check the list in his hand.
“Teacher Jiang Ci, Director Feng is waiting for you.”
At the end of the corridor, Feng Gang leaned against the wall smoking, a pile of ash already at his feet.
His entire being exuded a kind of exhaustion refined through repeated trials, with heavy dark circles under his eyes.
Seeing Jiang Ci, he quickly stubbed out the cigarette butt.
“Kid, you’re here.”
Feng Gang wasted no words, directly delivering the worst news.
“The dress rehearsal just ended. The sketch before your slot ran two minutes over.”
The Spring Festival Gala was a battle for every second.
Being two minutes over meant a program had to be sacrificed.
“Someone suggested cutting ‘Return’ in half.”
Feng Gang stared into Jiang Ci’s eyes, enunciating each word clearly.
“Compress your three minutes down to one and a half.”
Lin Wan’s fingers abruptly tightened.
Feng Gang exhaled his last puff of smoke, the haze blurring the sharp contours of his face.
“I didn’t agree.”
“I slammed the table at them.”
“These three minutes, not a single second can be cut!”
His tone was resolute.
“You, kid, better win back this face for me. Otherwise, my old mug will really become a shoe insole around this station from now on.”
“Teacher Jiang Ci, prepare to go on stage.” The set assistant’s urging voice sounded right on cue.
Jiang Ci gave a slight nod, uttering no grand declarations.
He turned and walked alone towards the dark entrance leading to the stage.
He stepped onto the stage.
The stage of Studio One.
When all the dazzling lights were extinguished, leaving only a single spotlight descending from above, that sense of emptiness was amplified to the extreme.
Jiang Ci stood within the beam of light, appearing exceptionally small.
Below the stage, everyone unconsciously held their breath.
In the broadcast control room, Feng Gang stared intently at the main monitor.
Behind the side-stage curtain, those boy band members also poked their heads out, ready to watch a farce with a mindset of seeing a joke.
The performance began.
Jiang Ci lowered his head slightly, his gaze falling on the floor at his feet.
One second, two seconds, ten seconds…
Just as whispers began below the stage, and even Feng Gang furrowed his brow, suspecting a stage accident had occurred…
Jiang Ci bent over.
The movement was very slow.
He reached out into the empty air, his movements extremely gentle.
The eyes below the stage were drawn by his fingertips.
Jiang Ci’s fingers stopped, one centimeter above the ground.
That moment of hesitation tightened the hearts of everyone in the audience.
Then, he still used two fingers to “pinch” up that non-existent dumpling, treating it with utmost care and reverence.
He cradled it in his palm, brought it to his lips, and gently blew on the non-existent dust.
After blowing, he looked at the “dumpling” in his palm and fell into an even longer silence.
To eat, or not to eat?
A simple choice had now become the ultimate standoff between hunger and dignity.
The lighting technician below the stage was a man nearing fifty. Watching Jiang Ci on stage, he was suddenly reminded of twenty years ago, when he first came to the capital to seek his fortune, had no money to go home for the New Year, and divided a single bowl of instant noodles into three meals on that New Year’s Eve in a drafty basement.
He was mesmerized.
Just as this heart-wrenching feeling was about to be pushed to its peak—
An extremely discordant sound abruptly shattered the silence.
“Grrrr—”
A clear, loud rumble emanated from Jiang Ci’s abdomen.
The sound, transmitted through the tiny microphone on his collar, spread to every corner of the studio.
Those boy band members peeking from the side stage were the first to lose composure, letting out a stifled “pfft” of laughter.
In the broadcast control room, Feng Gang’s face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot.
A stage accident.
The deadliest nightmare at a Spring Festival Gala dress rehearsal.
However, Jiang Ci at the center of the stage merely stiffened almost imperceptibly when the sound occurred.
He continued holding the “dumpling” posture and naturally used his other hand to cover his stomach.
Then, he offered a somewhat embarrassed smile towards the empty side of the stage.
That smile carried a touch of awkwardness and the fluster of being exposed.
He was using this smile to silently explain to the busy mother in the kitchen, the one in his imagination:
“Mom, I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”
“Don’t listen, my stomach didn’t growl.”
This act of saving the scene transformed a ridiculous physiological reaction into an even more powerful performance.
The smiles on the faces of the boy band members, who had been secretly laughing, completely froze.
They stared dumbfounded at the man on stage, unable to comprehend.
When Jiang Ci left the stage, the entire backstage fell into an eerie silence.
There was shock, admiration, and even some instinctive fear.
The boy band members who had mocked him earlier were now huddled at the doorway of their makeup room.
Seeing Jiang Ci approach, they instinctively shrank back, clumsily making way for him.
They watched Jiang Ci’s retreating back with awe.
Jiang Ci walked straight back to Lin Wan’s side, completely oblivious to the strange atmosphere around him.
The immense drain from the rehearsal had left him somewhat drained.
He licked his chapped lips, looked up at Lin Wan,
and asked the question he was most concerned about right now.
“Sister Wan, does the station provide food?”
He paused, adding with extreme seriousness.
“The kind with meat.”
Lin Wan stood rooted to the spot.
One moment ago, he was the tragic king who had shattered the hearts of the entire audience.
The next moment, he had reverted to the guy obsessed with getting his fill of food, specifically fixated on a few ounces of meat.
This extreme, almost absurd contrast completely snapped the nerves she had kept taut all evening.