Chapter 397: The Best Actress Loses Her Temper on the Spot? Jiang Ci Shatters Her with a Single Sentence!

The lighting was dim and yellowish, smoke curling in the air.

Song Mei stood in the center of the dance floor.

She took off her sunglasses and stood there casually,

Instantly suppressing the chaotic, seedy nightclub atmosphere around her.

This was the aura of a top-tier veteran actress.

She didn’t need a spotlight; she herself was the source of light.

Those hoodlum extras who were originally smirking and joking,

Even the few scantily clad hostess girls sitting nearby,

Subconsciously closed their mouths and quietly uncrossed their legs.

A person’s reputation precedes them, like a tree’s shadow.

This was the “Empress Dowager specialist” who had won international awards.

Her gaze swept over like an X-ray, capable of exposing the sleaziness hidden in the very marrow of one’s bones.

Gu Zhiyuan sat behind the monitor, his palms sweaty, but he didn’t call cut.

The camera was silently pushing forward.

Song Mei moved.

She didn’t directly deliver her lines according to the script. Instead, she walked a circle around Jiang Ci in her exquisite high heels.

Finally, she stopped in front of Jiang Ci.

She extended a finger painted with dark red nail polish,

And lifted the collar of Jiang Ci’s cheap suit.

The suit was filthy, the collar stained with grease and dandruff.

Song Mei’s brows furrowed slightly, her fingers recoiling as if shocked,

Then she very naturally flicked her hand in the air with a look of disdain.

This wasn’t in the script.

Behind the monitor, Lin Wan’s gaze turned cold.

This was scene-stealing.

It was a raw, physiological disgust from a superior toward an inferior.

Chen San didn’t move.

He still maintained that slightly hunched posture, a fawning smile on his lips,

As if he didn’t feel the other’s humiliation at all, or perhaps, was already used to it.

“Money.”

Song Mei finally spoke, pointing at the stack of glaringly red banknotes on the table.

But the line had changed.

“This money is for you, not to buy your lesson.”

Song Mei leaned forward slightly, the sense of oppression washing over him: “It’s to buy your silence.”

The extras playing the cannon fodder roles all widened their eyes, not daring to breathe loudly.

This was too harsh.

“Take the money and get out of my sight.”

Song Mei’s voice suddenly rose sharply: “Look at your pathetic, impoverished state, can’t even afford a meal, and you’re here talking to me about acting skills?”

“You think playing a corpse makes you an artist? You’re just a beggar looking for handouts!”

If this wasn’t a personal attack, then nothing in the world qualified as verbal abuse.

Gu Zhiyuan wanted to rush forward.

These words were too venomous, hitting right at the most vulnerable spot.

If it were some hot-headed young traffic star, they’d probably have flipped the table by now.

But Jiang Ci caught it.

In fact, he caught it steadier than anyone.

Facing this torrent of humiliation, Jiang Ci’s body stiffened for a moment.

Only a moment.

Immediately after, his shoulders slumped.

It was a defense mechanism born from being slapped tens of thousands of times by life—numbness.

He reached out, that hand with black grime under its fingernails, reaching for the money on the table.

Chen Yi covered her mouth, unable to bear watching.

It was too cruel.

Stripping a person of their dignity, then making them bend down to pick up the scraps themselves.

Jiang Ci’s fingers touched the banknotes.

He picked up one.

But he didn’t greedily stuff it into his pocket like a beggar.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone.

Jiang Ci raised his arm and used the sleeve of his suit,

To gently rub that brand-new red banknote against it.

Once.

Twice.

The movements were slow, light.

The red banknote, the gray sleeve.

The stark contrast stung everyone’s eyes.

Because the money was clean; it was Chen San who was dirty.

He was afraid of dirtying the money.

After wiping one clean, he carefully folded it, placed it in his inner pocket, and patted it.

Then, Jiang Ci looked up.

The previously mercenary, greasy, numb expression had completely vanished.

Now, deep within those murky eyes, a small flame flickered to life.

He looked at the lofty Song Mei.

The corner of his mouth strained to move, the muscles even twitching uncontrollably,

But he still managed to squeeze out a smile.

It was ugly.

Yet so sincere it made one want to cry.

“Sis.”

Jiang Ci’s voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet film set, it was deafening.

“I may be a beggar…”

He pointed to his chest, where he had placed the money.

“But I’m also an actor.”

Song Mei looked astonished.

Her next, even more vicious line, prepared in advance, got stuck in her throat.

She looked into Jiang Ci’s eyes.

For a fleeting moment, time rewound forty years.

She saw herself, squatting in the snow outside the theater troupe’s door, gnawing on a steamed bun.

She saw herself, kneeling and kowtowing to a director just to beg for a maid’s role.

Back then, someone had also pointed at her nose and called her a beggar.

Back then, she too had smiled like this, picked up the steamed bun that had fallen on the ground, wiped it clean, and said: I am an actor.

[Ding!]

[Critical Heartbreak Detected!]

[Source: Song Mei.]

[Heartbreak Value +666!]

Song Mei’s eyes rapidly reddened.

Her hand trembled as she reached out.

But halfway, her palm stopped,

Then heavily slapped his shoulder.

This slap carried significant force.

As if trying to transfer some kind of strength to him.

“Good…”

Song Mei let out a long sigh.

“Cut!”

Gu Zhiyuan finally called it.

A full three seconds passed.

“Whoosh—”

Thunderous applause erupted.

Even a few sentimental female set assistants were already wiping away tears.

Song Mei immediately left her role.

But this time, she didn’t revert to her usual aloof, imposing demeanor.

She turned her back, pulled a handkerchief from her expensive handbag, and wiped her face roughly.

Her makeup was smudged.

But she didn’t care.

She strode over to the monitor, pointing at the final frozen frame on the screen—that humble yet noble expression.

“Zhiyuan.”

Song Mei’s voice was still trembling: “Where on earth did you find such an actor?”

“You dug this madman out of a mental asylum for me.”

Song Mei glanced back at Jiang Ci, who was squatting on the ground counting the prop banknotes,

Her expression was extremely complex: “This kid… he can hold his own against my acting, and he almost dragged me into the ditch with him.”

Gu Zhiyuan saved a replay of that scene and locked it.

“Teacher.”

Gu Zhiyuan stared at the screen, murmuring to himself: “This is called… mutual torment.”

In the corner.

Jiang Ci finished counting the money and respectfully placed the stack of red banknotes back on the table.

The system notification sound was still echoing in his mind.

But he had no time to deal with it.

He just felt tired.

That feeling of being completely drained.

In that moment just now, he wasn’t acting,

He truly felt he was Chen San, truly felt that the money was both scalding to the touch and heart-warming.

“Hey, Teacher Song.”

Jiang Ci called out to Song Mei’s retreating back,

His tone reverting to that annoying, teasing lilt: “About that money just now, can you cash it out for me? My performance fee hasn’t been settled yet.”

Song Mei stumbled in her step.

She turned and glared at him, laughing as she scolded: “Get lost!”

At that moment.

The entire film crew knew.

Even if this unfinished film had only this one scene,

It would be enough to leave a mark in cinematic history.