Chapter 403: Iron Teeth and Bronze Jaw Ji Xiaolan? No, It's Iron Teeth and Bronze Jaw Chen San!

West Side of the City, Old Workers’ Cultural Palace.

This place had already been marked within the demolition red line, with large chunks of wall plaster peeling off, revealing the blackened red bricks underneath.

“This smell is too strong, Director Gu. Should we have the art department come in and cover it up?” The Assistant Director covered his nose, his face full of disgust.

“Cover what?” Gu Zhiyuan took a deep breath, his face full of intoxication,

“This is the patina of history. If anyone from the art department dares touch this wall plaster, I’ll have a problem with them.”

The Film Crew moved quickly, clearing out a corner of the abandoned small stage.

There weren’t many lighting fixtures, just using the few dim, yellow hanging lights on-site.

Backstage, Little Zhang from the Props Team was holding a box of sweet potato strips bought from the supermarket, their color a golden yellow.

“Teacher Jiang, do you think this will work?” Little Zhang offered it over eagerly, “Specially picked the sugar-free kind, won’t stick to your teeth.”

Jiang Ci sat on a three-legged makeup chair,

facing the mirror as he smeared lipstick on his face—it was the “injury makeup” Chen San had specifically applied for the play.

He glanced at that box of exquisite sweet potato strips.

“Take it away.” Jiang Ci’s voice was somewhat muffled.

“Huh?” Little Zhang was stunned, “But this is the best…”

Jiang Ci bent over, reached into the tattered Woven Plastic Bag belonging to “Chen San” at his feet, and pulled out a plastic bag.

As soon as the bag was opened, a raw, earthy smell hit them.

Inside were a few blackened, rock-hard things.

These were what Jiang Ci had specifically asked the Props Team to procure from the countryside,

old goods that had been air-dried for at least half a year.

“Use these.” Jiang Ci picked up one and tapped it on the corner of the table.

“Clack, clack, clack.”

Little Zhang swallowed his saliva: “Teacher Jiang, this… can this be eaten? Wouldn’t you need a hammer to break this? Your teeth…”

“A poor wretch like Chen San, could he afford the refined goods from the supermarket?”

Jiang Ci stuffed that “rock” into his pocket.

Little Zhang looked at that thing, feeling his teeth ache at the roots.

“The Background Actors? Are they all in position?” Gu Zhiyuan’s loudspeaker voice boomed again.

There wasn’t any professional Background Actor leader bringing in a neat and orderly team.

Dozens of elderly men and women trickled in through the door,

most holding cloth bags from grocery shopping, some even leading their own little grandchildren.

These were people Gu Zhiyuan had someone “trick” into coming from the neighboring park.

The reason was simple: as long as they sat here and watched the play for an hour, each person would receive a box of eggs.

“Grandpas and grandmas, sit wherever you like!” Gu Zhiyuan shouted,

“Don’t worry about the cameras. Just act like you usually do when watching a street stage performance.”

“If you think it’s not interesting, chat or sleep, it’s all fine!”

Hearing this, the grandpas and grandmas were delighted.

This was a good gig, not only getting eggs but also not having to follow instructions.

In an instant, the sound of cracking sunflower seeds, the buzzing chatter about family gossip, filled the entire small theater.

That messy, bustling, common folk atmosphere couldn’t be recreated even by the most top-tier Set Designer.

“All departments, positions!”

Gu Zhiyuan hid behind the Monitor, his eyes fanatical: “Scene 305, play within a play, Action!”

The lights on the stage lit up.

That old bedsheet “curtain” personally sewn by Chen Yi hung crookedly on the wire.

Chen Yi sat in the corner, acting as the so-called “Props Team”.

Her hands were trembling slightly because she had seen the look in Jiang Ci’s eyes.

Jiang Ci wore that Faded shirt,

his face smeared with messy lipstick marks—that was the makeup Chen San had applied himself to portray “being beaten up by gangsters”.

Ridiculous, yet tinged with a sense of heartache.

He walked to the center of the stage.

The grandpas and grandmas below didn’t look at him at all; two grandmas in the front row were discussing how pork prices had risen recently.

This kind of complete disregard was precisely the reality Chen San faced every day.

Jiang Ci crouched down, shrinking beside the “Yingshi City gate” made of pasted waste newspapers.

He pulled out that blackened sweet potato strip from his chest.

The camera pushed in, close-up.

Jiang Ci opened his mouth and stuffed the rock-like sweet potato strip between his back molars.

He exerted force.

“CRUNCH—!!!”

A teeth-grating crisp sound, picked up by the sound recording microphone,

reached the ears of every crew member wearing headphones.

Jiang Ci’s cheeks puffed out, the muscles in his neck trembling violently.

It was too hard.

That thing had been air-dried for half a year, its hardness comparable to granite.

If he didn’t exert himself desperately, it would be difficult to even leave a tooth mark on it.

Intense pain shot up from the tooth nerve straight to the crown of his head. Tears of a purely physiological reaction instantly seeped from the corners of Jiang Ci’s eyes.

But he kept chewing.

“Crunch, crunch.”

He tilted his head, his facial features twisted together.

“Hiss…”

While chewing, Jiang Ci lifted his head,

and gave the empty “Yingshi City” a foolish, silly smile.

“Really fragrant.”

He mumbled the line unclearly.

The noise below the stage had, at some point, stopped.

The grandma who had been discussing pork prices closed her mouth,

the grandpa cracking sunflower seeds stopped his hands.

They looked at that “Madman” on the stage.

That kind of physiological pain was infectious.

Although they didn’t know what this person was acting out, they could see this young man was giving it his all.

Right at that moment.

An accident occurred.

An elderly woman with a full head of silver hair sitting in the first row simply couldn’t bear to watch any longer.

She stood up shakily, not caring about the cameras around her, and walked directly to the edge of the stage.

From the cloth bag in her arms, she pulled out a meat bun that was still warm.

“Child.”

The old woman’s voice trembled slightly, carrying a genuine, heartfelt distress:

“Stop gnawing on that rock. It’s so pitiful… have a bun, alright?”

This wasn’t in the script.

This was a tangible, real “goof”.

The Assistant Director was about to shout “Cut”, but was stopped by Gu Zhiyuan grabbing his arm.

Gu Zhiyuan’s fingers dug tightly into his own flesh, his eyes wide as copper bells: “Don’t move!”

On stage.

Jiang Ci was stunned.

He looked at the plump, white bun offered before him, then looked at the old woman’s kind, benevolent face.

At that moment, the light in Jiang Ci’s eyes flickered.

It was the bewilderment belonging to “Chen San”.

He hadn’t expected that in this indifferent city,

while he was performing this One-Man Show that no one watched,

his only audience would actually give him a touch of real warmth.

Jiang Ci did not leave their role.

On the contrary, he pushed the character of Chen San one step further.

He instinctively withdrew his hand, hiding the blood-stained sweet potato strip behind his back.

That was a poor person’s instinct—afraid of letting others see their wretchedness.

Then, he extended his dirty hand and accepted the bun.

The bun was very soft, very warm.

Jiang Ci’s Adam’s Apple bobbed violently.

He lifted his head and grinned at the old woman.

It looked somewhat frightening, yet so sincere it made one want to cry.

“Thank you, auntie.”

Jiang Ci’s voice was hoarse, yet he tried hard to sound casual:

“But my sweet potato strip… is beef-flavored.”

He patted his own chest, maintaining the last shred of pitiful dignity:

“Really, I have money.”

“I have money.”

Three simple words.

They slammed into the hearts of everyone present.

Even though he was so poor he was almost ready to pawn his dignity,

he still had to smile and tell others: I have money, I’m not suffering, I’m doing just fine.

The old woman was stunned for a moment, her eyes reddened. She sighed and silently returned to her seat.

“Cut! Good!” Gu Zhiyuan’s voice came from behind the Monitor, but he didn’t call for a stop,

he just made a gesture to continue, “Transition! Scene 306, cut directly!”

Gu Zhiyuan was a Madman.

In pursuit of that “flowing sense of realism during a stage play performance”,

he refused segmented shooting, demanding that Jiang Ci and Chen Yi complete the time and space transition directly on the stage.