Chapter 422: Veteran Actor Speaks His Mind After Drinking
At ten in the morning, the sea breeze was slightly dry.
Director Wu Tong stood on the villa’s terrace, holding a cue card in his hand.
The sound technician behind him received the command and pushed up the faders.
A slow-tempo, reverb-heavy version of “Farewell” began to play.
“Outside the pavilion… by the ancient road…”
Wu Tong sniffled, the rims of his eyes slightly red, brewing his final emotional moment.
This was the last episode of the variety show.
Following industry convention, tears were mandatory at this point, to create that atmosphere of “regretting not meeting sooner, heartbroken at parting.”
The bullet comments in the livestream began cooperating, flooding the screen:
[Wuwuwu, is it ending just like that? I don’t want to let go!]
[Even though they had a rough few days, I enjoyed watching them so much.]
[Do we really have to cry? I’ve already prepared my tissues.]
“Everyone,” Wu Tong raised his megaphone, “in these four days and three nights of extreme challenges, we went from strangers to acquaintances, from distance to closeness. Now, the moment of parting has arrived…”
The camera slowly pushed in, focusing on the stairwell leading to the second floor.
According to the script, the guests should be wearing their nicest clothes from these past few days,
holding farewell letters written to each other, with tears in their eyes, walking down.
Footsteps sounded.
The first thing to appear was a pair of large feet in plastic flip-flops.
Jiang Ci was wearing his faded peony-flowered shorts, a white towel hanging around his neck.
Chu Hong followed behind him, carrying that iconic stainless steel soup pot.
The flute melody in the background music continued to play mournfully.
Jiang Ci plopped his woven bag onto the ground with a heavy “thump” that made the floorboards under Wu Tong’s feet tremble.
“Director Wu, what are you crying about?” Jiang Ci wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Wu Tong’s tears, which he’d just squeezed out, were forcibly held back.
“This is farewell! Farewell, understand?” Wu Tong fumed. “Where’s the letter? The one I told you to write to each other?”
“Why bother writing that stuff? Can you eat it?”
Chu Hong set the soup pot on the table and lifted the lid, revealing a pile of leftover skewers and ingredients from last night’s unfinished grilling.
“I figured since we’re leaving, no point wasting all this food in the fridge.”
Chu Hong pointed at the simple barbecue grill. “Hurry up, light the fire. Hey, kid from the Lin family, stop striking poses over there and come fan the flames!”
Lin Ouyang, who had been standing in the corner, about to shed a single, perfectly cinematic tear for the camera, froze mid-action.
He looked at the letter in his hand, filled with flowery parallel sentences, then at the perfectly marbled lamb skewers in Chu Hong’s hand.
His Adam’s apple rolled conspicuously.
“Sizzle—”
The lighter ignited the fire starter.
That mournful “Farewell” sounded unbearably awkward and superfluous against the sizzling, oil-dripping sounds of grilled meat.
Wu Tong covered his face in despair.
This batch of guests was the hardest to handle he’d ever had.
No contest.
…
Half an hour later, the whole vibe had completely derailed.
“That slice of mantou! It’s mine!”
Zhao Kuo Tai let out a shrill shriek.
Her makeup was still flawless today, but she’d completely abandoned all pretense now.
The lace folding fan in her hand came down hard on Lin Ouyang’s outstretched paw.
“Aunt Zhao! Respect your elders and cherish the young!” Lin Ouyang howled, clutching his hand.
“You’re an idol! You need to watch your figure!”
Zhao Kuo Tai moved with catlike speed and snatched the golden-brown, crispy mantou slice. “I’m different. I’m already a rich wife. Being chubby just shows off my wealth!”
Old Zhao was crouched on the ground, still wrestling with the live chicken they’d swindled from the market earlier.
“Little sister, I’ve called dibs on that drumstick!”
Huang Jiahui held a tea mug filled with Erguotou mixed with Sprite that Jiang Ci had made.
The veteran actor was getting pretty tipsy, his face and neck flushed red, his eyes glazed.
He staggered to his feet, threw an arm around Jiang Ci, who was focused on grilling eggplants.
“Burp—” Huang Jiahui let out a drunken burp, then pointed at the cameraman following them. “Record all of this! Don’t you dare cut this part!”
The entire scene instantly fell silent.
Huang Jiahui squinted, staring at Jiang Ci’s face, smeared black and white from the smoke, and suddenly laughed.
“The entertainment circle these days is rotten to the core.”
Huang Jiahui’s voice was hoarse, carrying a reckless, no-holds-barred energy.
“Every single one of them acts like they’re gods, like porcelain dolls. A little scratch and they issue press releases. If they have to go in the water, they need a stunt double.”
Lin Ouyang shrank his neck and silently put down the chicken wing he’d been holding.
“But this kid is different.”
Huang Jiahui gave Jiang Ci’s back a heavy pat.
“He’s a mad dog.” Huang Jiahui pointed at Jiang Ci.
“For a single shot, he’ll jump into a mud pit, drink filthy water, take his pride and stomp it into the ground. That’s what a real actor looks like!”
“If the domestic entertainment circle ruins a talent like this…”
Huang Jiahui downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, then hurled the tea mug hard to the ground. “Then this industry is completely hopeless!”
Clang—
The tea mug rolled off into the distance.
In the livestream, there was a brief moment of silence in the bullet comments, then an eruption like a tsunami.
[Holy crap! Grandpa Huang has gone completely unhinged!]
[Now THAT’S real talk! My scalp is tingling!]
[What the hell did Jiang Ci do in “Icebreaker” to make Old Huang defend him like this?]
Jiang Ci steadied the swaying Huang Jiahui and pressed him back into his chair.
He didn’t say anything humble or modest. He just smiled,
grabbed a skewer of freshly grilled chicken cartilage, and shoved it into the old man’s hands.
“Eat up, sir. The words are in the drink, the work is in the performance.”
Wu Tong stood to the side, watching the scene, and silently signaled the cinematographer to zoom in for a close-up.
He knew this segment wouldn’t need any editing. It was a god-tier classic scene.
…
The next morning, just as dawn was breaking.
At the villa’s entrance, the red-white-and-blue woven bag was already packed.
“This half-bottle of dish soap… looks like nobody’s using it.”
Zhao Kuo Tai stood at the kitchen counter, her eyes wandering. “The smell… it’s… special. I’ll take it back. As a souvenir.”
With that, she quickly stuffed the half-bottle of dish soap into the lining of her suitcase.
Old Zhao stood nearby, unable to watch. “Honey, do we really need that two-fifty bottle of dish soap?”
“What do you know! This is nostalgia!” Zhao Kuo Tai shot him a glare.
On the other side, Lin Ouyang was trying to cram the cracked surfboard—the one he’d stepped on and split—into the car.
“What’s the point of taking that? It’s not even worth selling as scrap.” Chu Hong walked by, hitting the nail on the head.
“This… this is a testament to my youth.” Lin Ouyang stubbornly insisted.
In the living room, everyone was pretty much packed.
Zhao Kuo Tai dawdled, staying at the back.
She looked around.
By now, everyone had gone to the entrance to move their luggage.
There was no one in sight.
Zhao Kuo Tai, clutching her six-figure Hermès Birkin bag, tiptoed stealthily down to the basement maid’s room.
On that simple little table sat a bottle of “Lao Gan Ma” chili crisp, only a third remaining.
It was left over from Chu Hong’s cooking two days ago.
Zhao Kuo Tai’s heart was pounding faster than it had on her debut red carpet.
She quickly reached out and grabbed that bottle of Lao Gan Ma.
Every single night during these past few days, when she couldn’t sleep from hunger, she’d fantasized about the taste of that chili sauce mixed with rice.
“This is a testament to friendship,” Zhao Kuo Tai told herself.
She carefully wiped the bottle with a tissue, then, with the guilty look of a thief, shoved it deep into the Hermès bag.
Having done that, she let out a long breath, adjusted her collar,
resumed the aloof, haughty rich-wife expression, and walked out in her high heels.
Outside the villa.
That familiar, smoke-belching hand tractor was parked by the roadside again.
“Little sister! Ready to roll?” The old man driving the tractor grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.
This was the program crew’s specially arranged “courtesy vehicle,” and the perfect period to punctuate this absurd journey.
Everyone looked at the puttering tractor. Instead of showing disgust, they exchanged smiles.
“Let’s go!”
Chu Hong was the first to toss her woven bag onto the trailer bed.
Jiang Ci helped steady Huang Jiahui. Lin Ouyang helped Zhao Kuo Tai with her hem.
The tractor spewed black smoke and slowly rumbled away.
The wind tousled their hair and blew away the exhaustion of these past few days.
Jiang Ci sat on the edge of the trailer, watching the fishing village fade into the distance.
The definition of “home” in his heart had gained another layer of meaning.
…
Five hours later, the plane landed in the Imperial Capital.
Walking out of the VIP channel, the cold air hit them, making Jiang Ci shiver.
Lin Wan and Sun Zhou were already waiting there. Unlike Wu Tong from the variety show, there wasn’t a trace of a smile on their faces.
“You’re back.” Lin Wan took the canvas bag from Chu Hong’s hand and said only three words to Jiang Ci. “Talk in the car.”
The car door closed.
Sun Zhou didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He directly pulled a document from his briefcase and handed it to Jiang Ci.
“‘Icebreaker.’ It’s set.” Sun Zhou’s voice was a bit hoarse. “May Day Golden Week.”
Jiang Ci opened the file. His gaze swept over the names of the two movies releasing in the same period.
Hollywood’s top-tier IP, “Mecha Frenzy 4,” and “Laughing All the Way,” which gathered half the comedy stars in the entertainment circle.
Chu Hong sat in the back seat, watching her son’s expression change.
Instinctively, she gripped the canvas bag tighter in her hands. She felt that unfamiliar son, the one who made her heart ache, was back.