Reborn as a comedic artist

The wind picked up, ruffling Cheng Ming's hair.

He slowly raised his head.

The previous emotions in those eyes gradually faded, replaced by a mixture of indignation and defiance.

"Forget it, I don't need your pity."

Cheng Ming pushed Wang Shuo's hand away and supported the old Yadea electric bike.

He moved slowly, shifting his body little by little until he stood up straight again.

The car headlights cast a long shadow of him on the gravel, making him appear both desolate and towering.

"You don't owe me anything. I would never force a friend to do something they don't want to do. I have my own principles, and I don't want my life's efforts to be seen as a joke by others...!"

He turned around and looked directly into Wang Shuo's eyes.

The gaze was so intense that Wang Shuo instinctively wanted to look away.

"You think I'm an online beggar...? I've waited all these years for this opportunity...!"

Cheng Ming's voice suddenly rose in pitch, echoing across the empty mountaintop.

"I want to prove myself, not to show off how great I am, but simply to demonstrate that my years of hard work will one day leave a significant mark on art history...!"

Wang Shuo looked at Cheng Ming in front of him and was momentarily dazed.

He couldn't tell if this was an act or Cheng Ming's truest thoughts.

Cheng Ming grabbed Wang Shuo by the neck, his expression excited, his whole body trembling uncontrollably—a physiological reaction to extreme excitement.

He roared in exasperation:

"Look at yourself, look at yourself now, what do you look like...?"

Before you became famous, you were timid and hesitant. Now that you've gained some recognition, you're indecisive and afraid to take any further steps! Did you ever try to seize an opportunity? No, you didn't! I don't want to be like you...!

After saying this, Cheng Ming's eyes filled with tears.

His eyes were filled with reluctance, but also with a sense of resolute determination.

He slowly turned around, his back view resolute.

"Xiao Ming...!"

Wang Shuo was completely affected by Cheng Ming's emotions; it was a physiological impulse.

He instinctively reached out and grabbed Cheng Ming's wrist, trying to stop him.

Cheng Ming did not turn around.

He abruptly shook off Wang Shuo's hand, the movement swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

Then, dragging his "lame leg," he limped into the darkness.

That desolate figure gradually faded into the distance in the afterglow of the car headlights, as if heading towards an unknown and lonely battlefield.

...

"Cut!"

Old Li's voice trembled slightly.

But he didn't turn it off immediately. Instead, he kept the camera pointed at the figure until Cheng Ming completely disappeared into the darkness.

There was dead silence all around.

The only sounds were the buzzing of the electric vehicle's headlights and the rapid breathing of Wang Shuo and Lao Li.

a long time.

"Holy crap..."

Old Li plopped down on the ground, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, his hands trembling: "This is...this is incredible! Old Cheng, the way he looked just now, I thought it was Little Ma himself..."

Wang Shuo remained standing in the same spot, maintaining the gesture of reaching out his hand.

It took him a long time to come to his senses and realize that his back was completely soaked.

"This isn't acting...! This guy really wanted to beat me up just now..." Wang Shuo muttered to himself, a forced smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

In the darkness, Cheng Ming strode back, his leg no longer limping, and the grief and indignation on his face disappeared, replaced by a smug expression.

"How was it? How would you rate this acting? Did it give you the feel of Chow Yun-fat himself...?"

"Whether it's 'Little Ma' or not, I don't know, but I guarantee that as long as the editing is up to par, once this video is released, it will shatter your previous abstract image..."

Old Li got up from the ground, hugging his camera like he was hugging his own son, his eyes shining.

……

1 a.m., at the studio.

The sound of the keyboard being typed was like dense raindrops.

Cheng Ming sat in front of the computer, personally taking charge, his fingers flying across the shortcut keys.

On the screen, the rough image is undergoing a qualitative leap.

The color palette was pulled, and the originally dim and cheap car headlights were lowered in color temperature, turning into a retro warm light full of film texture.

The makeup, a mixture of red medicine and coal ash, combined with filters, transforms a handsome face into a breathtakingly bloody and rugged aesthetic.

The most crucial element is the background music.

When the harmonica intro to the classic song "The Way We Were" began, Wang Shuo felt a chill run down his spine.

"Stop, stop, stop...!"

Wang Shuo excitedly pointed at the screen: "Here, slow down my close-up a little, yes, that's it, that look in my eyes, it's so damn affectionate, I'm starting to fall in love with myself."

Even a hero needs three helpers!

With the advice of the two, Cheng Ming didn't even need to overthink it. Knowing what to do with each shot and where to cut each frame was like an instinct flowing in his blood.

"Plus, the subtitles are perfect..."

Cheng Ming typed the last line.

At the end of the video, the image freezes on that desolate figure, with white text slowly appearing on a black background:

I'm not waiting for an opportunity; I'm waiting because I don't want to lose to this world.

A tribute to the classics, and a tribute to each and every one of us who refuses to be ordinary.

"Render Export".

Cheng Ming pressed the Enter key, and the progress bar slowly climbed.

"That's... over...?" Old Li stared at the screen, still somewhat unsatisfied.

"It's over."

"This version is only three minutes long, but it's enough. It's enough for Shu Yinqiang and even netizens to understand that, even when it comes to serious drama, it's still easy to pull off, and even a game-changer."

Cheng Ming rubbed his throbbing temples.

"Shall we send it now?"

"No rush, let Shuyin Art develop further first, and we'll talk about it again after we meet with the principal tomorrow and reach an agreement..."

.......

The next day.

9:50 a.m., Shuyin Administration Building.

Sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, casting glaring spots of light onto the marble floor of the corridor.

This is the central hub of the school's power. On weekdays, it's frequented by either professors carrying briefcases or hurried administrators. The air is thick with a serious academic and bureaucratic atmosphere.

However, today, this solemn atmosphere was broken by an unexpected figure.

Cheng Ming had a messy head, and as he walked by, a pungent, sweet smell mixed with mercurochrome lingered in the air.

The number of people turning their heads to look at them along the way was off the charts.

The students passing by all turned their heads to look.

"Hey, isn't that Cheng Ming, the 'Shu Yin's most famous figure'?" A boy whispered, nudging his companion with his elbow.

"Shh, keep your voice down."

His companion pushed up his glasses, a hint of schadenfreude in his eyes.

"I heard he's going to be called in for a talk by the principal today. Look at him, he probably didn't sleep a wink last night because of all the worry. I think he's doomed. Such a handsome guy had to go and do something so abstract, and now look what happened..."

"What's there to regret? He brought it on himself. He's always making those attention-grabbing videos, disgracing our school. If I were the principal, I'd fire him immediately, to prevent one bad apple from spoiling the whole bunch..."

A boy next to him, holding a violin case, snorted coldly, his tone full of disdain.

Whispers buzzed like flies, seeping into every nook and cranny of the ear.

Cheng Ming, however, remained indifferent to this.

He yawned. To emphasize his dedication to art, he had clearly put some effort into his appearance today, not even washing his face that morning.

........