Seeking good fortune and avoiding misfortune, I became a legend in the entertainment industry by avo

Chapter 182 Audition: Instructor Li

Zheng Feng was taken aback: "How can I survive? Didn't you create this scenario yourself? You should know better than I do."

"My construction is based on real history," Zhang Qilin said. "I want to know, with your military knowledge, is it possible to survive in that situation?"

Zheng Feng thought for a moment: "You mean, Purple Mountain in 1937?"

"right."

"Training Corps?"

"right."

Zheng Feng remained silent for a long time.

"First of all, we can't stay on the front lines," he began, "the Japanese artillery preparation density is too high—"

"I've tried all of these," Zhang Qilin said.

Zheng Feng looked at him.

Zhang Qilin said, "I tried not to stay on the front line, but once I was away from the front line, I had no bullets or food, and the Japanese search teams would find me very quickly. They had wolves and dogs, so I couldn't escape."

Zheng Feng fell silent.

"I also tried guerrilla warfare," Zhang Qilin said, "but Zijin Mountain is only so big, and there are too many Japanese soldiers. They will eventually find you."

Zheng Feng fell silent again.

"I also tried to play dead," Zhang Qilin said, "but the Japanese would finish off the dead, shooting each corpse once or stabbing it once."

Zheng Feng's brows furrowed even more.

"I also tried to break out at night," Zhang Qilin said, "but Nanjing was already surrounded at that time. The riverbank was full of people, there were no boats, and even those who could swim couldn't cross. The river was too wide and the water was too cold. Many people got cramps and sank halfway across."

Zheng Feng remained silent.

"I also tried to retreat with the main force," Zhang Qilin said, "but the troops were scattered, there was no one to command, everyone was running, and we didn't know where to run. In the end, the Japanese army caught up with us, and with a burst of machine gun fire, we were all wiped out."

The room remained quiet for a long time.

"How many methods did you try?" Zheng Feng asked.

"I've tried everything you can think of," Zhang Qilin said. "None of them lasted a day."

Zheng Feng took a deep breath: "You rest first, I'm going out to make a phone call."

He got up and left, leaving Zhang Qilin alone on the bed.

Zhang Qilin closed his eyes, and those images flooded back.

He opened his eyes.

I dare not close it.

Zheng Feng made a phone call outside for more than half an hour.

When he returned, he was followed by someone.

He was in his forties, not very tall, wore glasses, and was dressed in a military uniform.

"This is Dr. Liu, our team's psychological counselor," Zheng Feng introduced.

Under Dr. Liu's questioning, Zhang Qilin recounted the story again.

Dr. Liu paused for a few seconds: "Do you know what 'vicarious trauma' is?"

Zhang Qilin shook his head.

Dr. Liu explained, "Prolonged exposure to others' traumatic experiences can cause the observer to also develop a traumatic reaction. Your brain can't distinguish between what is an experience and what is real, so it processes these memories as if they were real traumas."

"Then what should I do?" Zhang Qilin asked.

"I'll hypnotize you and implant a command into your subconscious. After you fall asleep again, no matter what you're doing, if you hear a voice telling you it's time to leave, you'll need to find a way to wake up."

After Dr. Liu conducted hypnosis on Zhang Qilin, he said to Zheng Feng, "I've done all I can. The rest is up to you."

Zheng Feng nodded.

After seeing Dr. Liu off, he led Zhang Qilin to a small conference room where there were several people.

Over the next few hours, the group explained to him how to regroup, find his companions, and what the escape route was.

Finally, Zheng Feng tapped the blackboard heavily with chalk: "Remember, your core advantage is that you know the general course of history, you know the main direction of the Japanese attack, you know which positions will fall first, and you know when the command post will become ineffective."

"Your goal is not to win the Battle of Nanjing, that's impossible. Your goal is to maximize combat effectiveness before your life ends and try to create new opportunities for your brothers, or for the fleeing soldiers and civilians you encounter on the way. Even if you still sacrifice yourself in the end, you should make this sacrifice more valuable."

Zhang Qilin nodded.

That night, Zhang Qilin lay alone in his dormitory, silently chanting in his heart, "Activate the reincarnation of Qingyi."

When he opened his eyes, memories flooded in like a tide.

His name is Lin Zongyou, from Changsha, Hunan, and he holds the rank of second lieutenant.

Twenty-four years old, a graduate of the eleventh class of the Whampoa Military Academy.

Position: South slope of the second peak of Zijin Mountain.

On the tenth day, when Zhang Qilin's team was once again caught up with the Japanese, he had no choice but to lead everyone in a blocking action to cover the retreat of the poor.

The battle lasted only forty minutes.

After they ran out of bullets, they charged out of the trenches with bayonets at their heels.

The last thing Zhang Qilin remembered was a bullet hitting him in the forehead.

He turned to look at the poor people who were already sitting on their homemade bamboo rafts and paddling into the middle of the river.

Zhang Qilin wanted to tell them to hurry up and not look back.

But it's impossible now.

The world turned white.

dark.

Then----

"It's time to go."

A voice came from a great distance, clear and calm.

Zhang Qilin opened his eyes.

The ceiling is white.

He lay on the bed, his hands were his own, without blood or dirt, and his fingernails were clean.

But those memories remain.

The faces of those soldiers, their names, their thoughts at the moment of death.

Zhang Qilin closed his eyes, waiting for those emotions to surge up.

But there was nothing there.

There was no fear, no sadness, no suffocating heaviness.

There was only one strange thing—peace.

It was as if something had been put down.

He lay there for a long time, then slowly sat up.

The door opened.

Zheng Feng stood at the door, looking at him.

"woke up?"

"Um."

"How are you feeling?"

Zhang Qilin thought for a moment: "Calm, very calm."

Zheng Feng sat down opposite him and looked at him for a long time: "What did you gain this time?"

Zhang Qilin thought for a moment and said, "We've been fighting for the past few days. Later, the city started to evacuate. Looking at those panicked civilians, a voice in my heart told me that a soldier's duty is to protect his country."

Zheng Feng remained silent and listened quietly.

"You know the phrase 'defend the country' is correct, but it feels distant to you. Yet, when you see those panicked people, that phrase pops into your head. At that moment, I wasn't Zhang Qilin; I was Lin Zongyou, a soldier—"

Zheng Feng nodded: "Anything else?"

"I was surrounded by Japanese soldiers in front of me and civilians behind me. I knew I was going to die, but I never thought of running away, not because I was brave, but because if I retreated, my entire clan would be wiped out."

Zheng Feng looked at him for a long time before nodding and saying, "Your trip was worthwhile."

Zhang Qilin smiled.

After spending New Year's Day at the military base, the car that came to pick up Zhang Qilin arrived at the camp.

When Zheng Feng escorted him to the camp gate, he didn't say much, but stood straight and gave a military salute.

Zhang Qilin paused for a moment, then stood at attention and returned the salute.

The movements were clean and swift, without the slightest hesitation.

It's an instinct etched into your body.

On the return flight, he fell asleep by the window.

There are no dreams.

There were no gunshots, no smell of gunpowder, and no broken faces.

This was the first time he had gotten into character without experiencing any aftereffects.

At nine o'clock the next morning, Zhang Qilin appeared at Zhang Yimou's studio.

The receptionist almost didn't recognize him.

"Zhang—Zhang Qilin?"

"It's me," Zhang Qilin nodded with a smile.

The receptionist led him to the meeting area, poured him a cup of tea, and said that Director Zhang was in a meeting and he should wait a moment.

Zhang Qilin sat on the sofa and waited for about twenty minutes. Then the meeting room door opened, and several people filed out.

After everyone left, the receptionist went in to announce his arrival and waved to him when she came out.

Zhang Qilin got up and went into Zhang Yimou's office.

Zhang Yimou was standing in front of the window, with his back to the door, holding a cigarette in his hand.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around.

At first glance, he looked at Zhang Qilin's face.

He didn't say anything.

The second time, I looked at it from top to bottom.

He still didn't say anything.

Zhang Qilin stood in front of the desk.

Zhang Yi stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, walked around the desk and sat down before saying, "Sit down."

Zhang Qilin sat down.

Zhang Yi looked him over, his brows furrowing slightly.

It had been more than two months since I last saw Zhang Qilin, and apart from his skin being a bit darker and his hair being a bit shorter, he didn't seem to have changed much.

He didn't undergo the expected transformation, nor did he exude the aura of a soldier.

He looked at Zhang Qilin with a calm gaze, even a hint of—weariness?

If an ordinary person spends two months in the military, they will inevitably develop some of the characteristics of a soldier.

But Zhang Qilin gave him the impression that he was the same when he left and the same when he returned.

Although he was very puzzled, he did not say it out loud immediately.

Instead, he asked casually, as if having a friendly chat, "Are you settling in well with the army?"

"It took some getting used to at first," Zhang Qilin smiled, "but you'll get used to it after a while."

Zhang Yi nodded, chatted with Zhang Qilin for a few more minutes, and then said, "Let's do a screen test and see how well you've done lately."

Zhang Qilin stood up and nodded: "Okay, let me prepare."

He walked to the open space in the middle of the office, with his back to Zhang Yimou.

After a while.

Zhang Qilin turned around.

The person who was standing there just now was a young actor with tanned skin, relaxed and even a bit lazy.

But now—

Zhang Yimou couldn't describe that feeling.

If I had to describe it, it would be that there was an extra person in the room.

Zhang Qilin stood there, neither speaking nor moving.

But Zhang Yi always felt that he could pounce on him at any moment.

When those eyes looked at you, they weren't sharp, but they were very spirited.

Zhang Yimou's pupils contracted.

His brain was telling him that this person was dangerous.

Zhang Yi unconsciously leaned back.

A moment later, he took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a deep drag.

He slowly exhaled a smoke ring.

Her eyes remained fixed on Zhang Qilin, her gaze filled with scrutiny and something else she couldn't quite define.

Smoke rose between the two men.

Zhang took another drag of his cigarette.

He's been acting for decades.

He served in the army when the TV series "Red Sorghum" was filmed in the 80s.

Later, when filming "To Live", he also came into contact with retired veterans.

Later, during the preparation stage for filming "The Flowers of War," he interviewed several survivors from that time. The look in the eyes of those elderly people as they recounted their past experiences...

Zhang Qilin stood there, without a military uniform, without a weapon, and without even a standard military posture.

But Zhang Yimou felt that if there were a hundred people standing in this room right now, the first person he would see would definitely be this young man.

Zhang flicked the cigarette ash into the ashtray, much slower than usual.

"Qi Lin," he said, his voice lower than before, "come here."