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

Chapter 188 The People Who Returned from the Old Days

Zhang Qilin was led to the dressing room by staff.

When Zhang Qilin pushed open the door, three makeup artists were talking inside.

The staff member who brought Zhang Qilin introduced him, saying, "This is the actor who plays Instructor Li. Director Zhang asked him to try out the role and do the styling."

Upon hearing this, the three makeup artists immediately got to work.

The entire makeup and styling process lasted nearly an hour.

Finally, the makeup artist stepped back, examined Zhang Qilin in the mirror, leaned over and added two more strokes behind his right ear before putting down her tools.

"Alright, go next door and change your gear."

Zhang Qilin got up and walked to the dressing room next door.

The door opened, revealing rows of neatly hung military uniforms: German-style helmets, leather ammunition pouches, cotton leggings, and gray-green woolen overcoats. In the corner, prop rifles and wooden crates filled with grenades were stacked.

The costume designer was arranging a set of equipment on a rack when she heard the noise and turned around to look.

Zhang Qilin politely said, "Costume designer, I'm the actor playing Instructor Li. The director asked me to come here to change my costume."

The costume designer glanced at the clock on the wall, pointed to a set of outfits placed not far to the left, and said, "Please sit down and wait a moment. I'll help you put it on as soon as I'm done with this one."

Before he could finish speaking, Zhang Qilin had already walked over to Instructor Li's equipment and taken off the heavy woolen military overcoat.

When Zhang Qilin touched the woolen military coat, he was momentarily lost in thought.

Some images flashed through my mind.

The scorched earth of the Zijinshan position, the hoarse shouts of the brothers of the Training Corps, the stinging pain of the mud kicked up by the shells hitting our faces, and that unique smell of blood, gunpowder smoke and soil.

Since Dr. Liu helped him with the hypnotic guidance and he came out of the second immersion, he hasn't thought about Zijin Mountain for a long time.

He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself out of his emotions.

Then, he skillfully grasped the heavy woolen military overcoat with both hands, gently shook it open, and smoothly slipped his arms through the sleeves, putting it on with practiced ease.

He bent down, picked up the leather Y-shaped suspenders, and slipped them over his head. The left and right buckles snapped shut with a crisp, clean sound.

Next came the leather belt, one end of which went through the waist loop, and the other end was tightened, with the buckle precisely aligned with the third eyelet, neither too tight nor too loose.

The costume designer, who had already put down what she was doing to come and help, was stunned when she saw this scene.

He stood there watching Zhang Qilin kneel down on one knee to tie his leg wraps.

Both legs took less than a minute.

The costume designer's Adam's apple bobbed.

This set of equipment, including the wool coat alone, weighs nearly 15 kilograms, plus the helmet and leather ammunition box—the whole set weighs over 40 kilograms.

Moreover, there is a specific order to wearing them, and if there is even the slightest mistake, you have to start all over again. Usually, it takes at least two people to complete the task.

But Zhang Qilin could do it all by himself; everything should be hung in the correct place.

It's as if this set of equipment was originally his—

After putting on his gear, Zhang Qilin stomped his feet to make sure his boots made solid contact with the ground, then moved his shoulders to adjust the fit between his wool coat and the suspenders.

He walked to the full-length mirror on the wall and turned to examine himself in the mirror.

The costume designer looked at Zhang Qilin, who was dressed neatly, and couldn't help but glance at the clock on the wall.

It took less than five minutes.

I couldn't help but exclaim, "Holy shit!"

Zhang Qilin turned around, preparing to walk towards the door, when the costume designer's voice rang out: "Wait—wait a minute."

Zhang Qilin stopped and turned around.

The costume designer quickly approached Zhang Qilin, her eyes scanning him up and down several times.

From the German-style steel helmet with its brim pulled low, to the wool coat that fit snugly on the shoulders, and then to the row of neatly fastened leather ammunition pouches at the waist—

Every detail is as neat as the illustrations in the textbook—no, even more natural than the illustrations.

The diagram is static, but the person in front of you, this set of equipment, is just like his.

The costume designer subconsciously swallowed.

Two days ago, when he was helping Huang Haibo, Qin Hao, and a few others try on clothes, it took two or three people to help one person, and it took more than half an hour.

But this person in front of me finished dressing up in less than five minutes?

And it wasn't just any random thing I put on.

A bizarre thought suddenly popped into his mind: had this person really been to the battlefield?

The costume designer was startled when the idea first popped into her head.

He quickly shook his head, dismissing the absurd idea.

How could that be?

It's a peaceful era now, and this actor looks to be only twenty years old.

He tried to make his voice sound normal: "Um—did you adjust the liner of your helmet?"

Zhang Qilin raised his hand and touched the edge of the helmet, then nodded: "It's loosened by two notches, otherwise it would press against my ears."

The costume designer was shocked again.

That M35 steel helmet was specially replicated by the props team based on the original. The elastic band inside was fixed at the factory, and none of the actors who came to try it on before wore it for more than ten minutes.

But this person knew immediately that the lining needed adjustment.

Either he knows the structure of a helmet inside and out, or he has worn a helmet that was really uncomfortable before, so he is particularly sensitive to details like ear pressure.

"You—" The costume designer opened her mouth, wanting to ask if you had served in the military, but then felt it was inappropriate to say it.

What chance do new recruits have to wear this kind of old-fashioned German equipment these days?

Even if someone has served in the military, it's impossible to be so familiar with equipment from over 80 years ago.

He eventually changed his question: "Have you filmed war movies before?"

Zhang Qilin recalled the scenes of the Guangzhou Uprising in "The 1911 Revolution" and nodded: "I guess so."

After saying that, he left the room.

The costume designer glanced up at the clock again.

Five minutes and forty-two seconds.

"This is really a nightmare," he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying a complex emotion that even he himself couldn't quite decipher.

Was it shock, admiration, or some unspeakable awe?

he does not know.

He only knew that he had been in this industry for almost twenty years and this was the first time he had ever seen an actor like this.

No, not an actor.

The feeling was like someone who had stepped out of the old days, wearing clothes that should have belonged to him, and briefly lingering for a few minutes in an era that didn't belong to him.

When Zhang Qilin entered the photography studio, the lighting was being set up.

Several lighting technicians were adjusting the position of reflectors, the assistant director was communicating with the external liaison via walkie-talkie, and the production crew was clearing cables from the ground.

No one noticed him coming in.

Zhang Yimou stood behind the monitor, holding a storyboard, gesturing to the director of photography about something.

He turned to the side, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught a gray-green shadow enter the frame, and subconsciously looked up.

Then he froze.

Zhang Qilin stood about seven or eight meters away from him, against the light.

The tungsten lights on the studio ceiling cast a contour light behind him, giving his gray-green woolen military overcoat a heavy texture, like a faded military uniform in an old photograph.

The brim of the helmet was pulled low, casting a shadow that covered half of his face, revealing only his chin and lips.

Zhang Yimou's gaze moved from Zhang Qilin's helmet to his shoulder, from his shoulder to his waist, and then from his waist to his dusty military boots.

Finally, his gaze returned to Zhang Qilin's face.

In the office, when Zhang Qilin turned to look at him, there was a danger in those eyes that he instinctively sensed.

Now, half of those eyes were covered by the brim of the helmet, and the part that was exposed was even more reserved.

Like a deep pool of water, with undercurrents lurking beneath.

Instructor Li has few scenes, but he is very important. What he wants is not to create a character, but to exist.

The goal is to make the audience believe that this person truly crawled out of the scorched earth of Zijin Mountain.

I believe that in the way he looked at those female students, there was a sense of protection mixed with a resolute determination to leave.

Now, this person is standing right in front of him.

"Old Zhao," Zhang Yimou suddenly spoke up.

Cinematographer Zhao Xiaoshi peeked out from behind the monitor.

"Come and take a look."

Zhao Xiaoshi walked over and followed Zhang Yimou's gaze.

He was stunned.

The shed was quiet for a few seconds.

Zhang Yi bypassed the surveillance camera and walked towards Zhang Qilin.

He walked up to Zhang Qilin and stood still.

The distance between the two people was less than one meter.

Zhang Yi raised his head.

Zhang Qilin was half a head taller than him, and with the addition of a steel helmet, he appeared even taller and more upright.

But at that moment, Zhang Yi was not paying attention to the height, but rather to the sense of oppression.

It wasn't intentional; it was natural.

Just like when you stand in front of a real warrior, the air itself seems to change.

Zhang Yi reached out, grabbed the collar of Zhang Qilin's coat, and looked inside at the lining.

He then went around behind him, checked the buckles of the Y-shaped slings, pulled the lid of the leather ammunition box, and finally squatted down to take a look at the way the leg wraps were being used.

He stood up, walked back to Zhang Qilin, and looked him in the eye.

"Take off your helmet," Zhang Yimou said.

Zhang Qilin raised his hand to untie the chin strap, took off his helmet, and tucked it under his left armpit.

Without the brim of his hat covering his face, his entire face was exposed.

The makeup artist's work on him is still there.

But none of that matters; what matters is the expression on that face.

calm.

It wasn't a blank expression, but rather the kind of calm that comes from having experienced the extremes and seen through everything.

Zhang stared into his eyes for a full ten seconds.

"Qi Lin," he finally spoke, his voice lower than usual, "what's on your mind right now?"

Zhang Qilin paused for a moment.

He was indeed thinking about something.

It wasn't something I consciously thought about; it was just that certain images naturally came to mind after I put on this outfit.

In the early morning at Zijin Mountain, a thin mist shrouded the position. The brothers were cleaning their guns, and some were humming a folk song from their hometown.

Squad Leader Chen handed him half a piece of dry rations: "Eat up, you won't miss home if you're full."

Zhao Xiaohai's Buddhist prayer beads, Sun Mancang's heavy machine gun, and those names and faces he had memorized countless times.

But these things simply exist quietly, like old photos buried at the bottom of a box, occasionally taken out to look at.

"I was thinking," Zhang Qilin said slowly, "that the brothers wore those clothes and never took them off again."

Zhang Yimou said nothing, sat back down behind the monitor, and gestured for Zhang Qilin to come over.

Zhang Qilin walked over, the sound of his military boots echoing in the shed.

Upon hearing that voice, Zhang Yi suddenly asked, "Were your boots switched too?"

Zhang Qilin glanced down and said, "These boots have thin soles. I replaced the insoles with thicker ones. My heels hurt after walking on hard surfaces for a long time."

Zhang Yi's lips twitched slightly, but he only asked, "You've never worn boots like these before, have you?"

Zhang Qilin shook his head: "I've never worn a real one."

"Then how did you know the insoles needed changing?"

Zhang Qilin thought for a moment: "You'll know once you put them on and walk around a bit."

Zhang stared at him for two seconds: "Qi Lin, is there still a distance between you and Instructor Li?"