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

Chapter 92 Getting into Character and Returning to the Role

Following Zhang Qilin's command.

His consciousness lost its support and plummeted uncontrollably.

The feeling was comparable to a high-speed drop tower ride.

The surrounding scenery flashed by rapidly: the bed, the night, the faint sounds outside the window—

It vanished like a rapidly fading ink painting.

Immediately afterwards, a massive flow of information surged in, like a train roaring through the air.

That's not memory; it's more like a comprehensive sensory experience and synchronized cognition.

The moment the eyes see the light again.

The world is like a slowly unfolding scroll.

The blue bricks and gray tiles gleamed warmly in the setting sun.

The sounds of old Beijing streets echoed in my ears: the jingling of rickshaw bells, the cries of vendors, and the sounds of arguments.

The air inside my nostrils was filled with a mixture of dust, cooking smoke, the acrid smell of a coal stove, and the fragrance of jasmine wafting from a large tea stall.

Zhang Qilin lowered his head subconsciously.

A pair of rough hands were gripping the handlebars, with prominent knuckles.

He was wearing a worn but clean coarse cloth short jacket with patches on the shoulders.

He subconsciously walked forward, naturally taking the small, effortless steps of a coachman, his feet landing first with his knees slightly bent—a habit he had developed from years of running the streets.

An old man squatted at the alley entrance, smoking a pipe, and squinted at him: "Little Shunzi, not pulling a cart today?"

Zhang Qilin was about to answer yes, but what he blurted out was: "Take a break, early shift tomorrow."

The voice was hoarse, tinged with humility and weariness.

That wasn't what he said.

It was Xiao Shunzi who said it.

The old man gave an "oh," continued smoking, and ignored him.

Zhang Qilin continued walking forward.

From deep within the alley came the sounds of a child crying, a woman cursing, and the clanging of pots and pans.

The aroma of stir-fried scallions wafts over the wall from someone's house —

He naturally turned into a courtyard.

That was the small house that Xiao Shunzi rented.

Pushing open the creaking wooden door, the room was dimly lit, containing a wooden plank bed and a broken table.

He sat down on the edge of the bed.

He had rehearsed this move countless times, but sitting down now, the physical exhaustion was real.

The shoulder pain is real.

The burning sensation on the soles of my feet is real.

He raised his hand and looked at those hands, rough and strong, with grime that couldn't be washed off under the fingernails.

Someone outside called him to eat, and he responded and stood up.

The way he walked, the force with which he pushed open the door, the smile on his face when he saw his neighbor—all of it was unfamiliar, yet incredibly familiar.

From morning till night.

He pulled a rickshaw and waited for passengers, competing with his fellow drivers for road space, and was reprimanded by patrol officers.

The customer gave him two extra copper coins, which he held in his hand. He walked to the pancake stall, stood there for a moment, and then turned around and went home.

Zhang Qilin was experiencing all of this.

He wasn't experiencing the role.

He is Xiao Shunzi.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the glass window and shone on my face.

Zhang Qilin opened his eyes.

The ceiling was white, the bed was soft, and the sounds of vendors hawking their wares and occasionally bicycle bells could be heard from outside the window.

He lay on the bed, motionless.

My hands are still my own, but that rough feeling seems to still be there.

His shoulders weren't sore, but he remembered what soreness felt like.

He picked up the phone next to him and glanced at it.

-

9:30

He slept for more than ten hours. Zhang Qilin closed his eyes, but the images were still in his mind.

The cracks in the brickwork of the alley, the door panels of the car dealership, the way the owner spoke, the hunched back of the old horse traveling with him —

Those weren't details he designed.

That's what Xiao Shunzi saw.

He got out of bed and stood on the floor.

The moment his feet touched the ground, he subconsciously adjusted his center of gravity.

That's the stance of a cart puller, with the balls of their feet on the ground, ready to start at any moment.

He paused for a moment, then laughed.

The five-day immersive experience allowed his body to get used to the feeling.

The morning classes were delayed, but the afternoon rehearsal cannot be delayed.

He walked into the bathroom, and the moment he picked up his toothbrush, his wrist unconsciously adjusted his grip.

That's how you hold the handlebars.

The familiar daily actions now seem somewhat slow and unfamiliar.

He looked at himself in the mirror; his eyes were bloodshot, not from staying up all night, but something else entirely.

It's exhaustion.

It's not physical exhaustion, it's mental exhaustion from having lived through another person's life.

He slowed down his brushing.

The things that Xiao Shunzi was thinking about yesterday when he was squatting by the wall came to mind.

He still hasn't secured payment for tomorrow's car rental; the employer's concubine gave him a strange look today; and he's wondering whether he should ask Old Wang next door for the two cents he owes him.

Those weren't his worries.

But they're in his head now.

Zhang Qilin put down his toothbrush, placed his hands on the edge of the sink, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

But when I close my eyes, all I see are alleyways, gray bricks and tiles, and that little house whose door creaks when you open it.

His mind raced.

【Fate: Fragment of the Reincarnation of Qingyi (1/10)】

[Status: Active Skill]

[Effect: Fragment of the Reincarnation of a Qingyi Performer. Activating this grants access to a "Performance Obsession" mode, where each immersion in the character is equivalent to 5 days of normal rehearsal. A one-day rest period is required before it can be reactivated.]

He saw the description of the side effects.

He thought that taking a day off was just a matter of sleeping.

Now he understands.

It means that the consciousness has not yet completely detached from the state of the role.

He needs to detach himself from the role and adjust his mindset to get out of character as soon as possible.

He began to recall the technical abstraction methods his teachers explained when he was taking classes at the Beijing Film Academy.

However, whenever he tried to recall something, Xiao Shunzi's thoughts would pop up and disrupt his train of thought.

After a while, he said to himself in the mirror: "Zhang Qilin, a third-year student in the Department of Performing Arts at Beijing Film Academy, April 25, 2010, 9:30 a.m., in the small courtyard he rents."

Name, identity, time, and location.

All four coordinates have been reported.

But after he finished speaking, a thought popped into his head: it was time to go to the car dealership to pick up the car.

His expression changed, and he raised his hands to rub his face vigorously, from top to bottom, seven times in a row.

Tactile arousal.

Use strong tactile stimulation to break the character's physical memory.

When his face felt warm from rubbing, he subconsciously adjusted his posture as he put his hands down.

Land on the balls of your feet with your knees slightly bent.

That's Xiao Shunzi's habit.

He immediately went to the living room.

Start by marching in place, gradually increase the speed, and finally turn it into high knee jumps.

Twenty seconds later, he stopped, his breathing became slightly rapid, and his heartbeat quickened.

The heartbeat of modern people.

Actor Zhang Qilin's heartbeat.

But his breathing unconsciously carried the same muffled cough that Xiao Shunzi had.

He walked to the bathroom, placed his hands on the edge of the sink, and looked at himself in the mirror.

I never imagined that the aftereffects of being a reincarnation of Qingyi would be so severe.

The approach must be changed.

He walked to the living room sofa, turned on his phone, and randomly opened any app, as long as the phone made a sound.

He then stood against the wall, pressing his entire back against it, thus changing Xiao Shunzi's habit of standing like that.

After a while, he felt hungry.

When I opened the refrigerator and looked at the eggs and milk inside, all I could think of were big white steamed buns.

Those steamed buns that can only be eaten during the Lunar New Year, so white they practically glow, and whose sweetness warms you to the core with every bite.

Here we go again.

He immediately closed the refrigerator door.

He turned and walked out of the room, standing under the jujube tree in the center of the courtyard.

Take a deep breath.

The tender buds on the jujube tree emit a faint, fresh grassy fragrance, similar to the slightly astringent aroma of grass or tea.

He felt it wasn't enough, so he walked to the front door and took a deep breath. The air outside contained car exhaust, cooking fumes from the surrounding stalls, and the city's characteristic smog.

It wasn't the kind of air in the hutongs of Beiping that smelled of earth and horse manure.

He stood there and took three breaths.

Sensory reset.

Let your body rediscover the taste of 2010.

The taste of modern Kyoto.

Feeling somewhat relieved, he returned to his room and sat on the sofa to rest, with random sounds playing from his phone.

He didn't care what he heard; he just wanted to keep his mind occupied and not have time to think about Xiao Shunzi.

I don't know how much time passed before my phone rang.

He picked it up and saw that it was a call from Teacher Feng Yuanzheng.

I pressed the answer button with my finger.

He cleared his throat.

The first sound wasn't clear, and there was still a bit of hoarseness in my throat.

The second tone barely sounded like himself.

"Teacher Feng."

He answered the phone, his voice half a octave lower than usual.

Feng Yuanzheng's voice on the other end of the phone was filled with concern: "Qi Lin, you didn't come to class this morning? Are you not feeling well?"

Zhang Qilin opened his mouth.

He should have said he was fine, but those two words got stuck in his throat and wouldn't come out.

Because Xiao Shunzi never tells anyone that he's fine.

Xiao Shunzi would only say, "Thank you for thinking of me, it's nothing."

Then he smiled ingratiatingly, bent slightly at the waist, and avoided looking at people.

He found himself wanting to reply that way right now.

"Qi Lin?" Feng Yuanzheng waited two seconds on the other end of the phone.

"Yes, Teacher Feng." Zhang Qilin closed his eyes, swallowing back the words "it's alright." "It's nothing, I just didn't sleep well last night, I'm a little dazed."

"Didn't sleep well?" Feng Yuanzheng paused for a moment. "I heard from Director Gu that you have a rehearsal tomorrow. Did you stay up late again last night?"

Zhang Qilin remained silent.

He didn't stay up late last night.

He lived his life exactly like Xiao Shunzi.

"It's good that young people are hardworking," Feng Yuanzheng said with a hint of advice, "but don't push yourself too hard. Your health is important. Can you still go to rehearsal this afternoon?"

He can't go to rehearsals right now.

My acting teacher once said that carrying the afterimage of a character into the next scene is a harbinger of a stage accident.

What's more, he was going to play Xiao Shunzi in the afternoon rehearsal.

Going to perform now isn't acting; it's a relapse.

In order to fully recover, he had to take leave.

Thinking of this, he quickly said, "Teacher Feng, I would like to ask for leave."

There was no response from Feng Yuanzheng.

Zhang Qilin waited quietly.

A moment later, Feng Yuanzheng's voice rang out: "I've approved your leave. I'll talk to Director Gu Wei this afternoon. You're not feeling well, but I hope you'll be fully recovered when you come back tomorrow."

"Thank you, Professor Feng," Zhang Qilin said.

hang up the phone.

Since the methods he had tried so far had little effect, he decided to use the third-observer debriefing method.

He sat quietly on the sofa and began to analyze the character of Xiao Shunzi.

16:00

He sat on the sofa, without turning on the TV or looking at his phone, just sitting there.

The thoughts about Xiao Shunzi were still swirling in my mind, but they were swirling a little slower.

Like a car that has just stopped, the wheels are still spinning, but it's no longer moving forward.

The courtyard in 2010 and the alley in 1928 flashed alternately in his mind.

He sat there, in the gap between the two worlds.

It wasn't that he wanted to sit for so long; it was that he had to wait.