Silence, restraint, and exchanged glances—
Improvisation was still a challenge for these beginners, but surprisingly, many students had a glint of eagerness in their eyes. Even if they weren't good at it, they wanted to try.
So, Anson raised his hand.
He wasn't sure if he could do it, even regretting it the moment he raised his hand. His palms sweated, his heart raced, nervousness and excitement intertwined and exploded. But he still stood up and jumped twice.
He was slowly awakening the reckless, daring, and unruly self from his past life before the age of twenty-five. Otherwise, wouldn't he be wasting this second chance at life?
Then.
Another figure stood up, entering his sight. The corner of Anson's mouth curled into a slight smile. There was no tension, no retreat, no restraint, only a sense of boldness and pride swelling in his chest.
Jake Gyllenhaal.
Even though it was just a beginner acting class, and a 20-year-old, green version of Jake, acting opposite him was still a rare experience.
Anson's anticipation grew.
Jake still seemed a bit shy, a bashful smile on his lips, shoulders slightly hunched. Even standing up, he looked uncertain. But on closer inspection, one could notice his steps forward were without hesitation.
The teacher looked at Anson, then at Jake—
He had no idea of their names, but that didn't matter.
"Perfect!"
His smile bloomed.
"So, our two actors are about to take the stage. How about it, are you ready?"
Roar, roar, roar!
The other students cheered, even stomping on the resilient dance studio floor to build momentum. The tension surged.
The teacher didn't speak immediately, instead looking at Anson and Jake in turn. He didn't say much, conveying a firm attitude of encouragement through his eyes—
For beginners, there was no need for pressure. Enjoying the process was more important.
Then, the teacher looked at Jake.
"You raised your hand later, so we'll use the former as the core and you as the driving force to develop this scenario. Remember, it's just a scenario, focusing on the flow of emotions, the outburst of feelings, immersion, and experience."
"I..."
The teacher looked into Jake's eyes, reminding him of the main content of the scenario.
Not just Jake, not just Anson, the entire room fell silent. It seemed one could hear the sound of hearts pounding against chests, echoing in waves.
Anson had no time to pay attention to others, completely focused on himself. He emptied his mind, like a blank sheet of paper, waiting for pencils and paints to splash lines and colors. He slowly raised his eyes, looking at Jake, searching for a resonance between their characters, trying to find a similar frequency—
Just like in the previous dance game.
"I know who killed my parents. It was my uncle."
With the last sentence, the teacher looked at Anson and gestured with his hand.
Anson was the uncle.
Such a dramatic and cliché scenario, but there was no sound in the room. Everyone held their breath, their attention completely focused.
Anson lowered his gaze, no longer communicating with Jake. All his thoughts and emotions settled, feeling the pull of emotions—
Uncle, in English, referred to both the father's brother and the mother's brother. Was he from his father's side or his mother's side?
At this moment, in just a split second, there was no time to think about motives. The only thought in his mind was a pure emotion.
He had killed his own close relative. So what was his emotion? Anger? Guilt? Cruelty? Sadness? Relief?
Different emotions often represented different motives and completely different stories. Maybe he was a victim forced to fight back and kill his own kin. Maybe he was driven to desperation by gambling and chose destruction. Maybe it was a purely impulsive crime, his mind dominated by anger and passion...
Countless thoughts and emotions surged in his mind, erupting in an instant.
The teacher's words continued without pause, "So, the first line is, 'Uncle, how could you...'"
One line, also the entry point.
Chapter 148: Give and Take
A seemingly ordinary line could evoke completely different emotions. It could be an angry question, a cry of betrayal, or an incredulous confirmation. These different emotions would also define the relationship between the two characters in the backstory. Were they close or distant?
And so on.
This was the beauty of improvisation. A simple background, like a blank canvas, allowed for freehand painting. Different lines, colors, and frameworks would present different possibilities.
Exhaling softly, Anson let go of all his emotions, emptying his mind. This scene wasn't a monologue but an interaction. He needed to feel his partner's emotions, give feedback, and create a dynamic exchange.
Only then could tension be formed.
He raised his head and looked at Jake.
Jake took half a step forward but then abruptly stopped, using all his strength to control himself. His tense muscles revealed the surge of emotions. "Uncle..."
His eyes were filled with anger, mixed with despair and pain, as if he still couldn't accept the reality.
Anson didn't avoid his gaze, looking directly into Jake's eyes. "Oh, sorry."
Calm, indifferent, nonchalant, as if apologizing for accidentally stepping on his foot, easily erasing all the guilt.
Gasp.
Everyone in the room held their breath, completely unprepared for Anson's response. His coldness sent chills down their spines.
Jake was the same, unable to believe his ears. "Get out of here."
Unexpectedly, Anson seized the initiative with this line, gaining control over the scene's subsequent plot and emotional direction. Jake had to react according to Anson's "instructions."
Anson raised an eyebrow slightly. "I didn't want this either. But lately, your father and I have been arguing. Neither of us wanted things to turn out this way, but we didn't leave each other any room to maneuver."
"It was either him or me."
Cold, contemptuous, indifferent.
Not only was there no guilt or sadness, but there was also a sense of calmness, as if it were justified.
Jake was instantly enraged. "Shut up!"
Emotions erupted.
Jake realized that Anson now had complete control over the scene. He needed to break the balance, break the deadlock, to turn the tables.
But how?
Following the thread of anger, Jake took a step forward, grabbing Anson's T-shirt collar, and roared, "So, we're in the same predicament now, right? It's either you or me. So the next step is for me to kill you, right?"
"Ah!"
Aggressive, intimidating.
Although Jake was older, he was slightly shorter than Anson. At this moment, due to the difference in height, he was at a disadvantage, but he wasn't afraid at all.
He took a step forward, his large eyes blazing with flames, surging towards Anson like a tidal wave.
Then, he lost control—
"I'm going to kill you."
With a push and a shove, Jake threw Anson out.
Fourth update.