Director Jin left. But the look he gave her before leaving, Li Ling was willing to call it the fastest-acting fever reducer. Just being looked at for three seconds, her heart, which was fluttering like a deer, cooled completely. The splendid fireworks in front of her eyes, with a pop, all fell into the dark lake. "No," she smiled firmly at the assistant director, "actually, I've been widowed for many years." A cold wind blew through, and the set suddenly fell into a strange silence. Perhaps in the illusion, the sound of crows crying could be heard. The assistant director was silent for a moment, then awkwardly said, "My condolences." Afterward, Li Ling thought for a long time and still couldn't understand why, at that moment, she had such a strong reaction to the word "cute." Maybe it was because very few people would use that word to describe her. She wasn't the type to be praised as "cute" in appearance. When she first debuted, many people praised Li Ling as "promising" and "very versatile." It took her a long time to realize that these words, rather than being compliments, were more like traps wrapped in sugar coating. She had also heard a lot of "can you," which seemed like a request but was actually a demand. Answering "yes" usually meant enduring a lot of hardships and doing things she didn't want to do. Answering "no" often meant getting kicked out immediately. Later on, she became "dispensable." Most small actors in this industry were like that, playing stereotypical roles, easily replaceable and forgettable. In the great wave of sifting sand, even being a grain of sand, only a few could survive. She once thought her acting career would end there, lighter than a grain of sand, and years later, no one would say "what a pity" when mentioning her. But she met Jin Jingyao. Speaking of which, the reason Director Jin chose her was definitely not because she was cute. Maybe he often found her ridiculous. Li Ling thought bitterly, but couldn't help typing "cute" into the search engine. The results were eye-opening. [When a man describes you as cute, rather than beautiful, it means you're not beautiful.] Li Ling: ? [When a man describes you as cute, rather than beautiful, it means he wants to sleep with you.] Li Ling: "..." The internet is really scary. She opened a more serious encyclopedia. [Cute describes an attraction usually associated with youth and appearance.] The attraction of youth. I see. Li Ling was very young (compared to 9787532754335). 9787532754335 was very old (compared to her). So, when 9787532754335 said she was cute, it must have symbolized a kind of kind fatherly love. Very kind, very fatherly, no problem at all. Li Ling felt relieved. - News on the set always spread quickly. By lunchtime, at least three people had also said "my condolences" to Li Ling, and eight people looked at her with sympathetic and complex eyes. The kind production manager even came over and asked, "Xiao Li, are you still single recently?" Li Ling had completely forgotten her nonsense from the morning and nodded somewhat dazedly. The other party enthusiastically said, "Sis has a lot of resources here, tell me your criteria for a partner." Li Ling liked someone outside the industry, with few issues, who would die early, and leave a lot of inheritance... She finally blurted out, "Cute." The production manager raised an eyebrow in surprise, gave a dry laugh, and said, "Didn't expect you to like that type, huh.""Adorable... a bit hard to find..." She looked around, then suddenly her eyes lit up as she looked behind Li Ling. "How about this one? Cute enough?" Li Ling turned around with hope and saw the famous director Jin Da. As usual, he was dressed casually, wearing a dark jacket over his costume, with a portable monitor hanging around his neck, looking like a college student rushing to an early class. But because he stood out so much in the crowd, he also looked like one of those high-end male models on magazine covers, who seemed unkempt but had every strand of hair meticulously styled. He glanced at her nonchalantly, a slight confusion in his eyes, then turned back to grab the photographer to adjust the equipment. The cameraman, while shouting, "I haven't finished eating, Director!" was mercilessly dragged away. "Cute?" Li Ling asked the production manager in shock. The manager, also puzzled, said, "Isn't Xiao Liu cute?" Li Ling: ? Xiao Liu? Director Jin was almost out of the dining hall when Xiao Liu finally appeared from behind him. Due to the significant difference in height and build, Xiao Liu had been completely obscured earlier, now revealing his petite 1.65-meter frame. The production manager looked at Xiao Liu as if he were a pet hamster, speaking with increasing affection, "How about it? Cute, right?" Li Ling: "..." Suddenly, she wasn't sure what the word "cute" meant anymore. - Perhaps the previous two scenes went too smoothly, using up all their luck, as the subsequent filming became increasingly difficult. They returned to the bathroom, where Jin Jingyao had to press Li Ling into the bathtub, turn on the shower, and wash her from head to toe. No matter how they tried, they couldn't get the scene right, and the two of them soaked in the water for hours. Eventually, Li Ling felt like a seed about to sprout from being soaked in water for so long. By dusk, it suddenly started raining outside. The raindrops hit the bathroom window, resembling a small shimmering sea. Jin Jingyao stared at the narrow window and suddenly said, "Let's call it a day." The crew stopped working, and Li Ling, exhausted, returned to her room and fell asleep immediately. The next morning, she returned to the set and found a huge water truck parked outside the theater, facing the bathroom window. Several staff members were doing safety checks around it. Jin Jingyao was in the bathroom, making final adjustments to the lighting and environment. When he turned around, she was almost startled by his appearance. He looked like he hadn't slept for days, with heavy dark circles under his eyes, a faint blue tint beneath them, and skin so pale it was almost bloodless. Li Ling: "Director, are you..." The assistant director said, "He didn't sleep again last night, kept testing the lighting." Li Ling couldn't help but look at him with concern. His complexion was so poor that she worried he might faint during the shoot. Mainly, she also felt that if she soaked for another day, she would really start to sprout. There was no doubt that Jin Jingyao had a certain obsession with technology. Even now, he was tirelessly experimenting with the camera, switching, rotating, shooting from above and below, searching for the best angle. But it all seemed worth it. When he gave the order, and the water truck outside the window started operating, the magic of light and shadow played out silently once again. Every tile, every corner of the bathroom was enveloped in the trembling light and shadow. The shimmering light, the rise and fall, the breath in and out. He turned this small room into a sea. The entire world was immersed in the sound of rain he created. Li Ling watched this scene in near awe, then she met the magician's gaze. He moved the camera away and looked straight into Li Ling's eyes.He didn't look tired; on the contrary, he seemed almost exhilarated. "Are you ready?" Jin Jingyao asked her. Those amber eyes, usually dark and somber, were now excessively bright, almost burning with a faint, suppressed, and nearly eerie fervor. Li Ling's heart skipped a beat. Her intuition told her: today's scene should be able to be completed. - The water swirled in the bathtub's drain, like a vortex. The dark red light, winding along the walls, floor, and marble tiles, made the bathroom resemble a photographic darkroom. Both people in the bathtub were soaked. Continuing from yesterday's scene, Li Ling leaned over the edge of the bathtub and vomited, spitting out the pills pressed against her tongue. She staggered to her feet, pressing her hands against the cold sink, and used her trembling hands to scoop up water to rinse her mouth. In the mirror, she stared at herself. Her eyes were red, her face puffy, looking almost disheveled. Suddenly, in the mist behind the mirror, another pair of emotionless eyes appeared. She almost screamed, but Jin Jingyao had already grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to the front of the bathtub. He turned on the shower, and warm water poured down from head to toe. According to the script, this should have been the iciest cold water. Li Ling had practiced privately, turning the water temperature to the lowest to adapt in advance. But this scene had been shot many times, and the water temperature was always adjusted to the most comfortable for the human body. She hadn't suffered at all. The water was warm. The people were warm. Heartbeats and body temperatures were constantly rising. Only Jin Jingyao's gaze remained cold, intimidating. Li Ling fell back into the bathtub, her jet-black hair messily covering her front, her pale arms pressing against the wall, her whole body as white as a fish stripped of its scales. The water stains on the floor, illuminated by the light, shone brightly, almost slick, like scales and pearls peeled from her body. The young man stood in front of her, holding the showerhead. His shirt was already wet, and as he raised his hand, the faintly bulging muscles were revealed, like mountains lurking behind the skyline. His movements remained calm and orderly, like an emotionless robot executing some automatic program, cleaning her cheeks, neck, and arms inch by inch. But would a robot defy its master's orders? Would it have such a cold, chilling invasiveness? Yesterday afternoon, when they first started rehearsing this scene, Li Ling felt that Jin Jingyao's movements were somewhat stiff. It seemed that touching another person's skin still made him feel a subtle discomfort, and because of this, they had to redo it many times. Later, he became more and more natural. By now, he could even delicately portray the dark changes in Zhou Jing's heart. His initial stiffness, helplessness, and suppressed anger. He felt he should punish her but didn't know how. The woman's soft skin was like a mushy peach; while he washed away the stains on her body with clean water, he couldn't help but deliberately pinch new red marks on her wrist. As the water continued to flow, his anger subsided, slowly turning into a gloomy satisfaction. He silently enjoyed her fear, drawing nourishment from her weakness and submission. He adjusted the water temperature, his movements becoming gentler, carefully avoiding hurting A-Ling, yet pressing harder whenever she frowned. He became more adept, more enjoying the process. He became gentle again, and gentleness was his punishment for her. His growth was almost terrifying. Jin Jingyao turned Li Ling over and wiped her back with a towel. She was still wearing a light gray camisole, its hem wrinkled, lifting and falling with the flow of water, like some dried-up water stain, outlining the delicate texture of her skin. A warm hand, suddenly cautious, touched the stump of her calf. This scene had been repeated many times. Li Ling was well-versed in the actions that would follow. A-Ling wouldn't let anyone touch her injured area; it was her final weak spot. She would scream like a cat whose fur had been ruffled, pushing the man opposite her away with all her might. But perhaps the water temperature in the bathroom was too high, or Jin Jingyao's gaze was too unsettling. Light and shadow trembled, mist filled the air, water droplets clung to the glass, the shower curtain hung loosely, her mind was foggy, and in her peripheral vision, all she saw were the rippling waves, already swallowed by the vast ocean. She didn't hit him again, nor did she put up a fierce resistance. She covered her eyes and cried. - Li Ling felt she must have cried for a long time. Tears flowed like an endless river, draining her body. Her internal organs, every inch of her skin, were weeping. The tears might not have been A-Ling's, but a part of herself. But it didn't matter; she didn't need to think about it or separate them. Releasing herself behind the mask of a role was always an actor's privilege. The sound of water in the bathroom stopped. Someone gently stroked her hair. At first, she still covered her face with her hands, but soon they were moved away with a gentle yet undeniable force. She lowered her head. Even in the dim, ambiguous light, it became glaringly bright at this moment. Another, larger hand stroked her swollen eyelids. The pads of his fingers were calloused, like warm sand, almost abrasively grazing her fragile skin, bringing a slight sting. The process was slow and alarming. Like clean sand being eroded by water bit by bit, turning into a deeper color, the color of dusk and the sea. It should have exposed some dangerous emotions. Such as obsession, greed. Or perhaps just simple curiosity. The young man lowered his eyes, staring at her darkly. There was a strange awkwardness in his gaze. Everything was so unfamiliar to him. He watched her tears. Like bright comets streaking across the sky, so dazzling, yet leaving huge scars on the ground. So tears were such a scorching, dangerous existence. He touched her face, her tears wetting his fingers. They looked very clean, and he brought a tear to his lips. It was salty. - In front of the monitor, the assistant director said, "I got goosebumps." "Me too." "Me too." Xiao Liu asked with concern, "Is the wind too strong? Should I close the window for you?" No one paid him any attention. After a moment, the script coordinator said, "They're crying, why am I drooling?" "This scene was revised so well." "What great chemistry." "Is this the god of sexual tension from ancient Greece?" "Yeah, it's really scary." Xiao Liu shivered, "Is this a Hannibal performance? Feels like the cousin is about to start a meal, should he eat the neck or the hand first?""