This scene seemed to be dragging on a bit too long, Li Ling thought. No one had called "cut," and the director hadn't followed the script to come over and kiss her. So, was the kissing scene going to be filmed or not? Actually, before the shoot began, Li Ling felt a bit nervous about the fact that she was going to kiss the famous director Jin. But seeing everyone else acting nonchalant, she pretended to be strong as well. She had read the script many times and memorized the upcoming scene: Zhou Jing was supposed to lean in close to her, using the same posture as before, and press his lips against hers. All she had to do was not resist. So why hadn't he come over yet? Li Ling's heart started to pound again. Were they going to kiss or not, kiss or not, kiss or not? It was like being on a roller coaster; the most terrifying part wasn't the crazy freefall, but the slow climb beforehand. The slower the process, the more it tortured you with the unknown. Out of the corner of her eye, Li Ling saw that Jin Jingyao was still staring at her. What did his dazed look mean? Suddenly, she had a flash of insight: maybe the director was waiting for her to make the first move—though she didn't know when the script had changed—it seemed to fit Zhou Jing's cunning and treacherous character. She hesitated for a moment, then finally decided to turn around and crawl towards Jin Jingyao step by step. If she guessed wrong, he could always call "cut." But his gaze was fixed on her, as if encouraging her. So she guessed right; he was waiting for her to take the initiative. The corridor was narrow, making it difficult to move. Li Ling moved slowly, the intersecting lights like vast white fog over a field. She saw treetops, a gentle breeze, and rain on her shoulders. Perhaps this was also a dance. A broken, incomplete dance towards the one she loved. The distance between them wasn't far. Even so, Li Ling was drenched in sweat. The air was too hot and dirty. Her hands, supporting her on the floor, were sore and filthy, and the grimy dust filled her throat. But Li Ling didn't understand why Jin Jingyao, who was just standing there watching her, was also sweating so much. She slowly propped herself up, leaned close to him, and her palm brushed against his face. What seemed like an intimate gesture was actually not very kind, smearing his clean, handsome face with more dirt. Before this, Li Ling didn't know she had such a quirk. It turned out she liked seeing Jin Jingyao become disheveled more than seeing his clean, cold, sculpted face. When his pale skin was stained with coal dust, he looked like a diamond covered in grime, possessing a peculiar, cheap kind of sexiness. She liked seeing him become cheap. Become within reach. The dance on stage had ended, and the music had stopped. In the alarming silence, their breaths intertwined like a river at the base of a cliff. A drop of sweat from the young man's nose fell onto her lips. Like a wave crashing on the shore. It was salty. Li Ling licked her lips, staring at him as if enchanted, slowly leaning in— Jin Jingyao took a small step back and pushed her away. Li Ling was stunned. Hesitating for a moment, she still tried to lean in to kiss him. He directly covered her mouth with his hand. Li Ling: ? What kind of scene was this... Fine, if they weren't going to kiss, she wanted to retreat, but he wouldn't allow it. His broad palm pressed down, firmly restraining her. Jin Jingyao leaned forward slightly, his gaze peculiar and focused. She could even feel his breath seeping through his fingers, completely enveloping her. The chaotic light turned the dark space beneath the stage into a honeycomb with light seeping through everywhere. The air was filled with a sweet yet dirty scent. Light came from all directions, penetrating their bodies. He still wanted to get closer to her. Closer and closer. The calluses on his palm brushed against her lips, as if crushing a soft berry. Not enough, not enough, no amount would be enough. How about crushing her like this? Would it be allowed? ... - Li Ling thought that Director Jin finally let her go out of conscience purely because she looked like she was about to die from lack of oxygen. What kind of new on-set torture was this? As soon as he let go and called "cut," she immediately erupted into a fit of coughing. He hesitated, weighing between stepping back to avoid her and gently patting her back. In the end, he chose to step back. Li Ling: "..." Men. After a while, when she felt she could breathe again, she painfully lifted her head and asked him, "Director, why did you suddenly stop? Did I misunderstand something..." Jin Jingyao said, "I didn't say the line." "Huh?" Li Ling looked at his calm expression in confusion, and after a moment, she remembered that there was indeed a line in the script. He pinned A-Ling to the floor, clearly in complete control, and still used a commanding tone to say to her, "Kiss me." When she first read this, Li Ling thought Zhou Jing was quite abnormal, the type who takes advantage and still acts coy. Unexpectedly, Director Jin was so fixated on these two words. Li Ling: "Okay, Director, then let's..." Halfway through her sentence, she suddenly realized—wait, that's it? Indeed, the line was missing, but was the script still there? Did Zhou Jing ask A-Ling for a kiss? No, he was daydreaming, and A-Ling had to crawl over herself. The scene had already gone so off-track, who still cared about a single line? "Do we really have to say it?" Li Ling asked in confusion, "Didn't you think the atmosphere was great just now?" Jin Jingyao: "I didn't think so." Maybe it was the lighting, but his ears looked very red, like sunburn in midsummer, dim and hazy in the daylight. "Was the atmosphere great?" he suddenly asked her again. "No," Li Ling cooperatively said, "Director, if you say it wasn't, then it wasn't." She had gone along with him so much, yet he didn't seem very pleased, still staring at her with a somewhat pressuring gaze. Li Ling tentatively asked, "Shall we do another take?" The young man lowered his eyes, staring at Li Ling, recalling her pitifully small face, mostly buried in his palm, with an almost pained expression. And her rain-like kisses imprinted on his skin. "You really want to do it," he commented. Li Ling: "..." Not really. Jin Jingyao: "You want to get off work." Li Ling: ???? Did she say that? No, she shouldn't have, right? Was his mouth blessed? Li Ling looked at him in horror. Jin Jingyao suddenly curved his lips, saying in a not very kind tone, "Forget it, let's leave it at that." He turned around and left decisively. The ceiling of the corridor was so low, and he was so tall, he couldn't even straighten his back. Li Ling wanted to see him make a fool of himself, but even so, his back still looked calm and natural. At that moment, the young man turned his head, looking at her impatiently, "Aren't you leaving?" "Tired of crawling, Director," Li Ling said, "I'll sit for a while before going out."Jin Jingyao was silent for a moment before giving a rather fair assessment: "Indeed, it took a long time to climb." He turned around and walked back towards her. Caught off guard, Li Ling's waist was gently embraced by a pair of warm hands. He carried her out. From this angle, the young man's earlobes seemed even redder. Li Ling didn't think too much about it, but rather vindictively wiped all the dust from her palms onto his shoulders, successfully making him look even dirtier. - The moment she sat back in the wheelchair, Li Ling let out a long breath, feeling like she had finally come back to life. Filming in such a narrow space really made her whole body ache, no less than sitting on a green train for thirty hours. "Does your ankle hurt?" Jin Jingyao asked her, lowering his eyes. Li Ling inexplicably felt that his gaze was somewhat dangerous. It seemed as if, if she said "yes," he would immediately kneel down in front of everyone to check her wound. She lied against her will: "It's fine, Director, it doesn't hurt." "Okay." Turning her head again, Li Ling was startled to see a group of staff members staring at her with burning eyes. Half of them had eyes shining with excitement, the atmosphere so lively it seemed like they were about to pop champagne: "Ms. Li, your performance just now was amazing!" "Really great push and pull!" "That's exactly the kind of atmosphere we wanted, the kind where you want to kiss but don't dare to..." "You deserve to be in the Temple of Heaven!" The other half were more peculiar, staring at her with intense resentment, saying: "Why didn't you finish the scene..." "Can we ever get a complete kissing scene?" "Can you give the kids a break?" Li Ling got goosebumps and could only say: "I don't know either, it's all the director's decision." The cameraman passed by, sighing in regret: "Zhou Jing really can't do it, does he not have hands or a mouth..." Li Ling: "..." "Zhou Jing is right behind you, do you want to ask him?" she kindly reminded. The cameraman turned around in shock, only to see Jin Jingyao looking at him expressionlessly. His expression changed from surprise to excitement, and he rushed forward to ask, only to be met with a slammed door. The other party closed the door with a "bang." The assistant director explained from behind: "Uh, the director plans to make some changes to the upcoming scenes." Everyone immediately let out disappointed "boos." - Li Ling returned to the dressing room. She had lied to the director earlier. During the filming, she hadn't noticed, but her ankle wound had already been aggravated and was now hurting terribly. The pain was so unbearable that even the light in the dressing room seemed too harsh. She wheeled herself around, like an insect in a bottle, and impulsively lifted the curtain behind her. The easel was still there. The painting on it was not yet finished, but its style was already quite bizarre. At first glance, it looked like a sketch of a city. Huge pipes, like skinned metal animals. The flashing neon lights were like polluted, flowing blood. But upon closer inspection, there were lips everywhere. Lush red lips grew out of the pipes. Exaggerated lip prints adorned the neon signs. The crescent moon hanging in the sky was a panting mouth. What a... strange painting. Full of repressed desires and horrifying fantasies. Li Ling felt even dizzier, her wound swelling and throbbing, as if a heart was growing out of the newly formed flesh. Meanwhile, on the other side of the set, in an empty workspace, Jin Jingyao was scrutinizing the footage they had just shot. In the very light sound of the piano, a husky female voice was singing, "You'd better run run, run run to me." You should run to me / run to me / run to me. He saw the moment when A-Ling leaned towards Zhou Jing. Light seeped through the cracks in the floor, inch by inch illuminating the sweat sliding down her skin, like the sweetest honey. From a director's standpoint, this was a very failed shot. Li Ling's position was completely off the camera angle, causing the composition to be unbalanced. His own performance was also clumsy, half the time he was distracted, completely failing to catch the other's act. Rationality told him he should immediately cut this shot. But he couldn't control himself, like an obsessive-compulsive disorder, repeatedly watching it. It seemed that with each viewing, the shot would become a bit more perfect. A strange and dangerous thought suddenly gripped his heart. What if it wasn't A-Ling kissing Zhou Jing, but Li Ling? What if this wasn't a movie? He knew he shouldn't have such thoughts. He should be a fervent believer in cinema, with the work above all else, even his own life. His choice of Li Ling was not out of selfishness; all attempts were for the sake of creation, for more refined shots, for more perfect expression. But for the first time, he just wanted to keep this shot to himself. To make it belong only to him. On the monitor screen, the same scene kept playing. A-Ling ran towards Zhou Jing again and again, like Chiyoko devoutly pursuing her first love, like Lola lightly skipping through time. You'd better come come, come come to me. You'd better run run, run run to me. His reaction was completely wrong. Jin Jingyao would refuse, but Zhou Jing wouldn't; he would only gladly accept, falling into the greatest illusion. Jin Jingyao thought, he knew how to write the next scene.