blueteamnovel Chapter 87 Feelings Heat Up
Chapter 87 Feelings Heat Up
Chapter 86 Relationship Heats Up (3rd Update)
November, Los Angeles, on the set of "Black Swan".
Liu Yifei stood barefoot in the center of the rehearsal hall, her black bodysuit soaked with sweat.
Her hair was neatly coiled at the back of her head, revealing her smooth forehead and slender neck. A few stray hairs were stuck to her cheeks with sweat, rising and falling slightly with her heavy breathing.
Behind the monitor, Darren Aronofsky maintained that signature pose.
Lean forward, rest your elbows on your knees, and place your index and middle fingers under your chin.
He had been staring at the screen for almost three minutes without speaking or moving, his breathing so light it was almost inaudible.
The entire set was completely silent.
The lighting technician, sound engineer, script supervisor, and assistants all held their breath, awaiting the director's verdict.
"Let's do it one more time."
Darren finally spoke, his voice calm and devoid of any emotion.
Liu Yifei closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She could feel her heart pounding wildly, and the adrenaline made her fingertips tingle slightly.
This is the twelfth time we've filmed this scene today. Lin Xin has a mental breakdown during rehearsal, and she sees her dance partner as a hallucination that wants to hurt her.
Every time, Darren would say, "Let's do it again."
Each time, she had to relive the entire process from rationality to madness.
This wasn't just physical exhaustion; it was psychological torment. Every scream, every tremor, every flicker of fear in her eyes was a digging into the depths of her soul. After each take, it took her ten minutes to detach herself from the role, and then she had to jump back in immediately.
But she didn't complain; she just nodded and walked back to the starting position.
"Scene 47, shot 13, the twelfth time!" The script supervisor's voice trembled slightly.
Action!
"The music starts."
The solo dance of the Black Swan in Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake.
Liu Yifei began to spin, her movements so precise they were almost mechanical; her toes were pointed, her arms were outstretched, and her neck formed an elegant curve.
This is muscle memory, an instinct etched into the body by months of high-intensity training.
Her eyes betrayed her.
In the close-up shot on the monitor, a subtle change is taking place in those clear eyes.
His pupils dilated slightly, his focus began to blur, and the corners of his eyes twitched uncontrollably.
That was the moment when the dam of reason cracked; she knew she was about to lose control, and she tried desperately to control herself, but she couldn't.
One lap, two laps, three laps —
Suddenly, her movements became distorted.
The landing, which should have been light, became heavy, as if something was pulling at her ankles.
The look in her eyes when she looked at her dance partner was no longer one of cooperation, but one of terror, as if he were not her partner, but a monster that had emerged from a nightmare.
"Don't come any closer—" Her voice was very soft, almost drowned out by the music.
As per the script, her dance partner reached out to her to help her up.
"I said don't come any closer!" Liu Yifei screamed, her voice hoarse and broken, like glass scraping against metal.
She grabbed a mineral water bottle from the small table next to her. It was specially prepared by the props team; the bottle walls were very thin and would shatter if dropped—and smashed it with all her might against the mirror opposite her.
The plastic bottle exploded on the mirror, splashing water everywhere.
Countless Liu Yifei reflections in the mirror simultaneously contorted in terror, like a flock of black swans trapped in a glass cage, frantically flapping their nonexistent wings.
The music stopped abruptly.
All that remained on the scene was Liu Yifei's heavy breathing and the dripping sound of water droplets sliding off the mirror.
She stood there, her shoulders heaving, tears mingling with sweat streaming down her face.
Those weren't tears from acting; they were tears that came from an uncontrollable physiological state.
Her eyes were fixed on the shattered reflection in the mirror, as if she had really seen something terrifying.
"Cut!"
Darren stood up and walked quickly to Liu Yifei.
He didn't speak immediately, but instead carefully examined her face, that beautiful face now filled with pain and fear.
A few seconds later, he asked, "Are you alright?"
This question wasn't asked by the director to the actor, but by an adult to another adult who was clearly suffering.
Liu Yifei blinked and exhaled a long, trembling breath.
Then she nodded, her voice still weak: "I—I'm fine."
She is lying.
Darren could see it, everyone could see it.
That's the price of acting; you have to actually go through that pain to make the audience believe it.
"This one—" Darren paused, then finally smiled, "passed."
Suppressed cheers and applause erupted on set.
It wasn't a celebration, but more like a sigh of relief; it was finally over, this agonizing scene was finally finished filming.
The assistant quickly ran over and handed Liu Yifei a towel and warm water.
She took it, wiped her face, walked to the rest area, and collapsed onto the folding chair, as if her bones had been removed.
"Yifei, someone's visiting the set," the assistant whispered.
Liu Yifei barely managed to lift her head and saw Jiang Yu standing at the entrance of the photography studio.
He was dressed simply today: a light blue Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark jeans, and white sneakers.
He was holding a paper bag and stood there looking in this direction; it was unclear how long he had been there.
In an environment filled with photography equipment and tired staff, he was as clean as a college student who had accidentally wandered onto a film set.
Liu Yifei paused for a moment, then smiled and waved to him.
Jiang Yu walked over and sat down on the chair next to her.
"Did I disturb your filming?" he asked.
"No, I just finished filming a scene." Liu Yifei slowly wiped the sweat from her neck with a towel. "Why are you here?"
"Just passing by." Jiang Yu handed her the paper bag. "I brought you some food."
It was a very simple statement, but Liu Yifei understood the concern behind it.
She opened the paper bag, inside was a double-layered lunchbox and a small box of colorful macarons in a glass jar.
As soon as the lid of the lunchbox was opened, steam and aroma wafted out.
The top layer is cut into chunks of braised pork, with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, a rich, dark brown color, and glistening with oil.
The bottom layer is white rice, each grain distinct and steaming hot.
"Braised pork rice?" Liu Yifei's eyes lit up. "Where did you get that?"
"There's a Taiwanese restaurant in the San Gabriel Valley, and the owner is a friend of mine," Jiang Yu said. "I heard you have a big scene to film today, and I figured it would be very tiring, so I had him make some high-calorie, high-protein food."
Liu Yifei picked up her chopsticks—not disposable chopsticks, but solid wood ones—and put a piece of braised meat into her mouth.
The pork belly is stewed until tender and melts in your mouth.
The savory aroma of the sauce exploded in her mouth, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the rice. It was the most satisfying bite she had eaten in the past month.
"It's so delicious—" she mumbled, taking another big bite of rice. "I've been eating salad and chicken breast every day for the past month, and my nutritionist won't even let me add any more oil. This bowl of rice is enough for me to jump for five hours."
Her eyes sparkled as she said this, and although she was complaining, her tone revealed more of a seriousness about her profession.
She knew why she needed to control her weight, and she knew it was all for the role.
Jiang Yu laughed as he watched her wolf down her food: "Eat slowly, no one's going to take it from you."
"You don't understand." Liu Yifei picked up another piece of meat. "Director Darren requires us to maintain the physique of dancers, with a body fat percentage not exceeding 18%. My nutritionist calculates my calories every day, and I'm not allowed to eat even a single extra bite. This bowl of rice is stolen happiness."
She laughed after she finished speaking; it was a bright smile with a touch of childlike slyness.
"Your acting has improved a lot," Jiang Yu said. "I watched the whole scene from the doorway just now. That sense of collapse, from the inside out, was very real."
Liu Yifei put down her chopsticks and looked at him: "Really? You think it's good?"
"Really." Jiang Yu nodded seriously. "Especially the moment she smashed the bottle; it wasn't anger, it was fear. You grasped the core of that character: she wasn't crazy, she was driven crazy by herself."
He paused, then added, "Moreover, you handled it in a very layered way. It started with an effort to control, then a loss of control, and finally a complete breakdown. The transitions between these three stages were very natural, not like acting, but like a real experience."
These words made Liu Yifei's eyes light up even more.
She put down the lunchbox, wiped her mouth, and sat up straighter: "You know, I did a lot of preparation for this scene."
She started counting on her fingers: "First, I watched over a dozen documentaries about schizophrenia and obsessive-compulsive disorder. Second, I went to UCLA Medical Center and saw a psychiatrist for two hours. Third, Director Darren assigned me the assignment 'Lin Xin's Diary'; I have to write a diary from Lin Xin's perspective, recording her thoughts and feelings every day."
She was so engrossed in her speech, gesturing with her hands, that she completely forgot she was still wearing a sweat-soaked dance costume, her hair was messy, and her makeup was ruined.
Jiang Yu felt that she looked better at this moment than when she was dressed up.
"So today—" Jiang Yu pointed to her demeanor, "were you deliberately maintaining this half-hearted, 'out-of-touch' state?"
Liu Yifei nodded: "Director Darren said that I can't completely detach myself from the character of Lin Xin, otherwise I'll have to get back into it for the next shoot. But I can't completely immerse myself in it either, or I'll really have problems. I have to find a balance in the middle, remember that I am Liu Yifei, but my body's memory is still Lin Xin."
She spoke very professionally and calmly, and Jiang Yu could sense the tension beneath her words.
This "semi-immersive" state is actually quite dangerous.
Actors have to switch back and forth between themselves and their roles, just like walking on the edge of a cliff, where a slight misstep could lead to a fall into the abyss.
Many excellent actors have suffered from depression, or even more serious problems, as a result.
"Then how do you make sure you don't actually break down?" Jiang Yu asked.
Liu Yifei thought for a moment, then pointed to the lunchbox: "I'll set a switch for myself. For example, when I'm eating, I'm Liu Yifei. I want to eat happily and enjoy the food."
She then pointed to the rehearsal hall not far away, "When I dance, I am Lin Xin. I experience pain, struggle, and the pursuit of perfection."
She paused, then softened her voice: "And—when I talk to people, especially when I talk to you, I will try my best to be Liu Yifei again."
These words were spoken softly, but Jiang Yu understood the trust and reliance conveyed within them.
He paused for a few seconds, then said, "Next time you feel like you can't take it anymore, just call me. Anytime, no matter where I am or what I'm doing."
Liu Yifei looked at him and smiled: "Okay."
That smile was warm, with a hint of relief.
The two chatted for a while longer, and the topic shifted from movies to life.
Jiang Yu recounted an amusing incident that occurred during a recent meeting with Nolan's team: Nolan has a peculiar habit of using a specific brand of pencils when writing scripts, and he insists on sharpening all pencils to the same length.
She also shared some funny stories from the set: the male actor who played her dance partner was actually afraid of heights, and when he had to dance on a three-meter-high platform, his legs went weak; a guy from the props department had a crush on the female dancer and kept sending her snacks every day, which resulted in her getting fat and being scolded by the assistant director.
As she spoke of these things, she laughed heartily, her eyes curving into crescents, clearly showing the ease with which she had detached herself from the role.
Jiang Yu looked at her and smiled. He knew that their relationship had reached a very delicate stage; more than friends, but less than lovers.
That tacit understanding and trust are formed naturally after going through certain experiences.
The trip to San Francisco was a turning point, and every time we spent together afterward, it deepened that connection.
No one dared to break the silence.
Perhaps it was the wrong timing; she was filming a movie that required complete concentration, while he was building a vast business empire.
Maybe—it's just that I feel good as it is now, and there's no need to rush to define anything.
"Oh, right," Liu Yifei suddenly remembered something and took out a medicine bottle from her small bag, "You're going back to China for New Year's Day, right? Could you please take this to my mom? She hasn't been sleeping well lately, so I bought her some melatonin. It's too much trouble to send it back from here."
Jiang Yu took the medicine bottle and looked at the label: "Melatonin — Aunt Liu has trouble sleeping?"
"Hmm, she said she's been having trouble sleeping lately, probably because of menopause," Liu Yifei sighed. "I told her to see a doctor, but she keeps saying it's nothing, it'll get better in a while. Could you take this back for me? She should eat it."
"Of course." Jiang Yu put the medicine bottle away.
"Thank you." Liu Yifei smiled. "If my mom knew you were the one who took care of him, she'd definitely ask all sorts of questions. She's been paying a lot of attention to you lately; every time she calls, she asks how Jiang Yu is doing."
Jiang Yu raised an eyebrow: "Aunt Liu cares about me so much?"
"Of course." Liu Yifei blinked. "You're the number one celebrity in the domestic entertainment industry right now. My mom's friends are forwarding your news in QQ groups every day, saying things like 'young and promising,' 'pillar of the nation' —"
She was so proud of it, she told everyone she met.
She said this in a teasing tone, but Jiang Yu could hear a simple sense of pride in the words, "The people I know are outstanding."
"And what about you?" he asked. "What did you tell Aunt Liu about me?"
Liu Yifei was stunned for a moment, and her ears turned red at a speed visible to the naked eye.
She lowered her head and poked at the rice in her bowl with her chopsticks: "I knew it—you are a great partner, very talented, and a good person."
She fell silent after she finished speaking, focusing on her meal; her reddened earlobes betrayed her feelings.
Jiang Yu smiled and didn't ask any further questions.
Some things are better left unsaid.
Some feelings are best left to develop slowly.