Chapter Thirteen

At dawn, the temperature dropped to 15°C, but due to the high humidity, it felt colder than that. Meng Kaiyan wore her down jacket and held the hot milk tea that the makeup artist had just brewed for her.

While touching up her makeup, the makeup artist said, “I brewed it with unsweetened osmanthus oolong tea; it has fewer calories than an apple, so don’t worry.” Then she smiled and added, “Your mother is really kind. I casually mentioned yesterday that I wanted roast goose, and she brought me half a goose for lunch today. It tasted quite good—people from Guangdong really know how to cook goose.”

Meng Kaiyan understood now why, despite only being somewhat familiar with the makeup artist, the latter had taken the trouble to make her milk tea. In the whole crew, only she and the director received such thoughtful gestures.

Her makeup was quickly finished, and surprisingly, her complexion looked rosier than it did during the day.

“The face needs to be a little redder when excited,” the makeup artist said, scrutinizing her from different angles, still appearing a bit dissatisfied. She then added a few more strokes of blush to Meng Kaiyan’s cheeks.

“Is Little Meng ready?” Chen Yu urged.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Meng Kaiyan replied.

She glanced at herself in the mirror and walked toward the camera.

Huang Dongying, during her struggle, unexpectedly killed Ji Hua. Now, Ji Hua, played by Gao Qingjian, lay on the ground with a butcher’s cleaver still embedded in his body.

The scene was incredibly realistic, prompting Meng Kaiyan to marvel, “The props and makeup teams are amazing.”

Chen Yu nodded, “Right? They really spent big bucks on it.”

Gao Qingjian, who had his eyes closed, pretending to be embracing death, interjected, “You’ve been tormenting me for half an hour.”

Chen Yu kicked him lightly, “Don’t speak, lie still. If your position doesn’t match the previous shot, it’s over.”

The clapperboard clicked once again.

Meng Kaiyan stood behind the door, with cameras positioned both inside and outside the room aimed at her.

She slid the latch open, and as she revealed most of her body, the camera outside slowly zoomed in from a low angle, capturing the half-light, half-shadow on her face.

This shot was fascinating: inside the room was dark; outside, bright. Ji Ping stepped out of the darkness inside the room, but this time, what emerged was her alternate personality.

Ji Ping stood at the boundary between light and shadow, staring intently at Ji Hua lying on the ground, her voice calm and unwavering: “Mom.”

Huang Dongying, collapsed on the floor, said nothing, both hands stiffly suspended over her chest, only gasping heavily.

After a moment, she slowly turned her head to meet Ji Ping’s gaze.

This silent exchange had been rehearsed at least twenty times between Meng Kaiyan and Chen Yu before shooting. Initially, Meng Kaiyan couldn’t quite get it right, feeling something was missing.

Only after exhausting herself emotionally, squeezing out every drop of feeling, did she realize what was lacking: “relief.”

“You actually killed him.”

“You should have done it a long time ago.”

Having suffered domestic abuse since childhood, Ji Ping likely harbored these thoughts. She wished her mother, also a victim, could rise up and resist, saving both herself and Ji Ping.

The mother and daughter locked eyes as Ji Ping slowly stepped outside.

She stood beside Ji Hua’s body, looking down on the corpse that looked no different from a dead pig.

Ji Ping asked, “How should we handle this?”

Huang Dongying still said nothing.

Ji Ping paid no mind. After a silent pause, she rummaged through a dusty butcher’s apron in the corner cabinet and put it on.

Then she took out a butcher’s cleaver and squatted beside the body, examining it carefully, seemingly considering where to start the dismemberment.

Pigs are usually cut open at the belly—so what about him?

Ji Ping pondered briefly, deciding it would be best to follow the pig’s example. She then pressed the sharp blade toward Ji Hua’s abdomen.

Just as she was about to drive the knife in, Huang Dongying grasped her wrist tightly, trembling as she snatched the knife from her hand, and with a puzzled look from Ji Ping, she made the first cut herself.

“Cut—passed—” the assistant director called out, signaling a successful take.

They shot another scene without issues, during which Gao Qingjian’s face turned pale from the cold on the floor, ironically matching his character’s state.

Time was now 1 a.m.

Meng Kaiyan was growing sleepy, yawning repeatedly as the props team set up the next scene.

Chen Yu remarked, “You’ve never shot this late before, have you?”

Meng Kaiyan shook her head, “No, but I have done night scenes.”

Chen Yu rubbed her hands, “It’s better now. Back then, crews really didn’t treat people well. They’d shoot around the clock to save costs. I once worked on two films simultaneously, doing day and night shifts. It was exhausting.”

Meng Kaiyan asked, “Were both leading roles?”

Chen Yu smiled, “No, one lead and one supporting role. Fortunately, both projects did well, so my efforts paid off.”

She then warned, “Don’t ever double-book yourself. That’s a surefire way to ruin your reputation nowadays. It’s really harmful to the character and your own performance. Looking back, I think I could have done better if I hadn’t been so stretched.”

Meng Kaiyan nodded vigorously. “I won’t.”

At 1:30 a.m., shooting resumed.

This time, they filmed the dismemberment of the mother and daughter.

Once again, Meng Kaiyan marveled at the props team’s craftsmanship—the severed limbs looked astonishingly real.

Perhaps distracted by the props, she wasn’t fully in character for the first two takes, only regaining focus by the third.

After filming the dismemberment, they shot the scenes transporting the body to the pigsty—a sequence outdoors.

Filming ended at 5 a.m.

Meng Kaiyan recalled the assistant director’s promise of finishing by 2 a.m. and couldn’t help but curl her lips. As expected, that was unreliable.

——

The film shoot lasted two months, during which Meng Kaiyan even returned to school to take a joint entrance exam.

Her grades had slipped significantly, dropping from the top ten in her class to thirtieth place, leaving her somewhat disheartened.

Jian Zhenzhu comforted her, “It’s okay. You didn’t have time to study on set. Once filming wraps, we’ll sign you up for tutoring, and your grades will naturally improve.”

Her daughter was naturally competitive and had never scored so poorly before. It seemed she would be down for a while.

“Yeah.” Meng Kaiyan leaned against the car window, feeling utterly discouraged and moody.

“I don’t know whose nature you inherited. Your father and I are pretty easygoing.” Jian Zhenzhu muttered while driving. “Maybe it’s a bit like your aunt. She was as driven as you when she was young—always striving to be first in class and overseas. She even cried late at night on the phone when she didn’t get a scholarship.”

Meng Kaiyan stuck out her tongue, “Mom, you’re making things up. She said I’m the most competitive.”

“I admit I’m a bit less so than your aunt, but it wouldn’t hurt you to learn from her.”

By mid-April, the film had finished shooting.

Meng Kaiyan had been with the crew from start to finish, truly one of the last to hold out.

“Tired?” Chen Yu asked her.

Meng Kaiyan answered honestly, “Tired, but also thrilled.”

Chen Yu smiled, “You really enjoyed acting. You were so immersed that you even sparked Liu Yu’s passion. He told me yesterday it’s been a long time since he’d acted so wholeheartedly. He said you’re a talent to be nurtured.”

The final scene shot last night was the confrontation between Liu Yu and Meng Kaiyan.

One was a police officer, the other a suspect. Their duel in the interrogation room was so intense that actors who were about to leave stayed to watch. Even Chen Yu, behind the camera, was startled.

Meng Kaiyan was delighted, “Liu Yu really said that?”

Chen Yu chuckled, “He was that excited. Do you think I’d lie?”

Meng Kaiyan wasn’t overjoyed merely for praise; Liu Yu was a teacher at the Central Academy of Drama. His recognition boosted her confidence greatly for the upcoming art exam.

Chen Yu advised, “Alright, rest well after wrapping. Go for runs or hikes, and don’t dwell too much on social news.”

After two months together, Chen Yu had genuinely taken a liking to Meng Kaiyan.

She was talented and obedient.

Talented actors were common, but they often held stubborn views—like Chen Yu herself.

She used to think she was the best actress around and would argue with directors, until one openly said he wouldn’t cast her again, forcing her to change.

Not voluntarily, but out of necessity. Years later, she realized how mistaken she had been, though her pride had been sky-high.

Meng Kaiyan was different—she communicated her opinions respectfully, even if rejected, and maintained a proper attitude that sometimes made Chen Yu’s assistant think she was overly authoritarian.

Fearing Meng Kaiyan might become too absorbed in her role, Chen Yu specially warned her, worried the young actress might be haunted by the film.

Meng Kaiyan was no fool and cooperated obediently. Outdoor activities were indeed a good way to shift focus.

During the fight between Ji Ping and her uncle Ji Hong, Ji Ping injured her leg. In the later shooting stages, Meng Kaiyan walked with a limp, which even affected her off-set gait.

At this moment, it seemed she was again shifting her full weight to her right foot.

Sigh!

After wrapping, Meng Kaiyan returned to Shanghai and settled into a monotonous routine.

Every day began with memorizing vocabulary, even while brushing her teeth. On the way to school, she recited Chinese classics, much to Jian Zhenzhu’s torment as she drove, struggling with the archaic texts.

Jian Zhenzhu complained to Meng Minghai, “I’m now more fluent at reciting than when I was a student.”

After school, Jian Zhenzhu took Meng Kaiyan to tutoring sessions.

From 6:30 p.m. to 9:30 p.m., Meng Kaiyan persisted for three months until she improved enough to stop.

By mid-July, summer vacation arrived again.

This summer was unusually hot, with daily heat warnings from the meteorological bureau.

Her luck seemed to have run out last year. She auditioned for three productions over the holiday but received no callbacks.

This was another blow to Meng Kaiyan.

Especially for the last crew, where she hadn’t even finished introducing herself before the casting director frowned and shook his head.

Why was that?

Meng Kaiyan touched her face thoughtfully.