The path was filled with stubborn rocks and sharp little stones, pressing painfully into her knees. With every step came new ones. This repetition would undoubtedly add injury upon injury.
Ji Ying raised her head, gazing at the temple that seemed to be at the edge of the sky, shrouded in a thick fog, before slowly lowering her head again.
The young monk followed her closely, his eyes always slightly lowered, focused on the path before him, his face devoid of any ripple of emotion.
Ji Ying kowtowed with every step, remaining silent from beginning to end.
After a while, she reached a flat landing. She lifted her head, facing the frost and snow that filled the sky, and said softly, “I heard from the abbot that you are the disciple with the most Buddhist nature he has ever seen. He is training you to be the next abbot.”
“Patron, you overpraise me. This humble monk is unworthy.” The young monk lowered his head, speaking without joy or sorrow.
Ji Ying glanced back.
She had already climbed one hundred and seventy-nine steps. Her knees had long gone numb, and they were ice-cold to the touch, it was impossible to tell if it was from water or blood.
She said, “Master Gara had me climb these Heavenly Steps, but for what purpose? Could it be that if I climb to the top, Wen Mou will live?”
The young monk said nothing.
Ji Ying continued to kowtow, speaking softly, “Back then, when the Master took Wen Mou’s body, he said that she was unwilling to see me again… Now that I’ve come, if I climb to the top, will she be willing to see me? Or… is she not dead after all?”
The young monk still said nothing.
After a long moment, he raised his head, looked toward the summit, and said slowly, “Everything is preordained; it cannot be forced.”
“I am not forcing anything.” Ji Ying’s movements didn’t stop, but she let out a soft, bitter laugh. “I just… want an answer.”
An answer about Wen Mou.
Why she chose to bid farewell with death, and why even after death, she was unwilling to meet her again.
In the beginning, everything had been fine.
“Without an answer, I can never let it go.” Ji Ying took a deep breath, held out her hands, which were red and completely numb from the cold, closed her eyes, clenched them into fists, and gritted her teeth to continue her ascent.
The young monk still followed behind her, not speaking a word. Only occasionally would his gaze drift to a fixed point on the mountaintop.
Rong Guang was standing there.
Beside her was another veteran actor, Cen Liang, dressed in a kasaya. He was playing the role of the temple’s abbot, Master Gara.
His role wasn’t large, but he was an indispensable character.
The two of them were not at the highest point, but on the edge of a rather secluded peak.
At the peak, the cold wind whistled, causing their robes to flutter and creating a sense of solitude unique to winter.
Watching Ji Ying slowly kneeling and crawling under the moonlight, Gara put his palms together and chanted loudly, “Amitabha.”
Jiang Wenmou’s brows were slightly furrowed, her face pale, her entire being exuding sickness. The moonlight made her look as cold and lifeless as jade. She kept her eyes on the person below, and when her gaze fell upon the gradually appearing bloodstains, her pupils constricted for an instant.
“Why must you do this?” The Master let out a long sigh, his eyebrows and beard fluttering in the cold wind as he also looked down.
“Because of imperial power.” Jiang Wenmou closed her eyes and gathered her cloak around her. “Between her and me, it is destined to be a fruitless, sinful bond. If I don’t die, I will be her only weakness. Since she already knows I’m not dead, she surely won’t let this go. I must trouble you, Master, to deliver this silk pouch to her. After she reads it, she will naturally understand everything.”
Gara took the silk pouch, tucked it into his sleeve, and said, “Back then, when I entrusted the feigned death potion to you, I felt a faint unease. I never expected that the potion meant to save you would end up harming you instead.”
“It has nothing to do with you, Master.” Jiang Wenmou gave a soft laugh. Though her lips were pale, the light in her eyes remained. “It’s just fate playing tricks on people. If she weren’t Ji Ying, and if I weren’t Jiang Wenmou, perhaps everything would be different… But in this world, where can one find ‘what ifs’?”
As soon as she finished speaking, Jiang Wenmou began to cough violently, each cough more heart-wrenching than the last.
Finally, she choked out a mouthful of fresh blood. After letting out a long breath, she slowly closed her eyes.
“My time is short.” Jiang Wenmou wiped the blood from her lips. When she looked at Ji Ying again, her eyes held an indescribable depth of affection and loneliness. “But I cannot let her die with me. I’ll have to trouble you with everything, Master.”
Gara watched Jiang Wenmou’s figure gradually recede into the distance, put his palms together, and silently recited the Buddha’s name again. After one last glance at the figure about to reach the summit, he also turned and descended the mountain.
“Cut! Cut, cut, cut—!!” Zhang Nanchuan held up a megaphone, shouting up and down the mountain several times, “Wrap it up, wrap it up, that’s a wrap—everyone come on over!”
Rong Guang heard him, lifted her cloak, and hurried down with the others.
Chu Feiliang had been crawling on those steps for a very long time; her knees definitely couldn’t take it.
Rong Guang glanced at the time. Although it wasn’t truly a world of ice and snow, it was the middle of the night, and the temperature outside wasn’t high. Kneeling on the cold ground like that was something no one could endure, let alone Chu Feiliang, who already had injuries and had to kneel all the way up the path.
A group of people in heavy windbreakers were all gathered under a tent, staring at the monitor.
When Rong Guang rushed back, Chu Feiliang was being helped to a chair on the side.
A small space heater was placed in front of her, warming her. The clothing below her knees had been completely rolled up, and a layer of medicinal oil had been applied. Her entire knee was bright red, and some spots were still oozing blood, looking rather frightening.
“Director, how was this scene? Is it a pass?” Rong Guang went over to look, feeling a little nervous. She really didn’t want Chu Feiliang to have to do it a second time; it was too grueling.
Zhang Nanchuan had been staring intently at the scene. He said, “It was all great—I never expected, I really never expected that even filming you two separately, your performances would be this good. This take is a pass. I thought we’d get stuck on your blood-coughing scene many times, but you coughed quite well, very convincing.”
Rong Guang’s lips twitched. She touched her nose and said, “Well…”
She had her chronic bronchitis from her past life to thank for that. When it came to coughing up blood, she was more of an expert than anyone.
Zhang Nanchuan deliberately teased her, saying, “Xiao Chu, take a short break. We’ll have to trouble you tonight to finish filming the rest in one go!”
Chu Feiliang gave a noncommittal response.
As long as this previous scene was done, the subsequent scenes would be much easier to film.
Next up was her scene with Master Gara. A clash between veteran actors, all filmed indoors, mostly involving the control of psychological activity and line delivery. It wasn’t difficult.
“What a great script.” Chu Feiliang waved the script in her hand and sighed, “Soon there’ll be nothing left to film.”
“Not that fast. There’s still a lot to do later on. The Battle of Lu Xi won’t happen so soon, it’ll be delayed for many episodes,” Rong Guang said.
Rong Guang and Chu Feiliang had now moved into a room. The props team was setting up the props for the final scene in the side room, leaving the two of them alone for the moment.
“Mm, I’m not done that fast,” Chu Feiliang said, propping her chin on her hand. “But you’re about to go offline.”
Rong Guang’s eyes curved into a smile. “Going offline is one thing, but whether I live or die isn’t certain yet. From the way Director Zhang is talking, I think he wants both of us to survive.”
Chu Feiliang gave a noncommittal shrug and said, “Who knows.”
The upcoming Battle of Lu Xi couldn’t be filmed here. They would have to move to another outdoor location, and that place would be where Rong Guang wrapped up her filming.
Rong Guang stood up, looked at Chu Feiliang’s knees, and said, “Sister, how are your legs?”
Chu Feiliang pressed her lips together. Without trying to act tough, she said, “They hurt. What should I do?”
Rong Guang’s heart instantly tightened. She stared nervously at her knees, where she could faintly see quite a bit of blood seeping out.
Looking closer, the part of her pants covering her knees was already worn through. The knee area was full of holes, and the surrounding fabric was a shade darker than its original color. But because it had turned a dark red, it was impossible to even tell if it was a bloodstain.
Rong Guang stared for a long time before saying, “I… I’ll put some medicine on for you, and then rub it…?”
Chu Feiliang was taken aback for a moment, then she smiled, lifted her leg, and said, “That would be wonderful. I’m frozen through right now, I really don’t have a single bit of strength left.”
Having gotten her approval, Rong Guang’s eyes immediately sparkled. She moved the small heater aside, rubbed her hands until they were warm, and then began to apply the medicine for Chu Feiliang.
Chu Feiliang would occasionally suck in a sharp breath of cold air from the pain, letting out hissing sounds.
Rong Guang would glance at her nervously from time to time and say, “If it hurts, tell me. I’ll be gentler.”
“It hurts,” Chu Feiliang said, shaking her head slightly as she stared at Rong Guang.
Rong Guang froze. “I… I’ll be even gentler?”
“No need. You have to use more force to break up the bruised blood.” Chu Feiliang lifted her chin and said, “Just blow on it, that’ll be fine.”
Rong Guang’s face turned a little red, but she didn’t refuse. She really did lower her head and blow gently on Chu Feiliang’s knee.
Chu Feiliang again started hissing and drawing in her breath, slowly and leisurely crying out in pain.
Having heard this commotion from outside the door for a while, Wang Lujie, her expression crumbling, finally couldn’t take it anymore.
“You two are really something else! Enough is enough!” Wang Lujie said with an angry face. “Chacha is right here!”
Chu Feiliang leaned back in her chair. “So what if Chacha’s here.”
Chacha, a look of utter confusion on her face, raised her head and said, “What about me being here?”
Wang Lujie opened her mouth, and finally, with a contorted expression, said, “Fine, I’m leaving!”
Listening to Wang Lujie’s footsteps, which sounded angry enough to shatter the horizon, Rong Guang’s face turned a little red. She said, “Sister Lulu might have gotten the wrong idea…”
Chu Feiliang let out a soft laugh and said, “If she got the wrong idea, she got the wrong idea. Her mind is filled with nothing but dirty thoughts. Let her be.”
Rong Guang lowered her head, moved Chu Feiliang’s leg onto her own so she wouldn’t have to exert herself, and continued to carefully apply the medicine. Then, she used the palm of her hand to forcefully rub her knee to break up the bruising, lest she wake up the next day with her entire knee bruised.
After a moment, Chu Feiliang’s foot twitched. She said, “Say something.”
“Say what?” Rong Guang looked up, stunned.
Chu Feiliang crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips, and said, “You said Lulu got the wrong idea just now. So, what wrong idea did she get? Do you know what she was thinking?”
Rong Guang froze. When she realized what she meant, her face instantly turned red.
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