Shrine - Chapter 11
Chapter 11
At 2 a.m., Shi Ran opened her laptop to write a character biography for "Desire."
She really liked this female protagonist. She was like a cloud of mist, and the book never described her appearance. In the past, Shi Ran couldn't picture her, which was why she wanted to use her own skin to embody her. Now, an image was roughly forming in her mind.
She could be a girl from the countryside, adept at navigating the sordid struggles of life. Yet, she wasn't the social butterfly of stereotypes. She liked wearing T-shirts practical for work and would casually lend a hand to those around her. She didn't necessarily have to be timid; she could be a bit proud. If a touch of aloof pride were added, her desires would be even more concealed.
A figure gradually took shape amidst the tapping of Shi Ran's fingertips.
She had her own way of doing things, a young woman who wouldn't let herself be taken advantage of. When it was hot, she'd move into the lounge to enjoy the air conditioning; when it cooled down, she'd go cool off under the sky canopy.
Once, her fans came to visit the set, two young women who came together. She stood at the entrance in her costume and chatted with them for a long time, taking note of where they were staying. In the end, she told them to post in her Super Topic after they got back, to make sure they arrived home safely.
When some extras were sitting on the stone steps playing cards, she would squat nearby to watch, holding a small parasol.
On set, she was the quietest, standing in the crowd. When she was secretly learning from others, she would stand slightly on her tiptoes.
She was probably a little nearsighted, as she would inadvertently squint. If she saw a funny outtake, she would laugh along, and her eyes would narrow into a thin line.
When watching the monitor playback, her hands were always propped on her bent knees. If an actor from the same cast was taking a selfie and called her over, she would scoot next to them, make a peace sign, and smile demurely.
A person like that… a person like that.
Shi Ran stopped typing. She would also attend drinking parties, forcing herself to drink despite the nausea. And as the sun set, she would gaze at the sun, a star not yet at its peak, and contemplate how to interact with A-list celebrities, how to make herself a little more famous.
A person like that.
Shi Ran blinked twice in silence, pressed the enter key, and stared blankly at the flashing cursor.
Her desire to portray this character was stronger than ever before, so strong that her withered heart began to beat in the early morning. It wasn't obvious, just a soft rustling like sand in an hourglass, but she was beginning to faintly feel the character's vitality.
A vitality that could step out from between the lines of the biography and say to her, "Not asleep yet?"
Shi Ran saved the biography and sent it to Director Zhao.
At 3:30, Zhao Ansheng was also awake, likely having just finished a long night shoot. She immediately sent Shi Ran a voice message in reply.
Shi Ran sniffled, accepted the call, put it on speaker, and poured herself a glass of water.
"This is kinda interesting." Zhao Ansheng's voice was rough. She had short hair, was slightly overweight, and had a very worldly way of speaking. At a glance, she didn't seem quite straight.
Shi Ran gave a cool smile, indicating she was listening.
Zhao Ansheng had a cold. She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose. "I was talking to you about this character before, remember? I asked you what you thought the protagonist was like, and you said you couldn't picture it."
"I said she was like sparkling water. Not alcohol, but a bit like it. You said that wasn't it."
Later, Zhao Ansheng mulled it over a couple of times and agreed it didn't quite fit. Now, she wanted to ask Shi Ran.
"I see you've written the whole biography," she said, her eyes scanning the dense blocks of characters. "So have you figured it out? What is she like?"
Shi Ran sat down on a chair—a simple office chair that, against her elegant figure, looked rather aloof.
She said in a cool, lonely voice, "Bread."
"Bread?"
"From a small shop in an alley, with a not-so-clean display window, or maybe no window at all. Freshly baked bread, the kind made with artificial flavoring."
"A child on their way home from school is drawn to it and wants to buy it, and the parent will usually agree to buy it for tomorrow's breakfast."
The parent knows it doesn't quite meet sanitary and health standards, but it's still just a plain-looking loaf of bread. Compared to spicy gluten strips and cola, it seems far removed from junk food. It becomes the choice of compromise between the parent and the child.
Zhao Ansheng got excited and sat up straight. "Now that's really interesting."
Shi Ran raised the ends of her eyebrows slightly and relaxed her pursed lips.
Thinking of someone at night is dangerous. Even if it was for work, Shi Ran still wasn't used to it.
Zhao Ansheng didn't know that Shi Ran had a specific silhouette in her mind. No one knew; only Shi Ran herself did. She had experienced moments like this before, of holding something back from the world, but this felt completely different. Perhaps because it involved another person this time, Shi Ran felt like a voyeur, or rather, like someone with a secret crush.
It was quite absurd.
She waited for the computer to go to sleep and wiped a speck of dust from the keyboard with her finger.
Zhao Ansheng chatted with her about the project off and on until the clock hand passed 4 a.m. and the sky began to lighten.
The voice on the other end of the line suddenly asked, "So, that part I mentioned to you last time, what are your thoughts on it?"
Shi Ran's hand, wiping the keyboard, pressed the enter key. The computer screen suddenly lit up, casting an ambiguous play of light and shadow on her fair face.
What Zhao Ansheng was talking about was the most risqué part of the film: the female protagonist's sexual desire.
The entire film used three crucial intimate scenes to express the protagonist's descent, awakening, and growth. There was no need for nudity, but it required recording the protagonist's reactions to complete the transition through each stage of her life.
Their last conversation had gotten seriously stuck on this point. Not only did Shi Ran have no ideas, but even Zhao Ansheng had no preconceived notions in her mind.
She didn't even know how to set up the storyboards, how to best use shots that were both uninhibited and protective of the artist to complete this part of the physical narrative.
For a female protagonist with such a clear persona, what kind of reaction should she have when she's relieving herself?
Would she be restrained or uninhibited? Would she remain well-behaved as always, or would a slight crack in her facade appear, creating a contrast?
Hard to imagine.
Shi Ran could only recall a pair of knees, faintly red after kneeling and standing up again, faintly red after pushing open a stubborn wooden door. That patch of red was beautiful, like an allergic reaction. Pressure and pain were its allergens; anything that touched it would reveal a fragile side, unable to withstand a single blow.
But the pinkness was fleeting, and a few minutes later, it was once again like a pool of soft tofu that couldn't withstand any rough handling.
Shi Ran gazed at her own wrist. Her skin was so thin that the faint blue of her veins was visible.
"I don't know," she said softly, her voice cool.
Zhao Ansheng laughed. "How old are you this year again?"
"Twenty-nine."
"Never?" Zhao Ansheng asked very seriously.
"Never."
Zhao Ansheng was probably the only person who knew where Shi Ran's shortcomings lay. After all, she was the first director Shi Ran had ever worked with, though it was just a guess on her part. Back when they were filming "Death of Green Plum," there was a scene where Shi Ran receives news of a friend's death. It took many takes. No matter how Zhao Ansheng explained the scene, Shi Ran felt it was wrong, that it shouldn't be like that.
She said, give her one night. Then she found several documentaries and watched them until dawn. She discovered that upon receiving such news, very few people would break down crying or show obvious signs of shock. The relatives or friends would usually listen to the details while nodding slightly and swallowing repeatedly. Afterward, she would enter a room with a normal expression to quietly instruct her husband that their daughter had school at 7 a.m. and needed to be dropped off at 6:45.
The moment the door closed, she finally began to cry. Her mouth turned down and the tears fell, but she quickly wiped them away, using one hand to wipe both sides, back and forth.
Finally, she looked up at the ceiling lamp, puffed out her cheeks, and exhaled a moist breath.
This long take was hailed as Shi Ran's "Best Actress moment," a textbook-level performance.
Everyone praised this newcomer for being so talented. Only Zhao Ansheng knew how many documentaries she had watched. She needed to observe.
But the female protagonist in "Desire" was too unique. For these few scenes, Shi Ran couldn't find any reference material.
"Next month," Zhao Ansheng said, flipping through her schedule. "Are you free next month? Come for an audition. We'll talk more then."
"Where?"
"My company." In Beicheng.
"You pick the day. I wrapped up today, but you're still filming, aren't you? Go back and check your schedule. You can let me know later, or have your manager tell me," Zhao Ansheng said.
Shi Ran agreed and hung up. The sky was already about to brighten.
It was another bright and busy day at the film studio. Ruan Ruan had no scenes scheduled this week. She had taken leave from the crew to do a cameo for the director next door. It was a costume drama, and the headpiece weighed seven or eight jin. Her neck was sore from wearing it. Exhausted, she returned to her residence. Wu Mei was sleeping soundly, so Ruan Ruan didn't turn on the lights, fumbling in the dark to check on the kitten.
She took a picture and posted it to her Moments, as usual.
In an instant, several replies appeared below: "?"
"What is that?" "It's just a blur."
Ruan Ruan smiled wearily, squatting by the cardboard box as she replied: "Today's kitten growth log check-in (too-tired-to-turn-on-the-lights version)."
Just after she posted it, an unexpected profile picture appeared in the list of likes. It was Shi Ran.
She tapped on the ID. Their chat history was completely empty. Aside from the system notification that her friend request had been accepted, there wasn't a single word.
Just as she was hesitating about whether to say hello, she received another message.
Ruan Ruan was pulled into a three-person group chat. The person who added her was Xin Chen, from the variety show they did together. The other group member was Shi Ran.
Xin Chen: "I've joined a production. I'm right next door to you two. Got time? Let's get together."
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