Shrine - Chapter 31
Chapter 31
With the scenic area location borrowed for just one day to film a volume of one and a half episodes, time was undeniably tight. When the crew got busy, it was no different from going to war. The A and B units formed two small sets around the lake. The scene was bustling but not noisy; the sound of the camera slider was clearly audible.
Walkie-talkies crackled back and forth. The on-set assistant director jogged around, and the script supervisor, holding a laptop, filled in timecodes while observing the details of each scene. Her keyboard had to fly, as this was likely their only chance to film at the scenic spot, with little opportunity for reshoots.
Ruan Ruan followed the crew's schedule, finishing the fishing scene by the lake before flipping through her script and rushing to the B unit's shot of a conversation on the lawn. She was so busy she didn't even have a moment to glance at Shi Ran. The most uncontrollable factor on an exterior shoot was the natural light, and to ensure continuity, there was no room for too many NGs or delays.
Shi Ran, on the other hand, was much more composed. A golden retriever the director had brought along sat sleek and glossy beside her as she waited for the scene change. Shi Ran sat with her legs crossed, occasionally reaching out to cup the dog's chin, her gaze placid.
Ruan Ruan had once heard someone say that for top-tier artists, beyond professional skill, the real competition was physical stamina and mental fortitude. The latter went without saying, but good physical health usually meant a clear mind, capable of memorizing and digesting lines, and maintaining a good state even during long shoots that turned day into night.
This, too, was a talent for an actor.
Shi Ran was undoubtedly the type whose talents were maxed out in every category. The actors she shared scenes with all wore weary expressions, forcing themselves to cram the block characters from the flying pages into their minds. But Shi Ran, while silently memorizing her lines and camera positions, could still emotionlessly stroke the fur on the golden retriever's ears a couple of times.
The surface of the lake gradually darkened. The on-set director stopped anxiously shouting "Chase the light!" The shots were mostly done, and the camera operator sat before the monitor, watching the playback. The production coordinator and the production team picked up megaphones, arranging for everyone to head back before the sky turned completely black.
After such an intense day, even a person made of iron couldn't take it. The staff members squatting down to dismantle tents and pack up props had lost all the vigor they'd had upon arrival. Each one worked hunched over like a listless old dog, silent and subdued.
Once the scuffling footsteps and the sounds of packing up had faded away, one could hear the croaking of night frogs and the wind that seemed to be ushering them out.
The last rays of the setting sun clung to the mountainside. The main actors left first in their cars, followed by the scattered crew members. Unlike the organized arrangement on the way there, the crew simply boarded whichever vehicle was called, as each unit wrapped up at a different pace. Once a vehicle was full, it would drive out of the scenic area.
Ruan Ruan's role was small, so no one specifically called for her. She stayed behind to help the logistics team clean up. After circling the lake to wash her hands, she returned to find that her companions had vanished more completely than the dust on the ground.
The valley was suddenly empty and desolate. The water, which had been like a fairy's mirror during the day, now rippled with an inky blackness, like a swamp that harbored lake monsters.
The driver of the last van was already drowsy from waiting. The people inside shouted for Ruan Ruan to hurry up, and she quickly went over. It wasn't full; including the driver, there were three male colleagues. They were either staring blankly at their phones or dozing with their heads down.
The smell of engine oil masked the fresh scent of grass and trees as the vehicle slowly made its way down the mountain.
The road down the mountain was even more difficult to navigate. To ensure safety, the driver didn't dare to speed. By the time they emerged from the winding mountain path and turned onto a dirt road flanked by fields, the sky was blacker than the bottom of a pot.
Ruan Ruan was exhausted, her body feeling like it was about to be shaken apart. No one in the van spoke, save for the occasional cough.
She picked up her phone to scroll through her messages, but after just a few glances, her head throbbed with dizziness. She let out a slow half-breath and leaned against the window to look at the dark, oppressive mountain scenery.
The van jolted a few times, its chassis scraping against a rock with a muffled thud. Ruan Ruan grabbed the handle, but the vehicle lurched forward and came to an abrupt stop.
"Fuck," the driver cursed under his breath.
"What's wrong?" Ruan Ruan had a bad feeling.
A colleague in the back seat woke up, frowning and yawning.
"It broke down," the driver said, expertly turning on the hazard lights. "Fuck this shitty road."
He squinted and got out, turning on a flashlight. Ruan Ruan waited by the window. A few minutes later, her colleagues grew restless and got out to check. After a moment's thought, Ruan Ruan followed them.
The wind seeped into her clothes, making her shiver on the spot and waking her up completely.
She sniffled, wrapped her large scarf around herself, and asked in a hoarse voice, "Can it be fixed?"
"Doubtful." "I don't know how." "Call a tow truck?"
The three men stood before the open hood, their faces grim, all talking at once.
"I'll call the guys ahead of us," said Xiao Li from the lighting team, yawning again as he pulled out his phone.
He walked to the side of the road, his fragmented words drifting back to them.
"It broke down, the van broke down. Hey, can you guys squeeze me in? Can you turn around and give me a lift... He says to wait for the tow truck, I don't have time to wait... Well, ask around, ask around."
He clicked his tongue and came back. "Still no good?"
The driver shook his head, saying he had reported it to the production team and was waiting for their instructions.
While waiting by the roadside, Xiao Li and the others had a smoke. Ruan Ruan returned to the van but left the door open, listening intently for any sounds, unconsciously picking at a hangnail.
She remembered Wu Mei once telling her about a bit of bad luck she'd had. She was filming a period drama and was so exhausted from an all-nighter that she fell asleep in the prop truck for the whole night. The crew couldn't find her and called in an extra. The next day, she returned the costume with a stuffy nose, so feverish she was dizzy, but she didn't forget to apologize to everyone.
And now, Ruan Ruan didn't know how long she would have to stay in this van.
Twenty minutes later, the production team called. The driver answered, exchanged a few words, and hung up after two or three minutes.
"This scenic area isn't officially open, you need to register to get in, and no one's going to approve it at this hour. The tow truck can't get in, and the others have already left, so they can't turn back. They said, uh, they heard there's a guesthouse in its trial-opening phase inside. They told us to look for it, and if not, just make do for one night. They'll come pick us up in the morning."
After relaying the message, the driver looked at the others for their opinion.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Xiao Li said, extinguishing his cigarette.
Another colleague rubbed his face with his hands, too tired to even think.
Ruan Ruan took a deep breath and used her phone to search for nearby guesthouses on maps and review apps. There was one just 1.2 kilometers away, but its status was listed as "Not Yet Open." A call to the number went unanswered. Ruan Ruan glanced at the time at the top of her screen; it was already past 8 o'clock.
"I found a guesthouse, not sure if it's open, but I want to go check. Are you guys coming?" She stepped out of the van, her slender arm resting on the doorframe as she asked in a low voice.
"Let's go, let's go," they nodded.
In the dead silent wilderness, there were no streetlights, only a few beams from phone flashlights dancing in front of their shadows. Ruan Ruan carefully followed the cursor on her map, her colleagues trailing behind. The driver was still on the phone, while the other two chatted intermittently.
"Hey, you think there are snakes in this grass?" Xiao Li craned his neck to look at the pitch-black thicket.
Ruan Ruan swallowed. Nature was a magical thing; the red flowers and green willows of the daytime, stripped of light and shadow, became unknown monsters. Every rustle of the wind in the grass stirred the imagination.
She wasn't afraid of snakes, perhaps because she had other things to worry about. But what was more terrifying was the sound of the men's voices behind her, which sent a cold sweat down her spine without her realizing it. Human society was also a magical thing; a well-dressed person in the daytime, if dropped into darkness, was enough to inspire fear.
She was the only woman. She was scared.
Not of the desolate mountains, not of being stranded, not of snakes or insects, but of people.
It was like drowning, and the guesthouse not far away was an oasis. If its doors were open, she could reach the shore. Her ankles ached, her neck ached, her temples throbbed, and her heart pounded. By the time beads of sweat had formed on her forehead, she could faintly see a light.
The road ahead was much better, looking newly paved. Streetlights were neatly arranged on both sides, three or four of them lit, igniting a faint glimmer of hope.
Ruan Ruan called out to the people behind her and then ran ahead. At the end of the streetlights sat a small, Chinese-style courtyard, looking very much like the picture online.
But the guesthouse wasn't open. The main gate was shut tight, exuding an air of complete desertion.
Ruan Ruan wiped the sweat from her neck. Not giving up, she knocked on the door a couple of times, then raised her voice and called out. The mountains echoed her voice, but no one answered.
Her delicate brows furrowed. She turned around to see her colleagues smoking again under the streetlight. Ruan Ruan pressed her lips together and said nothing.
Her phone beeped twice—the final low battery warning. It would shut down in sixty seconds.
Ruan Ruan gave a wry, complicated smile, put the phone that had abandoned her into her pocket, and prepared to go back to the van to make do for the night.
This time, she walked behind her colleagues, because she no longer had a flashlight. The wind made the tall grass rustle. She rubbed her sore shoulders, feeling bored and numb, and began to wonder if there were snakes in the grass.
The short one-kilometer journey took almost half an hour. Her colleagues shivered as they got back into the van, letting out low groans of torment.
Ruan Ruan said nothing. She sat back in her original seat, rested her head against the window, and closed her eyes to rest.
She had to conserve her energy so she could wait for the crew to pick her up tomorrow.
The van was stuffy. After a few breaths, it became unbearably uncomfortable. She rolled down the window and dozed off with her arm draped over the doorframe. The air was much fresher now, but her thoughts were still hazy and fragmented, clattering around in her head as if someone had smashed them with a hammer.
Her head ached. Ruan Ruan frowned, her eyes unconsciously cracking open a tiny slit as she stared blankly at the gray road ahead.
It wouldn't be like this on the next set, would it? Someone would call her to get in the car first. After all, she would be the female lead, able to take the first or second car. A film set was, in many ways, a survival game like "PUBG." The valued people always received preferential treatment, able to enter the safe zone surrounded by an entourage at the earliest moment. Meanwhile, those civilian players with little equipment had to run for their lives to avoid being consumed by the poison gas.
Ruan Ruan was truly exhausted. She heard the sound of a trigger being pulled, the sound of gunfire from the survival game, and the sound of an approaching vehicle.
The sound of an approaching vehicle... from far to near.
She groggily opened her eyes, and a layer of goosebumps immediately rose on her neck, ambushed by the cold wind.
She saw two swaying headlights. A black van was approaching, slowly pulling up three or four meters to their side.
The door opened, and a tall figure bent down to get out. A familiar shirt and trousers, but she had changed into a pair of flat shoes and was wrapped in a dark gray wool coat, her silhouette faint in the darkness.
Shi Ran stood by her own car and looked at Ruan Ruan, who was leaning against the window. She raised her head slightly, signaling for her to get out.
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