Drifting on a String - Chapter 63
Chapter 63
The most difficult problem since rehearsals began had appeared.
Strangely, no one was surprised.
They waited quietly for Chen Piaopiao to brew her emotions. The spotlight on stage dimmed. Chen Piaopiao stood in the center, repeatedly looking at the script.
She understood. She understood this feeling, could even describe it in words. When Tao Jin disappeared from her life, her love died too. Later, that person would appear in her dreams, saying, "Piaopiao, come here." "Are you cold?" "It's about to snow again."
That time, Chen Piaopiao woke up and stubbornly went to look for her snow boots. She rummaged and rummaged through the shoe cabinet, wondering if she had accidentally thrown them away when she moved. She knelt on the floor, even nonsensically getting down on her stomach to search in the cracks.
She sat on the floor, trying hard to remember, her hair and pajamas a mess, like a rag doll with its stuffing exposed.
In the end, she found them on the top shelf of her wardrobe, wrapped up and stored with the first Hermès bag she had ever bought.
Chen Piaopiao took them out and put them on. She walked a couple of steps, lifting her thin nightgown. It was an incongruous sight, and the boots were so hot they baked her feet. They were also too small; her toenails pressed uncomfortably against the front.
I haven't even gained weight, so how could my feet have gotten bigger? Or do shoes shrink if you don't wear them for a long time?
Chen Piaopiao lay on the sofa, searching all night whether snow boots shrink if left unworn for a long time.
How could she not understand that feeling of waking from a dream? Memories pinched more than the snow boots, pressing on her until she wanted to burst into tears.
She would have snow boots that fit, more exquisite, more beautiful, more expensive ones. But she no longer had Tao Jin. Just like the female lead, she had lost her lover forever.
A small sob caught in her throat, and sorrow spread through her heart. Yet, her emotions were strange. Her passions and desires were like something in cat litter, quickly clumping together into a colorless, odorless, dry shape.
"Should we put on some music?" Fay quietly asked Tao Jin.
In a pause between Chen Piaopiao's breaths, Tao Jin asked softly, "Do you need it?"
"No need." Chen Piaopiao looked at the script, tucking her hair behind her ear.
She was embarrassed. It was truly strange; even when doing that kind of thing in front of Tao Jin, she had never felt this nakedly stared at. She suddenly realized that when it came to acting, she had always felt insecure around Tao Jin.
She always felt Tao Jin was superior. Perhaps the real reason was that even Chen Piaopiao herself believed Tao Jin had grown into the adult they had once hoped to become, while she had not.
The more she thought, the drier her eyes became. She put down the script and gave a helpless smile. "I'm sorry, I can't cry."
The breathing in the theater was audible. No one spoke. The set designer stood by the seats, editing a picture. Fay wore headphones, selecting suitable music. Everything proceeded in an orderly fashion as if nothing was wrong on stage. The colleagues left the problem-solving to the core team members.
Teacher Wu beckoned to Chen Piaopiao. "Here, come over."
Chen Piaopiao obediently went forward and squatted at the edge of the stage. Teacher Wu said slowly, "I'll go over the scene with you again. Let's start from the character's inner world and sort out the emotions first. Sometimes, you know, we say the emotional thread is like a faucet. Once you clear it out, it flows naturally, right? If you try to force it open, it's useless. The more you twist, the drier it gets."
She patted Chen Piaopiao's arm and looked at the script. "It's okay, ah, we still have time. Just adjust for a bit first."
Chen Piaopiao pressed her lips together, nodded, and listened attentively to Teacher Wu.
They flipped back and forth through the pages. About ten minutes later, Chen Piaopiao said she wanted to try again. She stood up and returned to the side of the stage, first taking a moment to get into character on the prop bed. A funereal drone came from the speakers. Chen Piaopiao sat up abruptly, staring blankly and palely at a point in the void. The music stopped short. The lighting created a division between the living and the dead.
Breathing. Rapid breathing, slow breathing. A contraction in her chest as if swallowing blood.
The tears should have come, but Chen Piaopiao blinked, and the tension left her in a single breath.
Teacher Wu frowned, grinding her teeth with her lips askew. She crossed her arms and looked at the script.
"Teacher Wu." This time, Chen Piaopiao went over on her own initiative, squatting near the edge of the stage. Her voice was so hoarse she could barely speak. Li Yu handed her a bottle of mineral water at the right moment. Chen Piaopiao twisted it open, took a sip, and saw Tao Jin and a few other colleagues approaching.
They surrounded her, as safe as the small dressing room.
Chen Piaopiao didn't know if they were doing it to block the view of the other staff members and protect the actor's emotions, but she was very grateful for the gesture.
"Let's try another method. Instead of you experiencing the character, let the character experience you," Teacher Wu said, putting down the script. "Think about a particularly sad experience of your own. Something especially painful and difficult."
"Generally speaking, you use life and death to think about life and death. Do you have a boyfriend?" Teacher Wu asked.
"No." Chen Piaopiao subconsciously wanted to look at Tao Jin but held back.
"Mm, you have relatives, right? And very, very good friends?" Teacher Wu coaxed, taking the script from Chen Piaopiao's hands. "Think about it. If one day something happened to them, an accident, how would you feel?"
Teacher Wu spoke very slowly, in the tone of an elder, tinged with a sadness built from experience. Her voice wasn't loud, punctuating the quiet air of the theater.
"Your father and mother, your sisters, your grandpa and grandma, your grandma…"
"Teacher Wu." Tao Jin suddenly spoke up, stopping her.
Chen Piaopiao looked up at her.
The other colleagues also looked at her.
"Let's try another method." Tao Jin pressed her lips together.
Chen Piaopiao's heart began to pound. Teacher Wu's words had indeed made her heart clench—Grandma… no one could talk about her grandma. But before she could react, Tao Jin had cut it off.
"This is a very common empathy exercise in acting," Teacher Wu said. "It's just to help the actor grasp the feeling of sadness."
Tao Jin gave a faint smile. "I know."
"On a film set, for the sake of a shoot, using a one-time stimulus, combined with editing, can produce good results. But a stage play has many performances, and it's presented in real-time. I suggest it's still best to start from the character and let the emotions flow naturally. If the actor has to pull away from the character every time to think about their own experiences, then the fluency of the performance and the integrity of the characterization will be greatly compromised."
"What do you think, Teacher Wu?"
That made sense. Teacher Wu nodded.
"Indeed, this method might only guide you to cry once or twice," she sighed. "What's to be done, kiddo? You'll still have to figure out how to get into character on your own."
"Why don't we call it a day," Tao Jin said with a light smile. "Piaopiao, go back and think it over again with the character's biography."
She lowered her gaze, paused, and said, "Everyone will help you."
Chen Piaopiao stared at her face, feeling that she had wanted to say "we," but had deliberately chosen the more distant "everyone."
She really should go back and study the script properly, but her mind was racing, constantly thinking about other things.
Was Tao Jin's defense of her really from a professional standpoint? Why did she stop her right at "Grandma"?
Did she remember Grandma too? Did she still remember when Grandma made her braised pig trotters? The moment she got home, she took out the plastic bag, the aroma filling the air. Chen Piaopiao wanted to put them on a plate, but Tao Jin said the bag was fine, that it was more convenient to eat from it.
She said that, but it was Chen Piaopiao who held the bag. Tao Jin held her, and Chen Piaopiao would lift it up for her to take a couple of bites.
"Grandma even told you to look after me," Chen Piaopiao said, exasperated. "Look how lazy you are."
"Aren't you eating?" Tao Jin looked down at her. The little fox was still chewing away. "Grandma brought those pig trotters for me, and you've eaten more than half."
"Then go tattle to Grandma."
"Hand me my phone."
"You're going to tattle, and you want me to hand you your phone?" The little fox's cheeks were puffed out, her eyelashes fluttering.
"I'm lazy, you said so." Tao Jin couldn't resist giving her a kiss.
Her phone vibrated. In her room, Chen Piaopiao snapped back to reality and picked it up. It was a message from Tingting.
"Come out for a drink, Piaopiao."
"Don't stress. Let's just hang out for a bit."
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