章 450: Sacrifice for the play
The shooting had ended, yet Renly still stood in front of the mirror, gazing at his bald head.
The set was quiet, and no one spoke. Everyone assumed Renly was mourning his hair. His once thick and stylish hair had vanished, and it would take some time for anyone to adjust.
But Will knew otherwise. He understood that Renly was adapting to the harsh reality that had just flooded into his body. He wasn't mourning his hair; he was mourning the chain reaction brought about by cancer. He was slipping inch by inch into an abyss, and the overwhelming reality caught him off guard, filling him with a profound sense of sorrow.
In a fleeting moment, Will seemed to see himself standing in that very spot, hair freshly shaved. Seth was still nearby, exclaiming loudly, and he himself had the urge to cry but couldn't find the tears. He could only stand there, dazed and overwhelmed by the heightened reality of cancer, struggling to regain his composure for a long time.
This wasn't acting; it was reality. Even the bitterness, loss, and confusion that welled up in his eyes were strikingly similar. The authenticity was too potent, leaving Will breathless.
Life was ultimately not a movie.
In the script for "50/50", Will could jest, rage, and recount the sad and painful memories with a mocking tone, mixing humor and absurdity. But in real life, Will knew that the feeling of free-falling into an abyss couldn't be halted. It dragged him step by step into a mourning state, a state he couldn't escape from.
Positive and optimistic? It's easier said than done.
Will never believed in the power of acting because, in the end, acting was just acting. It always contained an element of performance. It wasn't genuine life; it was an art form. Even the most renowned actors' performances were magnificent, yet they were still components of cinematic art.
More than acting, Will believed in the power of words because words were the shouts and reflections of the soul. Every detail was so genuine and intricate, leaving traces to follow.
But today, looking at Renly, Will saw himself—his true self, his former self, his complete self. The emotions contained within a single gaze, a smile, or a gesture were so profound. They weren't carved; they were ingrained, as if his soul resided within that vessel, reliving vivid yet agonizing moments from his memories.
That immense force crushed Will, flooding him with confusion, fear, and panic, nearly suffocating him. His whole body trembled faintly, and he couldn't even move a finger. From the depths of his soul, he felt the freezing stiffness and numbness.
When writing the script for "50/50", Will had escaped the clutches of death and recovered successfully. Therefore, when he put pen to paper, he could be light, witty, teasing, and humorous.
The pain and struggle from those memories, the confusion and bitterness in his mind, all became light and cheerful. He could chat happily with Seth about those bittersweet moments, mock himself while discussing those lifeless moments, and write vividly with laughter, anger, and curses about the transformation of life into art through his words.
However, Renly had given those mocking and flamboyant words a unique vitality. Amidst the mockery was a fragility that was extremely pronounced, humor entwined with profound bewilderment, and a faint sorrow beneath the laughter. It was as if one could clearly see the scarred soul, its surrounding brilliance gradually dimming bit by bit. Pain had reached its zenith, yet it couldn't cry out; sorrow had reached its peak, yet it laughed.
This was comedy. This was life.
Hence, Will understood Renly's current state. He stood there, tears welling in his eyes, watching Renly's bewildered form. The subtle sense of loss caused hot tears to stream down unstoppably, creating a blurry halo that enveloped the world.
The set remained quiet. The crew members were unsure of how to react. On one side was Renly standing immobile in front of the mirror, and on the other side was Will falling apart. The scene they had just filmed was comical, shocking, humorous, and intricate. The indescribable emotions filled the air, leaving everyone uncertain whether to cry or laugh.
Seth glanced at Renly and then at Will. His instinct was to comfort his old friend, but ultimately, he didn't move. His gaze fixed on the back of Renly's head.
As an actor—even an "unqualified" one—Seth understood how challenging acting truly was.
Merely from the scene they had just filmed, Seth had entirely blurred the distinction between acting and reality. The tremendous momentum carried all emotions like a bursting flood, rushing uncontrollably. Moreover, Renly's swift and decisive execution of the scene, without hesitation, was even more exceptional.
Seth couldn't fathom how much effort Renly had poured into this, but he knew he could never achieve the same.
However, as much as Seth wanted to console Renly, he didn't know where to start. The awkwardness immobilized him, leaving him standing there helplessly. He raised his hand hesitantly, attempting to pat Renly's shoulder, but it felt too awkward. He then gestured towards the back of Renly's head, which seemed even more peculiar. He could only raise his hand, scratch his head, and wear an expression of embarrassment. Constipated once more.
"If you were planning to attack me, you've missed the best opportunity," Renly's voice came over, startling Seth.
Seth hastily dropped his right hand, pretending everything was fine. He tucked his chin in and raised his gaze slightly, stealing a glance at Renly. He then saw the faint smile on Renly's face and couldn't help but force a dry smile himself. "Hehe," he attempted to brush off the previous situation. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Renly nodded.
In reality, he wasn't fine. He sensed Adam's emotions. After the third collision with reality, the suffocating sensation of drowning was gradually becoming real. His energy was fading, and he disliked the feeling. But he knew he was okay; he could endure it.
This is how the disease operates, ceaselessly gnawing at the patient's willpower, wearing it down bit by bit, until surrender becomes the only option. Will was like that, Adam was like that, Chu Jiashu was like that. And so were Hazel, Annie, Alex, and many more. This was something others couldn't help with. It was a battle with oneself, a solitary struggle. The cries and encouragements of bystanders were merely echoes, no more.
He knew he could endure. In his previous life, he had walked the lengthy path, witnessed the semblance of the finish line. He wouldn't be afraid, and he wouldn't give up.
So, "I'm fine," Renly repeated once more, as if to bolster his conviction. He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Seth or himself.
Turning his head, Renly observed the bewildered silence that had fallen over the entire crew. He raised his hand to touch his head, then cast a sidelong glance at the mirror. With a light chuckle, he said, "I feel pretty good about myself. What about you? Do you all think it's terrible?"
"No! Absolutely not!" came the chorus of voices in quick succession. Yet, due to their eagerness and uniformity, the reassurances lacked authenticity. It sounded like polite, rehearsed words, which made Renly smile wryly. Everyone understood the meaning behind this laughter, and their gazes began to shift away. The volume gradually lowered.
Renly didn't mind. His gaze settled on Jonathan, "How was the performance just now? Please tell me you have good news. I really don't want to do it all over again." That playful tone caused a gentle lift at the corners of Jonathan's mouth. However, as he looked at Renly's fragile and weary face, eyes akin to pebbles soaked in spring water—soft yet steadfast—a strange sensation prickled his nose.
As a director and a member of the crew, over the past half month, they had witnessed firsthand what Renly had endured for this role. His physical and mental state had deteriorated, and now, with his head shaved, revealing his unobscured features, the inescapable exhaustion permeated through. It was as if he had truly traversed through a round of hell.
Jonathan clumsily wiped away the tears left on his face, then exaggeratedly burst into laughter. "Why does it suddenly feel like I got sand in my eyes?" He lowered his head to rub his eyes and then raised it again. "It was great. To be precise, perfect! I can't think of any better interpretation. How about it, want to come and watch the playback?"
"Of course." Renly didn't decline. He nodded decisively, then headed to the monitor. However, he caught sight of Nathan's worried expression, eyes brimming with tears but not falling. Renly pursed his lips and smiled at Nathan, saying nothing more, before turning his attention back to the screen, waiting for the playback.
It wasn't just Renly; the entire crew silently gathered around.
People always said the film industry was magical, yet after the curtain was lifted on the secrets of film production, that allure seemed to vanish. Everything was make-believe; there was no magic to it. But today, through Renly, they once again witnessed the magic of film. The immense power of performance drew everyone into a fantastical world, allowing them to truly experience the emotions of the participants. Bitterness was transformed into something beautiful.
The playback began, presenting six different angles on the monitor, recording every detail of the scene they had just shot. The banter and jests between Adam and Kyle, brimming with wit and humor, were highlights that left everyone unable to contain their laughter. The film's comedy style was executed perfectly, especially the impromptu quips between the two. They were particularly outstanding, igniting bursts of laughter one after another. Finally, they could laugh freely.
Especially when Jonathan was teased, everyone applauded and laughed heartily. This kind of humor was the essence of film production, a collision of sparks from intelligence!
However, this scene clearly held more than that.
クリエイターの想い 
Shallowman
Shallowman Finally, I'm back at translating this work. Probably after three years lol. This second wave of editing from the first chupster to the current one, showed me how much I progressed in the skills of translating, editing, and maybe even writing. I will continue translating this work because the works that filled the gap left by my hiatus are, let's say, middling at best, won't be pointing fingers. I can tell you that there are still no original English novels or Chinese that surpasses what this author provides, and I'm not telling this out of personal bias, but just out of disappointment as an experienced novel reader. Just like how in the building genre there is unshakeable "Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece", so is this work having an absolute hold on quality in the showbiz genre, and some other works by this author. Truly, nothing really comes close!
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