lovenovelstory Chapter 80 A Heartbreaking Reprimand
Chapter 80 A Heartbreaking Reprimand
Chapter 79 A Heartbreaking Reprimand (Seeking First Subscriptions - 9 Chapters)
When Jiang Yu pushed open the heavy soundproof door, Darren Aronofsky was sitting in the middle chair in the first row, like a sculpture.
The director always wore his signature black T-shirt and faded jeans, with a pair of worn-out Converse sneakers on his feet.
His hair was sticking up in a messy updo, and he was holding a pencil in his right hand, quickly scribbling something on the blank space of the script spread out on his lap.
On stage, Liu Yifei is performing a solo dance as the Black Swan.
Every movement she made seemed to be squeezed out from the depths of her bones, carrying a kind of almost violent beauty.
The black ballet tulle billowed as she twirled, the sheer fabric at the hem drawing sharp arcs in the air like black blades.
The makeup artist gave her a striking stage look, with an unusually pale foundation, eyeshadow in a deep purple and black gradient that extended to her temples, and bright red lips that looked like a wound on her pale face.
What's most striking is her eyes.
That was no longer the clear and gentle feeling that Jiang Yu was familiar with, nor the stubbornness with girlish innocence that came from "The Forbidden Kingdom".
Her pupils appeared exceptionally bright under the stage lights, yet they were also unfathomably deep, like black holes that could suck in all light.
The music is a selection from Act II of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, which has been rearranged.
The originally melodious tune became urgent and distorted, with a large number of dissonant sounds added to the string section, and the piano arpeggios sounded like shards of glass falling from a height. The whole piece was filled with a tension that was on the verge of collapse.
Jiang Yu and David quietly sat down in the last row. Darren didn't even turn his head, but simply raised his left hand and made a "quiet" gesture.
Liu Yifei on stage did not notice his arrival.
She was entering the famous thirty-two fouetté turns, a touchstone for ballet dancers and an extreme test of core strength, balance, and willpower.
One circle, two circles, three circles—her spinning grew faster and faster, her black skirt unfurling into a perfect circle in the air, like a flower blooming in the darkness.
Jiang Yu noticed the change in her expression.
In the first few laps, her face showed technical focus; her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, her lips were pursed, and her eyes were fixed on a point in the air directly in front of her.
That's the dancer's secret to maintaining balance: find the focal point and rotate your body around that point.
Around the tenth lap, something changed.
Her expression began to relax, her eyes gradually lost focus, and a faint smile even appeared on the corner of her mouth.
That wasn't a joyful smile, but rather a kind of intoxicated, almost manic laugh.
It was as if she wasn't dancing, but performing some kind of ritual, a ritual of self-sacrifice to darkness.
On the fifteenth lap, her breathing became heavy, and sweat began to seep from her forehead, glistening under the stage lights.
Each step produces a dull thud on the wooden floor, like a heartbeat or a drumbeat.
On the twentieth lap, her arm movements began to distort—what should have been an elegant Arabesque pose now became more aggressive.
The fingers were no longer soft curves, but spread out like eagle claws, as if trying to grasp something unseen.
On the twenty-fifth lap, her eyes changed completely.
There is no longer any trace of Liu Yifei there, only the Black Swan: Lin Xin, the ballerina consumed by desire and ambition.
Her pupils dilated, and her eyes burned with an almost morbid flame.
The thirtieth lap —
Jiang Yu suddenly sat up straight.
He noticed something was wrong.
As her right ankle struck the ground for the third time, there was a barely perceptible twitch in the muscles there.
It's so slight that you wouldn't notice it unless you were paying close attention.
In his previous life, Jiang Yu worked in the special effects industry for twenty years, and had seen countless performance materials of actors, making him exceptionally sensitive to human body language.
That's a sign of an old injury recurring.
"She has a sprained ankle," he whispered to David.
Before David could react, something had already happened on stage.
On the thirty-first lap, just as Liu Yifei was about to complete the final rotation, her right ankle suddenly twisted outward.
He lost his balance and fell to the left like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Stop!" Darren Aronofsky jumped up from his chair.
The music stopped abruptly.
On stage, Liu Yifei knelt on one knee, supporting herself with her hands, panting heavily.
Her shoulders were trembling, not from exhaustion, but from some deeper physiological spasm.
Darren rushed onto the stage in a few steps, his movements so fast that he didn't look like a director in his forties.
"What happened to your ankle?" He squatted down, his tone stern.
"An old injury." Liu Yifei's voice trembled slightly, but she was still trying to remain calm. "It's okay, I just didn't control myself well. I can continue."
"Continue my ass!" Darren rarely swore. He reached out and gently touched her right ankle, and Liu Yifei immediately gasped. "See? It's swollen! Ice it! Right now!"
The assistant director, a blonde woman in her early twenties, rushed over with a first-aid kit and took out an ice pack.
Darren took the ice pack, wrapped it in a towel, and applied it to Liu Yifei's ankle with a rough but surprisingly gentle motion.
Liu Yifei then noticed Jiang Yu sitting in the back row.
She paused for a moment, a complex expression flashing across her face: surprise, embarrassment, shame, and a hint of inexplicable dependence.
She forced a tired but radiant smile, a smile that instantly transformed her from a black swan back into Liu Yifei.
Jiang Yu walked onto the stage.
He walked over to her, squatted down, and stood on either side of Darren.
"You danced very well," he said calmly. "The director is right, you need a rest."
"Just one more lap—" Liu Yifei bit her lip, her voice filled with resentment, "Just one more lap to finish. I could feel it, that state I was in just now—if I could finish that last lap, I could grasp the core of that character."
"Even one lap behind is still a lap behind," Darren said seriously. He stood up and looked down at her. "Liu, I know you have high expectations of yourself, but if you get injured, everything is over. Your current state is a bit dangerous, I'm not talking about your physical condition, I'm talking about your mental state. You're too immersed in the role."
Liu Yifei lowered her head and didn't argue anymore. Jiang Yu could see that her knuckles were white as she gripped the hem of her skirt tightly.
Jiang Yu gently grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away from her skirt. Her wrist was slender, her skin was cold, and her pulse was rapid.
"Go to the hospital for a checkup," he said. "I'll have David arrange a car."
"No, really no need—" Liu Yifei looked up, tears welling in her eyes, which she forcefully suppressed. "It's just a minor sprain; I often get this. A rest and some ice will do the trick. Tomorrow's rehearsal—"
"There will be no rehearsal tomorrow," Darren interrupted her. "At least three days off. Liu, I don't want to see a talented actress ruin her career because she's too eager for quick results. Do you understand what I mean?"
Liu Yifei remained silent.
Jiang Yu could feel her trembling, not from pain, but from some deeper fear; fear of losing the role, fear of disappointing everyone, fear of not being worthy of the opportunity.
"Go to the hospital." Jiang Yu's tone left no room for argument. "You are the core of this movie; your health is more important than anything else."
He stood up and said to the assistant director, "Help her change her clothes. See you downstairs in ten minutes."
The assistant director nodded and helped Liu Yifei up.
Liu Yifei tried to stand up straight, and as soon as she put her right foot down, a look of pain flashed across her face.
She didn't say anything, but gritted her teeth and slowly walked off the stage with the help of her assistant.
Darren watched her retreating figure and sighed.
He pulled a crumpled pack of Marlboros from his pocket, lit one, and the smoke rose slowly under the stage lights, twisting into eerie shapes.
"This girl—she's incredibly dedicated." Darren took a drag of his cigarette, his voice unusually weary. "I've never seen an actor this dedicated. Hollywood has many who push the method acting to its extreme; they'll lock themselves in a room for months to experience the character's pain. But Liu—"
She's burning with her body. Do you understand? She's not acting as the "Black Swan," she's truly transforming herself into the Black Swan.
Jiang Yu nodded: "That's why I told her to go to the hospital. She needs professional medical advice, and she also needs someone to remind her to stop."
"You need to keep an eye on her." Darren turned around and looked directly into Jiang Yu's eyes. "Artists have self-destructive tendencies, especially when playing dark roles like this. I've seen too many actors who, after finishing a role, can never come back. They either become immersed in the darkness of the character or break down because the detachment is too painful. The character Lin Xin—it's too devouring."
He paused, then took another drag of his cigarette. "You know what's most terrifying? Liu has that trait, that obsessive pursuit of perfection that's willing to sacrifice everything. That's what allows her to play the role well, but it could also ruin her. She understands Lin Xin's inner world because, in some ways, they're the same kind of people."
Jiang Yu's heart tightened.
He thought of Liu Yifei from his past life, the malicious attacks on the internet, the ridicule of her acting skills, and the speculation about her private life.
She always acted nonchalantly, but how could those hurts not leave a trace?
She has now projected all those repressed parts onto the character of Lin Xin, which allows her to portray an amazing depth, but also makes her lose the boundary between the character and herself.
"I'll be careful," Jiang Yu said.
The two chatted for a few more minutes, and then Liu Yifei came out after changing her clothes.
She wore a simple T-shirt and blazer, paired with ripped jeans and white canvas shoes.
The stage makeup on her face had been completely removed, revealing her originally fair skin, which appeared somewhat pale due to the pain she had just experienced.
Her long hair was draped down, curling softly over her shoulders.
She transformed back into that clear-eyed girl, if one ignored her slight limp as she walked and the lingering shadow of darkness in her eyes.
"To the hospital." Jiang Yu said without hesitation. "David, is the car ready?"
"Downstairs." David had been waiting at the door.
"I'll go with her," Jiang Yu said to Darren. "Director, today's rehearsal—"
"Cancel it." Darren waved his hand. "Let her rest for a few days. I want to see a healthy Black Swan, or at least someone physically healthy, at the launch press conference on the 28th."
David drives a black Lincoln Navigator, which has a spacious interior and excellent privacy.
As soon as he got in the car, he wisely raised the partition between the front and back rows, giving the back seats a completely private space.
Liu Yifei sat by the window, turning her head to look at the street scene rushing past outside.
Her right hand remained gently pressed on her right ankle, while the ice pack was temporarily set aside.
The car was quiet, with only the faint sound of the air conditioner.
"I'm sorry," Liu Yifei suddenly said, her voice very soft, without turning her head, "I'm sorry for letting you see me make a fool of myself."
"That's not embarrassing yourself," Jiang Yu said. "That's professionalism. But professionalism doesn't mean you can't live without risking your life."
He paused, his tone softening slightly: "You danced very well just now. I watched for about ten minutes, from before you started your whip turn. It wasn't just technically good, it was—soulful. I could see Lin Xin's struggle, her desire, her madness. You captured the essence of that character."
Liu Yifei finally turned her head.
Her eyes were a little red, I don’t know if it was because she was in pain just now, or something else.
"Do you really think so?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"Really," Jiang Yu said firmly. "I didn't choose you because you're pretty, but because I see your potential to play this role well. In Hollywood, no one jokes about a $1500 million investment. You have to trust my judgment, and you have to trust yourself."
Liu Yifei lowered her head, her long hair falling down and obscuring her profile.
"I just—" her voice trailed off, "I just wanted to do my best. This opportunity was so rare, I was afraid I wasn't good enough for it. I know a lot of people are waiting to see me fail, wondering why I'm the one in Darren Aronofsky's movie? So I have to be perfect, I have to prove them wrong."
Jiang Yu looked at her.
This girl, who is always calm and composed on screen, revealed a rare vulnerability at this moment.
He suddenly understood what Darren was talking about.
Liu Yifei and Lin Xin are indeed the same kind of people.
That obsessive pursuit of perfection, that madness that would sacrifice everything for art, that morbid aesthetics that uses self-destruction to prove its value.
She has been suppressing too much in real life, and now it's all bursting out in her roles.
This is dangerous.
"Listen," Jiang Yu's voice turned serious. "This movie is important, but it's just one stop in your career, not the end. You're only 21 this year; you have decades to go. Don't trade your health for a single shot; it's not worth it. And don't trade your mental health for a perfect performance; that will cost you even more."
Liu Yifei looked up, tears glistening in her eyes: "But Mr. Jiang, you don't understand—when I danced Black Swan, when I became Lin Xin, I felt—I felt so free. All the pressure, all the malice, all the self-doubt vanished. I was no longer Liu Yifei, no longer the actress judged by countless people; I was just a pure dancer, a madwoman driven by desire. That feeling—it was terrifying, but also captivating."
As she spoke, her fingers unconsciously twisted together.
Jiang Yu's heart sank.
This is exactly what he was most worried about: she was no longer "acting" the role, but "becoming" the role.
She uses Lin Xin's identity to escape the pain in reality, which allows her to portray amazing depth, but also puts her at risk of being unable to detach herself from it.
"That's just a role." He reached out, gently grasped her wrist, and separated her fingers. "You are Liu Yifei, not Lin Xin."
You have your own life, your own value, and you don't need to prove anything by becoming a fictional character. Remember that, or you'll ruin yourself.
His palms were warm, completely enveloping her icy wrists.
Liu Yifei trembled slightly but did not pull her hand away.
She looked at him, and tears finally streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I'm just—a little tired."
"Then rest." Jiang Yu let go of her hand, took out a pack of tissues from his pocket and handed it to her. "Take good care of your injury, eat well, and sleep well. Only a healthy body and a clear mind can support you to go further."
Liu Yifei took the tissue, wiped away her tears, and forced a smile: "Thank you."
The car stopped at that moment.
David lowered the partition: "Boss, we've arrived at the hospital."
When I left the hospital, it was almost dusk.
David drove to the hospital entrance, got out, and opened the car door for Liu Yifei.
After getting into the car, Liu Yifei said softly, "Take me back to the hotel, I want to be alone."
Her voice sounded tired, but not physically tired; rather, it was mentally exhausted.
"Okay." Jiang Yu didn't say anything more.
He knew that some hurdles he had to overcome on his own, and some emotions he had to process on his own.
All he could do was offer support, not think for her.
The car entered the traffic flow at dusk.
Los Angeles traffic is always oscillating between congestion and smooth flow, and now it's the start of the evening rush hour, with cars moving at a crawl.
Liu Yifei kept looking out the window, her profile appearing somewhat blurry in the dimming light.
Jiang Yu didn't say anything either.
He was thinking about many things, including the casting for "2012," the development of Light Chaser Animation in China, and the technological bottlenecks of Light and Shadow Cloud.
His brain is like a high-performance computer, processing multiple tasks simultaneously.
Occasionally, his thoughts would drift to the girl beside him.
He remembered some things from his past life.
It was 2026. He was 42 years old and already the boss of a top special effects company in China.
The parents arranged a blind date for Liu Yifei.
At that time, she was 39 years old. She had experienced ups and downs in her career and had been subjected to cyberbullying, yet she still maintained a certain clear and pure temperament.
After his rebirth, he deliberately kept his distance.
He told himself that in this life he should focus on his career and not be distracted by emotions.
He told himself that she deserved better choices in life than to get entangled with a reborn person whose mind was full of business calculations.
Now, looking at her tired profile, seeing how she burned herself out for a role, he suddenly felt that all those reasons were ridiculous.
Life is not a business plan, and relationships are not venture capital investments.
Some things, once missed, are gone forever.
The car pulled up in front of the hotel where Liu Yifei was staying.
This is a boutique hotel in West Hollywood. It's not big, but it's very stylish and offers a lot of privacy.
David parked the car at the door and got out to open the door for her.
Liu Yifei slowly moved off the car, still afraid to put weight on her right foot.
She turned to Jiang Yu and said, "Thank you. The therapist will be here tomorrow, and I will cooperate fully. I will be in good shape before the press conference."
"No rush," Jiang Yu said. "Health comes first."
She nodded and turned to leave.
"Liu Yifei," Jiang Yu suddenly called out to her.
She turned around.
The last rays of twilight shone directly on her face, enveloping her in a warm golden glow.
The wind blew her long hair, and a few strands clung to her cheeks.
Her eyes were bright, like they held stars.
Jiang Yu looked at her, wanting to say a lot.
I want to say "Don't work too hard," I want to say "Take care of yourself," I want to say "You're really great," and I even want to say "Actually, I've always admired you."
Finally, he only said one thing: "Remember, this film is just one stop in your career, not the end. So don't trade your health for a single shot; it's not worth it. Your value doesn't depend on the success or failure of a film, but on who you are."
Liu Yifei stared at him for a long time.
Something flickered in her eyes, but it eventually turned into a smile, a very light and genuine smile.
"I understand," she said. "Thank you."
Then she turned around and slowly walked into the hotel lobby.
Jiang Yu kept watching her back until she disappeared behind the revolving door.
David got back into the car and lowered the partition: "Boss, are we going to see Kevin Feige next, or—"
"As planned," Jiang Yu said, "we're going to Marvel."