Chapter 93: You Are You
A five-year-old child, who had just entered kindergarten on his first day, looked at the bloody red knife pressed against his fragile neck and merely blinked.
Amidst the panicked, frightened cries of the other children, this child's reaction was clearly very unusual.
Never mind a child; even an adult, when faced with a terrifying and overwhelming crisis, might instinctively call out for the person they trusted and felt closest to.
Especially amidst the chorus of "I want Daddy, I want Mommy," the vast majority of children would subconsciously choose to follow suit blindly.
But the child with the knife at his throat did not do this. He neither cried nor called for his parents. He just looked on quietly, seemingly completely unaware of any danger.
He even reached out with his fair, tender fingertip to touch the bloodied blade, then put the blood-stained finger into his mouth and sucked on it.
Then, he looked up and said to the criminal threatening his life: "Why is blood sweet?"
"Uncle, what does your blood taste like? Is it sweet too?"
"Can I try it?"
"Bang!—"
While the criminal was stunned by the child's words, a gunshot rang out, accurately hitting the criminal's hand. Howling in pain, the criminal let go, and the child he was holding fell to the ground.
The criminal clutched his pierced wrist, wailing miserably—he showed no mercy when killing or slashing people, but when it was his turn to be injured and bleed, he felt the pain.
The boy got up from the ground and dusted himself off.
He seemed unable to sense danger, feel pain, or experience any emotion.
He wiped the blood splattered on his fair, tender little face with his hand, his pitch-black eyes fixed intently on the criminal writhing in pain on the ground. "It's sweet too."
His tone carried a hint of disappointment, as if he had completely lost interest in the person before him.
It wasn't the boy who fired the shot, it wasn't he who injured the criminal. But from the criminal's perspective, the boy's blood-smeared face and body, combined with his inappropriately calm expression, felt utterly chilling.
So much so that in the end, when the criminal was arrested, imprisoned, and giving his confession about the reasons for his crime, he still vividly remembered the boy's bizarre behavior.
Recording statements required not only the involved parties but also witnesses. The criminal's death sentence was a foregone conclusion, but for procedural reasons, the victims needed to provide statements.
Therefore, the principal and security guard from that kindergarten, who were not seriously injured, were invited to come. Everyone recalling the events of that day was still terrified, their faces pale, bodies trembling, choking up several times, needing multiple cups of water to continue speaking.
Perhaps because the criminal repeatedly mentioned that boy, the police, after careful consideration, went to ask the boy's parents, hoping for their cooperation to provide a statement and to arrange for a psychologist to offer the boy counseling, to prevent the child from developing post-traumatic stress disorder later.
The boy's parents hesitantly agreed. But to the surprise of everyone taking the statement, the boy described the events of that day very clearly, his expression indifferent, his tone flat, his emotions completely unfluctuating.
He was clearly one of the victims, yet he was as calm as a bystander, calm in a way that didn't seem appropriate for his age.
Even more surprising was that the boy remembered and reported many details that other people giving statements hadn't seen or remembered, his language fluent throughout. When recalling experiences that even adults found terrifying, he didn't pause at all.
"Your child is very intelligent," the interrogator said tentatively to the boy's parents.
An ordinary five-year-old who could articulate clearly, accurately express their thoughts, and deliver a complete, logically coherent account of an event was already impressive.
Yet this boy had not only provided a full narrative of the lengthy incident but had also remained perfectly calm and shown no trace of fear after enduring such a direct threat.
It was no wonder he had left such a profound impression on the criminal who had taken him hostage.
The parents, who had observed the entire process, looked down at their son with complex emotions as they rested their hands on his shoulders. They had tried so hard to teach him, to conceal his unique traits and peculiar behavior. They had wanted him to interact with others like a typical child, to react to the world around him with normal emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, laughter, and scolding. Unfortunately, things had not gone as they had hoped.
Their child was just different.
"The doctor said it's an emotional disorder..." the mother explained carefully.
The boy looked up: "I'm not sick."
The father gently patted the boy's head and sighed: "Let's go home."
"Later, after long-term psychological treatment, I was finally able to communicate like a normal person," Rong Yu added this extra sentence after finishing his story.
"So, brother, don't worry. I'm better now. It's just that the treatment process... wasn't very pleasant, so I'm still somewhat uncomfortable with them."
After a pause, Rong Yu asked tentatively, "Brother, did you also think I was strange back then?"
Yin Chengjue: "Did you actively hurt others?"
Rong Yu: "No."
"Then there's nothing strange about it," Yin Chengjue didn't understand why Rong Yu was asking this. To him, it was simple: every person's character was inherently unique. He firmly believed there was no universal rule dictating that everyone must think, feel, or behave in exactly the same way.
Yin Chengjue: "No one can accurately define what is normal and what is strange. As long as we don't cross moral and legal boundaries, as long as we manage ourselves properly, there's nothing strange about it."
Yin Chengjue: "We are people, not mass-produced robots. Even robots have slight differences."
"So, don't worry too much about what others think," Yin Chengjue tilted his head slightly and gently rubbed against Rong Yu's face resting on his shoulder. "It's all in the past. The most important thing is to look forward. The scenery ahead will always have parts that are better than the past. There will always be a view that captures your attention, allowing you to forget the unhappiness of the past."
No matter how large the maple forest, they eventually reached the end.
When Yin Chengjue could see the shed set up by the crew in the distance, he put Rong Yu down and straightened the clothes crumpled from being carried.
"Film well. I'll be watching you from behind the camera," Yin Chengjue said.
After Rong Yu returned, it was exactly his turn to film an action scene.
The action scenes in "Blood Mist" weren't like wuxia or xianxia genres, nor were they urban supernatural stories with special effects. Since it's a modern drama, the fighting style couldn't involve scaling walls and flying through eaves—feet couldn't leave the ground too much, or it would seem unrealistic.
Director Chen hired several martial arts instructors to teach the main cast and Rong Yu specific moves and stances. Considering the presentation effect, their movements had to be cool, their posture upright, and their actions crisp. Otherwise, once the series aired, it would be prime material for screenshot memes!
Thus, under the guidance of the martial arts coaches, the main cast began miserably stretching tendons, realigning bones, and loosening legs...
The set was filled with miserable wails and the cracking sounds of joints.
Yin Chengjue had previously seen footage of Rong Yu fiercely beating up thugs during that malicious smear campaign that had trended online. Knowing Rong Yu also had a solid dance background from his trainee days, he wasn't too worried about him learning these stylized martial arts moves.
Rong Yu indeed learned with remarkable speed, which greatly pleased and relieved the martial arts coach assigned to teach him.
Once the main cast had memorized their choreography, filming for "Blood Mist," Case 4: "The Vampire of the Red Forest," Scene 50, officially began—
After seeing the vampire painting weeping tears of blood, the rich second-generation was so terrified he stumbled several steps backward. Wu Xiaoqing, however, stepped forward, his gaze fixed intently on the painting.
The rich second-generation: "S-still, better not look? It's creepy!"
Wu Xiaoqing: "Go get a chair."
The rich second-generation: "Huh? Why?"
Wu Xiaoqing: "Stand on it. Take the painting down."
The rich second-generation: "!!!"
Director Chen: "Cut! Rong Yu! Your expression is wrong!"
During the break, the props team had set up equipment to project the taken photo of Yin Chengjue onto the frame hanging at the staircase corner.
Previously, those frames contained special white paper usable for projecting images, allowing post-production to add effects like bleeding eyes, blinking eyes, and bleeding mouths.
When facing the white paper, Rong Yu acted naturally, completely unlike he was facing a blank frame. But when Yin Chengjue's face was projected onto it...
Director Chen: "Cut! Rong Yu! What's with your expression! Right now, you suspect the painting is abnormal! You're questioning it, not admiring it! Understand?"
Rong Yu: "...Understood."
The newcomer actor playing the rich second-generation, who had to redo the scene several times because of Rong Yu, didn't show impatience. Instead, he smiled and said, "Director Chen, maybe we should just use the original white paper. Blame it on President Yin being too handsome, it's easy to get distracted looking at him."
Of course. Here is the clarified text without any Chinese characters:
"Yeah, if the vampire portrait worshipped by the owner of this villa looked like that, we'd all want to offer ourselves up for the turning," one actor joked.
"Eh? What's that term again? The vampiric embrace?" another asked, playing along.
Yin Chengjue narrowed his eyes dangerously and ran his tongue over the tips of his teeth. "Oh really?" he said, his voice low. "It seems you all don't want to be human anymore. Are you that eager to experience the feeling of being turned?"
"Eh? Is that an offer, President Yin?" one of them dared to ask. Perhaps because Yin Chengjue had humored them by taking photos earlier, the atmosphere had relaxed. These newcomer actors, realizing he wasn't as intimidating as rumors suggested, had started to tentatively joke with him.
Yin Chengjue: "Impossible. Have you ever seen a capitalist who returns the blood they've sucked into their belly?"
Everyone: "..." Damn! That analogy is too real!
Filming started again. Rong Yu tried hard to regain his focus. Together with the actor playing the rich second-generation, they removed the painting, revealing the hidden passage behind the large frame.
A strong smell of blood wafted from the dark passage, making both cover their noses quickly.
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