28: Forbidden City Storm, God-like Acting

The afternoon sun, filtering through the tall window frames of the studio, cast dappled light and shadow on the cold floor.

A subtle, almost imperceptible tension permeated the air.

The afternoon filming for “the chronicles of the great ming dynasty” was about to begin.

And this scene was precisely the highly anticipated, crucial one that had garnered so much attention due to the “costume controversy”—the solo act where Wei Zhongxian, upon learning that the Donglin Party, whom he had personally supported, had betrayed him, turned against him, and intended to put him to death, stood alone in a secret chamber late at night, facing the portrait of the late emperor, his heart a tumultuous mix of emotions.

This scene had few lines but demanded extremely high levels of internal acting and emotional layering from the actor.

It required portraying Wei Zhongxian’s ruthlessness and indignation as a powerful eunuch, while also revealing the unknown loneliness and desolation deep within him, and even a hint of complex feelings for the deceased monarch.

The backup set of dark purple eunuch robes, embroidered with subtle dragon patterns, had already been ironed by the costume department and put on Lin Da.

The intricate costume and exquisite makeup instantly separated him from the gentle, low-key young man he was normally.

He simply stood there quietly, his back hunched, his gaze lowered, and he was already that old eunuch—Wei Zhongxian—who had weathered decades of storms in the Forbidden City, a man of profound cunning.

Behind the monitor, Director Zheng Guofeng’s expression was exceptionally serious, his gaze as sharp as an eagle’s.

He knew that this scene was not only the ultimate test of Lin Da’s acting skills but also a silent counterattack against those who tried to play tricks behind the scenes.

Sun Hao and Zhang Yang were also mixed in the crowd, watching Lin Da on set with complex expressions.

They both hoped Lin Da would make a fool of himself to prove their “foresight,” and yet they felt a vague unease, fearing that this newcomer would once again create a miracle.

As for intern Xiao Wang, who had reported Sun Hao, Qin Ya had called him in for a talk that morning, and it was said he had received a severe reprimand and a warning that if he made another mistake, he would be immediately dismissed.

And Sun Hao, though not dealt with on the spot, was now viewed by Director Zheng Guofeng with an icy gaze.

His position in the crew was already precarious.

“Departments, prepare!” the assistant director’s voice broke the momentary silence.

““the chronicles of the great ming dynasty” Group A, Scene 58, Shot 1, Take 1! Ready—Action!”

The clapperboard snapped shut with a crisp sound.

The secret chamber set was dim and oppressive, with only a few flickering candlelight illuminating the large portrait of the late emperor on the wall.

Wei Zhongxian, played by Lin Da, slowly paced to the front of the portrait like a ghost.

He extended his withered hand and gently brushed away the dust on the portrait, his movements as delicate as if he were handling a rare treasure.

There was no exaggerated expression on his face, but his cloudy eyes seemed to contain a surging tempest.

There was anger, unwillingness, disappointment, desolation, and even that bone-deep loneliness.

“Your Majesty…”

He finally spoke, his voice hoarse as if abraded by sandpaper, with a suppressed tremor.

“How did You… ever come to favor this worthless old servant?”

He reached out and gently stroked the majestic face of the late emperor in the portrait, his eyes filled with reverence and remembrance.

“This old servant… tried his best… truly tried his best…”

His voice choked up, his shoulders trembled slightly, and suppressed sobs echoed in the empty secret chamber, heartbreaking to hear.

He did not cry uncontrollably, nor did he become hysterical.

That extreme sorrow and despair were suppressed deep within him in an almost masochistic way, yet they were clearly conveyed through every subtle expression, every trembling fingertip.

Behind the monitor, Director Zheng Guofeng’s breathing unconsciously hitched.

He had originally thought that if Lin Da could portray seven or eight parts of the character’s “form,” it would already be quite good.

But he never expected that Lin Da could so accurately grasp the “soul” of Wei Zhongxian!

This kind of performance had transcended the level of technique, reaching a realm of complete immersion with the character!

Sun Hao and Zhang Yang were even more dumbfounded, cold sweat pouring down their backs.

Their so-called “acting skills,” which they were so proud of, seemed utterly ridiculous, like child’s play, in the face of Lin Da’s subtle yet deeply impactful performance!

For the first time, they felt that there was an insurmountable chasm between themselves and this newcomer.

Lin Da’s performance continued.

He slowly turned around, his back to the late emperor’s portrait, his hunched body casting a long shadow in the candlelight, appearing even more solitary and forlorn.

“They all say this old servant is a treacherous villain, a powerful eunuch, a demon who harms the country and its people…”

His voice became low and cold, and a terrifying hint of malevolence flashed in his eyes.

“But who among them knows that everything this old servant has done was merely to… survive!”

“To survive in this man-eating deep palace!”

“To make those who looked down on this one, who humiliated this one, all kneel at this one’s feet, wagging their tails and begging for mercy!”

His emotions, at this moment, reached a breaking point.

But the fury that was about to erupt was forcibly suppressed by him, transforming into a deeper sense of grief and indignation.

This precise control of emotions moved everyone present.

Even the usually critical cinematographer instinctively gave Lin Da a close-up of his face, afraid to miss any subtle change in his expression.

Finally, Lin Da slowly raised his head, looking at the flickering candlelight, and two lines of clear tears rolled down his cloudy eyes.

Those tears were not for himself, but for the emperor who had long passed away, for the imperial bond that had long vanished, and also for his own involuntary, tragic life.

“Your Majesty… this old servant… misses You…”

A long sigh, filled with endless sorrow and longing, echoed in the secret chamber for a long time.

The scene was over.

“Cut!”

Director Zheng Guofeng’s voice carried a hint of imperceptible tremor.

He suddenly stood up from behind the monitor, quickly walked to Lin Da, his eyes filled with excitement and admiration.

He said nothing, only extended his hand and gripped Lin Da’s hand firmly, tightly.

Everything was understood without words.

Around them, thunderous applause erupted.

Everyone was completely conquered by Lin Da’s performance, which could only be described as “god-tier”!

Sun Hao and Zhang Yang’s faces were ashen; they knew they had lost, utterly defeated.

And Lin Da, amidst the applause, smiled faintly.

He knew that from this moment on, the deep waters of the capital could no longer confine him, a mighty dragon about to soar!

The role of Wei Zhongxian belonged solely to him!

The completion of the second phase of the [Road to Golden Supporting Actor] quest also took a significant step forward at this moment.