Chapter 15 Part 1

At the call of “Action,” the silent church came to life. The choir girls tucked away their playful smiles, exchanged a glance, drew a deep breath, and began to sing “Ave Maria.”

The camera glided along its track.

Inside the kaleidoscopic frame, a soft simulated aperture blurred the background, offering close-ups only to a select few: the film’s principal characters, the people at the heart of the story.

Each character wore a ribbon of a different color on their wrist; seven people, and the ribbons on their wrists matched the seven colors of the rainbow.

A gray-haired Godmother. A kindly-faced Priest.

A young couple in supporting roles. Beside the wife stood another young woman with a sharp, short-cropped haircut.

The camera swept past the male lead with his lowered eyes, and finally settled on the female lead, Jiang Jin.

Jiang Jin sat in the pew with a ramrod-straight spine, her eyes wide open.

Keeping one’s eyes open beneath the statue of a god was probably sacrilege. But the longing shining in those clear eyes was enough to make any god who loved the world play favorites, and forgive so small a transgression.

The silent statue of the Virgin Mary, the church’s iridescent stained glass, the bright dome frescoes, and the choir’s lovely, crystalline song.

Serene and beautiful.

Yet when these sights fell into Jiang Jin’s eyes, they became a raging fire, flickering, sharp.

They spoke of devotion and arrogance, of dying embers and rebirth.

In a winter church, the film Colorless Rainbow officially began shooting.

The first phase of filming proceeded in an orderly fashion.

During this phase, the female lead’s scenes were shot interwoven with those of several supporting cast members, split into Group A and Group B. The head director and the assistant director each led their actors and crew to film in separate studios.

As the head director, Zhong Qing naturally kept the closest watch on Group A, where Zhou Siyou and Zheng Su were, while for the other group she reviewed the footage but didn’t hover on set.

The consequence of running two groups in parallel was uneven quality of work.

In the first few days, Zhong Qing frowned at the monitors more than once.

She rarely lost her temper, but when she furrowed her brow, the entire studio seemed to freeze over, and no one dared make a sound.

As the only actor on the entire crew whom Little Director Zhong had never called “NG” on, Zhou Siyou’s tail was just about sticking up to the sky.

She sat in the studio, legs crossed, a black fur coat draped carelessly over her pristine school uniform.

There wasn’t a shred of resemblance to Jiang Jin in the film.

The past few days of shooting had focused mainly on Jiang Jin’s student years. A school uniform, canvas shoes washed nearly white, hidden scars at the corner of her eye and among her wispy bangs. In her student days, Jiang Jin had carried a heavy air of death about her, eyes always downcast no matter what she did, timid and overcautious.

A pity that so-called school bullying was more like a hunt.

The arrogant bullies styled themselves hunters, treating the poor students who had nowhere to turn as prey. Since they were natural predators and prey, the hunters would never feel mercy or grant leniency just because their quarry kept its head down and endured.

An inferior prey’s tears were medals and stimulants, and a prey’s wails were the sweetest sound in a hunter’s heart.

“Sister Siyou is such a good actress.”

Another one-take success for Group A. Behind the camera, Ji Mingxin, who had been watching, murmured in admiration, “On-screen and off, she switches between Little White Flower and Queen Bee at the drop of a hat, hahaha.”

Zhou Siyou shot her a look. “Since when is Jiang Jin a Little White Flower?”

“Huh?” Ji Mingxin made a noise. “Then what is she?”

The moment the words left Ji Mingxin’s mouth, Zhou Siyou’s sharp eyes spotted Zhong Qing with a free moment among the camera crew. She pursed her lips into a deliberately ambiguous smile. “Director Zhong,” Zhou Siyou said in a loud, tattling tone, “we’ve got another one here who doesn’t understand her character’s true nature. And this person is supposed to review my footage in post. Little Director Zhong, how on earth did you cast this role?”

Ji Mingxin grabbed Zhou Siyou’s arm, scared out of her wits. “What are you doing!”

Looking up and meeting Zhong Qing’s gaze, Ji Mingxin wanted nothing more than to strangle Zhou Siyou.

Then Zhong Qing spoke. “My failing.”

The words were clearly just playing along with Zhou Siyou’s little joke, delivered in a flat tone, a faint smile on her face.

Without waiting for Zhou Siyou or Ji Mingxin to clown around any further, Zhong Qing lifted her chin toward them, eyes fixed on Zhou Siyou. “There’s the most important school scene tonight. Good luck.”

Then she was gone.

Ji Mingxin stood there staring, then turned to Zhou Siyou. “Sister Siyou, Little Director Zhong is so good to you.” She paused, then added quietly, “Fine, fine. Teachers are always a little more lenient with their star students.”

Zhou Siyou neither agreed nor disagreed.

Ji Mingxin pressed on. “So, Sister Siyou, what is Jiang Jin’s core, really?”

“Jiang Jin, hmm…” Zhou Siyou tipped her face up and answered with a smile. “‘The world kisses me with pain, and I slap it back across the face.’ Just like you said on your card: ‘resistance.'”

The important night scene at the school that Zhong Qing had mentioned was a rooftop confrontation.

A quarter of an hour before the shoot, a light drizzle began to drift down from the sky. It didn’t interfere with filming, and only deepened the bleak, desolate mood.

Zhong Qing did not call a halt.

On the rooftop, in the scene, five or six bullies stood in a group, girls and boys alike. Jiang Jin stood among them, her black hair hacked to pieces at the back of her head.

The ends of Jiang Jin’s hair bore the singed marks of an open flame.

A girl with green hair approached with a beaming smile, a pair of rusty scissors in hand.

The blades finally came to rest at Jiang Jin’s forehead.

Green Hair said to Jiang Jin: “Little Jin, if you’re scared, be sure to beg for mercy, okay? I’ll definitely let you off.”

As she spoke, a trace of aggrieved hurt welled up in her eyes, as if she were the pitiful victim suffering the bullying.

The blades were right before her eyes.

Let her off? As if.

If there had ever been any chance of mercy, the students bullied before her wouldn’t have been left injured and crippled, forced to withdraw from school.

Maybe resistance would invite even worse violence. But for some people, not resisting was simply not an option.

People like Jiang Jin.

And so, on the rain-swept rooftop, the surrounded girl mechanically raised her eyes.

In a flash, her hand shot out and seized the flaunting scissors, while her other hand swept straight upward, clamping like a claw onto Green Hair’s forehead.

Attacked, Green Hair instinctively tightened her grip on the scissors, leaving bloody welts across Jiang Jin’s palm and wrist. But Jiang Jin seemed to feel no pain. She kicked the girl’s kneecap, her hand tangling in her hair tightening further.

With a clatter, the scissors fell from her grasp and landed on the rain-spattered ground.

As if that crisp sound had only now woken them, the others nearby snapped to their senses and all lunged at Jiang Jin.

But Jiang Jin had already snatched up the rusty scissors.

At that moment, on that rooftop, Jiang Jin was the “devil.”

A cold-blooded devil with no regard for life.

The rain kept falling.

Until she saw that same helpless panic on the bullies’ faces, and Jiang Jin understood at last: they were only ordinary people too. They could be afraid, could feel helpless, could struggle and beg.

They groveled on the ground apologizing, claiming every act of bullying had been done under duress, that if they hadn’t obeyed, they would have been the next victims.

Is that so? Jiang Jin wondered, baffled. But when these people flicked their lighters and burned my hair, they seemed awfully smug about it.

Bullies never truly mean their apologies. So they had to be dead, utterly and completely, first.

At that very moment, in the close-up shot, a raindrop smashed against Jiang Jin’s cheek.

Yielding to gravity, the raindrop fled those emotionless eyes and slid gently down her pale face.

Behind the camera, even Zhong Qing found herself thinking, unbidden: it really looked like… a tear.

In an instant, the raindrop reached the end of its path and dissolved back into the air.

The camera cut away at just that moment, returning to the fine drizzle. In the background came the sound of scissors striking against the wind, deeply unsettling.

Bright lights flooded the darkness. A car pulled up, sirens wailing.

Jiang Jin knelt on the rooftop, her whole body trembling.

Yet one person stood before her, letting out a low sigh. “Jiang Jin.”

Jiang Jin raised her head toward the voice.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” the person said. “You’re very brave. And very strong.”

Under the artificial play of light and shadow, Yuan Qinghua’s features were blurred and indistinct.

Jiang Jin… would probably really be taken in by it.

By the time the scene wrapped, the fine drizzle on the rooftop had stopped too.

Under the rain shelter, the camera crew and the director discussed the footage in loud voices. On the rooftop, Zhou Siyou stood beneath the dusty eaves, cheek propped in her hand, still not out of character. Wrapped in her fur coat over that thin school uniform, she still sneezed three times in a row.

The sneezes proved contagious. After Zhou Siyou’s “atchoo” twice over, the young actors playing the bullies around her all covered their noses as well, sneezing one after another.

The staff froze for a few seconds, then brought blankets over.

The little actress playing Green Hair grinned. “Thank you, big sisters!”