The More Tragic I Act, the Stronger I Get — My Fans Beg Me to Stop Killing Off My Roles-Chapter 255: Chen Mo’s First Appearance

Three days later.

The film set moved to the "Military Police Headquarters."

The exterior of the cold, gloomy interrogation room was dimly lit, the air thick with the pungent smell of prop blood mixed with dust.

The background actors found their own corners, adjusting their states, their faces wearing the numbness and fear appropriate for the scene.

Zhao Zhen stood in one corner, holding a leather whip, practicing his whip-cracking repeatedly against a wooden post.

"Crack!"

The sharp sound of splitting air echoed through the oppressive film set.

He needed to recapture that "rabid dog" state from a few days ago after being publicly humiliated, but the more he forced it, the more it felt wrong.

That madness from the inside out wasn't something that could be easily replicated with a few movements.

Not far away, Chen Mo's scene was about to begin.

He played the actuary "Mr. Kobayashi," who had to report the results of an "asset liquidation" targeting a patriotic businessman to the Japanese army's intelligence chief, Major Takahashi.

Director Hou Hsiao-hsien didn't give him any acting guidance, nor did he say anything about the required emotional tone.

He just had someone give Chen Mo an old-fashioned abacus and a thread-bound ledger.

The director's only sentence was.

"What I want is not a villain who is acting. I want a machine that treats human lives as numbers."

Chen Mo took the abacus and the ledger,

his fingertips lightly brushing over the cool beads of the abacus,

feeling that unique texture.

He slowly nodded toward the director's direction,

and when he lowered his eyelids again, that last trace of youthful inexperience belonging to the student Chen Mo

had been completely locked away deep within his eyes.

Then, he walked to his designated filming area.

All lighting was ready.

Hou Hsiao-hsien sat back behind the monitor and picked up the walkie-talkie.

"Action!"

Inside the interrogation room set, the smell of blood hit them head-on.

Various torture instruments hung on the walls, dark red prop blood on the floor not yet dry.

A "patriotic businessman" tortured beyond human recognition lay limp on the torture rack.

Yet, in the center of this chaos and gore, stood a clean office desk that felt jarringly out of place.

Chen Mo sat behind the desk.

The buttons of his gray Zhongshan suit were fastened all the way to the top, his back ramrod straight.

On the desktop, the ledger lay open, the abacus placed at a distance from the edge of the desk so precise it seemed measured with a ruler.

Watanabe, playing Major Takahashi, was roaring at the half-dead businessman.

He paced agitatedly in the interrogation room, his military boots stepping on the sticky floor, making a grating, teeth-setting sound.

"Baka! It was supposed to be five hundred gold bars, why did we find less than one hundred! Where is the money!"

Watanabe's Chinese carried a deliberately stiff accent, every word dripping with brutality.

Zhao Zhen, standing at his side, immediately got into character. Wang Dachui, the thug he played, cooperatively waved the whip in his hand, letting out a threatening shout.

"Damn it, refusing a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit! Major Takahashi is asking you a question!"

The entire interrogation room was filled with roars, threats, and the weak moans of the tortured.

Zhao Zhen kicked the torture rack, the massive vibration causing the pen holder on the corner of Chen Mo's desk to shake, a fountain pen rolling out.

The camera slowly pushed toward Chen Mo in the corner. He seemed deaf to everything around him,

reaching out, picking up that fountain pen with two fingers, and placing it back in the pen holder,

only then continuing to move the abacus beads. The previous chaos, to him, was merely brushing away an insignificant speck of dust.

His fingers moved swiftly across the abacus, making crisp, irritating "clack-clack" sounds.

His fingers were slender, but the movements held no humanity.

Not a hint of hesitation or pause.

Suddenly.

"Clack!"

Chen Mo stopped his movements.

The last bead on the abacus returned to its position, the sound clearly audible in a gap between the roars.

He pushed up the black-framed glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Major Takahashi."

He spoke, his flat, monotone voice devoid of any fluctuation, clean and crisp, easily cutting through the on-set noise.

"The target merchant, Zhou Fuyuan, has three fixed assets under his name, including one rice shop and two properties."

"Based on yesterday's black market land prices in Shanghai, the forced liquidation loss rate is forty-two point seven percent. Liquid assets are estimated at two hundred gold bars, currently whereabouts unknown."

His report was clear, calm, devoid of any personal emotion.

Watanabe, playing Takahashi, turned around, interrupting him impatiently.

"I don't want to hear that! I want to know where the remaining gold bars are!"

Chen Mo ignored his fury.

He continued in that flat tone used for reporting "today's vegetable prices."

"Direct execution would require one Type 38 rifle bullet, market price seven cents. Subsequent corpse disposal and site cleanup costs are estimated at one yuan and twenty cents."

"The cost-effectiveness is too low."

He lifted his head, looking at Takahashi through his lenses.

"I have a suggestion."

The entire set's clamor paused eerily at this moment.

Even the roaring Watanabe instinctively looked at him.

"Zhou Fuyuan has one wife, two sons, and one daughter."

Chen Mo stated a fact calmly.

"We can have him witness, every day, one of his loved ones undergoing interrogation."

"At that time, he will voluntarily hand over all hidden gold to ensure his family's survival. This is the most efficient method for obtaining maximum profit."

He finished speaking.

The entire film set fell into a deathly silence.

The background actors who had been performing moments ago completely forgot their actions, staring dumbfounded at Chen Mo, real fear showing on their faces.

The fury on Major Takahashi's face froze. He stared at this young man who was always fiddling with the abacus in the corner,

a sickly, kindred-spirit-like appreciation gradually surfacing in his eyes.

Behind the monitor, Hou Hsiao-hsien didn't call cut.

The camera remained locked on Chen Mo.

Chen Mo took out a disinfectant wipe wrapped in wax paper from his jacket pocket.

He unfolded it unhurriedly.

Wiping the ebony frame of the abacus meticulously, carefully.

"Cut!"

Hou Hsiao-hsien's voice finally exploded from the walkie-talkie, shattering that suffocating silence.

Chen Mo put down the wipe, but he didn't immediately revert to his usual self.

Instead, he raised his head, his gaze passing over the stunned crowd, finding Jiang Ci standing in the shadows.

Jiang Ci gave him an almost imperceptible, slight nod.

It was a signal from a "superior," cold and approving.

Only then did the chill in Chen Mo's eyes recede, transforming back into that somewhat dull, ordinary student.

The demon from moments ago had never existed.

But the surrounding crew members, looking at him, all instinctively took a step back.

This actor brought by Jiang Ci had revealed the other side hidden beneath his skin.

He Xiaoping, who had been observing from the sidelines, had stood up at some point.

Looking at Chen Mo, silently isolated at the center of the crowd, her already pale face was now frighteningly white.

Her assistant beside her handed over a bottle of water, asking softly, "Xiaoping-jie, are you okay?"

He Xiaoping didn't take the water.

She looked in Chen Mo's direction, murmuring to herself, her voice so light it could scatter with a breeze.

"I used to think traitors were hateful-looking, with blue faces and fangs." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

"Now I realize..."

"The most terrifying traitor might be sitting right across from you, quietly, helping you check the ledger."