The More Tragic I Act, the Stronger I Get — My Fans Beg Me to Stop Killing Off My Roles-Chapter 37: Getting into character is easy, but getting out of character is difficult?

Jiang Ci went to the appointment.

He couldn't not go.

Gu Huai was the male lead of this drama and one of its investors. This courtesy had to be extended.

The restaurant was chosen by Gu Huai, an extremely private members-only establishment.

The security was excellent, so there was no need to worry about being photographed by paparazzi.

Inside the private room, only the two of them were present.

Without the status and aura from the film set, Gu Huai in private appeared much more approachable.

He wore simple casual clothes and looked like a steady, mature older brother from the neighborhood.

"Don't be nervous, we're not talking work today. Just think of it as friends chatting casually." Gu Huai personally poured tea for Jiang Ci as he spoke with a smile.

Jiang Ci thought to himself: Like hell I believe that. Casual chatting requires your agent to specially call and make everything so formal?

He maintained polite composure on the surface: "Teacher Gu, you're too kind."

"Still calling me Teacher Gu?" Gu Huai waved his hand. "If you don't mind, call me Brother Huai."

Jiang Ci readily complied: "Brother Huai."

The atmosphere relaxed.

The dishes were exquisite and light, served course by course.

The two chatted intermittently, from the weather to the crew's catering, with Jiang Ci giving it his full attention.

He knew these were just preliminaries—the main topic was yet to come.

Sure enough, after several cups of tea, Gu Huai put down his chopsticks, his expression turning serious.

"Jiang Ci, the reason I sought you out today is to ask you for advice on a question."

Here it comes.

Jiang Ci's heart skipped a beat, but his expression remained unchanged. "Brother Huai, you exaggerate. You're the senior, I should be the one seeking your guidance."

"No, this question... perhaps only you can answer it."

Gu Huai's gaze was profound, as if trying to see into the depths of his soul.

"I want to know, how do you maintain that 'in-character' state year-round?"

Hearing this, Jiang Ci paused mid-action.

Year-round?

Brother, I've only acted in two productions total, less than a month combined—how is that "year-round"?

He instantly realized that Gu Huai was connecting his performance in the previous "Palace Conspiracy" with his current work.

In everyone's eyes, he, Jiang Ci, was an "acting obsessive" who couldn't achieve greatness without madness.

This question was extremely dangerous.

Say it's thanks to the system? That would be admitting to mental illness.

Say it's natural talent? Too arrogant, and it wouldn't explain that bone-deep sense of sorrow.

Jiang Ci's mind raced, and ultimately he brought out that universal shield once again—"I have stories."

He remained silent for a moment, picked up his teacup, and took a small sip.

When he spoke again, his voice carried a raspy, weary quality.

"Brother Huai, there actually is no method."

"I just... don't really know how to 'exit character'."

Gu Huai's brow furrowed.

"Don't know how to exit character?"

"Mm." Jiang Ci nodded, his gaze becoming distant.

"Every time I play a role, it's like truly living through that character's life."

"Their emotions carve themselves into my bones."

"When the filming ends, the story concludes, but those things remain inside me and can't leave."

He spoke these words with genuine emotion.

Because in a certain sense, this was the truth.

Every performance required him to burn his life and emotions to earn the right to keep living.

That desperation of nearing death and the instinct to survive were more real than any acting.

Gu Huai stared at Jiang Ci, at those eyes that appeared tired and melancholic from "long-term immersion in character," and felt an extremely complex emotion surge within him.

There was sympathy, there was pity, but more than anything, it was the shock and heartache shared by a fellow actor witnessing this "sacrificial" approach to performance.

He had seen too many actors who treated acting as a job—clock in, clock out.

He had also seen some method actors, but there was always a layer of safe distance.

Jiang Ci was different.

He was using his own soul to fill the flesh and blood of his characters.

This was too damaging to the body.

And too damaging to the heart.

"Then after you finished 'Palace Conspiracy,' how long did it take you to emerge from it?" Gu Huai couldn't help but press further.

Jiang Ci's heart tightened, thinking this was bad—there was no right way to answer this question.

He could only continue the performance. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

He forced out a bitter smile and shook his head: "That General... he suffered too much."

"Even now, I occasionally dream of returning to that isolated city, hearing those war drums."

As these words fell, Gu Huai was completely convinced.

The way he looked at Jiang Ci had completely transformed.

From initial appreciation to current concern.

"Jiang Ci, this state of yours is very dangerous." Gu Huai's tone was unprecedentedly serious.

"Actors need to get into character, but they more importantly need to get out of character. If you completely immerse yourself like this, problems will inevitably arise."

"I know." Jiang Ci lowered his head. "But I can't control it."

Keep acting, keep up the performance.

Jiang Ci mentally awarded himself a little gold statuette.

Gu Huai let out a heavy sigh.

He felt he finally understood.

Why Jiang Ci always appeared melancholic and silent, why his tragic performances were so compelling.

Because he wasn't actually "acting"—he was just cutting out a piece of himself to show everyone.

That aloof immortal lord on set who could make his scene partner break down with a single line—

Perhaps that was just the residual spirit of characters that Jiang Ci, through repeated performances, couldn't separate from and had eventually merged with.

Gu Huai suddenly felt how shallow his previous inquiries about "technique" and "method" had been.

"In the future, if you encounter any unresolvable troubles on set, come directly to me." Gu Huai said with utmost solemnity.

This was no longer mere politeness.

This was the most practical promise a senior could give to a exceptionally talented junior teetering on the edge of an abyss.

His "selling misery" gamble had paid off.

He had successfully made Gu Huai, the most influential person on set, develop a strong "protective instinct" toward him.

"Thank you, Brother Huai." Jiang Ci said sincerely.

The meal concluded in a somewhat heavy atmosphere.

Gu Huai didn't ask any more questions about acting, instead chatting like an older brother about amusing industry stories, trying to help him relax.

When they parted, Gu Huai's agent handed Jiang Ci a box.

"This is from Brother Huai—some calming sleep aids and aromatic pillows. We hope they help you."

Jiang Ci held the heavy box, feeling a mix of complex emotions.

Deceiving someone to this extent and still accepting their gifts made him feel like a real piece of work.

But to survive, he had no other choice.

Returning to the hotel, Jiang Ci placed the box on the table and let out a long sigh of relief.

With Gu Huai handled, he had firmly established his position within this production crew.

Next, he could peacefully focus on "shearing Qiao Xinran's wool."

Just thinking about Qiao Xinran gave Jiang Ci another headache.

The way that woman looked at him was becoming increasingly strange.

As he was pondering this, his phone vibrated.

A WeChat message.

Jiang Ci picked it up to look and froze.

The sender was: Su Qingying.