Chapter 22: Targeted

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Chen Jin bent forward slightly, his back forming a naturally straight, gentle curve.

His hands had already begun to climb toward the “corpse’s” face. His middle fingers curled into a highly professional position as he performed soft, rhythmic massage movements across the faintly stiff features, practiced and precise.

At the same time, his expression was focused and solemn.

Chen Jin stared intently at the “corpse” before him, as though he were carrying out the most sacred of rituals.

Yet in his mind, the scene that had left the deepest impression on him from the previous night’s dream was unfolding once more.

Scrape!

A blade as thin as paper glided gently over a lump of clay. The rough facial model instantly revealed a smooth foundation beneath.

“Chen Jin’s” gaze was concentrated, his breathing slow and even. He studied the skull of the female corpse before him with utmost seriousness, as though afraid that the carving knife in his hand might be disturbed.

Snap—

After cutting and shaping the initial outline of the face, he picked up a small scraper and began carefully, methodically defining the bridge of the nose, the eye sockets, and other features.

The delicate features and expression immediately restored a sense of dimension to the face that had been crushed flat.

It was an exceptionally refined and beautiful face.

Yet only a dozen minutes earlier, that same face had taken a close, free-falling encounter with the ground from a height of thirty meters.

The makeup brush in “Chen Jin’s” hand moved slowly from its tip, its fine strokes smooth and flowing. The yellow-toned face immediately began to glow with life.

Skin texture, eyelashes, eyeliner… As the lines gradually deepened and multiplied, the female corpse’s face increasingly resembled that of a living person. Under “Chen Jin’s” makeup skills, it continued to grow more perfect.

The deceased had been a female celebrity who had died after jumping from a building.

Chen Jin could therefore understand, to some extent, why her family wished for her to be laid to rest looking beautiful.

Cleaning the eyes, refining the nose, opening the mouth, adjusting the position of the head… One procedure after another in the preparation of the dead was displayed clearly before everyone’s eyes.

“…”

The entire examination hall had fallen completely silent. A chill seemed to pervade the room. Every door was closed, yet it was as though a draft were blowing through the hall, leaving Jiang Wenli and the other teachers icy to the bone.

Cold sweat trickled from their temples.

Five minutes had passed. Chen Jin had been performing for a full five minutes.

Not once had he repeated himself.

Even the entrance-exam teachers—and certainly the students who had already finished their performances—could tell what Chen Jin was doing.

The hell—he looked as though he were applying makeup to a corpse, massaging it, and reconstructing its features.

Because his performance was simply too realistic.

Many people present had never witnessed the actual procedures of a mortician, but most had at least heard of or seen the restoration of a dead person. It looked very much like what Chen Jin was doing before them.

More importantly, many of the students had seen the Japanese film Departures, which had won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film the previous year.

They therefore understood this profession better than most.

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The teachers understood it even more clearly.

So Chen Jin was not portraying a doctor at all. He was portraying a mortician.

If that was truly the case, then everything he had done after washing his hands made perfect sense.

The “corpse” before him must have suffered some kind of accident that left her in need of restoration, and Chen Jin was recreating the reconstructive work performed by a mortician.

But…

“How can he perform it so convincingly?”

Even Jiang Wenli could not help sighing in amazement. Unless… he had actually done this for a dead person before.

Otherwise, it was difficult for Jiang Wenli to imagine how an eighteen-year-old student taking the performing arts entrance examination could reproduce such a performance, complete with so many details, at this level.

Among young actors, perhaps no one could reach this degree of realism through performance alone.

Unless they were accomplished actors who had personally experienced the life of a mortician. Only then would such a performance be possible.

“Rest in peace.”

As if he had completed the restoration of the corpse, Chen Jin bowed toward it.

Only then did he put away his tools.

The solemnity on his face vanished in the next instant, replaced by his ordinary expression.

The performance was over.

Chen Jin looked around at the stunned faces surrounding him and gave a faint smile. Jiang Wenli finally came to her senses as well and suddenly began to applaud.

Clap, clap, clap!

All the teachers, along with the other students taking the entrance examination, began applauding.

Chen Jin’s performance had truly deserved such applause.

It had been outstanding.

He had completely embodied the working state of a mortician. And if that was the case, then what kind of environment had he been in?

A funeral home.

“I have to ask—have you ever done this kind of work before?”

Unable to restrain herself, Jiang Wenli looked at Chen Jin and asked the question.

“No.”

Chen Jin shook his head. He could not lie about something like this; a quick investigation would expose him immediately.

However, he had already prepared an explanation.

“I watched the film Departures before and became rather curious about the profession, so I specifically went to watch some documentaries about it.”

“And then you learned the techniques from the documentaries and performed them just now?” Jiang Wenli guessed.

Chen Jin nodded. “Yes, more or less.”

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“There’s another reason, too.”

Chen Jin scratched his head and smiled faintly. “My father is a doctor.”

“I see…”

Jiang Wenli suddenly understood, but she continued applauding with a smile.

“That was very well done. To be able to watch documentaries and reproduce everything so accurately shows that you have tremendous talent for performance. You’re especially adaptable.”

That was an extremely high evaluation—almost certainly Jiang Wenli’s sincere opinion.

Adaptability was the foremost quality sought in students admitted to acting departments.

What people meant by adaptability was an actor’s ability to be shaped.

It was also one of the measures used to judge an actor’s natural talent.

Given the same scene, some actors could draw out countless details… much like the difference between a piece of iron and a lump of clay. Clay was far more malleable than iron.

People were the same.

The examiners at the country’s three major drama academies were increasingly fond of students who were like blank sheets of paper.

Some children, after spending too much time in performing-arts training classes, developed a fixed mode of performance.

For example, they would deliver sad lines sadly and angry lines angrily.

Their emotions in performance were simply too heavy.

It was difficult for teachers to guide such students further.

They had already formed a pattern. Their habitual way of thinking had taken shape, and they had been molded into iron. Even if they wanted to change, they would first have to discard everything they had learned before. It was a long and arduous process.

By contrast, many students who had studied acting for only a few days—or had never studied it at all—possessed their own understanding of performance and were much easier to guide.

When a teacher gave them direction, they would follow it while adding their own interpretation. That was when the teacher would feel that they possessed tremendous adaptability.

In Jiang Wenli’s eyes, Chen Jin’s ability to watch documentaries and perform like this was powerful proof of his potential.

“Thank you, teacher.”

Chen Jin smiled politely.

“All right. Leave in order.”

After speaking, Jiang Wenli looked down at Chen Jin’s application form and committed his name—and the string of digits beneath it—to memory.

A student like this had no need to worry about failing to get into the Central Academy of Drama.

The wisest course was to have an agency sign him before anyone else could.

Her own agent, Chang Jihong—known as Sister Hong—was one of the four most influential agents in the capital’s entertainment circle. She was also preparing to open her own agency.

Jiang Wenli’s thoughts began to stir.

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