Death Progress Bar-Chapter 111

Chapter 111

Notice Temporarily unedited, read at your own risk

Splash!

Rong Zhouzhong, in tattered clothes, plunged into the sea to escape the pursuit of the soldiers trying to kill him.

“Damn it! He got away!” Soldier A exclaimed angrily, lowering his gun.

Soldier B looked at their leader. “Should we go down and try to fish him out?”

The leader glanced at the smooth surface of the sea, frowning. “He’s badly injured and the currents in this area are strong; he’s going to die sooner or later. Withdraw! We’ll kill XX first, he’s more important!” he said, signaling his subordinates with a wave of his hand.

Soon, only a long trail of messy footprints accompanied by scattered bloodstains was left on the beach. The waves surged gently, washing away these traces of violence little by little. Some unknown time later, there was a sudden splash as something broke the water surface.

It was Rong Zhouzhong. His glasses were missing, his wet hair stuck to his pale face, and his lips were blue. He seemed exhausted, raising his head and gasping for breath, struggling to keep his eyes open. He paddled his limbs, trying to keep himself above the water surface, but then a big wave rushed over him, pushing him back into the sea.

There were traces of struggle visible under the water surface, but not long after, it became completely calm. This time, no one disturbed it again.

“Cut!” the director shouted. While yelling “Perfect!”, he ordered the crew members on the beach to pull Rong Zhouzhong out.

While the scene was being filmed, Shi Jin prepared a warm drink. When Rong Zhouzhong came out of the sea, he rushed to give it to him, preempting Rong Zhouzhong’s assistant.

At the moment, Rong Zhouzhong cut a sorry figure—completely soaked and with wet and dirty clothes clinging to his body. To highlight the pain and suffering during the character’s last struggle, the makeup artist put on a “deathly” makeup on his face. It made him look corpselike, as if he was a moment from lying in a coffin. Eyebrows wrinkled, he carelessly wrapped himself in a blanket when he looked up and saw Shi Jin, dressed in house clothes, running towards him. He was taken aback for a moment, then frowned and walked to meet him midway, shooing off the hovering crew members. “Why are you here?” he asked.

“I finished my homework, so I came to have a look. The director said that I can watch if I want,” Shi Jin replied, stuffing the hot drink into his hand.

Rong Zhouzhong glanced at the director, who looked back at him with an expression that spoke, “Sell yourself if you have to, just make sure we can use this place until we’re done filming.” Eyebrows twitching, he suppressed the urge to throw the old crook in the sea and moved so he would block Shi Jin from the sight of the crew, then motioned for the teenager to follow him.

Still blissfully unaware that he’d become known as “the beach owner who fell for Rong Zhouzhong’s wiles” among the crew, Shi Jin casually fell in step with Rong Zhouzhong, saying, “You should pay more attention to your body. It’s only early autumn and the weather is still warm, but it’s not like you can’t get sick if you get soaked.”

These words were full of concern, completely different from the vicious remarks last night. Rong Zhouzhong gave him a sidelong glance, squeezing the cup with the hot drink. He drained it in one go, then walked with quick strides to the nanny car parked at the side of the beach, opened the door, and motioned Shi Jin to go in.

Shi Jin was curious about everything on the set, so he obediently climbed inside. Rong Zhouzhong followed him in and closed the door, blocking the sight of the crew who were trying very hard to pretend they weren’t looking this way at all.

The nanny car was very spacious, wide enough to comfortably sleep in. It was also a bit untidy, with random stuff scattered all over the place. Sharp-eyed, Shi Jin spied the centipede pillow he’d given to Rong Zhouzhong, placed on a temporary bed made up from seats in the rear compartment.

Rong Zhouzhong noticed it, too, and hurriedly threw a blanket over it, deliberately fussing with something on the other side to distract Shi Jin’s attention. “What exactly did you tell the director?” he asked. The director’s expression a moment ago was just too full of meaning.

Shi Jin’s gaze moved from the makeshift bed back to him. “I just said that I’m the owner of the beach and that I’d like to watch you act if I could. Aren’t you going to change? You should be uncomfortable wearing wet clothes.”

He introduced himself as the beach’s owner rather than Rong Zouzhong’s younger brother.

Feeling a bit unhappy, Rong Zhouzhong replied with a frown, “No. The scene just now was taken in a wide shot, I’ll have to get in the water again for some close-ups… Actually, you can tell the director you’re my younger brother, he’ll take care of you.”

Shi Jin hurriedly waved his hand. “No, I’m fine being just a casual onlooker. It’s more comfortable this way.”

In other words, being “the beach’s owner” was more comfortable than being his, Rong Zhouzhong’s, younger brother?

Rong Zhouzhong’s face turned dark. Watching Shi Jin quietly sitting in front of him like a well-behaved child, he couldn’t help but blurt out, “What you did yesterday, that wasn’t just you playing a joke on me, was it? Do you really hate me?”

Shi Jin didn’t expect that he would ask this directly. He glanced at him, nodded and shook his head. “I was serious, I wasn’t just playing a joke on you, but I also don’t really hate you. If I have to be honest, rather than hate you, what I want right now is to really understand you,” he replied earnestly.

Really understand me?

Rong Zhouzhong swept his wet hair away from his face with a towel and scrutinized Shi Jin.

“If you think about it, in the past, we didn’t have many opportunities to interact with each other alone. In my eyes, you’re full of contradictions; I want to know the real you,” Shi Jin said frankly. “Only after I really know you, I can decide if I hate you or something else.”

“What else?” Rong Zhouzhong immediately zeroed in on the key point.

Shi Jin didn’t answer. Reaching for the door handle, he said, “Good luck at work. See you at lunch,” then jumped out of the car and headed towards the villa.

Rong Zhouzhong was too late to stop him. Watching the teenager’s back getting smaller and smaller, he raised a hand to yank at his wet hair. He kept silent for a long moment, then spat out, “That damn deliberately mysterious little bastard!”

Rong Zhouzhong didn’t come for lunch; the movie crew had been delayed for too long, and now picked up the pace so they would catch up with the schedule. Rong Zhouzhong’s filming lasted from the morning till evening, without any break long enough for him to have time to go out for a meal.

After lunch, Shi Jin went to the walkway and used binoculars to take a look at the situation on the set. Seeing that Rong Zhouzhong was in the water again, surrounded by an array of cameras, he sighed. “He is really dedicated to his work.”

< Yeah, it’s been several hours already, > Xiao Si said. < Humans aren’t supposed to spend so much time in the water, are they? >

“The director seems to be a perfectionist.” Shi Jin put down the binoculars, asking Xiao Si to give him the ‘Far-Seeing Eye’ buff instead since it was more convenient. He leaned against the railing and stuffed a nut in his mouth, watching Rong Zhouzhong carefully listening to the director’s guidance while he sat in the lifeboat in the interval between shots.

This was Rong Zhouzhong he’d never seen before: mature, calm, diligent, hard-working… One by one, his brother displayed the character traits he never thought could be ever associated with him.

“Genes really are a powerful thing.” He sighed again, overcome with an indescribable feeling. The more he saw, the more clearer it was to him that the Shi family’s children hadn’t become successful simply because of a big amount of resources and support. Even Rong Zhouzhong, who seemed to “rely on his face to eat,” was much more talented and hard-working than most people in the world.

Businessmen, lawyers, actors, soldiers, doctors… Come to think about it, it was just ‘Shi Jin,’ the only son raised by Shi Xingrui personally, who had no accomplishments and hadn’t displayed any talents. At his age, his brothers had already painted several brilliant strokes on their lives’ canvas, laying a foundation for their future glory.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” he muttered to himself, a bit absent-minded.

Xiao Si didn’t answer. Ever since Shi Jin’s progress bar fell to 80, it tended to keep silent, sometimes not saying anything for several days, as if it never existed.

When alone, it was easy for one’s consciousness to sink into a deep sea called “memory.” In Shi Jin’s case, it was both his own memory and the memory of the original ‘Shi Jin.’ In the past, he could always clearly distinguish which memories were which, but since a while ago, they began to slowly blend together.

As he watched Rong Zhouzhong’s serious face, a particularly unsettling image from the past emerged from the depths of his mind.

It was the original ‘Shi Jin’s’ tenth birthday. On that day, as usual, the brothers who all lived in different places gathered in Shi Xingrui’s luxurious villa in M country to celebrate ‘his’ birthday, bringing with them lots of presents.

That time, the original ‘Shi Jin’ was very happy, because he got to see his dazzling Third Brother who just became a movie emperor. ‘He’ prepared a gift and celebratory cake especially for him, and then blew out the candles side by side with him.

Everything was perfect, until ‘he’ was woken up in the middle of the night by his third brother so they could secretly watch the third brother’s award-winning movie on the computer.

The movie’s theme was rather grim. The main characters were a pair of brothers who should’ve depended on and supported each other but ended up killing each other. The original ‘Shi Jin’ hadn’t seen it before this; because the movie was so dark, Shi Xingrui wouldn’t let him watch it.

At the beginning of the movie, the younger brother’s mother suddenly disappeared. The younger brother wanted to search for her but his father wouldn’t allow it. Then, a man who claimed to be his older brother appeared and invited him to go looking for their mother together. Coaxed, the younger brother sneaked out of the house without his father’s knowledge.

The journey in search of a missing mother began. Along the way, the younger brother met with danger many times, and the older brother repeatedly rescued him. Over time, the two people who originally were perfect strangers gradually became close.

The original ‘Shi Jin’ watched the movie very seriously, his mood rising and falling according to what was happening on the screen. When he saw the two really acknowledging each other as brothers and deciding not to look for their mother any longer, but live together from now on, depending on each in difficulties, a happy smile appeared on his face.

“My brother is the best person in the world,” he exclaimed, turning to look at his third brother, on whose lap he sat, only to meet a gaze completely devoid of warmth.

“Keep watching,” the third brother said softly, his peach-blossom eyes cold and indifferent. Not bothering to be gentle, he turned ‘Shi Jin’s’ head back towards the computer screen.

The original ‘Shi Jin’ was a little uneasy, but since this was what his third brother wanted, he stopped getting distracted and obediently continued to watch.

About two-thirds into the movie, the warm-until-now story took a dramatic turn. It was revealed that the mother turned was already dead, the “murderer” appearing in front of the brothers to admit it. As the conspiracy was uncovered layer by layer, the life that a moment ago was so bright and full of hope for the future turned out to be like a human-skin drum cut apart with a knife: under the smooth and beautiful surface, there was hidden a blood-drenched truth.

Death Progress Bar is translated by Betwixted Translations. Read on the original translator’s site to get the fastest updates!

There was no bond, no brotherly feelings—everything was just an illusion. This wasn’t a journey in search of a mother, but a quest for revenge. The moment the younger brother set out from home, his father and tribe had been step by step led into an abyss by the older brother, using the younger brother as bait. The “pursuing enemies” the two brothers killed along the way were in fact all the people who came to save the younger brother. By the time the truth was completely revealed, the younger brother was the only member of his tribe left.

The mother was also killed by the older brother, her body buried under the younger brother’s room.

The origin of everything was a vague curse. Because of this curse, the elder brother had been tortured by the tribe, abandoned by his parents, and cast out to wander alone. Over the years, those misfortunes gradually twisted his character. Overcome by both hatred and longing for home, he couldn’t help but secretly return to his village. After sneaking in, he saw a younger brother happily living with his parents, and whatever sanity he had left shattered completely.

—We are the same, so why am I a curse, but he’s a gift from heaven to be loved and cared for? Not fair! It’s not fair!

The older brother’s anguished cries pierced the air. Then, his revenge began.

At the end of the movie, the younger brother, angry and resentful but also heartbroken for his older brother, hugged him, wanting to die with him. The older brother, who originally could have pushed him away, instead dropped his weapon and returned the hug, expression contented as he fell off the cliff with his younger brother.

Though twisted, his wish to reunite with his family finally came true.

‘Ah, I’m so happy,’ was the older brother’s last thought.

The original ‘Shi Jin,’ who was only ten years old at the time, was so shocked by the depressing story and Rong Zhouzhong’s riveting performance as the older brother that he stared blankly at the screen for a long time after the movie ended.

“The director said that I made the older brother’s character come alive. Do you know why I was able to play this role so well, Xiao Jin?”

A hand gently touched his head and the third brother’s magnetic voice sounded in his ears, but ‘Shi Jin’ didn’t dare to turn his head. He was afraid that some things would be completely broken if he looked back at this moment.

“Because I am this older brother. Do you understand, Xiao Jin?”

This gently whispered sentence was the last part of that particular memory. A ten-year-old child could hardly manage to stay awake through the night, so despite being frightened, ‘Shi Jin’ soon unconsciously drifted off to sleep. Waking up in the morning in his brother’s warm embrace, he naturally convinced himself that what happened last night was just a terrible nightmare and buried it deep in his heart.

How could his third brother be the same as the older brother in the movie? His third brother was so good-looking, he looked like an angel when he was asleep like this, and his arms were so warm. Last night, he must’ve become too immersed in the movie and got back into the role of the older brother, that’s why he would say those things.

The original ‘Shi Jin’ convinced himself like that, but subconsciously, he did his best to blot this memory out, unwilling to touch it again.

“Rong Zhouzhong did this in revenge for that thing Shi Xingrui made ‘Shi Jin’ say when ‘he’ was nine.” Emerging from the chaos of memories, Shi Jin looked at Rong Zhouzhong, who climbed down in the water again, and narrowed his eyes. “How petty do you have to be to hold such a big grudge against a little kid and bully him in such a way?” Fuck you, you childish, vicious bastard.

He got up, picked up the bag with lunch he originally intended to give Rong Zhouzhong, and went back to the villa.

If you’re seeing this notice, you’re reading this chapter on pirate site – the original translator of Death Progress Bar is Betwixted Translations.

After giving the lunch to the bodyguard at the front door, Shi Jin crept into the study, lay down on his stomach on the sofa, and fixed his gaze on Lian Jun.

Lian Jun glanced at him and sped up work to finish the document at hand, then moved his wheelchair over to the sofa. “What’s the matter?” he asked, stroking the teenager’s hair.

“It’s time for your nap,” Shi Jin said. “I will take a nap with you, okay?”

It was rare for Shi Jin to take a nap in the afternoon. As a young man brimming with energy who besides tended to sleep late in the morning, he seldom got sleepy during the day.

Lian Jun took in his listless expression and leaned over to kiss the corner of his lover’s eye. “Okay.”

When they returned to the bedroom, Shi Jin closed the French windows, drew the curtains, got in the bed, and locked Lian Jun in his arms like an octopus.

Lian Jun hugged him too. “Sleep,” he whispered, gently patting his back.

Shi Jin obediently closed his eyes and soon drifted off to sleep in the soothing warmth of his lover’s arms.

Contrary to what he’d expected before going to bed, Shi Jin’s sleep was dreamless, and he woke up after only half an hour. Lian Jun was still sleeping; he got up very early every day, and his afternoon nap usually lasted an hour or so.

Shi Jin moved and found that sometime during the nap, their positions changed: he now lay with his back to Lian Jun, hugged by him.

His back fitted against Lian Jun’s chest, their body temperatures blending, and he could even hear Lian Jun’s heartbeat if he listened properly. Suddenly, he felt at ease—the only person in this world who would hold him like this, who would never frighten or betray him, was probably Lian Jun alone.

Those who get close to you for benefits will leave when the benefits are gone; those who get close to you for compensation will leave when they’ve been compensated enough; those who get close to you because of guilt will leave when their guilt subsides… Only those who are with you simply for you will stay with you regardless of circumstances.

…That he was able to meet Lian Jun at that time when he was no one and had nothing was probably the greatest luck of his two lifetimes—such a thought suddenly popped up in his mind.

He carefully turned over, looked at Lian Jun’s sleeping face, and slowly leaned forward to kiss his lover’s forehead. He stayed like that for a few seconds, then drew back, pursing his lips to stifle a chuckle. After cautiously getting out of the bed, he left the room, keeping his footsteps as light as possible.

When the room became completely quiet, Lian Jun’s eyelids lifted. He raised a hand to touch his forehead, the corner of his mouth curling up, then closed his eyes again.

When Shi Jin, carrying a bowl of pork congee with preserved eggs, found Rong Zhouzhong, Rong Zhouzhong happened to be scolding someone sitting next to him.

The filming on the set had completely stopped. Except for the director and one staff member, who were discussing something, the other crew members and actors were stealthily glancing over at Rong Zhouzhong, their faces pale and stiff as if they were watching a disaster scene heading towards a full-blown apocalypse.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Rong Zhouzhong whacked the rolled-up script against the armrest of his chair, his damp hair flapping around. “In this scene, you hide and watch your teacher die, not daring to save him because you’re afraid of the soldiers! Is this so hard to understand? Try to freaking immerse yourself in your character! Imagine that it’s your mother who is forced into the sea by the enemy. You watch it from hiding, and even after the soldiers are gone, you still don’t dare to go out and save her—how would you feel? What kind of actor you are if you can’t even imagine something as simple as this! I bet that if I put here a mother chicken and let it watch its baby chicks being thrown into the sea by humans, it would show more visible unwillingness, anxiety, regret, and anger than you’re showing!”

As he came closer and the words became discernible, he stopped short, startled by the fierceness in Rong Zhouzhong’s voice and his analogy.

The person being scolded was a gentle-looking young man that appeared to be in his early twenties. He was handsome in a way that was popular with the public but now, not even daring to raise his head as he was being scolded, he looked quite pitiful.

“I’m sorry I made you angry, senior brother. I will work harder…” the young man whispered timidly, cowering.

Seeing him like this, Rong Zhouzhong got even angrier. He banged on the armrest on his chair again and growled, glowering at him, “Don’t call me senior brother, I really don’t believe that you and I were taught by the same teacher! Work harder? What you need to do is to understand the character you’re playing, not to ‘work harder’! You got the main role in such a promising script; the company spent so much money to hire an excellent crew and supporting cast and even got me to appear in a guest role, and you’re showing this kind of performance? You’re fuckin’ trying to piss me off to death! A moment ago, Director Wang explained how your character feels in this scene to you in detail, but you fuckin’ still don’t get it at all, do you?!”

The movie set became quieter still, and this time, even the director turned to watch.

The young man’s head drooped lower. Clenching his fists, he began, “Then, then, senior brother, let’s switch—”

“Third Brother!” Shi Jin cut in, quickly walking to Rong Zhouzhong’s side and shoving the bag with the congee at his face. “Here, I just made it, so eat while it’s hot! I added a lot of meat, try it and tell me if you like it.”

Rong Zhouzhong was so startled by the pork congee attack that he didn’t hear the younger actor’s words clearly. Seeing Shi Jin, he took a few deep breaths to get his temper under control, then pushed the bag away from his face and said, trying to soften his expression, “I’m sorry I didn’t go to have lunch with you. We’re a little busy here.”

“It’s fine, I understand,” Shi Jin replied. He pulled the young man up and quickly sat in his place, leaning close to Rong Zhouzhong and unpacking the bowl of congee. Winking at the young man to signal him to go over to the director, he stuffed the bowl and the spoon into Rong Zhouzhong’s hands. “C’mon, hurry up and eat while it’s still hot, warm yourself up.”

The smell of pork and Egg congee wafted out. This day, Rong Zhouzhong had only eaten some bread in the breaks between the shots, so once the savory smell reached his nose, he immediately felt his stomach growl.

He glanced at the young man who didn’t dare to leave and waved him away with a scowl. Stirring the congee with a spoon, he muttered, “You shouldn’t help him, you know. That guy is too unambitious—if you don’t force him, scold him, and let him suffer, he doesn’t know how to move forward.”

Shi Jin just looked at him.

Rong Zhouzhong frowned, a bit uncomfortable. “What are you looking at? You think I was too ruthless and got scared?”

Shi Jin shook his head. “Nah, that was pretty cool, you looked very handsome just now—you totally pulled off that ‘domineering successful CEO’ thing.”

“Cough, cough, cough.” Rong Zhouzhong choked on his saliva, and hurriedly scooped up a large spoon of porridge and stuffed it into his mouth, pretending to be engrossed in eating. Turning his face away so he wouldn’t see Shi Jin, he said vaguely while chewing, “‘Just now’? There’s not a moment when I don’t look handsome, I’ll let you know. In the current showbiz industry, my face is equivalent with high ratings, it—”

“Is your mouth fine? This congee has finished cooking not too long ago, it should still be very hot,” Shi Jin warned him kindly.

As the pain finally kicked in, Rong Zhouzhong’s expression stiffened. He hurriedly opened his mouth and chuffed a few times, then, probably feeling that his appearance was too embarrassing, he clasped a hand over his mouth and twisted away, looking for some water to drink. His face and ears were a little red, whether because of being hot or some other reason.

Watching his rare flustered appearance, Shi Jin asked, “Third Brother, after you finish shooting, do you want to watch a movie with me?”

Rong Zhouzhong‌ barely managed to cool down his burning mouth and regain some semblance of dignity when Shi Jin’s question almost made him flustered again. He straightened up, pretending that what happened just now had never happened, and asked with forced nonchalance, “What movie?”

“The movie that made you famous—Home.”

Plunk.

The water bottle in Rong Zhouzhong’s hand fell to the ground. He turned his head to look at Shi Jin, the expression on his face dimming, and the warmth in his eyes slowly cooled.

“So, will you come?” Shi Jin asked again.

“…Yes.” Rong Zhouzhong’s gaze moved back to the bowl of congee. He scooped up a spoonful, put it in his mouth, tasted it carefully, then slowly let it pass through his throat and into his stomach. “I’ll watch it with you, again.”

Translator’s Notes:

“Nanny car” [保姆车] – AFAIK, it can be anything between a minivan and an RV. (Baidu, YT)