The More Tragic I Act, the Stronger I Get — My Fans Beg Me to Stop Killing Off My Roles

A bizarre delivery lunch tasted utterly bland among the three people, each nursing their own thoughts.

Jiang Ci found an excuse and left Spark Media.

Stepping out of Rongchuang Tower, Building A, the afternoon breeze was cool against his face, but he felt no clarity at all.

In his head, Su Qingying’s invitation for the variety show — “you can go try it” — replayed over and over.

A reality show?

Have him go on a reality show, force a fake smile at the camera, play those childish games, and watch the one hundred and ninety-something days of his life tick down to zero?

That was crueler than just telling him to die.

Lin Wan’s tragic script was indefinitely postponed.

All of Su Qingying the award-winning actress’s resources were things that could either sweeten someone to death or make them die laughing.

That path was closed to him.

Jiang Ci stood at the curb as cars whooshed by.

He instinctively raised his hand and flagged down a taxi.

“Where to, sir?”

The driver leaned out to ask.

Where to?

He was dazed for a moment, then an address long sealed in his mind almost escaped his mouth automatically.

“Changning Road, Hongye Residential Complex.”

The driver answered and started the car.

Jiang Ci leaned against the backseat and watched the streets blur past.

Hongye Residential Complex.

That was the place he had rented a few months earlier when he first came to Shanghai looking for casting opportunities.

A cramped, cheap single room.

He hadn’t been back for months.

Since moving into the crew hotel, he’d never set foot there again.

Fine.

He could stop by, pack up his things, and return the room.

The taxi pulled up at the gate of an old complex.

Jiang Ci paid, grabbed his suitcase, and walked into one of the residential buildings like someone who knew the way.

The stairwell was dim, the walls plastered with all kinds of flyers.

He climbed to the third floor and used his key to open the chipped iron door at the very end.

“Squeak—”

A long-sealed smell of dust and desiccant rushed out.

The room was tiny.

A single bed, a desk, a wardrobe took up all the space.

On the desk sat a half-eaten instant noodle cup, beside a few performance textbooks with curled, well-thumbed pages.

Everything here was a miniature of the cramped life he’d had before he got the system.

Jiang Ci set his suitcase by the door and without hesitation began packing.

His movements were practiced.

He folded clothes and packed them.

He tidied the books and tied them with string.

When he got to the bathroom, he noticed half a roll of toilet paper left on the shelf.

He reflexively reached to stuff that half roll into his suitcase.

That habit had been cultivated by his mother, Chu Hong, since he was little; it was in his bones.

His hand froze halfway. He stared at it for a moment, then shook his head with a self-mocking smile.

Forget it.

Surely not that extreme.

He turned back and began sorting the old outerwear hanging in the wardrobe.

In the pocket of a faded navy coat, his fingertips brushed against a hard, square object.

He pulled it out.

An old wallet, used for years, its edges worn and cracked.

Jiang Ci opened the wallet.

It was empty except for a few expired coupons.

He habitually tugged at the inner compartment.

A faded photograph, its edges yellowed, slid out and fluttered to the floor.

Jiang Ci bent and picked up the photo.

In the picture, a little boy with skin darkened by the sun, smiling so guilelessly he looked like a "big sweet potato," was cradled in the arms of a young man in police uniform, standing tall and proud.

The man was smiling too, flashing a row of white teeth, radiating sunshine and steely resolve.

Jiang Ci’s movements stopped.

In an instant, his thoughts were pulled back to that summer more than ten years ago.

He remembered the heat, the cicadas driving everyone mad.

His father, Jiang Yanjun, always carried a faint scent of tobacco.

When his rough, callused palms—rough from years of training—ran over the top of his head, it felt coarse but warm.

He also remembered his father lifting him high above his head before a mission.

“When I finish this assignment and get my leave, I’ll take you to the biggest amusement park in the city to ride the roller coaster!”

That promise was vivid as if it had been yesterday.

But a sudden death in the line of duty froze it in that hot summer forever.

There was no then after that.

Jiang Ci rubbed his thumb over his father’s young, resolute face in the photo.

His father had been an outstanding detective.

His mission had been to guard the peace of his area, to protect and save people.

And now,

his only son was desperately trying to “save himself” in such an absurd, bizarre way.

A loneliness that could not be put into words swallowed him.

Memories of his father naturally led to guilt about another person.

His mother.

After his father died, the compensation simply couldn’t support a single mother raising a son.

His mother had worked dawn to dusk, sold breakfast, worked as a cashier, and single-handedly brought him up.

He realized he hadn’t gone home in a long time.

Since college, and plunging headfirst into his obsession with acting, his time at home had grown scarcer and scarcer.

Especially over the past two months, in order to extend his life and meet KPIs, he had been wound up like a machine that never stopped.

Suddenly, without warning, a single thought seized his mind.

Go home!

He had to go home immediately!

Whatever heartbreak value KPI, whatever tragic script, whatever damned life-extension time...

At this moment, none of it mattered compared to seeing his mother.

Once that idea rose, it could not be suppressed.

He snatched up his phone, found the contact labeled “Sister Wan,” and dialed.

The call rang a long time before it was answered.

On the other end, Lin Wan’s voice sounded a bit languid but with a thread of concern.

“Hello? Jiang Ci? What’s wrong?”

“Sister Wan.”

When Jiang Ci spoke, he discovered his throat was dry.

He cleared his voice and, keeping as calm as he could, briefly explained the situation.

“I’m going home for a bit. The script stuff... we’ll talk about it when I get back.”

Listening to his exhausted voice and the pressure he was barely hiding, Lin Wan immediately “got it.”

This kid’s emotions had reached the breaking point.

In front of Su Qingying at the company he had kept it together.

Now alone, he couldn’t hold it anymore.

Good.

An actor’s emotions are like a reservoir; you have to release water, not dam it.

If you block it too long, something will go wrong. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Lin Wan didn’t scold him at all; instead her tone turned unusually gentle.

“Of course, go back and rest properly. Don’t think about work.”

“Family matters are the most important.”

Before hanging up, Lin Wan’s mind flashed to Jiang Ci’s mother’s forceful post on Weibo the other night, and she couldn’t help smiling.

She added into the phone with a laugh.

“Say hi to Auntie for me.”

“She was right — you should eat more, you’re too skinny.”

With that approval, an inexplicable weight lifted from Jiang Ci’s heart.

He moved quickly.

The few personal belongings in the rented room were slammed into his suitcase.

Most were old books and clothes.

At last, he picked up the yellowed photograph and did not return it to the wallet.

Carefully, he slid it into the innermost pocket of his coat, closest to his chest.