HPDBC Chapter 118 Dangerous Script
Chapter 118 Dangerous Script
Chapter 118 Dangerous Script
As Rentaro Mikuni finished speaking, Shin Kitahara subconsciously looked towards the direction behind the screen.
The figure in the black tomesode kimono was long gone, leaving only a faint scent of plum blossoms in the air.
"Go."
The veteran actor waved his hand, picked up his wine glass again, and said with a hint of teasing, "Don't keep them waiting."
Kitahara Shin nodded, tilted his head back, and drank the soda water in his glass in one gulp, as if to bolster his courage.
He then straightened his suit and turned to walk into the deep corridor leading to the inner room.
A female general who had been waiting for a long time came forward to greet them.
"Mr. Kitahara, this way please."
Leaving the suffocating atmosphere of drinking and toasting in the main hall, the air in the corridor felt exceptionally crisp.
The wooden clogs made a dull sound as they stepped on the century-old red pine floor.
Kitahara Shin followed behind the female general named "Chiyo," his gaze fixed on the swaying lantern ahead, and he was indeed a little uneasy.
A "big sister" like Shima Iwashita always chooses her partners from among her own people at Toei, whom she knows well.
unless----
Is it because of those two movies?
Is it Kikuchi, the gloomy and insane character from "Violent Man"?
Or is it Sawada, the mad dog in "Yakuza Blood" who dared to bite his master's throat in order to rise to power?
If you've seen those two characters before, then today's "Feast at Hongmen" makes sense.
Before they could figure it out, the female general in front stopped in her tracks.
"Mr. Kitahara, we've arrived."
She knelt down in front of a sliding door painted with a traditional Chinese ink painting of "Tiger Descending the Mountain" and respectfully opened it.
The moment the sliding door opened, the view suddenly opened up.
This is not the kind of cramped room where scholars and literati retreat to cultivate their minds and bodies, but an extremely spacious tea room.
The ceiling is extremely high, constructed from a single, precious Yoshino cedar tree, and the immense sense of space makes one unconsciously slow down their breathing as soon as they enter.
The spacious tatami mat was almost empty, except for a scroll with ink stains hanging in the deep alcove in the distance—"Death Madness".
Iwashita Shima was kneeling in front of the tea kettle.
She changed into a deep purple outfit for the visit, her hair neatly combed, revealing a section of her snow-white, slender neck.
The murderous aura that had filled the hall had completely vanished into his very bones.
At this moment, her back was straight, and she was stirring the tea in the kettle with a tea whisk in her hand.
"Shh, shh, shh—"
The sound of the tea whisk striking the teacup was extremely fast and steady.
She didn't even look up at Kitahara Shin as he walked in, as if he were just an insignificant wisp of air.
Opposite her, an old man sat in the shadows.
Kitahara Shin glanced at it a couple more times.
The old man looked to be about seventy years old, with sparse, gray hair. He was wearing a faded gray kimono, his body was somewhat hunched, and he was holding an old folding fan in his hand. He was huddled in the wide sleeves of his kimono, as quiet as a moss-covered stone.
He looks too ordinary.
He has neither the air of a wealthy boss nor the sharpness of a famous director; he's more like an old scholar who has taught his whole life and has just retired.
But sitting in front of the powerful Iwashita Shima, he felt a strange sense of balance.
He sat there quietly, without uttering a word, yet he seemed like a bottomless ancient well.
Seeing Kitahara Shin enter, the old man slowly raised his eyelids.
Those eyes were somewhat cloudy, with drooping eye bags, and lacked any aggressive glint.
But his gaze was slow and deep, not like he was looking at a young person's appearance, but rather like he was reading a story that had not yet been written down.
"sand."
With a soft click, the tea whisk left the teacup.
Iwashita Shima finally stopped what she was doing.
She slowly raised her head.
She wore an impeccable, gentle smile, as graceful as a "Yamato Nadeshiko" from a bygone era. But this gentleness was merely superficial; it didn't reach her eyes at all.
Those eyes were frighteningly still, revealing a cold, calculating quality.
That wasn't the look of someone looking at a customer; it was more like a seasoned buyer scrutinizing a weapon on a shelf—not looking at the packaging, but only at its sharpness and whether it was worthy of being held in her hand.
"sit."
She spoke, her voice gentle yet carrying an undeniable air of command.
Kitahara Shin knelt down in the lower position as instructed.
Would you like some tea?
"This is troublesome." Kitahara Shin nodded.
Iwashita Shima held the teacup with both hands, her wrists gracefully rotating to turn the front pattern towards Kitahara Shin, then slowly pushed it towards him. Her movements were fluid and precise, carrying an imposing aura that made one dare not act rashly.
The only sounds in the tea room were the pouring of boiling water into the teacups and the occasional crackling of charcoal.
The atmosphere was eerily quiet.
Iwashita Shima stopped speaking, simply watching him silently, her unspoken pressure making the air thicken. The old man, who hadn't spoken a word, also maintained his composed demeanor, his gaze seemingly fixed on Kitahara Shin.
Kitahara Shin didn't evade the question, nor did he force a conversation to break the awkwardness. He simply stood ramrod straight, breathing steadily, letting those two gazes scrutinize him like X-rays.
About two minutes later.
The old man gently closed the folding fan in his hand, making a soft "snap" sound.
He turned his head, nodded to Iwashita Shima, and said in a hoarse, deep voice with a hint of weariness from smoking and drinking, "Not bad."
"He's someone who keeps secrets."
Upon hearing this, the coldness in Iwashita Shima's eyes subsided slightly.
She took out a clean white tea towel and gently wiped her fingers, her movements slow and deliberate. A slight smile played on her lips, revealing a very realistic expression: "Indeed, only by seeing the real person can you know whether there's real bone beneath that beautiful skin."
After speaking, she looked at Kitahara Shin, but instead of pointing, she slightly turned her head to indicate to the old man beside her, her posture extremely respectful: "Kitahara, this is Professor Takada Koji."
Upon hearing this name, Kitahara Shin's fingers, which were holding the teacup, tightened abruptly.
Hiroshi Takada.
He is a "living fossil" of Toei and the soul screenwriter of the "Yakuza Wife" series. It can even be said that half of the Toei's real-life gangster films of the 1980s were written by this old man.
His status in the industry needs no title to embellish it.
"My apologies, Professor Takada."
Kitahara Shin immediately put down his teacup and bowed respectfully.
This is a sign of respect for true creators.
"Please sit down."
Koji Takada waved his hand slowly and casually, "Let's skip those formalities. My old bones can't take any more of that."
He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag.
In the swirling smoke, his face appeared even more blurred, as if it were about to melt into the shadows behind him.
"Those Toei producers wanted to keep making this series as a cash cow. But I can't write it anymore."
The old man's voice was soft, yet every word resonated deeply.
"My brain is almost unable to function, and my body can't hold on any longer. The doctor said that my blood vessels could burst at any moment."
He said this calmly.
"So, this is my last book."
"This is also the last 'Yakuza Wife' I wrote for Shima. I want to make it my tombstone, my swan song. I'm tired of the old formula of just yelling and hacking people. I want to find a different kind of man to act out this last show with Shima."
The old man paused, looking at Kitahara Shin through the smoke.
"We met with dozens of male actors before. Some were popular idols, and some were so-called veteran actors. None of them were suitable."
"Idols are too soft, like plain water; veteran actors are too greasy, like stale soy sauce. What I want is that feeling—how should I put it, like dancing on the edge of a cliff."
"Until someone mentioned your name to me."
Shima Iwashita picked up the conversation. She remained kneeling there, her body motionless, naturally exuding an aura of "older sister" authority: "Director Takeshi Kitano and director Kinji Fukasaku, who directed 'Yakuza Blood,' have both sent messages over here."
"They all say you have a lot of potential, which is why I wanted to invite you to come and take a look."
Kitahara Shin paused for a moment.
A warm feeling welled up in my heart.
Takeshi Kitano.
Also, director Kinji Fukasaku.
These two can be said to be very important mentors to him. If it weren't for their appreciation and promotion, he probably wouldn't have been able to get here and attend this gathering.
That could be said to be the beginning of a dream.
He took a deep breath, suppressed the turmoil in his heart, picked up the bowl of matcha in front of him that was no longer scalding hot, and drank it all in one gulp.
The bitter tea soup slid down my throat, instantly transforming into a sweet aftertaste.
"How is it?"
Koji Takada stared at him, a barely perceptible glint finally flashing in his cloudy old eyes. "Kid, interested in accompanying these two old guys on this final journey? This might be the swan song of the 'Yakuza Wife' series, and it might also be the most dangerous performance of your life."
"Danger?"
Kitahara Shin put down his teacup and wiped his mouth.
"Are you referring to action scenes? If it's that kind of thing, I should be able to handle it."
"Action scenes are nothing, that's the job of stuntmen."
Koji Takada shook his head, his cloudy old eyes fixed on Shin Kitahara, his tone becoming pragmatic and sharp: "I'm talking about 'the audience's tolerance.'"
He pointed to Kitahara Shin's face.
"What image do you project now? The media portrays you as the 'Prince of the Heisei Era,'" says the newly awarded acting star. "Audiences like you because of your previous work, like Kanji, and your recent youth romance film."
"But gangster movies, you know, definitely involve extreme characters. Your character, Sanada Kyoji, is a scoundrel."
Betraying his elder brother, coveting his sister-in-law, covered in mud. You used to play villains, but back then you weren't famous enough and didn't have any baggage.
Things are different now.
The old man flicked his cigarette ash and said incisively, "Fans are fickle. They just peddled you onto a pedestal, and you immediately play a disgusting character. The contrast is too great, too fast. Who knows, those who called you 'husband' yesterday might be calling you a pervert tomorrow out of sheer disgust."
At this point, Koji Takada paused, then added, "Plus, your opponent is Shima. If you can't control her, you'll become that pathetic supporting character. In that case, you'll not only lose your image, but you'll also lose face."
"Have you really thought this through? This is a huge challenge."
Iwashita Shima remained silent.
She simply gazed quietly at the tea in her cup, her perfect, dignified posture like an insurmountable mountain, silently awaiting the young man's answer.
Indeed, this is the most realistic consideration.
Many talent agencies would not allow their popular artists to take on such "dirty" roles, as the risks are too high and the returns are uncertain.
Kitahara Shin was silent for two seconds.
Then, he raised his head, met the gazes of the two giants of the Showa era, and smiled.
There was no forced smile in it; instead, it carried a sense of profound understanding, as if the person had already seen through everything.
"Takada-sensei, if I'm trying to maintain a harmless, good image, I should take on a shampoo guy role or star in one of those pure love dramas where you can get a high salary just by smiling at the camera."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone calm yet firm: "But I'm an actor. Isn't an actor's duty to betray the audience's expectations time and time again?"
"If I stay in my comfort zone for fear of alienating the audience, they'll get tired of me sooner or later. More than being typecast, I'm afraid people will find me boring."
Upon hearing this, Koji Takada stared at Shin Kitahara for a few seconds, then lowered his head and let out a short, hoarse chuckle.
"Ha—is an actor's job simply to betray the audience's expectations time and time again?"
"Interesting. There's a reason why those two directors recommended you."
The old man raised his eyelids, and his originally cloudy eyes finally showed a bit of real spirit.
He pulled a heavy brown paper bag from under the cushion behind him and threw it directly in front of Kitahara Shin.
"Take it home and examine it carefully."
"Shima and I are waiting for you in Kyoto."
It was late at night when the banquet ended.
The streets of Akasaka remain brightly lit and bustling, with taxis weaving through the dazzling lights.
Kitahara Shin sat in the back seat, clutching the heavy brown paper bag tightly in his hand.
Using the light from the streetlights flashing past the window, he untied the rope and pulled out the script.
On the cover, the handwritten title is startling, the handwriting messy and wild, exuding a sense of despair:
Yakuza Wife: The End of Hell (Tentative Draft)
He opened the biographical sketch of the person.
Character Name: Sanada Kyoji Age: 24 Identity: A lone wolf within the organization, a madman who will stop at nothing to rise to power.
He continued reading, his brows furrowing deeper with each word.
This is not the kind of "loyal dog" character created to highlight the boss's power.
Kyoji Sanada is a tragic figure through and through.
He came from the slums, fought his way up the ranks of the organization like a stray dog, and climbed to the position of team leader through sheer ruthlessness. He wanted to kill the team leader and take his place, a common act of insubordination in the yakuza world.
But the most crucial and dangerous aspect of the script lies in—
During this process, he fell hopelessly in love with the team leader's wife.
That is, the female lead played by Shima Iwashita.
This is a highly toxic emotion that is a mixture of murderous intent, the desire to conquer, attachment, and the urge to destroy.
There's a scene in the script where Kyoji, covered in blood, bursts into the boss's room, pointing a gun at her head, but then kneels at her feet, trembling as he kisses the hem of her skirt.
"————You really dare to write that."
Kitahara Shin muttered to himself.
To perform this complex emotion of "wanting to drag her into hell, yet also wanting to kneel at her feet and pray" in front of millions of viewers, and to be an empress of the caliber of Shima Iwashita.
This isn't just acting; this is playing with fire.
If you don't act well, you'll become a disgusting, sleazy man, or an arrogant, clown who doesn't know his place.
But if you perform well—
Kitahara Shin closed his eyes, and the image began to form in his mind.
Rainy night, blood, kimono, gunshots.
And that burning gaze in despair.
Just then, a crisp notification sound came from deep within my mind.
[A legendary scenario challenge has been detected!]
[Script Title: The Triad Wife: The End of Hell]
[Opponent: Shima Iwashita (Legendary/Holder of the Yakuza Empress Aura)]
[Challenge Difficulty: S+ (Hell Level)]
[Mission Objective: In this film, your acting prowess must not be inferior to your co-star's. You must earn the "Absolute Leading Role" rating.]
】
【Judging Criteria:】
Audience approval (the positive review rate after release must exceed 90%, and the discussion about the character must be equal to or even exceed that of the protagonist).
Director's approval rating (complete satisfaction with Kosaku Yamashita).
Screenwriter approval rating (final approval by Koji Takada).
Immediately afterwards, the system interface flickered again.
[Due to the detection that the host is about to face an extremely high level of acting skills, the existing single low-level equipment is no longer sufficient to meet the requirements.]
[System Feature Update:]
[Unlock new module: Equipment Crafting Table]
[Note: Starting today, the host can place two or more pieces of equipment of the same quality (same color) into the crafting table, with a chance to craft a higher quality composite equipment.]
[Currently available crafting examples:]
[The Screenwriter's Plain Glasses] (White) + [The Old Housekeeper's All-Purpose Bristle Brush] (White) = ? ? ? (There is a chance to generate a green set)
Equipment crafting?
Kitahara Shin looked at the new feature and fell into deep thought.