dkrc Chapter 134 Running Between Filming and Driving
Chapter 134 Running Between Filming and Driving
Chapter 134 Running Between Filming and Driving (Seeking Monthly Tickets)
"The Lancet"
As the words fell, the air seemed to freeze for a moment.
The actress playing the surgical nurse had sweaty palms.
She wasn't a newcomer; she had acted in many workplace dramas. But at this moment, facing the man under the operating lights, whose eyes were the only visible part of his body, she had a strange feeling—if she had been even a second slower in handing him the scalpel, she really would have been kicked out of the operating room.
"Smack."
The metal handle was slapped into the palm of the hand.
Kitahara Shin's fingers snapped shut the instant they touched the instrument. He didn't adjust his grip, didn't test the feel; he simply got it right in one go.
He stood in front of the operating table, his back ramrod straight.
That's the passive effect of [God's Left Hand - Sterile Touch] taking effect.
In his field of vision, all surrounding noise was filtered out. The sound of camera sliders, the friction of lighting technicians adjusting light shields, and the coughs of staff in the distance all disappeared.
All that remained in the world was that green, sterile drape before me.
He slightly lowered his wrist and slashed downwards with the knife.
Although it was just a piece of silicone skin used as a prop, the stability of that movement made everyone behind the monitor hold their breath.
It wasn't the kind of "steadiness" that could be performed, but rather a mechanical, deathly stillness. Not a single fingertip trembled; the moment the blade traced its path, it was as coldly as a death sentence.
"Hemostats"
"gauze."
"Wipe your sweat."
The instructions were brief, cold, and left no room for argument.
At this moment, he was not acting; he was the king in this operating room, a tyrant who controlled life and death.
"Card!"
It wasn't until director Nakae Isao shouted that the suffocating atmosphere on set finally dissipated.
"call----"
The actress playing the surgical nurse nearly collapsed, her legs buckling as she leaned against the prop stand. She patted her chest, watching Kitahara Shin remove his mask, her eyes filled with awe: "Kitahara-san—that's terrifying!"
Behind the monitor.
The elderly surgical professor in charge of medical guidance was taking off his reading glasses and wiping them repeatedly with a soft cloth, muttering to himself.
"Something's not right—"
The old professor stared at the replay, pointed at Kitahara Shin's hand holding the knife on the screen, and said to the director beside him, "Director, tell me honestly, did this actor study medicine before? Or does his family own a clinic?"
Nakajima Kō shook his head and laughed, "No, as far as I know, he didn't even finish university; he's a self-taught actor."
"impossible."
The old professor said decisively, "Look at the backhand motion after the incision, and the knot-tying technique. This requires muscle memory to perform. Without the accumulation of thousands of surgeries, you absolutely cannot develop this kind of stability."
Nakajima looked thoughtfully at the cold-eyed man on the screen.
He turned his head and looked at the script in his hand, which was already worn out from being read so many times.
Actually, when casting, the production team recommended many popular idols for the role of "Masaya Kashiwagi".
Most of them are handsome and popular, but Nakajima always felt that something was missing.
Those people playing doctors are just playing "handsome guys in white coats".
And Kitahara Shin—
He was portraying the profession of "doctor" itself.
"I heard that director Takeshi Kitano boasted at a dinner party that this guy is a 'monster'."
Nakae Koichi muttered to himself, "At the time, I thought the old man was just drunk and praising a newcomer. Now it seems—"
This monster is even more terrifying than I imagined.
In this industry, most young actors are desperately looking for shortcuts. As long as their expressions are on point, their lines flow smoothly, and they can squeeze out tears during crying scenes, they're considered qualified.
Some people couldn't even memorize their lines properly, relying entirely on post-production editing.
Someone like Kitahara Shin, who practices surgical movements to a professional level just for a few transitional shots, is simply a fool with extremely low cost-effectiveness.
But it is precisely these kinds of fools who often go the furthest.
Nakae Kou closed the script, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
"Looks like I can bring up the 'White Tower' project when I meet with the production team in the future."
The filming schedule for "Under One Roof" was very tight, but for Shin Kitahara, this was only half of his busy schedule.
Two o'clock in the afternoon.
A black Toyota van pulled up in front of the film set.
Kitahara Shin took off his white coat, changed back into his casual clothes, and climbed into the back seat.
As soon as he got on the bus, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.
"Are you alright?"
As the manager started the car, he glanced at his artist through the rearview mirror.
Kitahara Shin's face was somewhat pale, with a faint bluish tinge under his eyes.
This is the result of working non-stop for three days.
Filming dramas during the day, shooting GG at night, and still having to squeeze in time to record radio programs.
"He won't die."
Kitahara Shin adjusted his posture, took out a bottle of water from his bag and took a swig. "As long as I don't have to run a marathon right now."
"You—"
Ota sighed and turned the steering wheel onto the main road: "It's good to work hard, but don't push yourself too hard. The same goes for Akina, take it easy a bit."
"Huh?" Kitahara Shin opened one eye. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is—"
Da Tian clicked his tongue, his tone carrying a hint of teasing that only men understand: "You have to film movies and deal with women, yet you can still maintain this level of work performance. If those gossip magazines knew about your stamina and energy, they could probably write a book called 'The Legend of the Unparalleled Macho Man.'"
"
Kitahara Shin rolled his eyes and closed them again.
"Let's drive."
Half an hour later.
The old school building of a private girls' high school in the suburbs of Tokyo.
-
This is the filming location for the TV series "The Complete Story of a Woman's Bare Face".
This drama is a dual-female lead production created by Fuji Television to replace the youth drama slot, starring Akina Nakamori and Narumi Yasuda.
It tells the story of two women with very different personalities who heal and grow together in their shared life.
Shin Kitahara plays a key supporting role—both a male intruder and a catalyst for the relationship between the two.
As soon as the car came to a stop, Kitahara Shin heard the director shout "Action!"
He got out of the car, but instead of rushing to put on makeup, he stood in the shadows by the sidelines and watched quietly.
On the playground.
Akina Nakamori, dressed in a somewhat exaggerated and flamboyant dance dress, was running while holding hands with Narumi Yasuda.
It was a scene from the drama, where the free-spirited Yumiko (Akina Nakamori) was pulling the introverted Kanna (Naremi Yasuda) away from a boring banquet.
"Run! Kanna! We're going to the ends of the earth!"
Akina's voice is very penetrating, with a unique husky quality and vitality.
She was smiling.
That smile wasn't the idol-style business smile, but a wild, unrestrained laugh that completely unleashed his true nature.
Her hair was tousled by the wind, her skirt fluttered in the sunlight, and she looked like a burning flame.
Kitahara Shin squinted.
Having grown accustomed to seeing her as a diva on stage or as a clumsy, timid woman in private, this explosive acting performance surprised him somewhat.
"Card!"
The director shouted, "Great! This take has a lot of tension!"
Akina Nakamori stopped and gasped for breath, her hands supporting her knees.
Just as she straightened up to wipe her sweat, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure standing under the tree out of the corner of her eye.
Her eyes lit up instantly.
As if injected with some kind of stimulant, his back, which had been slightly hunched from running, straightened up instantly.
She brushed her sweat-dampened bangs aside, turned to Yasuda Narumi, and said, "Narumi-chan! I think that look you gave when you turned around just now could have been a little sharper! Shall we try another take?"
"?"
Yasuda Narumi paused for a moment. Hadn't that already happened?
But seeing Akina's sudden surge of fighting spirit, she could only nod helplessly: "Okay, fine."
In the next ten minutes.
Kitahara Shin watched as Akina, like a warrior on steroids, dragged Yasuda Narumi around the track twice more, each time acting with more fervor than the last, her emotions so intense that even the director was stunned.
This woman—
Is it a peacock spreading its tail feathers?
Kitahara Shin shook his head, somewhat amused.
Finally, the director, satisfied, called it a wrap.
Akina, like a victorious general, took the towel handed to her by her assistant, wiped her sweat, and walked towards Kitahara Shin.
"How is it?"
She walked up to Kitahara Shin, tilted her head back, and her eyes screamed, "Praise me! Praise me!" "Was that scene alright? Were you surprised by my outburst?"
Kitahara Shin looked at her flushed face and the glistening beads of sweat on her forehead.
"It's really good."
He spoke frankly, "It's much better than I expected. Especially the way he pulled the person along, it was very powerful. It seems he really put in the effort."
"Hmph."
Akina proudly raised her chin, like a smug kitten: "Of course. I specifically hired a teacher for guidance. And I also watched a lot of foreign films to study how that 'free and unrestrained' feeling is portrayed."
At this point, she suddenly seemed to remember something, and the smugness on her face faded, replaced by a concerned expression: "But—are you really okay?"
She looked Kitahara Shin up and down, her brows furrowing slightly: "I heard you were filming 'Under One Roof' until the early hours of the morning yesterday? And this morning you also filmed that... McDonald's guy?"
"Um."
Kitahara Shin nodded. "The Yakuza Burger collaboration is a no-go. They made me wear Sanada Kyoji's suit to eat a burger, supposedly to show that even a yakuza boss couldn't resist its deliciousness. Only people like them could come up with such a cheesy idea."
"puff."
Akina couldn't help but chuckle, then quickly straightened her face: "Stop being silly. You look really bad. Why are you working so hard? What if you ruin your health?"
'
"fine."
Kitahara Shin shrugged. "Anyway, I won't die."
"Ptooey! Ptooey! Ptooey!"
Akina immediately reached out to cover his mouth, but then felt the gesture was too intimate, so her hand froze in mid-air. In the end, she just glared at him angrily: "What kind of unlucky things are you saying! What 'die' stuff! Don't you dare say those words again!"
She glanced at the busy staff around her and said in a low voice, "After you finish filming your scenes, remember to come to my tent during your break. — I made you a bento box."
Kitahara Shin paused for a moment.
convenient?
The painful experiences from the past flashed through my mind instantly.
Good sister.
So you know I'm tired and want to send me on my way, right?
"that----"
Kitahara Nobutsuyoshi wanted to find an excuse to decline, such as "I've already eaten" or "I'm on a diet."
But Akina seemed to have anticipated his prediction.
"Don't say you won't eat!"
She brandished her fist menacingly, but a hint of nervousness and anticipation lurked in her eyes: "This time—this time it's absolutely different! If you don't come, I'll cut all your scenes!"
After saying that, she turned and ran away, leaving Kitahara Shin alone, bewildered in the wind.
The subsequent filming went surprisingly smoothly—if you disregard those few minor incidents.
The filming location was chosen to be the rooftop of the old school building.
As the sun sets, the golden-red afterglow spills onto the rusty wire mesh, giving the whole scene a film-like texture.
As the crew adjusted the reflectors, they couldn't help but glance at Kitahara Shin, who was reading his script by the railing. Whispers spread from the corner: "I heard Kitahara-san just came from the set of 'Under One Roof'?"
"Yes, it seems they filmed all night long over there, and I heard they only slept for less than two hours in total."
"Really? But look at his face—his skin, his eyes, he looks more energetic than me even after sleeping for ten hours!"
"Is this the body structure of the legendary 'Ratings King'? It's a monster!"
No wonder they made such a fuss.
Generally speaking, actors who are filming multiple projects at once will inevitably show signs of fatigue on their faces. Dark circles under their eyes, puffy cheeks, and bloodshot eyes due to lack of sleep are all problems that makeup artists find most troublesome.
But Kitahara Shin is an exception.
He reached into his shirt pocket and gently stroked the purple amulet—the gentian flower amulet that Rie Miyazawa had given him.
[System Notification: Equipment Effect Triggered]
[Passive Skill - Mirror Image]: The holder's physical condition will be forcibly locked in "optimal on-camera condition". No matter how tired you are, you will never have dark circles, puffiness, or unfocused eyes in front of the camera. Even if you've stayed up for three nights in a row, as long as you shout "Action", you will be the most energetic person in the room.
With the blessing of this mysterious power, Kitahara Shin looked as if he had a built-in soft-focus filter.
The white shirt billowed in the wind, revealing the sharp lines of her profile. Her eyes, hidden behind her glasses, were as clear as a deep pool, showing no trace of having worked continuously for 48 hours.
"Alright! All departments, prepare!"
The director's command interrupted the surrounding chatter.
This scene serves as a memory of "Yumiko (Akina)'s" past.
The two leaned against the railing, drinking soda and talking about their dreams for the future.
Action!
'
The camera zooms in.
Kitahara Shin leaned lazily against the railing, his long, slender fingers holding a can of chilled cola, condensation still clinging to his fingertips. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Akina beside him, a gentle smile playing on his lips.
"You said you want to go to New York?"
His delivery of lines was very solid.
His voice had a perfect magnetism, and his eyes were focused and affectionate, as if at this moment, his whole world consisted only of the girl in front of him.
Akina, who was being watched by those "perfect" eyes, ran into trouble.
According to the script, she was supposed to smile and say, "Yes, there is freedom there."
But looking at Kitahara Shin's flawless face in the sunset, and those deep eyes that seemed to draw you in, her mind suddenly went blank for a moment.
That's just too much—a foul!
Everyone was exhausted, so why was he still so handsome?
"Pfft."
Because of excessive nervousness and some inexplicable shyness, she suddenly burst into laughter.
"Card!"
The director, exasperated, called for a stop. "Nakamori-san, there's no need for laughter here. It's a very artistic and melancholic atmosphere."
"I'm so sorry!"
Akina snapped out of her daze, quickly bowed and apologized, her face turning as red as a tomato.
the second time.
"Action!"
"You said you want to go to New York?"
Kitahara Shin read the lines again, his intonation perfectly matching the last time, as precise as a finely tuned instrument.
Akina looked at him.
Just as he was about to speak, Kitahara Shin habitually pushed up his glasses.
Sunlight refracted on the lenses, flashing a beam of light. The movement was so composed, so elegant, without a trace of fatigue, but rather carried a chilling, oppressive force.
"puff----"
She couldn't help herself and burst out laughing, covering her mouth.
"Card!"
"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" Akina clasped her hands together, wishing she could disappear into a crack in the ground.
Although the staff around him dared not speak, their eyes revealed a knowing smile—after all, it was normal to be unable to keep up with Kitahara Shin's performance when he was in top form.
Kitahara Shin sighed softly.
He put down his cola, walked over, and under the guise of adjusting Akina's collar, said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Why do you always turn out like this when you're acting opposite me?"
Akina glared at him. "It's all because—you acted too well! So well it was almost frightening!"
"Scary?" Kitahara Shin raised an eyebrow.
"It's terrifying!"
Akina complained in a low voice, seemingly quite self-righteous: "Everyone knows you're filming multiple projects at once, you should be exhausted. But you just stand there, without even dark circles under your eyes, your lines are so steady, and your eyes are so bright—everyone calls you the 'zero-error machine' in private! Acting with you is so stressful! Be a little more human, relax a bit!"
Hearing this complaint, which sounded like both an accusation and a compliment, Kitahara Shin paused for a moment, then shook his head helplessly.
"Alright."
"Then I'll act a little 'bad' to match your performance."
"snort!"
In the subsequent filming, Kitahara Shin deliberately toned down that sharp, overt sense of perfection.
He slowed his speech, deliberately adding a touch of languor and nonchalance to his eyes, giving Akina more time to breathe and react.
Finally, on the third attempt...
"Yes, there is freedom there."
Akina looked at him and gave him a smile that was a mixture of longing and reluctance.
"Okay! Cut! This take is approved!"
The director's satisfied voice rang out, "That's a wrap! Great job everyone!"
The audience erupted in applause.
Many staff members were packing up the equipment while marveling, "Kitahara-san is so steady—not only is he in great form himself, but he can also get his co-stars into character."
"Yes, you deliberately slowed down the pace just now, didn't you? That was so gentle."
Kitahara Shin stood in the crowd, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.
Ten minutes later.
Inside Akina's private rest tent.
Kitahara Shin sat in a folding chair, looking at the lunchbox wrapped in pink cloth on the table in front of him.
There is a sense of tragic grandeur, as if awaiting judgment.
"Open it and take a look."
Akina sat opposite him, her hands supporting her chin, her eyes sparkling as she stared at him.
Kitahara Shin took a deep breath, untied the cloth bag, and opened the lid.
"
The culinary disaster I had envisioned did not materialize.
The lunchbox was neatly arranged with golden tamagoyaki, perfectly fried salmon, bright green broccoli, and rice balls shaped into triangles.
Although the plating wasn't as refined as that of a high-end restaurant, and the tamagoyaki even had slightly burnt edges and the rice balls weren't quite the same size.
But this is a very normal, even appetizing, home-style bento box.
Kitahara Shin looked up, somewhat surprised.
"Did you make this?"
"nonsense!"
Akina pouted in dissatisfaction, "Did I conjure it up myself?"
Kitahara Shin picked up his chopsticks and took out a piece of tamagoyaki.
His past experience told him that even if something looks normal on the outside, it may contain a lethal amount of salt or sugar inside.
He took a small, careful bite.
Tender, slightly sweet, with a subtle savory flavor.
good to eat.
It's really delicious.
Kitahara Shin paused for a moment, then picked up another piece of salmon. The skin was crispy, the flesh tender, and the saltiness just right.
"How is it?"
Akina's voice held a hint of nervousness, "Is it... really bad?"
Kitahara Shin swallowed the food in his mouth, put down his chopsticks, and looked at her seriously: "Did you break the sugar jar at home?"
"Huh?" Akina exclaimed in surprise, "Is it too sweet? I only put in one spoonful—"
"No."
Kitahara Shin chuckled, pointing to the half-eaten rice ball: "I mean, it's almost too delicious. It's hardly like something Nakamori Akina would make, the one who only knows how to burn cookies."
Akina paused for two seconds before realizing that this was a compliment.
"Hate!"
She grabbed a cushion and threw it at him, but her face lit up with a big smile. "I can improve, you know! I wasted three boxes of eggs trying to learn how to make this tamagoyaki!"
Kitahara Shin caught the pillow and, while eating, casually asked, "How long did it take to make this bento?"
"It hasn't been that long."
Akina looked away, casually playing with her fingers. "Probably—about an hour. Just something quick and easy."
Kitahara Shin paused his chewing motion for a moment.
His gaze fell on Akina's left hand, which she was trying to hide behind her back.
On that fair index and middle fingers, there were two small but still noticeable flesh-colored bandages.
Judging from the location and how it was applied, it must have been injured while cutting vegetables.
An hour?
Given her clumsiness, to clean all those ingredients so thoroughly, then fry the fish, roll the omelet, and make the rice balls—
It will take at least three hours.
In other words, she probably didn't get much sleep after finishing work early this morning and spent the rest of the time tinkering with these things in the kitchen.
Kitahara Shin looked at the two band-aids, and the hardest part of his heart felt as if it had been gently scratched by a feather.
It's a little itchy.
"One hour."
Kitahara Shin didn't expose her, but simply picked up the last piece of tamagoyaki and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly and earnestly: "It seems your culinary talent has finally awakened. If you ever lose your job, you should be able to open a bento shop and not starve."
"Who wants to be unemployed!"
Akina rolled her eyes at him, but her big eyes remained fixed on the empty lunchbox, and she couldn't suppress the corners of her mouth from her mouth.
"Um—" she asked softly, "Really—you ate it all?"
"Um"
total.
Kitahara Shin showed her the empty lunchbox; not a single grain of rice was left. "It tasted good. Thank you for your hospitality."
O
Akina looked at the clean lunchbox, and her eyes slowly became bright and moist.
It's like a child who got a perfect score on a test and was waiting for praise, finally receiving the reward they wanted most.
"That's good----"
She lowered her head and muttered something under her breath, her voice filled with undisguised joy: "Next time—next time I'll make you fried pork cutlets."
Looking at her, Kitahara Shin suddenly felt that his fatigue from the day had dissipated considerably.
It works much better than those so-called energy drinks.
"it is good."
His eyes softened: "I'll wait."