RBCT Chapter 242 The Train to the Snow Country
Chapter 242 The Train to the Snow Country
Chapter 242 The Train to the Snow Country
Faced with this terrifying situation, Kitahara Shin quickly suppressed the extremely rare panic in his heart and displayed his top-notch mental fortitude.
Instead of backing down, he calmly took off his suit jacket and hung it on the coat rack, then walked straight to the bar and skillfully began to work with the hand-drip coffee equipment.
"Try it, it's freshly delivered Mandheling." Kitahara Shin walked over with two steaming cups of coffee and sat down on the single sofa opposite the two of them.
He glanced casually at the candid photo in the newspaper, his tone extremely calm: "The paparazzi had a pretty clever angle. I did have dinner with Miho Nakayama last night and we talked about the script for 'Love Letter.' Her understanding of the character Hiroko Watanabe was very interesting."
Calm and composed, downplaying it.
Rie had initially been putting on a check-up act, but seeing his open and honest demeanor, much of her accusatory energy immediately dissipated.
"Who cares who you eat Japanese food with?" Rie smugly picked up her coffee, took a sip, turned her face away, and snorted. "I'm just worried that other women will affect your performance and cause you to underperform on set. You're carrying the weight of a 5 billion yen box office hit right now; it would be so embarrassing if you were overshadowed in a supporting role."
Akina smiled slightly to herself.
She was actually used to the swarms of women around this man, and she hadn't come with Rie today to confront him.
She took a delicate paper bag from her bag and handed it to Kitahara Shin.
"It's very cold in Hokkaido right now." Akina's voice was soft and gentle, her eyes full of undisguised concern. "Film crews are prone to frostbite when shooting on location. This is a cashmere scarf I knitted myself a while ago; take it with you."
Kitahara Shin reached out and took the extremely soft, dark purple scarf.
The moment his fingertips touched the cashmere, a crisp system notification sounded in his mind.
[Ding! Obtained a special bond item: Akina's Warm Winter Scarf]
[Quality: Epic (Purple)]
[Effect: Upon wearing, it automatically grants the "Concentration" state, continuously dispelling mental fatigue and negative emotions. It also activates the passive aura [Gentle Breeze]—granting the wearer an inherently approachable and soothing aura, easily calming the anxiety and defensiveness of those around them, and significantly enhancing the naturalness of daily interactions and nuanced emotional scenes.]
Kitahara Shin looked at the scarf in his hand, a warmth spreading through him. He casually wrapped it around his neck, smiled at Akina, and said, "It's very warm, thank you."
Rie sat to the side, looking at the finely stitched scarf around Kitahara Shin's neck. The usually sharp-tongued girl bit her lip slightly, looking awkward and hesitant.
Akina keenly sensed the subtle shift in the atmosphere. She thoughtfully stood up and naturally straightened Kitahara Shin's coat collar: "Alright, the gift's been delivered. I should head to the recording studio now. Shin-kun, I'll be waiting for you."
After saying that, she winked gently at Rie, turned and left the office, leaving the two of them alone.
Once the door closed, only Kitahara Shin and Miyazawa Rie remained in the office.
Rie held the coffee cup in her hand and hesitated for a while before finally standing up somewhat awkwardly and walking over to Kitahara Shin.
"I—I was in a rush to leave today and didn't bring you anything." She lowered her head, lightly kicking the carpet with her toes, her voice barely audible. "Besides, I'm not as skillful as Akina-nee, I can't knit scarves—"
Kitahara Shin saw her unusually frustrated expression, a slight smile playing on his lips, and was about to say a few words of comfort.
The next second, Rie suddenly stood on tiptoe, hooked her arms around his neck, and planted a heavy kiss on his lips.
"But I can give you this! Consider it a lucky charm to wish you a successful start to your new film!"
Instantly separate.
Rie's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and even the tips of her ears turned bright red.
She didn't even dare to look Kitahara Shin in the eye. She hurriedly grabbed her trench coat from the coffee table and, like a frightened deer, left with the words "You just focus on filming" before fleeing in panic.
Looking at the mahogany door that had been hastily closed, Kitahara Shin couldn't help but raise his hand to touch his lips, which still retained a warm, soft touch, and chuckled to himself.
This girl is getting more and more interesting.
As Kitahara Shin leaned back on the sofa, he recalled how, before the two of them completely crossed that line and had a real relationship, Rie was practically a fearless little devil in front of him.
She's usually disrespectful and flirtatious, incredibly bold, a rebellious girl who wants to conquer adults.
But who could have imagined that after solidifying this most intimate relationship, this brilliant young girl, who shone brightly in front of the camera, would shed all her pretense and arrogance in private, revealing the shyness and naivety unique to a young girl in love, filled with uncertainty and fear.
Before sleep, she is unrestrained and exuberant; after sleep, she transforms into cautious and innocent.
This striking contrast between genuine cuteness and naivety is undeniably captivating.
Kitahara Shin smiled and shook his head, then got up and picked up the script from his desk.
This delicate balance between close female friends allowed him to relax his tense nerves after experiencing fierce business battles and high-pressure auditions.
The next morning, in the VIP waiting room of Haneda Airport.
The cast and crew of "Love Letter" gathered here. Miho Nakayama, wearing sunglasses and a mask, sat on the sofa in the corner, nervously twisting the hem of her coat.
Of course she saw the newspapers that were everywhere yesterday. She was both ashamed and anxious, afraid that Kitahara Shin would mistakenly think that she had deliberately hired paparazzi to take pictures of her and was using the title of "5 billion yen movie star" to promote herself.
Just as she was lost in thought and feeling uneasy, several extremely faint lights suddenly flashed outside the waiting room.
The paparazzi chased them all the way to the airport.
Miho Nakayama's heart tightened, and just as she was about to duck to avoid it, a tall figure naturally blocked her way.
Kitahara Shin was wearing a black overcoat and a purple cashmere scarf around his neck. He skillfully turned to the side, using his broad back to block the paparazzi's cameras outside the window.
"Let's go, it's time to board." Kitahara Shin glanced down at her and quickened his pace.
After turning the corner and completely shaking off the paparazzi, Kitahara Shin looked at her tense shoulders and spoke gently, "Didn't sleep well? Worried about what was in the newspapers yesterday?"
Touched on her secret, Miho Nakayama bit her lip and nodded somewhat hesitantly.
"Don't take it to heart." Kitahara Shin chuckled lightly, his tone as calm as if he were talking about the weather. "As a public figure, being watched is normal. I'm often in these kinds of gossip news, and I've never seen anyone produce any solid evidence. Just focus on filming and ignore those boring newspapers."
Seeing Kitahara Shin's calm and composed reaction, Nakayama Miho's heart, which had been hanging in mid-air, instantly settled back into her stomach.
That sense of security, as if this man would hold up the sky even if it collapsed, instantly soothed her anxiety.
In the afternoon, the film crew arrived in Otaru, Hokkaido.
As soon as we stepped out of the station, a biting wind carrying a flurry of snow swept over us. A vintage glass workshop, a snow-covered slope, and a silent snow-capped mountain in the distance slowly unfolded before us.
Director Shunji Iwai, wading through ankle-deep snow, was as excited as a child who had just received a new toy, frantically gesturing with the viewfinder.
Kitahara Shin, wrapped in a coat, stood quietly in the snow.
The passive aura of the equipment, "Like a Gentle Breeze," operated silently. His eyes quickly became deep and thoughtful, gradually revealing a complexion of deep affection and helplessness, and he began to enter the state of "Autumn Leaves in Full Bloom."
"Everyone!" Shunji Iwai ran back to the center of the crowd, his face red from the cold, but his eyes burning with fervor. "The weather forecast says this is the heaviest snowfall Otaru has seen this year! The thickness and texture of the snow on the mountains are simply perfect!"
He looked at Kitahara Shin and Nakayama Miho: "Movies aren't shot chronologically! We have to capture this once-in-a-lifetime snow scene. Tomorrow morning, head straight to the snow mountain! Let's shoot the finale first! The pivotal scene where Hiroko shouts at the dead Fujii Itsuki!"
These words caused a stir among the crew.
Should they start with the most emotionally charged and classic ending of the entire film? Miho Nakayama took a deep breath, her palms sweating profusely. This kind of scene, which demands a powerful emotional outburst, would be a hollow, lifeless wail if not properly prepared.
Kitahara Shin looked at her, his gaze steady. He knew very well that his task was to help her make a perfect "emotional dive," to forcefully press her into that despair and relief of separation and death.
That evening, the film crew held a script reading session at the hotel.
Just as everyone was nervously rehearsing their lines, Kitahara Shin suddenly tapped on the table.
"Director Iwai," Kitahara Shin said, pointing to the open script, "I plan to add a Kansai dialect to the dialogue for the character Akiba Shigeru."
Shunji Iwai paused for a moment, then a very obvious look of surprise flashed in his eyes.
Kansai dialect! The character of Shigeru Akiba is designed as a rough-around-the-edges but sincere glass craftsman. The down-to-earth, humorous yet fiercely protective tone of the Kansai dialect is practically the soul of this character. Moreover, this rugged, relatable personality perfectly complements the ethereal, unattainable ideal woman who exists only in memories.
But he didn't dare mention it at all when writing the script. After all, it was already a pleasant surprise to be able to invite this big shot who had a box office legend with 5 billion yuan to play the male supporting role. How could he dare to push his luck and ask him to practice his dialect?
"Mr. Kitahara, you're willing to change your accent?" Shunji Iwai was overjoyed.
"It's just what the role requires."
Kitahara Shin switched his voice very naturally, reciting a line from the script in a native Kansai accent, characterized by its languid and casual tone.
The tone was perfectly controlled, without any of the awkwardness of forcibly imitating a dialect.
Seeing the somewhat surprised looks on everyone's faces, Kitahara Shin smiled casually and explained, "I spent some time in Kyoto when we were filming 'Yakuza's Wife.' At first, many of the veteran Kansai veterans on the set were a bit exclusive, but after we got to know each other, they would drag me out for drinks every day. This authentic Kansai accent was something I picked up from those old men at the drinking table back then. It's perfect for Akiha."
The atmosphere in the conference room immediately relaxed considerably, but the way everyone looked at Kitahara Shin now held a genuine respect.
The assistant director nodded silently, completely convinced.
This is what a truly top-tier actor is like. He has absolutely no airs of a "5 billion dollar tycoon." For a supporting role, he proactively delved into the character's background and even naturally drew upon his past life experiences to flesh out the role. This level of professionalism is truly admirable.
"Excellent!" Shunji Iwai rubbed his hands together, his excitement barely concealed. "This down-to-earth, relatable Shigeru Akiba perfectly fills the gaps in the script. Mr. Kitahara, your understanding has completely captured the essence of this character!"
Kitahara Shin nodded slightly, said nothing more, picked up his pen, and continued to mark the script.
The only sound in the meeting room was the rustling of papers turning. Outside the window, in Otaru, the snow fell even more heavily, and the wind carried fine snowflakes that gently pattered against the glass, making the room's lights appear exceptionally tranquil.
After the script reading session, the crew members gradually dispersed.
The nights in Hokkaido are eerily quiet, with only the tireless patter of snow falling outside the window. The old hotel's wooden corridors creak slightly underfoot.
Miho Nakayama lay on the tatami mat, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.
Tomorrow morning we'll be going up the snow mountain to film the most emotionally charged and classic scene in the entire film—the finale—where Hiroko Watanabe shouts out the words that have been etched in her heart for ten years, "How are you? I'm fine," to the vast snow-capped mountains.
This was not only the climax of the script, but also the ultimate test of her acting skills. Whenever Miho Nakayama closed her eyes, her mind was filled with scenes from the script. Tension, anxiety, and an indescribable sense of oppression weighed heavily on her chest, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.
I decided not to sleep at all.
Miho Nakayama put on a heavy, long down jacket, gently pushed open the door, and walked into the hotel corridor.
A window at the end of the corridor was ajar, letting in a biting wind carrying fine snowflakes that instantly sobered her up. She stood by the window, gazing at the silent snowscape bathed in the dim yellow light of the streetlights, trying to calm her turbulent emotions.
Come.
After standing there for a while, she subconsciously took two steps down the corridor to the other end.
Just after turning the corner, she suddenly stopped in her tracks.
Not far away, in the courtyard corridor, a tall figure stood with his back to her. Kitahara Shin had a dark purple scarf around his neck and was holding a cell phone, seemingly talking to someone.
The moonlight in Otaru was pale and cold, casting a slanted glow on the man, outlining his features with a gentleness rarely seen in his daily life.
Miho Nakayama stood in the shadows, holding her breath.
She couldn't hear what Kitahara Shin was saying, but she could clearly hear his tone—a tone she had never heard before, extremely gentle, even with a hint of doting whisper.
As if sensing something, Kitahara Shin slightly turned his body, and the moonlight just illuminated his profile.
In that instant, Miho Nakayama's heart felt as if it had been violently struck by something.
That look in his eyes.
Clear and affectionate, it seemed to contain the tenderness of the whole world, and even the snow that never melts could be instantly melted by such eyes.
Miho Nakayama stared blankly at the scene, her mind involuntarily drifting back to the gossip news she had seen in Tokyo recently, as well as the unspoken rumors within the industry.
Akina Nakamori, Nanako Matsushima, Rie Miyazawa, Izumi Sakai————
Each of these four names represents a top-tier goddess capable of driving all of Japan and even Asia wild. Rumors suggest that they all have intricate and complex relationships with the man before them.
Looking at Kitahara Shin, gentle and tender under the moonlight, Nakayama Miho suddenly had an absurd yet perfectly reasonable thought: if such a man could win the favor of so many outstanding women, it seemed to be a perfectly normal thing.
The most outstanding individuals are always surrounded by equally dazzling adornments.
only----
Miho Nakayama lowered her head and glanced at her fingers on the windowsill, a bittersweet and complex resentment quietly spreading through her heart.
She knew her current identity: an actress desperately needing a career change, dependent on the vast network of Kitahara Agency. And Kitahara Shin was the tycoon who controlled everything.
Time has passed, and the two are now worlds apart in status. Even if they had a brief encounter before, and even if rumors of a romance surfaced last night, she knows very well that given her current situation and awkward position, it is almost impossible for her to have any substantial, ambiguous relationship with this man again.
The ambition that once drove me to recommend myself and hitch a ride at the banquet inexplicably transformed into a faint, helpless regret at this moment.
Just as Miho Nakayama was immersed in this delicate self-pity and melancholy, her thoughts suddenly seemed to travel through time and overlap with a figure in the script.
That's Hiroko Watanabe.
That woman in Kobe, looking at a photo of her ex-boyfriend Fujii Itsuki from ten years ago, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and determination. Hiroko knew perfectly well that he had been dead for ten years, knew perfectly well that the letter sent to Otaru would never be answered, but because of the unbearable regret and resentment in her heart, she still chose to deceive herself and follow that ethereal phantom.
Hiroko's feelings were exactly the magnified version of the faint regret she felt at this moment when she looked at the unattainable man in front of her.
It is a yearning for beautiful things, a resentment at what is destined to be missed, and a deep longing for those who cannot be touched.
The moment she realized this, Miho Nakayama felt the hairs on her entire body stand on end!
The boulder that had been pressing on her chest all night shattered with a crash. The kind of separation from life and death that had once left her helpless, the kind of "persistence and relief" that had felt so elusive to her, found its perfect real-world resolution at this moment through her secret feelings for Kitahara Shin!
She stood still, completely immersed in this sudden and extremely precise state of being in the role.
After a while, Kitahara Shin seemed to have ended the call. He put away his cell phone, turned around to walk back, and looked up to see Nakayama Miho standing in the shadows with an inscrutable expression.
"Um?
Kitahara Shin paused for a moment, then his gentle demeanor from the phone call vanished, replaced by his usual calm and warmth. He walked over, looked at Nakayama Miho, and asked with a smile, "It's so late, why aren't you asleep yet? We're climbing the snow mountain early tomorrow morning."
Miho Nakayama raised her head.
Under the moonlight, the man's eyes remained cold, but deep within them lay a chilling persistence and clarity. Looking at that face, she seemed to see Fujii Itsuki, who had been sleeping in the snow-capped mountains for ten years.
"Kitahara-kun----"
Miho Nakayama spoke, her voice a little hoarse, but her tone unusually firm: "May I... talk to you about the play a little?"
She took a deep breath, looked into Kitahara Shin's eyes, and said softly, "I feel great right now, very, very good."
She no longer needed to go back and prepare her emotions. Now, she is Hiroko Watanabe.
Kitahara Shin nodded slightly, a hint of appreciation flashing in his eyes: "Alright, let's talk then."