All the members of the production team were left utterly stunned. Their program specialized in historical documentaries, and they had devoted countless years to researching and dissecting the rise and fall of China's greatest rulers. Drawing from both official records and unofficial accounts, they interpreted the lives of every legendary emperor with meticulous scholarship and remarkable insight. And yet... Everything they believed they understood had just been overturned.
Professor Haibo swallowed hard, his eyes filled with disbelief. That man... The ordinary man who had always looked worn down by life, stained by hardship, forever rushing from one struggle to the next... Was actually... When he became serious... When he completely immersed himself in the script... When he stepped into the shoes of the young emperor...
The exhaustion carved into his weathered face vanished without a trace. In its place remained only an untamed, rebellious youth whose spirit refused to bow before heaven or earth.
"How... how is this possible? If Shuying portrayed the character like a blazing dragon, carrying the aura of splitting the heavens apart with a single sword... And if that handsome young idol gave us an elegant, carefree, almost poetic version... Then what Ye delivers is..."
Haibo suddenly realized he had no words left because no description felt worthy. It was as though this emperor had truly existed in the present. A flesh-and-blood monarch. Not born as an emperor... But forged into one.
Beside him, Cihai quietly continued. "It's exactly because of that. He makes us believe this emperor once experienced innocent affection. He stumbled, struggled, and grew up just like countless ordinary teenagers. He had doubts. He had fears. He knew confusion."
"But as he gradually climbed toward the pinnacle of power... The dominance buried deep within his soul slowly awakened. An unparalleled genius. Cold and merciless. The kind of ruler who could kill without hesitation. The one true emperor beneath the heavens."
"But... What Ye presents isn't merely that. He reminds us that even after ascending the throne... On quiet nights, when the lamps burned low, and darkness swallowed the palace... The Emperor would still remember those lonely days spent beside his mother."
"And yet... Even during those lonely years... The determination in that young man's eyes had already foretold the brilliance and tragedy of the life he was destined to live."
After Cihai finished speaking, he could only smile bitterly. He had never witnessed a performance like this before. Ye had seamlessly connected the youthful innocence of Ying Zheng with the lonely emperor he would eventually become.
Every emotion...
Every hardship...
Every decision...
Flowed together into one complete life.
It inevitably led everyone to the same question. Why was Yu Shuying so extraordinary?
"Just... how much has Ye been hiding?" Haibo finally broke the silence. Only now did he truly understand, and no wonder Little Shuying possessed such astonishing talent.
At the same time, the production team had completely lost their composure. If Little Shuying embodied elegance beyond compare... Then Ye portrayed a young Ying Zheng who had clawed his way out of a sea of blood.
The arrogance.
The solitude.
The overwhelming majesty.
It all felt detached from the mortal world itself.
The so-called refined temperament and the so-called aristocratic elegance. Compared with the chilling aura Ye radiated... They all became meaningless. And... This was merely one fragment of his incredibly long acting career.
"This is only one scene..." Xuejian murmured quietly. "If this footage had never resurfaced... No one would have known... That someone like him had ever existed."
He fell silent. If he had discovered an actor like Ye back then... He would have done everything in his power to keep him, no matter the cost. Then he suddenly remembered that unforgettable replay. Ye had pointed toward the young Ying Zheng portrayed in the television drama.
His voice had been calm. Cold and absolute.
"You are not even comparable to her..."
Now... Everyone finally understood. He truly possessed the qualifications to utter those words.
Shuying continued watching as that scene lingered stubbornly inside her mind. The "father" she knew best... The man who had lived an ordinary, seemingly insignificant life... Had quietly portrayed the young emperor all by himself.
She could still hear his deliberately aged radio voice. "The era that begins with the sword... will also end beneath the sword."
Gradually, the image of the young Ying Zheng became crystal clear in her mind.
Yet something felt strangely wrong, and she frowned slightly. No... That wasn't all. She also saw the father who constantly chatted with neighbors in the marketplace.
The father who occasionally acted so strangely that people thought he had lost his mind.
The father who secretly spent his own money treating everyone to meals.
The father who stubbornly forced her to study classical literature.
Those... Were also her father.
"Just how much... have you been hiding?" At last, she asked the question.
That single sentence seemed to have arrived years too late. Yet at the same time, it sounded like the timid question of a daughter who had never truly understood the person standing before her.
In the back, Ye heard every single word, yet he said nothing. He merely looked upward. Within those quiet eyes... Was the cinematic story of his entire life. He had spent every ounce of everything he ever possessed... To illuminate this child's future. Even he no longer knew... Just how much of himself remained hidden.
Insect Flying wasn't merely a performance; it felt like a reflection of the lonely years he himself had endured.
The sea of blood.
The endless suffering.
The desolation.
He had walked through all of it.
The appearance of the young emperor proved that deep inside his heart...
Such pride had once existed.
Such dreams had once burned brightly.
Such brilliance had once belonged to him.
But... He buried everything. He hid it all.
On the stage.
Quan slowly stood. He had once been Ye's doctor, and countless times he had asked him... Why insist on experimental medication? Why refuse chemotherapy to ease the pain? Ye had never answered. Not once.
But today... He had to ask. Holding the microphone tightly, Yuan Quan turned toward the audience. "Why did he hide everything? Because... He knew he never knew when death would come. So after leaving the slums... He chose never to let himself shine again! He gave every ray of light... To someone else."
As he reached those final words, Quan quietly removed his reading glasses. He claimed the wind had blown sand into his eyes, but everyone could see the tears slowly falling. He had known this man suffering from brain cancer for years.
Yet even now... He still could not imagine what Yu Ye had endured after the cancer spread throughout his brain. How much agony had he survived? How many experimental drug trials? How many nights balanced between life and death?
Even as a doctor, he did not dare picture the answers. He had never truly believed... That someone could possess such terrifying determination. Simply because... He wanted to be a father.
At that moment, the entire venue fell completely silent. A pin dropping onto the floor would have echoed throughout the hall, but not a single sound could be heard.