At nine in the morning, in Group B's indoor studio.
The study of the Hostage Prince's Residence.
This scene was a confrontation between Chu Yan and Lin Zhaonan, picking up after Shuntian Firm was shut down.
Lin Zhaonan had discovered clues in the seized account books, vaguely sensing that this merchant firm had financial transactions with the Zhennan Prince's Residence.
He rushed to the Hostage Prince's Residence in the dead of night, hoping to extract some clues from Chu Yan.
The clapperboard snapped.
“Action!”
Chu Yan sat behind the desk.
Holding a writing brush in his hand, he was casually doodling on a sheet of Xuan paper.
He was drawing a crooked, lopsided turtle.
Hurried footsteps approached.
The next second, the study door was flung open.
Lin Zhaonan strode across the threshold.
He wore a crimson official robe, his face flushed with fury.
This time, Zhang Yu didn't follow the script's blocking at all.
He charged straight to the desk and snatched a longsword hanging on the study wall.
Shring—
The tip of the sword pointed directly at Chu Yan's face.
Less than a foot away.
At this moment, Zhang Yu poured all the frustration of seeing the trending searches that morning, the regret of losing the role, and his uncontrollable jealousy into Lin Zhaonan's character.
He wanted to use this genuine rage to shatter the calm and indifferent facade on Jiang Yue's face.
“Chu Yan!”
Lin Zhaonan barked.
“I've investigated Shuntian Firm's ledgers!”
“One hundred thousand taels of silver flow to the Southern Realm every year!”
“You certainly lead a leisurely life for a hostage prince!”
The atmosphere of the entire set instantly tensed up.
Several onlookers and actors standing nearby were stunned.
Zhang Yu's emotion was incredibly intense.
The way he ground his teeth didn't look like acting at all.
Behind the monitor.
Xu Pingqiu frowned, then slowly relaxed his brow.
His hand was already resting on the walkie-talkie, but he didn't call cut.
The sword tip hovered right before his eyes, gleaming coldly.
Chu Yan didn't even blink.
He unhurriedly set down his writing brush. His gaze traveled slowly up the silver-white blade, eventually landing on Lin Zhaonan's flushed, blood-congested face.
That look was like watching a fool desperate to prove himself.
Chu Yan spoke, “Lord Lin.”
His tone was airy, carrying a deep sense of perfunctoriness and laziness.
He raised his left hand, using only his index and middle fingers to gently pinch the blade pointing at his face.
Then, slowly, resolutely, and irresistibly, he pushed the blade an inch to the side.
This movement was almost identical to the "pushing the gun barrel aside on the rooftop" scene that had gained popularity online the previous night.
Only this time, there was none of Shen Xu's lofty madness in his eyes.
There was only the numbness of someone deeply mired in the mud.
As if even if the sky collapsed, it wouldn't be worth him lifting his eyes.
“You kicked open my gates in the dead of night.”
“Just to tell me that a merchant firm selling fake wine was shut down?”
Chu Yan released his fingers, casually picked up the wine flask on the desk, and tilted his head back to take a swig.
The clear wine trickled down the corner of his mouth, splashing onto his collar.
“A good shutdown indeed.”
Chu Yan suddenly chuckled, laughing with genuine delight.
“That old bastard Xue Ming still owed me three hundred taels for wine.”
“Now that he's dead, who am I supposed to collect this debt from?”
Chu Yan leaned forward slightly, like a lurking venomous snake, slowly closing the distance between himself and Lin Zhaonan.
“From you?”
“Censor Lin?”
The arm Lin Zhaonan held the sword with was trembling uncontrollably due to excessive muscle tension.
“Cut!”
It was as if Zhang Yu had suddenly been dragged back to reality. The sword in his hand grew heavy, nearly slipping from his grasp and falling to the ground.
He let out a sigh of relief instinctively.
Xu Pingqiu poked his head out from behind the monitor. Instead of looking at Jiang Yue, he stared directly at Zhang Yu.
There was no trace of the reprimand Zhang Yu had anticipated in his tone.
“Zhang Yu, that energy just now was great.”
“Lin Zhaonan should have exactly that kind of fire at this moment.”
Zhang Yu froze in surprise.
Xu Pingqiu pointed at the monitor.
“But your fire is bursting right out.”
“Lin Zhaonan is a censor, a civil official who wields a brush.”
“His fire should be hidden beneath the ice.”
“It shouldn't rely solely on shouting.”
“It's pushed out bit by bit through your eyes and the pacing of your lines.”
Xu Pingqiu rubbed his chin.
“Hold this breath, keep it down in your dantian.”
“Then deliver it through your eyes.”
Zhang Yu's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty.
Xu Pingqiu shifted the topic, a hint of a smile in his voice.
“But we'll keep this take.”
“The spark you two just struck is much more interesting than what was written in the script.”
Zhang Yu froze completely.
He had thought the director would scold him on the spot for altering his blocking without permission.
To his surprise, Xu Pingqiu actually praised him.
But this validation only made him feel even more uncomfortable.
Because he knew better than anyone else.
The only reason this take succeeded wasn't because he had fully understood the character of Lin Zhaonan.
It was because he was jealous of Jiang Yue, jealous to the point of madness.
He had performed beyond his usual limits in this scene, yet it only made his defeat look more pathetic.
This success was, in itself, a form of failure.
Zhang Yu lowered his head, his voice dry.
“Thank you, Director Xu.”
At the same time, in Donghai City.
Inside the Director's Office at Xinghui Entertainment's headquarters.
Wang Jin sat in a spacious leather swivel chair, with a data report newly submitted by the Operations Department spread out before him.
A full five pages, entirely consisting of a post-mortem analysis of 《Manhunt》.
The view count had shattered historical records for web dramas.
The volume of discussion completely crushed the S-tier mega-productions in the same time slot.
Three trending searches hung consecutively, driven entirely by organic buzz.
And almost every viral point inevitably circled back to the same name.
Jiang Yue.
Wang Jin bent his fingers and tapped the desk rhythmically.
Once.
Then again.
A full half-minute passed before he finally spoke in a low voice.
“Have we dug up all of this Jiang Yue's background details?”
The talent coordinator standing before the desk immediately straightened up and reported:
“We have, Mr. Wang.”
“He's a recent computer science graduate from Donghai University, with no background, and isn't signed to any agency.”
“His entry into the 《Manhunt》 crew was also a last-minute rescue.”
The coordinator's expression stiffened slightly as if weighing his words, before finally gritting his teeth to add:
“The actor originally cast... was Zhang Yu.”
Wang Jin's hand tapping the desk stopped abruptly.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes dark, remaining silent for a long time.
This is what they call fate.
Zhang Yu had lost his mind and handed over a cash cow that was about to bear fruit on a silver platter.
“The capital market never cares about illusory sentimentality.”
Wang Jin sneered.
“It only cares about commercial value.”
“An amateur who hasn't taken a single day of acting classes has driven the entire internet crazy with a minor villain role in a web drama.”
“That face, combined with this uncanny affinity with the audience...”
He stopped mid-sentence.
Signing Jiang Yue?
Wang Jin had not only thought about it, but when he first saw the opening page of the report, his mind had already begun drafting the terms of a contract.
But as soon as the thought sprouted, he snuffed it out.
Back when Zhang Yu went on strike in the 《Manhunt》 crew, Xinghui had already had some friction with Jiang Yue.
Now, Zhang Yu was still under his management.
If they really poached Jiang Yue and put the two under the same roof, it would inevitably cause chaos in the company's backyard.
He was a calculating businessman, not a friendly counselor.
He had no time to play referee for the artists under his wing every day.
Furthermore, his current resource pool was already full.
Zhang Yu was currently the company's primary pushed idol, responsible for commercial monetization.
The other was a serious dramatic actress whom Xinghui poured resources into cultivating, aiming for prestigious awards and serving as the company's facade.
His energy had long since reached its limit.
The talent coordinator tentatively stepped closer:
“Mr. Wang, then... should I privately reach out first to test the waters?”
“Before other agencies make their move.”
Rate on N.U.
