Time flew by.
In the blink of an eye, the day arrived to depart for Shanghai.
Late autumn in Shanghai brought a damp, bone-chilling cold, with icy winds cutting right through people's clothes.
Jiang Yue rolled his suitcase behind him as he quickly walked into the hotel booked by the crew of 《The Hidden Sentry》.
He had barely checked in and put down his luggage—without even having time for a sip of warm water—before a stage manager hurriedly dragged him off to a large conference room.
The table read for 《The Hidden Sentry》 had officially begun.
The long conference table was packed on both sides with the main cast and crew.
Director Xu Pingqiu sat in the center seat, with the producer on his left.
To his right sat a middle-aged man in a dark gray wool coat, looking down as he flipped through the script.
He was the two-time Best Actor award winner, Chen Jiaming.
As the other male lead of the drama, Jiang Yue's seat happened to be arranged directly opposite Chen Jiaming.
He pulled out his chair, sat down, and opened his script.
Opposite him, Chen Jiaming casually raised his eyelids and glanced at him.
His gaze didn't linger for long, but as his eyes drifted downward, they happened to land on Jiang Yue's script spread out on the table.
The edges of the script were already frayed from being flipped through so many times.
The inner pages were even more extreme, filled with character logic trees and emotional progression charts drawn in red and black ink, with neatly aligned index tabs sticking out from the sides.
It looked exactly like the review materials of a top-tier high school senior class.
Chen Jiaming silently withdrew his gaze, the scrutiny in his eyes softening slightly.
Having been in the industry for so many years, he had seen far too many young idols who brought seven or eight assistants to the set, whose scripts were cleaner than their faces, and who relied entirely on teleprompters to deliver their lines.
Regardless of whether this Jiang Yue sitting opposite him was a "connected insider" forced in by the investors, just this attitude alone was decent enough.
The table read lasted for two whole days.
The entire process was tedious and extremely high-pressure.
The dialogue in a spy drama carried a massive amount of information, with hidden traps and verbal sparring woven between every line.
Even a slight misplacement of emphasis would completely ruin the emotion of a line.
Yet over those two days, Jiang Yue didn't stumble even once.
He nailed every single one of Zhou Jinnan's pauses, phrasing, and inflections with absolute precision.
Even when a young actor sitting nearby missed a few prepositions due to exhaustion, Jiang Yue was able to use his powerful Vocal Control to seamlessly catch the cue and deliver his own lines, leaving no logical gaps whatsoever.
By the afternoon of the second day, when Chen Jiaming looked at Jiang Yue again, his previous critical attitude had turned into genuine interest.
...
On the morning of the third day, an auspicious date, the crew of 《The Hidden Sentry》 officially held their filming commencement ceremony.
This was also the first time since Jiang Yue entered the industry that he stood in the center of the commencement ceremony as the absolute main lead.
When filming 《Manhunt》 and 《The Grand Game》 previously, he was only responsible for finishing his own scenes and had no opportunity to participate in the main cast and crew's official ceremonies.
On the plaza of the Shanghai Film Park, an altar for incense had already been set up.
On the offering table lay a whole roasted pig and several plates of fresh, glossy fruit.
Right in the center stood a heavy brass incense burner.
“Everyone, come over! Prepare to offer incense!”
The executive director held a megaphone and bellowed at the top of his lungs.
Xu Pingqiu led Chen Jiaming and Jiang Yue, standing in the very front row.
Nearby staff members handed out thick, lit incense sticks, with everyone holding three in their hands.
“First bow to Heaven! Second bow to Earth! Third bow to the deities of the four directions!”
Following the master of ceremonies' drawn-out, high-pitched shout, everyone held their incense and bowed deeply in each of the four cardinal directions.
Jiang Yue blended into the crowd, obediently following along.
This custom originated from the early days of Hong Kong's opera community.
Bowing to the four directions was meant to greet the local deities of all sides, praying for a smooth shoot without any bizarre mishaps.
After bowing, Jiang Yue stepped forward and steadily inserted his incense into the center of the burner.
Nearby, several stagehands were huffing and puffing as they pulled up a massive red banner with gold lettering: “Wishing the Cast and Crew of 《The Hidden Sentry》 a Successful Commencement and Skyrocketing Ratings!”
As the wind blew, the banner was pulled taut.
This was not just a backdrop for taking group photos.
In the minds of the older generation of filmmakers, a red banner could suppress evil spirits and keep the crew safe and sound.
Right after, Xu Pingqiu strode over to the main camera.
An expensive Arri camera was tightly covered with a large piece of red cloth.
Xu Pingqiu, Chen Jiaming, and Jiang Yue each grabbed a corner of the red cloth and pulled upward in unison.
The red cloth slid off, revealing the deep, dark lens.
This was also considered a classic tradition.
In the early days of film, negatives were incredibly delicate. It was said that red could prevent static electricity, which later evolved into the superstitious tradition of "unveiling the red bridal veil."
In the final step of the process, Xu Pingqiu raised his megaphone and began introducing the "heavyweights" of each department in a resonant voice.
He read off names starting from the producer, Shen Donglou, all the way to the director of photography and the martial arts director.
This nominal display of strength was also meant to intimidate all sides. To put it colloquially: it announced that the heavyweights involved in this project were not to be trifled with, and all bystanders should disperse.
After completing a process that was meticulous down to the last detail, Jiang Yue looked at the blue smoke rising from the incense burner, a thought flashing through his mind:
Indeed, the end of science is metaphysics.
As soon as the commencement ceremony ended, the security personnel cleared out the onlookers and the media wielding telephoto lenses and cameras.
Xu Pingqiu took the lead, guiding several of the core actors into a spacious lounge.
With a loud thud, the soundproof door closed, instantly shutting out the sounds of gongs and drums from outside.
The atmospheric pressure inside the room sank accordingly.
“Everyone, please sit down first.”
Xu Pingqiu casually pulled over a folding chair and sat down. “The crew outside is still adjusting the lighting for the sets. We start shooting first thing tomorrow morning. The foundation of our drama relies entirely on the relationships between your characters. Before the first scene begins, you guys should talk things through and find your rhythm.”
Around the long table, five people took their seats.
Jiang Yue sat in the second position on the left.
Directly opposite him was Chen Jiaming, who played the antagonist male lead, the Chief of the Secret Service, “Lu Cheng.”
To his left was Han Song, a veteran actor playing “Fu Xiao,” the Captain of the Secret Service's Second Squad.
To his right were two young actors, Su Binxuan and Chen Yunjie, playing the military intelligence undercover agent “Tang Jingran” and the underground organization undercover agent “Wen Yuchu,” respectively.
These five, including Jiang Yue, were the core figures caught in the vortex of power and belief in 《The Hidden Sentry》.
The background of 《The Hidden Sentry》 was set in 1940 Shanghai, which was fully occupied by the enemy.
The enemy forces propped up a puppet government and established the notorious Secret Service.
Under the banner of saving the nation and its people, this place did the dirty work of arresting and slaughtering patriots.
On the surface, it appeared to be as solid as iron, but in reality, everyone harbored their own hidden motives. It was entirely a bloodthirsty den of monsters that devoured people without leaving even a bone behind.
The core of the entire drama revolved around a top-secret document called the "Siskin Plan."
Once the plan was implemented, all resistance forces in Shanghai would be completely uprooted.
Meanwhile, the male lead played by Jiang Yue, Zhou Jinnan, was an undercover agent sent by the underground organization. He had already been lurking in this den of monsters for three years, with the ultimate goal of obtaining this document and crushing the enemy's plans.
Xu Pingqiu cleared his throat, setting the tone.
“You've all thoroughly digested the script, but the characters on paper have to be brought to life by you.”
“The Secret Service is a pressure cooker. Anyone who enters will be squeezed by this pressure.”
He turned his head and stared at Chen Jiaming. “Lu Cheng, you are the hand that tightens the valve. Even if only a tiny bubble rises in the cooker, you must see it clearly.”
Immediately after, he looked toward Jiang Yue.
“Zhou Jinnan, you are the hottest piece of meat in this cooker. The outer skin must be fried to a glossy, crispy finish, making everyone believe you are thoroughly cooked. But the inner tendon must remain raw and cold.”
He glanced at Han Song again. “Fu Xiao, you are the hottest fire at the bottom of the cooker, wishing for nothing more than to burn right through it so you can climb to the top.”
Finally, Xu Pingqiu's gaze fell upon Su Binxuan and Chen Yunjie.
“The two of you are in the archives room, closest to this valve of power.”
“In this place, what you smell is not the scent of paper and ink, but the choking stench of blood. One is responsible for keeping the ledger of blood, while the other must force themselves to stay clean amidst the bloodstains. This contradiction is the very soil where the two of you take root.”
After delivering this storm of guidance, Xu Pingqiu gave them absolutely no time to digest or ask questions, opening the door and walking straight out.
The director was only responsible for pointing the way.
As for what flavor this group could coax out while locked in the room—whether they would achieve sudden enlightenment or be left completely in the dark—it all depended on their own ability and luck.
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