Chapter 81 | My Acting System Only Gives Me Villain Roles

While Jiang Kaiwen was still passionately discussing with Zhou Qiqi in the group chat, Jiang Yue's phone on the table buzzed, and the name Xu Pingqiu flashed on the screen.

“Director Xu,”

Jiang Yue picked up the call and casually switched it to speakerphone.

On the other end of the line, Xu Pingqiu's voice was filled with laughter. “You kid, not bad. You didn't embarrass me on the variety show.”

“Just good luck,” Jiang Yue replied with his usual humility.

“Cut it out. Luck is part of strength too.”

Xu Pingqiu chuckled a couple of times. Without beating around the bush, he got straight to the point.

“Let me ask you something. What's your schedule looking like for the near future?”

Jiang Yue answered honestly, “It's currently empty.”

“A friend of mine has a kid who just graduated from the Capital Film Academy with a degree in directing, and he has a script in hand.”

Xu Pingqiu said directly, “He saw clips of your acting and really appreciates you. He asked me to reach out and see if you'd be interested in taking on the male lead.”

Jiang Kaiwen's eyes widened as he listened from the side.

The male lead?

Hearing those words was no different from a gong being struck right next to his ear.

Jiang Yue, however, remained very calm. “What kind of script is it?”

“Suspense. I've read the script, and it's quite good.”

Xu Pingqiu gave him a heads-up first. “But the director is a rookie, the investment probably won't be big, and the crew won't be too luxurious. It's up to you. If you're not interested, I'll turn it down for you. If you are, I'll have him send you the script.”

“Thank you, Director Xu.”

Jiang Yue didn't make any absolute promises. “Please have him send the script to my email. I'll read it first.”

“Alright, that's good enough for me.”

Xu Pingqiu hung up the phone, satisfied.

As soon as the call disconnected, Jiang Kaiwen couldn't help but lean in.

“Brother, a male lead! And it was personally recommended by Director Xu.”

Jiang Yue nodded.

He didn't actually care that much about being the lead or not; it wasn't like he hadn't played one before.

What he cared about was whether the script was good. A good character and a good production were his core criteria.

With this in mind, he opened his laptop.

Before long, a new email popped up.

Ding.

The download finished.

Jiang Yue clicked on the attachment. The document was titled 《Prisoner's Game in the Mirror》.

This was an outline and the first three episodes' script for an urban suspense web series estimated to be around thirty episodes.

Without the backing of a major IP, the investment budget felt extremely tight from the project description alone. It was the kind of production where every single penny had to be pinched.

However, the striking quality of the writing quickly captured Jiang Yue's full attention.

He didn't rush to make a judgment. When acting, he could rely on his experience and traits to dissect characters. But the quality of a script, the risks of a project, and the narrative structure were things that couldn't be decided just by reading a few pages of text.

In the past, he only needed to be responsible for his own performance.

Now, things were different.

Yuchuan Media Studio was already officially up and running. Su Qing handled the contracts, Chen Fei managed the media assets, and Jiang Kaiwen ran the administrative errands. Every choice Jiang Yue made affected how this small team would move forward.

The system panel expanded before his eyes.

Jiang Yue did not hesitate.

“One High-Tier Draw.”

【Consumed 1,000 Prestige points.】

【Draw complete.】

【Obtained Blue-Tier Trait: Script Dissection.】

【Trait Description: Once equipped, improves the user's fundamental judgment regarding character arcs, narrative pacing, plot cohesion, and commercial risks.】

Jiang Yue equipped the trait and flipped back to the first page.

This time, he was no longer looking at just the surface level of the plot.

The male lead, Chen Jingan, was an extreme method actor who had witnessed a fatal fall three years ago.

After the incident, he was manipulated and controlled through professional psychological suggestions by director Jiang Hongyan. Combined with cyberbullying, his mental defenses were torn apart, causing his subconscious to split into a second personality named Lu Zhichen.

Chen Jingan was sensitive, self-destructive, and spent years trapped in fear and guilt. Lu Zhichen was rational, sharp, skilled at profiling human nature and psychological games, and possessed a sense of danger due to his high level of decisiveness.

The most brilliant part of this setting was that Lu Zhichen was not a traditional "evil" personality.

His existence was meant to protect Chen Jingan—to shoulder the schemes, malice, and truths that Chen Jingan could not face.

As the plot progressed, director Jiang Hongyan custom-tailored a play-within-a-play specifically for Chen Jingan, attempting to use his split personality to frame him for all the serial murders.

The character arcs were complete, the logic was airtight, the key characters weren't forced to act stupidly, and the antagonist wasn't just a dummy waiting around to be defeated by the protagonist.

Jiang Yue flipped through another dozen pages.

This role was highly challenging. It was more oppressive than Shen Xu in 《Manhunt》, more fractured than Chu Yan in 《The Grand Game》, and required a deeper emotional tug-of-war than Zhou Jinnan in 《The Hidden Sentry》.

Jiang Yue closed the document. Both the script and the character were worth a meeting.

He opened his contacts and directly dialed Xu Pingqiu's number.

The call went through quickly.

“Hello, Jiang Yue?”

Xu Pingqiu sounded in a good mood. “So, did you read the script?”

“I did, Director Xu.”

Jiang Yue walked to the window and looked down at the creative park below. “I went through the first three episodes and the general outline. The script has a solid foundation, and the character arcs are complete. But a good project needs a good team. How well do you know this director? I'm worried he might be too idealistic, which could make collaboration difficult.”

A hearty laugh came from the other end of the line. He naturally understood what Jiang Yue was getting at.

“Hahaha, you kid. As if I don't know you—always keeping some cards close to your chest.”

He laughed his fill before continuing, “The kid is named Cheng Songran, a genius from the directing department of the Capital Film Academy, and my friend's son. No major flaws, he just likes to act all brooding and deep.”

“Brooding and deep?”

“Yeah. He's not great at socializing, doesn't like dealing with people, and loves to play the aloof and cold type online.”

Xu Pingqiu said in a teasing tone, “Don't let his director status fool you. He used to write under the pen name 'Guanmu' and published several suspense novels that became quite famous in niche circles. He definitely has talent; he's just a bit of a closet eccentric.”

“Don't be fooled by his facade. He's just a young guy in his twenties, around your age.”

Jiang Yue put a temporary question mark over this image, but he trusted Xu Pingqiu's character. Anyone the director introduced wouldn't be too ridiculous.

“Thank you for clearing that up, Director Xu.”

“Alright, no need to be polite. I'll send you his contact card. You young folks can chat among yourselves.”

After hanging up, Jiang Yue looked at the contact card, which also had the WeChat name "Guanmu," and clicked to add him.

The other party accepted the request very quickly.

Nickname: Guanmu.

The profile picture was a single black fountain pen standing on a pine wood tabletop against a clean background.

Jiang Yue stared at the profile picture for a couple of seconds.

There wasn't anything wrong with this aesthetic, per se. It was just that one could tell at a glance that the owner frequently kept company with words like solitude, late nights, inspiration, and destiny.