That sharp shout acted as a trigger, and Chen Jingan's slightly trembling shoulders came to a sudden halt.
He raised his head. The panic that had filled his eyes just moments ago sank away, leaving behind no trace of confusion.
Lu Zhichen had awakened in this body.
Sitting across from Chen Jingan, Captain Li was the first to notice the shift in his demeanor.
“Chen Jingan” leaned back against the chair. His previously hunched shoulders relaxed, and his posture shifted, making it look as though he were the one sitting on the interrogator's side of the table. His gaze swept over the photos on the desk, his lips curling into a cold, faint smile.
“Captain Li, is it?”
When he spoke, his tone was casual, yet he had effortlessly wrested back control of the interrogation room.
“To try and convict me with such a clumsy imitation... is your detective squad completely out of competent people?”
Captain Li stared intently at his expression. “Are you trying to teach the police how to do their jobs?”
The photos were pushed back in front of Chen Jingan, the sharp slide of paper against the metal table making a brief, harsh sound.
“Or are you trying to use this rhetoric to distance yourself from the crime scene?”
“The killer is imitating the script, but unfortunately, they are far too amateur,” Chen Jingan said, leaning forward and tapping his slender finger against the ligature mark in the first photo.
“The script specifies a crossed strangulation to allow the killer to quickly and cleanly incapacitate the victim. If they truly wanted to follow that logic, a thin steel wire would have been much more suitable.”
His finger stopped at the edge of the mark as his gaze locked onto Captain Li's face.
“But the ligature mark in the photo is wide and has ragged edges. It looks like hemp rope, or perhaps an old leather belt.”
“This indicates the killer lacked the strength to quickly subdue the victim with a thin wire, forcing them to switch to something that offered better leverage.”
His finger slid over to the second photo.
“The victim was clutching a ticket in her hand?”
Chen Jingan let out a cold, humorless chuckle.
“Only an amateur would make such a redundant addition.”
“A person being strangled and suffocating would instinctively claw at their own neck, trying to tear the weapon away. The only way she could have been holding this half-ticket is if the killer stuffed it into her hand afterward.”
Silence fell over the interrogation room.
Captain Li didn't rush to reply. Instead, he pressed his thumb against the annotations on the script.
“You're exonerating yourself a bit too cleanly. These revisions were proposed by you in the first place.”
Chen Jingan looked down at the hand pressing against the pages.
“Which is exactly why I know where the killer copied it wrong.”
He looked up at Captain Li, his gaze dissecting the detective's words like an interrogation of a flawed confession.
“They staged the crime scene according to the script not to show off their methods, but to point all the clues directly at me. So, Captain Li, the person you should be investigating right now isn't me—the suspect sitting in this chair playing a guessing game with you.”
“First, trace the leak of the latest version of the script. The screenwriter, the director, the print shop, and anyone who had access to the call sheet—don't let a single one slip through.”
“The killer isn't just acting. They knew exactly how you would suspect me.”
Captain Li stared at the man before him, his eyes narrowing sharply.
“Why does it feel like you suddenly became a completely different person just now?”
“A stress response under extreme pressure,” Chen Jingan answered flawlessly, a hint of condescension lingering in his voice.
“To process information more efficiently, the brain temporarily blocks out counterproductive emotions like fear and panic.”
“Captain Li, isn't this covered in your basic psychology training?”
“Cut!”
Cheng Songran called out, bringing the scene to an end.
Zhou Zhengfeng stepped out of character. Looking at Jiang Yue, who had also returned to his usual calm demeanor, his eyes were filled with nothing but admiration.
He didn't say much, simply giving Jiang Yue a gentle nod.
The final scene of the day was a solo performance featuring Chen Jingan after his temporary exoneration.
In the plot, the police investigated the key discrepancies based on the clues provided by Lu Zhichen, temporarily ruling out Chen Jingan as a direct suspect.
As Chen Jingan stepped out of the police station, the night wind hit his face. He leaned against a wall at the corner of the street, gasping for air.
Back in the interrogation room, Lu Zhichen hadn't blocked his consciousness. Trapped deep within his own body, he had watched his own hands flip through the photos and heard his own mouth calmly dissecting the clues.
The moment he realized he wasn't the killer, Chen Jingan let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief and slid down the wall to sit on the ground.
But as the weight lifted from his chest, an even greater fear and a cloud of doubt instantly crept back in.
Who was it? Who would go to such lengths to orchestrate such an elaborate trap to frame him?
The red light from the street intersection swept across the wall. As the color filled his vision, Chen Jingan's stomach churned. The half of the red theater ticket, the red safety rope on the rooftop of the studio, the shattered red prop sign on the ground—everything collided in his mind.
Three years ago, on the rooftop of the studio. It was a man pushing another person off the edge.
That wasn't an accident.
The fatal fall three years ago was not an accident at all.
That person knew he was on the rooftop, and they also knew that by linking the new murders to the script, it would be nearly impossible for him to clear his name.
Sitting on the ground, cold sweat trickled down his forehead. The relief of surviving the ordeal in his eyes gradually coalesced into a ridiculous, horrifying realization.
“Cut! That's a take!”
When Cheng Songran's voice rang out, everyone was still staring at Jiang Yue, who remained slumped on the ground.
The July weather was already sweltering, and the night felt even more suffocating.
Jiang Yue's costume was mostly drenched in cold sweat. He propped himself up on the ground, his fingers still trembling slightly.
Jiang Kaiwen rushed over, holding a dry towel and a bottle of chilled sports drink.
“Third Brother, here's a towel. Wipe your sweat first.”
He unscrewed the cap and handed the bottle over. As Jiang Yue was helped up, his legs still felt a bit weak.
Jiang Yue took a large gulp of water, looking down at his still-shaking hand.
Seeing his hand still trembling, Jiang Kaiwen's expression changed. He asked with concern, “Brother, are you okay?”
Jiang Yue shook his head and screwed the cap back on.
“I just need a moment to recover.”
To sustain the intense immersion of being trapped deep within his own body, he had pushed his traits too hard, and the physical toll was very real.
Cheng Songran hurried back to the monitor, staring at the playback twice before turning to look at Jiang Yue.
“Brother Jiang, come take a look at this.”
He pointed at the frozen frame on the screen, which showed Jiang Yue's final close-up.
“Look right here—from the relief of surviving the ordeal, to the fear of the mastermind behind the scenes, and finally to the shock of recalling the past and connecting all the clues.”
Cheng Songran dragged the progress bar back two seconds and played it again.
“Chen Jingan this character transforms from a passive victim into an active seeker of truth, a game-changer.”
“...”
A moment later, Zhou Zhengfeng, who had already changed and was preparing to leave, walked over and spoke from the heart to Jiang Yue.
“Keep going down this path. Don't waste your talent.”
Back in the vanity van Cheng Songran had prepared for him, Jiang Yue enjoyed the cool air-conditioning and leaned against the backrest, finally catching his breath.
Sitting beside him, Jiang Kaiwen rubbed his hands together in excitement.
“Brother, you have no idea. The moment Director Cheng called cut, the entire set went dead silent. The lighting guy was still holding onto the light stand, completely dazed.”
At this point, something else occurred to him, and he added, “Teacher Zhou even made a point of telling me before he left that your future is limitless.”
Jiang Yue glanced sideways at him. “You seem more excited than I am.”
“Of course I am!”
Jiang Kaiwen saw that Jiang Yue was still staring out the window, so he dropped the subject of the scene and handed him his phone, deliberately switching to a lighter topic.
“Oh, by the way, guess what? While you're getting interrogated by the police in this show, your other character, Chu Yan, has officially become Kiwi Video's golden child.”
He swiped open the trending searches page, his smile widening as he spoke.
“That Cold Relief Powder ad has been rewatched so many times by netizens that it's practically worn out. Someone even edited a crack-ship video of you and the assassin, titled ‘Place an Order and I'll Spare Your Life.’”
Hearing this, a faint smile broke through Jiang Yue's fatigue.
“Netizens are certainly creative with their titles.”
Jiang Kaiwen immediately chimed in.
“You bet! Now the comment section is full of people shouting, ‘The heir sells the medicine, the assassin places the order, let's all buy a box to show our support!’”
Outside the car window, the night scene of Shancheng was softened and scattered by the fog. In the distance, a light rail train passed between the buildings, its illuminated carriages casting grids of light that swept across the river's surface.
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