Chapter 30: Perfect Performance Effect

"Infected."

Bai Qiyuan took the canister, spat quietly under his breath, and turned to leave.

Iron-Wearer sighed. After all, it wasn't the first time. The world's hostility toward the Infected was not something that arose overnight, and her acting career had been cut short long ago. If not for Lungmen initiating pilot programs to reintegrate the Infected back into society, she likely would never have had the chance to stand on a film set again.

Afterward, shooting proceeded as normal, continuing right up to the eve of the final showdown between the male lead and the villain. It was the climactic battle between him and the villain mastermind's adopted daughter—the very scene that marked Iron-Wearer's wrap on the film. In this sequence, she was not defeated by the male lead in a fair fight, but rather died tragically from an accidental fall during the struggle.

When Zhou Jinru had first read the script, he had almost laughed out loud because this segment had been hastily rewritten at the last minute. The villain's adopted daughter played by Iron-Wearer was simply too formidable. The previous male lead happened to play a tough-guy persona, going toe-to-toe with Iron-Wearer for three hundred rounds in a hard-fought stalemate before narrowly losing by a single trick, knocked unconscious just in time for the L.G.D. superintendent to arrive and sweep the credit.

That made complete sense and fit the character settings perfectly.

However, that script was tailored for the former leading man. It fell apart when applied to the current leading man, Bai Qiyuan. Zhou Jinru had learned that Bai Qiyuan was an idol singer suddenly trying to rebrand as a serious dramatic actor. First, he squeezed out his predecessor, yet he was unwilling to compromise his own polished image. He wanted to remain an idol while simultaneously transitioning into a prestige actor to reap both fame and fortune—and so, the script simply stopped working.

Could a skinny idol singer with delicate limbs trade blows for three hundred rounds with a female action star whose biceps could rival a car's engine?

Subtract two zeros from his strength and he still wouldn't last a second against her. Since he couldn't possibly win in a fight, the writers wracked their brains and finally resorted to that most notorious of narrative tropes: forced plot-armor death.

Naturally, someone had questioned why they had to resort to such a clumsy method. The screenwriter had remarked very ambiguously that the other party simply paid far too much.

*Snap.*

Closing the duplicate script, Zhou Jinru tossed it to Bison. He crossed his legs and watched the filming, only to find that it was still the same old mess after all this time. They had already gone through several NG takes, and the director's voice was completely hoarse.

"Ah-Hei, you need to pull your punches a bit. It's not easy to find a stunt double with a similar build, and if you injure one, the production crew has to cover the medical bills. It's also hard to explain if the media starts asking questions later."

Taking advantage of a ten-minute break, the director walked over with a terrible expression and pulled Iron-Wearer aside to give her some earnest advice.

Iron-Wearer felt deeply aggrieved. She clearly hadn't used much force at all, yet the other person would simply collapse and cry out in pain, causing the rest of the crew to look at her with strange, suspicious eyes.

"I understand. I'll be sure to pay attention."

The bearded director's expression softened slightly. "Just put on a convincing performance; the cameras over there will catch it from multiple angles, and I'll edit it together later. Don't let it stress you out too much. We'll nail it in one take. Honestly, I understand your situation."

*What do you understand about my situation?*

Iron-Wearer wore a blank expression of utter confusion.

Zhou Jinru narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze on the stunt double before turning his head. "Bison, do you see any problems here?"

Bison looked startled. "Mr. Ah-Guang, you're asking the wrong person. I know nothing about filmmaking. If you want a commentary, I can find—"

"No need, you're being too polite."

Zhou Jinru waved his hand, signaling Bison not to be nervous. While he appeared to be watching the stunt actor, his gaze was actually locked onto the interface of his field of vision. He noticed that the emotions displayed by the stunt actor were entirely composed of sorrow. But it wasn't a sudden, acute sorrow; rather, it had been brewing continuously since the preparation phase. Even after being struck by Iron-Wearer and collapsing to the ground in agonizing screams, the other three emotional indicators remained completely stable with virtually no fluctuation.

*Is there a problem?*

*Yes, absolutely.*

Even when acting, a normal person reacts differently when hit with the anticipated thirty percent of force versus an accidental seventy percent. It would inevitably be accompanied by shock, sorrow, and anger—the simultaneous appearance of these three emotions was the only natural reaction.

Shock because the other party made a mistake, sorrow from the pain of the blow, and anger because the other's blunder caused them injury.

Yet, the target's emotional readout remained a steady, pulsing azure circle. A phrase popped into Zhou Jinru's mind: *sorrow flowing like a river.*

To put it in professional terms, it was a dive.

Never mind soccer players clutching their shins in agonizing tears on the pitch only to leap up and sprint away like healthy athletes minutes after being carried off on a stretcher—tactical dives were a common sight.

In amateur circles, it was simply called extortion.

He guessed that quite a few people on set had probably figured it out, but no one was willing to call it out. Iron-Wearer was currently caught up in the situation and hadn't seen through the ruse yet, though she would certainly realize it later. By then, however, it would be far too late.

Zhou Jinru sighed. There had to be someone pulling the strings behind this. Iron-Wearer's status was that of an Infected. If she were repeatedly accused of injuring people during filming, she would undoubtedly be targeted by malicious media outlets looking to sensationalize the story. It had been the same incident with Red, after all—the waters in Lungmen ran very deep.

"I understand what you mean, Mr. Ah-Guang. Don't worry, I'll see to it that this is handled properly."

Zhou Jinru: "?"

*What did I even say?*

Bison walked away with an earnest expression, leaving behind a baffled Zhou Jinru and Huai Hu, who was dozing off against his shoulder.

The orange cat let out a soft purr before suddenly jolting awake. Realizing she had been leaning against Zhou Jinru, her face flushed a faint red. "Ah-Guang, I was just too tired. I..."

"Didn't you go back for a nap this morning?"

Huai Hu placed her hands flat on her knees, sitting as upright as an elementary school student. "I ran a set of martial arts forms in the courtyard, so I didn't go back to rest."

"Ah, remember to take care of your health. Staying up late is harmful, and getting enough sleep never hurts. Don't think you can abuse your body just because you're young."

As Zhou Jinru spoke, his gaze drifted to Bison, who was moving deeper into the crew's workspace. He thought to himself that this young man was truly capable. He had merely asked if there was a problem, and Bison had immediately grasped his intent, even seeing through to the core of the issue. Feeling somewhat inadequate by comparison, he realized he had discovered the truth through Originium Arts, whereas Bison had relied entirely on exceptional powers of observation.

Furthermore, Zhou Jinru's current identity couldn't accomplish much on his own; only Bison, backed by his transcendent standing, had the leverage to break the deadlock. His presence here represented both Rhodes Island and, to a certain extent, a fraction of Wei Yenwu's will.

*"When immortals fight..."*

Muttering under his breath, he watched as filming resumed. This time, no accidents occurred. Several camera angles were completed in a single take, and the director's gloomy expression shifted as unpredictably as June weather, bursting instantly into a broad smile.

...

"What's going on?"

Bai Qiyuan looked suspiciously at the stunt double. The actor was no longer performing any of the pre-planned mishaps that were supposed to stall production for another three or four NGs. Instead, the scene passed cleanly on the first try, leaving it time for the true leading man to step up.

"Brother Bai, the director is calling for you."

His assistant called out timidly. Seeing Bai Qiyuan standing frozen in place without moving for several minutes, failing to respond even after being called repeatedly, she couldn't help growing anxious.

"Tell them I have a stomachache and need to rest for a few more minutes."

Instead of heading to the set, Bai Qiyuan reached up and wiped his face, aggressively smearing away his makeup.

"Brother Bai..."

With no other choice, the assistant had to return to the scene and announce that Bai Qiyuan was temporarily unable to shoot.

...

"Stalled again? What on earth is going on?"

To his surprise, Zhou Jinru noticed that the actual leading man still hadn't appeared. This stunt aroused his suspicions; it was a blatant stalling tactic. From the initial NGs up until now, at least half of the production time had been wasted because of him.

Bison was currently out of ideas as well, having no clue what was happening.

"I'll go find Tortoiseshell. She was playing with gashapon machines in the corridor; I'll be right back."

Zhou Jinru stood up and walked toward the exit. As he passed a floor-to-ceiling window, he instinctively glanced down, only to be struck by a wave of sudden vertigo that left him disoriented and nearly tipping over a camera the crew was calibrating.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

The cameraman snapped with a fierce expression, grabbing Zhou Jinru by the collar as if ready to throw a punch.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I felt dizzy."

Zhou Jinru apologized profusely. Glancing down briefly, he noticed a bulky protrusion concealed beneath the cameraman's lifted jacket. He covered his face and stumbled away hastily. Soon, Bison and Huai Hu both hurried over to ask what had happened.

"Do Lungmen cameramen carry firearms on them?" Zhou Jinru asked, his face pale as he panted heavily. Acrophobia was his fatal weakness; just looking down from that height had nearly caused him to faint.

"Guns? Originium Firearms? How is that possible? Firearms are strictly regulated in Lungmen, and even if someone could get their hands on a gun, ammunition control is even tighter."

Bison began to reply, but his eyes suddenly widened as his left hand instinctively grabbed the bracer on his right wrist. "That cameraman has a gun?"

Zhou Jinru sat down on a corridor bench to rest, with Saria sitting right beside him. In that brief span of time, she had managed to retrieve three distinct gashapon toys from the machine.

Saria held up the three capsules, looking back and forth as if she couldn't bear to part with any of them, though she forced herself to say, "Doctor, which one do you want?"

"I don't want any of them, they're all yours." Zhou Jinru's gloomy mood instantly brightened.

As expected, Tortoiseshell was the ultimate cure.

On the set, the action sequences had all concluded, and Iron-Wearer was preparing for the next shot—a sequence where she grabbed a grappling hook and smashed through a window to enter from the outside. Because it required exterior shooting, the crew had deployed fifteen unmanned drone cameras to capture the action from various angles. At that moment, the director was repeatedly confirming with Iron-Wearer whether she needed a stunt double, hinting heavily that dangerous stunts were best left to more professional personnel.

"Director, I'd like to do this shot myself."

Iron-Wearer glanced furtively toward the corridor, gave her high ponytail a vigorous flick, and said lightly, "Don't underestimate me. I have eleven years of acting experience in Yan, and jumping off a thirtieth-floor building is a piece of cake for me. This is just a simple window-crash shot, totally small potatoes."

"We don't have many actors left who are as dedicated as you, especially precious female action stars. Ah, male action stars are easy to find, but female ones are truly hard to come by. If you ever need money and want to act in the future, just come find me—I've got scripts to spare."

Iron-Wearer readily agreed. Having a renowned Lungmen director promise future scripts was the kind of golden opportunity one could never find even with a lantern. Even if she were introduced to other crews later, it served as an invaluable hidden resource.

"I'll be taking a break for a while after this production wraps, but let's definitely collaborate again if the chance arises."

Just as the words left her mouth, a deafening crash echoed through the room. The floor-to-ceiling windows on the left were instantly shattered into pieces as a dozen masked figures brandishing firearms broke into the set. One of them spoke in a harsh, gravelly voice that reverberated across the entire area:

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands in the air!"

*Clack-clack-clack—*

The firearms in their grips spat blue flames, a flurry of bullets reducing the corner camera setups to sparkling debris and instantly plunging the scene into panicked, chaotic uproar.

Zhou Jinru stared in absolute disbelief, muttering instinctively, "What is this, an extra performance? I give the production value a solid ten out of ten."