Chapter 9#

Chapter 9: Performing Life and Death#

At this time, many had heard of Su Mo, but few had actually seen him.

Though they didn’t recognize him, anyone who appeared alongside Su Jue with such intimacy was undoubtedly a major figure. But this major figure seemed rather difficult to approach.

Li Ran heard that Su Jue had come again and rushed over in a huff. But when he saw that person, his attitude did a complete one-eighty. Respectful yet warm, he scratched his unkempt hair as if a bit embarrassed. “Boss Su, what brings you here?”

Seeing the usually fiery director Li Ran act like this, everyone felt as if they were going blind.

A faint, barely perceptible smile curved at the corner of Su Mo’s lips. “Just came to see you.”

Lu Yan heard Su Mo’s voice for the first time—low, like a whisper in one’s ear, very pleasant.

Li Ran waved a hand in the air. “Ah, Boss Su, if you wanted to see me, a single phone call would suffice. I’d come running. No need for you to trouble yourself.”

Before Su Mo could say anything, Su Jue next to him couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Have some dignity, Li Xiao Liu.”

The Li family had many brothers. Li Ran ranked sixth, the late-born son of the Li family, fiercely doted on by his parents and older brothers. They gave him whatever he wanted. But unfortunately, he had always loved following the Su brothers around since childhood and idolized Su Mo, the eldest. When he learned Su Mo wanted to start a film company, he immediately went to study directing. It turned out to be a happy accident, as he found his true interest. Over the years, relying on his own ability and strong support from Starry Sky, he had become a renowned director both domestically and internationally. His parents and brothers no longer objected and let him be.

And now, hearing the director who usually exuded authority on set addressed by such a disillusioning nickname, everyone felt as if their ears had gone blind.

Li Ran secretly glared at Su Jue but didn’t explode, since Su Mo was present.

The smile at Su Mo’s lips deepened slightly. “Today is your birthday.”

Li Ran’s mouth split into a visible grin, looking happy and at a loss. “Ah, I almost forgot myself…”

Su Mo said, “After you finish work, let’s celebrate together.”

“Alright, but today’s shooting schedule is pretty packed. If everything goes smoothly, it’ll be evening. Boss Su, do you have other things to do, or would you like to find a place to rest first?” Li Ran agreed readily, without being pretentious about wrapping up early. He knew Su Mo preferred people who took their work seriously. He and Su Jue had been deeply influenced by this—no matter how they were usually, they never slacked off when working.

“No need,” Su Mo said with a faint smile. “I have the rest of the time off. I’ve never seen how filming works. Today, I’ll get a chance to see for myself.”

Li Ran immediately called an assistant to arrange a resting area for the Su brothers—a place where they wouldn’t be disturbed yet had a good view of the filming process.

Having Su Jue alone was enough to energize everyone. With the addition of the even more influential Su Mo today, everyone worked as if injected with adrenaline, going all out to make a good impression on the two bosses. And today, Director Li himself was equally excited; even his scolding seemed to have gone up a few decibels.

Lu Yan had two scenes to shoot today: one was his character’s entrance in the film, and the other was his character’s ending. The beginning and the end happened to fall on the same day. Shifting between two completely different emotions in a single day was a real test of acting skills. But Li Ran had great confidence in Lu Yan, and Lu Yan felt the same.

First up was Lu Yan’s entrance scene. At that point, he had just returned from studying abroad—full of passion and ambition. Lu Yan wore a Western suit, exuding a foreign air. Though the style looked outdated by modern standards, his youth and handsomeness made up for it. With bright eyes, he got out of the car and looked at this hometown where he had lived for decades and left for a few years—nostalgic, pensive.

“Cut!” Li Ran called. “Good, Lu Yan, very good. The expression was spot on.”

Lu Yan snapped out of the scene, pleased to receive rare praise from Director Li. A slight curve appeared at the corners of his eyes, and he was once again the humble, polite actor Lu Yan.

“Great,” Li Ran waved his hand. “Lu Yan, take a break. Next, prepare for the next scene. Everyone on set…”

As he turned, Lu Yan felt a gaze on him. He instinctively looked over and saw Su Jue grinning at him with a wink—a smile carrying an indescribable ambiguity. Then Su Jue leaned in and whispered something to Su Mo, who looked back at Lu Yan with a thoughtful, sharp gaze—appraising and probing. Lu Yan felt uncomfortable; this kind of evaluation disgusted him. But his expression remained calm, and he even nodded politely in acknowledgment.

After a brief rest—just enough time for a sip of tea—Lu Yan got up to change into the costume and makeup for the next scene, while also steeping himself in the appropriate emotions.

By this time, Lu Yan was completely different from before. Gone was his initial high-spiritedness. His eyes were deep, fierce, and murderous—marked by the tempering of blood and fire. A series of sub-shots showcased his calm command and intricate strategic planning to perfection.

The final set was a long take requiring a single continuous shot. Before filming, Li Ran went over the scene thoroughly with Lu Yan, Gu Yang, and Mu Xiao. All three of them would appear in this scene, though Gu Yang and Mu Xiao mainly showed their backs.

Once everything was ready, Gu Yang patted Lu Yan on the shoulder—meaning “relax” and “good luck.” Lu Yan smiled and nodded in thanks.

Everyone took their positions. At the call of “Action,” Lu Yan watched Gu Yang and Mu Xiao walk away hand in hand, his eyes complex—filled with guilt for being unable to avenge his family, reluctance to part with his former lover, and the sentiment of completing his mission. The pursuers were closing in. Lu Yan took a deep breath and turned resolutely, putting on the trench coat and hat that had been prepared—identical to the one Gu Yang was wearing. This was his final plan: a decoy to buy them more time for a safe escape.

The final gunfight was spectacular. Lu Yan took on ten opponents alone, every shot precise, annihilating all the pursuers. But he himself was grievously wounded, beyond saving. Clutching his severely injured abdomen, he slowly sat down against the earthen wall behind him. His other hand, now powerless, could no longer hold the empty gun; it slipped from his grasp, like the life draining from his body. Lu Yan struggled to lift his head, resting the back of it against the wall. By then, he could no longer see clearly. Scenes from his life flashed through his mind one after another. His eyes held a deep attachment to life, regret and unwillingness for unfinished dreams, but no remorse. Slowly, slowly, he curled the corners of his mouth—just a fraction upward, then he could go no further. He tried to leave the world with that final smile, until the light faded completely from his eyes.

The camera slowly panned to the sky. Everyone was stunned by the solemn, heavy scene. An eerie silence hung over the set. Even after the director called “Cut” and filming ended, the atmosphere remained somber; no one could muster a smile.

Lu Yan was the first to adjust. Wiping the blood-like substance from his body with a towel Song Hui handed him, he asked with a smile, “Director Li, how was it? Any reshoots needed?”

Li Ran smiled, a rare sight. “No, it was perfect. Absolutely flawless.”

Gu Yang walked over and patted Lu Yan on the back, laughing. “Great job. If it were me, I might not have nailed it in one take. That was amazing.”

Lu Yan chuckled. “Brother Yang is being modest again.”

A few other crew members who were friendly with Lu Yan came over to compliment him, gradually easing the atmosphere.

During the shoot, Lu Yan had felt that same gaze on him again. But when he was in character, he was able to block out all external distractions, making the gaze seem faint and distant. Now that the scene was over, the sensation of being watched grew intensely strong.

Lu Yan controlled himself, not looking in that direction again. Since his scenes for the day were finished, he waved at Song Hui to signal him to go rest.

The day’s filming had gone smoothly, but Lu Yan’s mood wasn’t great—undeniable because of Su Jue and that gaze.

Lu Yan was no longer a naive, hot-blooded youth. He was fully aware of the rules and unspoken rules of the entertainment industry. He didn’t resist them; instead, he was willing to exploit them as much as he could within his acceptable limits. In this most realistic of adult worlds, few who climbed to the top remained innocent. To stand at the peak, one had to pay a price—Lu Yan understood this. But he still had his bottom line, and that bottom line was himself.

He knew clearly that with his looks and no background, if he wanted to survive and thrive in the entertainment industry, there would inevitably be people making moves on him. From the very beginning, he had no intention of yielding. By nature, Lu Yan was quite self-possessed; nothing was worth trading himself for. In his previous life, even when he had hit rock bottom, he hadn’t yielded. So why would he now?

But despite his mental preparations, Lu Yan couldn’t help feeling some annoyance that he might have to offend one of the industry’s giants—Starry Sky—right from the start. Fortunately, Su Jue had a good reputation in the circle. Though he was said to be a playboy, he never forced anyone. Those who went along with him would receive his full support; those who refused him wouldn’t be deliberately suppressed. But given his conditions, almost no one could resist him.

At any rate, this film would wrap up in about half a month. After that, he would sign with another company and try to avoid future collaborations with Starry Sky. Though it meant losing some opportunities, after enduring the bleakness of his previous life, there was nothing Lu Yan couldn’t tolerate.

Fortunately, he had met and befriended Gu Yang here. Lu Yan began seriously considering the possibility of joining Huan Yu. With the new Best Actor’s mentorship, perhaps the road ahead would be slightly smoother.