Chapter 368: Aren't you afraid I'll mess up my performance?!
The abandoned Workshop 3 in Area A of the factory district was pitch black, a darkness so complete you couldn’t see your own hand in front of your face.
Gu Zhiyuan stood at the entrance, reaching out to fumble for the switch on the wall,
only to find nothing but exposed wires left behind.
He swallowed hard, the sound of his own heartbeat echoing in the vast, empty workshop.
He didn’t know what to say, nor what to do.
Right then, a stark, pale beam of light suddenly pierced the darkness from behind him.
The squeaky sound of an electric scooter grew closer and closer.
Chen Yi rode that dilapidated electric scooter, coming to a steady stop right at the entrance of Workshop 3.
She didn’t dismount, the headlights aimed directly at Gu Zhiyuan.
The light was so blinding Gu Zhiyuan saw white, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes.
Under the headlights, his pale face was completely exposed.
Chen Yi’s body was half-turned, the scooter’s handlebars pointed towards the road she came from,
her right foot planted on the ground, her left foot resting on the footrest, her entire body taut as a drawn bow.
She could twist the throttle and flee at any moment.
“Braised pork knuckle rice.” Chen Yi’s voice came muffled from inside her helmet, not a single wasted word.
She opened the insulated delivery box; ten heavy containers of braised pork knuckle rice sat inside, steaming hot.
The aroma diffused in the night breeze.
She lifted two meal boxes with one hand, attempting to hand them to Gu Zhiyuan.
Her movements were crisp and efficient, devoid of any superfluous emotion.
This was just a delivery, nothing more.
Gu Zhiyuan did not reach out to take them.
He looked down at the ten meals, then up at the blurred face inside the helmet.
He pulled out a neatly printed script from inside his coat.
The fresh pages of the script emitted the clean scent of printer’s ink,
appearing jarringly conspicuous in this filthy, dilapidated workshop.
Gu Zhiyuan held the script with both hands, offering it up to Chen Yi.
“This script…” Gu Zhiyuan’s voice was hoarse as he pushed the script forward another inch,
his eyes a mixture of pain and a kind of desperate, last-ditch fervor,
“isn’t to repay a debt. Chen Yi, it’s that I need you, this role needs you.”
“Besides you, no one else can bring her to life. This… this is the ‘explanation’ I owe you.”
In the beam of the headlights, Chen Yi saw the four bold black characters in official script font on the script’s cover: King of Extras.
Her body stiffened violently for a moment.
Then, a soft, derisive snort escaped Chen Yi’s throat, muffled by the helmet, making it sound even colder and more piercing.
She turned her head away, avoiding Gu Zhiyuan, and spoke with indifference, “I don’t need your pity, Director Gu. After this delivery, I have the next one.”
Her delivery posture remained utterly unmoved, as if the script in Gu Zhiyuan’s hands couldn’t budge the ten meals in her hands by even a fraction.
Just as Gu Zhiyuan’s heart was being pierced by this coldness,
and he was almost unable to maintain his posture of offering the script,
a crisp sound of high heels, utterly out of place in these ruins,
came from the shadows in the corner of the workshop.
The sound was neither hurried nor slow.
Lin Wan stepped out from the darkness, her figure elongated by the headlights.
She first calmly looked at the two people locked in their standoff,
her gaze lingering on Gu Zhiyuan’s deathly pale face for a moment,
before walking over to the side of Chen Yi’s electric scooter,
and slapping that contract down onto the scooter’s rear seat with a thwack.
Chen Yi’s body stiffened again.
She turned her head to look at the contract.
Lin Wan opened the contract, pointing directly to the compensation page.
Her finger pressed down on the number there, clear and unambiguous.
“Female lead.” Lin Wan’s voice was calm and professional. “Remuneration paid according to the standard rate for a normal second-tier actress in the industry.”
“All promotional resources, equal to Jiang Ci’s.” Lin Wan gave weight to each word.
Chen Yi’s pupils contracted violently, her body feeling as if gripped by an invisible, immense force.
She couldn’t believe it.
Absurd.
This was absolutely a trap.
A new trick to humiliate her?
What exactly was Lin Wan trying to do?
What role was Jiang Ci playing in this?
In this cannibalistic industry, there were only ever poison capsules wrapped in sugar.
Lin Wan stared intently at Chen Yi, watching her go from extreme shock to her body trembling uncontrollably.
Chen Yi slowly raised her eyes; those eyes pierced through the gap in the helmet,
pinning themselves fiercely onto Gu Zhiyuan’s face.
Gu Zhiyuan felt flayed inch by inch under her gaze, his lips quivering,
a torrent of words choked in his throat.
Only the night wind blew through the workshop, stirring up dust from the ground.
“Have you lost your mind?!” Chen Yi’s voice finally tore through the numbness.
For the first time, she dropped the pretense, shouting hoarsely at Gu Zhiyuan, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll ruin your movie?!”
Jiang Ci, who had been standing not far away chewing candy, walked over,
first craning his neck to glance at the number on the contract,
then looking at Chen Yi, who was trembling all over with anger,
and suddenly interjected, his tone still infuriatingly casual:
“Afraid of what?”
He gestured with his chin towards Gu Zhiyuan:
“He’s broke now. If it’s ruined, he won’t even be able to afford to pay for the props.”
Just as both Chen Yi and Lin Wan thought he was about to make a sarcastic remark,
Jiang Ci changed tack, looking at Chen Yi, his gaze uncharacteristically serious for a moment:
“But Tian Guang has money, and I… have a bit of savings too.”
“If it really gets ruined, it’s on me.”
“At worst, the three of us can go back to picking bottles in the dump together. Director Gu knows the ropes, we won’t starve.”
This utterly absurd statement managed to pry open the atmosphere, which had been stretched to its absolute limit.
Lin Wan gritted her teeth in frustration, Gu Zhiyuan looked utterly bewildered.
Chen Yi ignored Jiang Ci.
She stared fixedly at Gu Zhiyuan, then looked again at that insane clause on the contract.
A five percent share of the profits.
This meant that if this movie succeeded, what she would gain was far more than just the acting fee.
If it failed, she would get nothing.
But Gu Zhiyuan would lose much more.
She remained silent for a full minute.
During that minute, no one spoke; only the night wind wailed as it swept through the ruins.
Chen Yi’s gaze moved from Gu Zhiyuan’s face, etched with regret,
to Lin Wan’s calm, resolute eyes,
and finally, landed on Jiang Ci’s ridiculous expression of “let’s just go scavenge together.”
Her line of sight slowly lowered, sweeping over her own hands, rough-jointed from years of riding.
Then, she looked again at the brand-new contract on the rear seat of the electric scooter.
—That wasn’t pity.
That was a belated price tag, with interest, that she had bought with three years of mire and humiliation.
Her breathing, which had been heavy and ragged, gradually evened out.
Finally, Chen Yi fished out a ballpoint pen from the pocket of her delivery jacket, the one she used to note down orders.
The pen cap was chewed to tatters.
She leaned over the rear seat of the electric scooter, spreading the contract flat.