Director Sun also received the video.
The moment he opened the software, that familiar face popped up—the same one he'd just seen that morning.
The young man on screen stared straight into the lens. Bloodshot veins spidered out around his eyes, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward in a twisted arc.
That gaze—it reached into the gut and twisted.
Director Sun leaned forward instinctively and hit play.
> [Hey, where are you going? Need a lift?]
...
The grainy footage followed an old van gliding through the dark, its headlights slashing through the empty street. Shadows danced on the man's face, casting flickers of menace.
In the backseat, a large black garbage bag rustled faintly. A cassette tape croaked out an old song, warped and eerie.
> [Wait, let me get the door for you.]
> [Relax. Just taking in some air. Feels good, doesn't it?]
> Pop!
> [I always open doors like this. It's easier.]
...
> [You live here? Just a plank bed and four walls—it's like prison.]
> [I'm used to it.]
> [...]
...
> [Chang'an University, huh? So how'd you end up like this… so run-down?]
A pause.
Tension bled out of the screen like cold fog.
> [Because... I'm carrying a murder case.]
...
The video lasted just fifteen minutes, but by the time it ended and autoplay queued up another, Director Sun hadn't moved.
He scrolled through the comments:
> "Incredible. I'm shaking. Where'd they find this guy?"
"So real it's disturbing. Did anyone get hurt?!"
"Scripted or not, that door scene? Nobody fakes that kind of muscle memory."
"Does anyone know who this is?"
"A critic said this might be the best 'murderer' portrayal ever shot in China."
Director Sun chuckled, his heart thumping with excitement.
Yes—he had made the right call.
He dialed.
"Hello? Director Sun?" came Sister An's oily voice. "Did you fix that little issue I mentioned earlier?"
For once, he wasn't agitated. In fact, he sounded... calm.
"Sister An, I'm sorry," he said. "I've decided to keep that actor. If that's unacceptable, feel free to pull your investment. I'll explain everything to the higher-ups myself."
There was silence. Then—
"Haha! No need to be dramatic. You're the director, after all. Your call."
Click.
Sun knew she was only holding off. She'd wait until the film was in post, then come down on him hard via the Association or some underhanded method.
But by then, it wouldn't matter.
Because this film was going to explode.
Even if he got banned domestically, he'd just go international. The work would speak for itself.
---
In the car, Feng Su had just finished watching the video.
She wasn't some wide-eyed rookie—eleven years in the industry, ten artists trained under her.
She immediately saw it.
This wasn't just a hot clip. This was career-defining.
She was about to call her contacts at various variety shows—this could land Li Si a regular guest slot. Heck, maybe even an idol debut.
Then her gaze landed on something. Her eyes lit up.
She dug into her bag and pulled out a rolled-up poster.
A weathered man stared out from it, cigarette in his mouth, face rugged and worn. He looked like a broken lion—but one that still had claws.
"That's it!" Feng Su beamed.
Li Si looked over, confused. She cupped his face in both hands, smiling like a cat that just caught a fat mouse.
"Li Si, you did so good. Tell me—what do you want to eat tonight? Sister Su will get you anything."
He eyed her warily. She was being way too nice. That never ended well.
But dinner was amazing.
Feng Su's fried noodles with meatballs were legendary. She sliced the hot pot meatballs in half, stir-fried them with chili oil, then added rapeseed, egg, and wheat noodles. The flavors were spicy, oily, addictive.
The Cantonese stewed chicken? Fall-off-the-bone tender, steeped in golden broth. Even the lotus seeds—Li Si's least favorite—tasted good.
And the Coke? Icy cold, a perfect match. The salty noodles left his mouth dry, making each sip feel like the first taste of heaven.
"Chiliu~" He slurped up a mouthful of noodles and chased it with Coke.
On the couch, Feng Su was assembling the new pillows. Tonight, Li Si would crash at her place.
Finally done, she collapsed onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh.
"I must've owed you a fortune in my last life."
Li Si quickly poured her some Coke. She grunted but took it, sucking on the straw with exaggerated exhaustion.
"Ugh, Little Li, my back's killing me."
"Back pain? Let me help you, Mom!" Li Si cracked his knuckles.
Right then, her phone rang.
One second she was sprawled on the couch. The next, she was upright like a rocket launch.
"Hello? Director Sun! Yes! Yes, of course!"
Meanwhile, Li Si stared blankly at his own phone.
The [Crime System], which had been silent for over six months, suddenly lit up.
> [Popularity Threshold Reached]
Template Unlocked: [Mafia (Boutique)]
Wait—what?
Before he could dive deeper, Feng Su turned to him, eyes sparkling.
"The startup time is set!" she grinned from ear to ear. "Filming begins tomorrow. Don't be late."
"Wait... already? I haven't even—"
"No time to craft the role. But don't worry—I've got a plan."
The system... the role... the template…
Were they connected?
Li Si's thoughts raced. He absentmindedly started clearing the table, but didn't get far before Feng Su blocked his way, smiling sweetly.
"First time acting, huh?" she said. "You don't know how to analyze a character yet, do you?"
"What are you implying?" Li Si asked warily.
"I mean—" she clapped her hands, eyes gleaming, "—tonight, we pull an all-nighter studying the script."
"No one's sleeping!"
––
To be Continued...