On May 22, Crystal Lake Massacre officially launched.
The opening ceremony attracted a crowd of reporters, a testament to the growing optimism for domestic horror films. Camera flashes popped, microphones jostled forward—it was a promising start.
Director Sun handled the media effortlessly, fielding questions with ease. The main cast stood nearby, well-rehearsed and polished.
Then someone noticed a new face in the lineup.
He was young, hands in his pockets, eyes wandering, like a college student sneaking in to watch the show. Curious glances turned into questions when Director Sun walked over and clapped him on the back.
"This is Li Si," he announced proudly. "Incredibly professional. I cast him as the killer. Frankly, there's no one else in China more suited to this role."
Directors hyping their actors was nothing new, and the reporters played along, snapping photos with mild amusement.
One of them leaned in, eyebrow raised. "Mr. Li, your vibe doesn't really scream 'killer.' Is that your personal take on the character?"
Li Si gave a polite smile and nodded. Just as he opened his mouth to respond—clink.
Something slipped from his sleeve and hit the ground.
Everyone looked down.
A screwdriver.
Sharpened. Filed to a fine point.
The reporter who asked the question blinked, lips slightly parted, mind suddenly blank.
Why did that look so... real?
A chill passed through the group like a ripple.
But Director Sun laughed, breaking the tension. His face said it all—I knew I chose right.
"Li Si has been working hard," he said, waving it off. "Stayed up all night analyzing the character. The killer in this film is dangerous and deceptive. Li Si's just immersed himself deeply into the role!"
The press chuckled nervously, the atmosphere easing again. Some even made notes to include this "funny moment" in their pieces.
Only the first reporter lingered, still uneasy.
But soon enough, the next actor took the spotlight, and the moment passed.
---
Filming began that afternoon. Director Sun handed Li Si over to the prop team.
"I've got a special outfit for the killer. Try it on, see how it feels."
Inside the wardrobe shed, Li Si slipped into a set of bloodstained overalls and a crimson mask.
"How's that? Comfortable?" the prop master asked as he helped adjust the belt.
Li Si turned toward the mirror, tried a few poses, then paused.
"…Something's not right."
The prop master blinked. Oh great, another 'difficult artist'...
He braced himself. "So? Want a new outfit? Maybe fresh-bled goat's wool too?"
Li Si turned, voice low and steady. "It's not practical. For killing."
The prop master stopped breathing.
Li Si continued, unfazed. "After a murder, clothes soaked in blood are a liability. A removable top layer—like a blouse—makes more sense. Burn it afterward."
He pointed to the mask. "Red draws the eye. Try black or navy blue. Something low-profile for nighttime approach."
Then to the shoes. "Too much tread. Obvious footprints. Get me something smooth-soled, harder to trace."
The prop master could only nod, eyes wide.
"You got all that?" Li Si asked.
"Yep. Got it," he stammered, backing away. "I'll, uh—I'll get on that now."
He fled the shed with the urgency of someone narrowly escaping a mugging, running right into Director Sun.
"What's up with him?" the director asked, watching the man vanish down the lot.
Li Si shrugged. "Dedicated to his craft."
Sun chuckled. "Old Qin, huh? He's never been this motivated."
---
By the time the prop master returned—with new clothes, shoes, and a hastily repainted black mask—he looked like he'd seen a ghost.
Director Sun inspected Li Si's new look and gave a satisfied nod. "Much better. You look like a killer now."
The prop master pulled him aside, whispering urgently. "Sun, where did you find this guy? Is he... from prison or something?"
Sun grinned, delighted. "You feel it too? That authenticity?"
The prop master stared. "I'm serious! Remember when we toured the prison last year? His eyes... the way he talks... just like those lifers!"
But Director Sun just patted his shoulder, beaming. "Perfect! That's exactly the vibe we need."
The prop master nearly lost it. "No, seriously—he's not acting. That's just how he is!"
"Relax," Sun said, waving him off. "It's called dedication. Now let's shoot."
---
The first scene of a film is usually kept simple—to boost morale and build momentum.
Director Sun picked the segment where a supporting character, Li Qi, unknowingly wanders into Crystal Lake and gets ambushed.
"Scene 17-A, take one. Action!"
Li Qi ambled along a trail, humming, posture relaxed. He stepped behind a bush and unzipped, ready to relieve himself.
He mentally reviewed the blocking: Killer emerges from the left. I freeze, then bolt.
The grass rustled.
He looked up—and froze for real.
A shadow stepped into view, silent. Masked. Blade in hand.
Eyes locked. Cold. Dead. Animal.
His breath caught.
The script said he was supposed to scream. Turn. Run.
But no sound came.
He just stood there, watching as the figure raised the machete—casual, controlled, final.
"Ah... ah—"
His voice cracked into a whimper.
"HELP! DON'T—DON'T COME NEAR ME!"
---
To be Continued...