Qin Sizheng took a deep breath to steady his emotions, fighting the urge to look directly at the camera, reminding himself to stay natural.
He hadn’t faltered while acting with San Yang or Uncle Jiu, but facing Lu Xianqing, a single glance gripped his soul, disrupting his breathing rhythm.
According to the script, he was supposed to jump from the wall after being discovered and walk boldly into the yard.
“Sir, the person you caught is my friend. May I ask what he stole? We’ll compensate at full value.”
Lu Xianqing turned his head, his newly shaved hair and slightly darker skin giving him a wild, youthful edge, stripping away his former refined beauty.
He was clearly lost in character, speaking a beat slower, adding pressure to the frozen scene.
Xiao Jing repeated, “Sir, the person you caught is…”
Ding Chenhai’s expression flickered with disdain. “The thing he stole… his life will pay for it.”
Chu Jing rushed into the room. “What kind of valuable thing is worth a life?!”
Ding Chenhai stepped forward, the hard soles of his polished shoes clicking crisply against the spotless gray floor with each step, until he stood before the bruised and battered Xiao Yu. He looked down at him like he was a filthy insect.
“Do you think lives like yours are valuable? To me, not even a blade of grass under your feet is worth anything. Taking his life would still be cheap for you—understand?”
Chu Jing clenched his fists. “Every life has value! Grass and trees cannot compare. Whatever he stole, we’ll return it. Any losses caused, I’ll apologize and compensate on his behalf!”
Ding Chenhai’s gaze shifted to him. “You?”
Chu Jing saw the boy’s face, blood caked and smeared over his eyes, breathing raggedly, unable to speak.
They had grown up together; all of Xihua Street was his home. Xiao Yu had made mistakes, but he could not lose his life. Gritting his teeth, Chu Jing lifted his head. “If you spare him, I’ll make any compensation you want!”
Ding Chenhai’s eyes settled on him, and he sneered. “Pointless, reckless bravery. I only want his life. You—leave.”
Chu Jing grinned through clenched teeth. “Fine, since there’s no negotiation, then fight.”
He hurled a punch decisively at Ding Chenhai. Being close, he controlled both speed and force—but unexpectedly, the two bodyguards holding Xiao Yu were trained and blocked his strike.
Lu Xianqing didn’t even flinch, standing there with a calm, detached gaze, watching Chu Jing spar with the bodyguards.
Chu Jing’s fists moved faster and faster, instinctively unleashing all his boxing techniques. Facing two bodyguards alone, he held his ground, his strikes sharp, rapid, and fluid.
Director Zhou Changjiang watched off-camera, eyes gleaming. This shot was meant to end soon, with the fight choreographer reviewing the moves, but Chu Jing’s performance was so smooth he didn’t want to call “cut.”
Perfect! Exactly this energy! Chu Jing brought the impulsive, fiery, fiercely loyal Xiao Jing to life—someone who valued friends and family above all else.
He didn’t use a stunt double, and the result was exhilarating. Watching Chu Jing exchange blows with the bodyguards felt like watching a live match. Everyone else, crew included, was stunned—Chu Jing’s hooks, blocks, offense, and defense were flawless, leaving no need for a fight choreographer.
Chu Jing’s excitement surged. In his previous life, he only sparred on the boxing bag or worked out at the gym. Now, facing real opponents, he finally released the pent-up energy in his body and soul.
The bodyguards weren’t professional boxers and gradually faltered. Even Lu Xianqing was surprised by how skilled Chu Jing was.
The scene was getting out of control—if it continued, Chu Jing might seriously injure them, and filming couldn’t proceed.
“Impressive… but—” Lu Xianqing stepped beside Xiao Yu, lowering his gaze. The polished shoe pressed down on the boy’s face, twisting slightly.
Xiao Yu let out a weak, heart-wrenching cry. The sound snapped Chu Jing back to reality. He instinctively stopped, only to get punched in the face.
Staggering back, he shouted, “Stop!”
Lu Xianqing’s gaze fixed on him. Chu Jing, panting, wiped the sweat from his head and stepped forward to save Xiao Yu. The man’s foot pressed harder.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?! Let go!” Chu Jing gritted his teeth.
Ding Chenhai’s eyes flicked to his clenched fists, then back to his face. Suddenly, he changed his mind.
“You said you’d compensate for him.”
“Yes,” Chu Jing said firmly.
“Anything?”
Though phrased as a question, the commanding tone made it sound like a decree. The veteran actor’s sheer presence and narrative force drew Chu Jing fully into the scene. His chest heaved violently as he gritted his teeth. “Yes.”
Ding Chenhai: “Then… kneel.”
Chu Jing thought he misheard. “What?”
Ding Chenhai, like bestowing a reward, repeated: “Kneel.”
Chu Jing had never knelt before. In the slums of Xihua Street, he had repeatedly protected others, never submitting, even if beaten.
“Impossible!”
Ding Chenhai let out a faint, eerie smile. Chu Jing felt a chill but straightened his shoulders. “I kneel to no one.”
“Oh~” Ding Chenhai’s tone rose, pressing down with his foot, twisting Chu Jing’s face and moving lower to an unspeakable place. The crushing pain elicited a scream from Xiao Yu—if this continued, he’d be maimed!
Sweat covered Chu Jing’s brow. His fists trembled. His eyes were red with rage, desperate to strike the cold, ruthless man before him—but doing so would endanger Xiao Yu.
“Wait!”
Ding Chenhai glanced at him, loosening his foot slightly. “Hmm?”
Chu Jing unclenched, then clenched again, and with a single “thud” dropped to his knees. Ding Chenhai laughed, entertained.
“Didn’t you say you kneel to no one?” he asked.
Chu Jing kept his fists tight, eyes blazing. “Release him.”
Ding Chenhai withdrew his foot, stepped forward, and lifted Chu Jing’s chin. Xiao Yu’s pained gasps echoed.
“Ah Jing… no… you go… just leave me… don’t—”
Chu Jing cut him off sharply: “Shut up!”
Xiao Yu, dazed with pain, stammered: “I… I was wrong… Ah Jing, it’s my fault… I…”
Chu Jing’s chin was still firmly held in Ding Chenhai’s hand, forcing him to tilt his head up and meet his gaze, every muscle tensed, heightening the sense of pressure. “I kneel. Whatever he stole, I’ll have him return it. Let this matter be closed.”
“I haven’t stated my conditions yet,” Ding Chenhai said.
Instinctively, Chu Jing tried to rise, but Ding Chenhai gripped his jaw even tighter. As his head was forced down, their faces nearly a half-inch apart, the cold scent of his cologne brushed against Chu Jing’s nose, leaving him momentarily stunned.
“Sell yourself to me for three months, and this matter will be completely wiped clean.”
Xiao Yu crawled forward. “Ah Jing, no…”
Ding Chenhai didn’t wait for refusal and offered another option. “I have thirteen dogs. If you can get him out of this house alive, this matter will be cleared as well.”
Everyone present knew this was virtually impossible. Chu Jing had seen those dogs—just one or two would be difficult to evade, let alone all thirteen.
“I won’t sell myself,” Chu Jing said firmly.
Ding Chenhai leaned close to his ear. “I’m not interested in your body. I only want your hands. Help me fight, earn enough to pay off the debt, then you’re free.”
Frowning, Chu Jing asked, “What exactly did Xiao Yu steal from you to make you demand three months of servitude?”
Ding Chenhai’s lips curved slightly. “He stole my sleep, disturbed my rest. Should he die for that?”
“Cut!”
Zhou Changjiang exhaled in relief, chest nearly bursting. The tension in that scene was extraordinary. He had initially doubted that Qin Sizheng could match Lu Xianqing’s intensity, but now he realized he had underestimated him.
Having worked with countless actors, Zhou knew the spectrum—some rigid and wooden, some capable and magnetic. He never expected Qin Sizheng to handle the first shot so smoothly, securing the film a triumphant opening.
He had a strong feeling this movie would win awards—and redefine how cinema approached this kind of story.
Zhou Changjiang’s excitement barely contained, he hurried over to clap Qin Sizheng on the shoulder. “Sizheng, that was amazing! That fight sequence… really—” He paused, then let himself go. “Absolutely thrilling!”
Qin Sizheng pressed his lips into a small smile, relieved. He wasn’t very experienced in front of the camera—when boxing before, he only focused on winning, never considering angles or audience perception.
Xie Fei, playing Xiao Yu, got up from the ground, laughing. “I was scared they’d hit me while I was down. Incredible, so impressive.”
Everyone crowded around to praise him. Qin Sizheng felt slightly embarrassed. “No, you’re all great—that’s why I could get into the scene so quickly.”
Zhou Changjiang liked his humble demeanor even more, gushing for a while before his assistant reminded him it was time to prepare for the next shot.
Xie Fei went for water, leaving only Qin Sizheng and Lu Xianqing. Silence stretched between them for a moment. Qin Sizheng suddenly felt a warmth in his ears—the spot where his chin had been held still tingled.
“Fourth Brother.”
“Yan Yan.”
“You speak first.”
“No, you speak first.”
Qin Sizheng pressed his lips together, then, seeing Lu Xianqing remain silent, said, “Uh… nothing much, just… thank you. If it weren’t for you…”
“Hey, Sizheng!” Chen Qiu ran over, draping an arm around Qin Sizheng’s shoulders as if he were a brother. “I was dumbstruck just now! You didn’t actually train, did you? I love watching boxing matches—you’re so professional! Did you train, did you train?”
Qin Sizheng hurriedly said, “No… I just learned by watching boxing matches casually.”
Chen Qiu didn’t believe him, nuzzling him excitedly. “Impossible, you must have trained! Ahhh, love me again! You’re so cool, I adore you! From today, you replace Fourth Brother as my male idol!”
Qin Sizheng, enjoying the thrill, panicked at the risk of being caught and racked his brain for an excuse when a cool cough interrupted. Both he and Chen Qiu turned to look.
Lu Xianqing said, “Hands away.”
“Huh?” Chen Qiu blinked.
“Memorized your lines? Fully understood the scene? No mistakes?” Lu Xianqing’s trio of questions left Chen Qiu ready to cry, slumping like a drowned puppy. “Right… I’ll re-read the script. Goodbye, Fourth Brother.”
He didn’t want to be scolded during the upcoming scene.
Qin Sizheng exhaled, then caught Lu Xianqing’s dissatisfied gaze and smiled.
“What are you smiling at?” Lu Xianqing asked, scanning him.
Qin Sizheng squinted, still grinning. “Teacher Lu, you’re scary.”
“Hand out.”
“For what?” Qin Sizheng felt uneasy—was this punishment for a bad performance? But Zhou Changjiang had already said it went well, so maybe not.
“Hand out.”
Cautiously, Qin Sizheng extended his hand, bracing for a potential spanking. When Lu Xianqing raised his hand, his breath caught.
A light tap landed on his forehead.
“My… Little Ah Jing.”
Qin Sizheng’s eyes shot open, meeting Lu Xianqing’s playful gaze. His ears flushed crimson.