Zhu Wen felt something was off. The expression he intended to hold on his face momentarily twisted.
Director Wang immediately noticed and shouted for a stop, his face tense.
“Take a ten-minute break, then we’ll continue.” Lately, the schedule had been packed, and Wang had been rushing through scenes. He could only tolerate Zhu Wen’s small mistake for now—after all, Zhu Wen, as the second male lead, had a lot of screen time. Wang didn’t want to overburden him and slow down the entire shoot.
Zhu Wen returned to his seat, taking a sip of water handed to him by his assistant, while secretly scanning the room with his eyes.
What struck him as odd was that whenever someone’s gaze met his, they quickly looked away. The more he watched, the stranger it seemed. What was going on?
“Wen… ge…” Assistant Ruru called softly, trying to say something. Zhu Wen, already feeling uneasy, shot her a sharp glare. Her lips twitched, but no words came out.
Zhu Wen ignored her, frowning as he continued to observe. Seeing that everyone avoided eye contact, the sense of unease inside him deepened.
“All right, let’s start.” Ten minutes later, Wang called out, positioning the cameras.
Zhu Wen set down his water, still uncertain what was happening, and proceeded to shoot.
This scene was a close-up of the second male lead, requiring precise facial expressions. But Zhu Wen, distracted by those evasive looks, couldn’t get his face quite right. Wang, who had endured it patiently, finally lost his temper.
“Cut! Are you trying to perform Sichuan opera face-changing?!” Wang yelled, pointing directly at Zhu Wen, giving him no face in front of everyone.
Zhu Wen’s temper flared. It wasn’t his fault—others’ gazes were affecting him! Couldn’t Wang see that?
He snapped back, justifying himself. He had a reason; he wasn’t afraid Wang would punish him.
Hearing this, Wang thought he was making excuses—but then noticed several crew members shifting uncomfortably, averting their eyes.
Wang immediately sensed something was wrong. What was going on with these people?
“Director!” A production assistant rushed in, clearly flustered, straight to Wang’s side.
“What’s the matter?” Wang’s mood darkened, his tone unusually harsh.
The assistant didn’t notice the change, his face shadowed as he glanced at Zhu Wen. He hurriedly explained.
“Outside the crew… there are reporters everywhere!”
“What? Reporters?” Wang sprang up. He hadn’t authorized any media contact. How could this happen?
“Yes… it’s…” The assistant’s eyes flicked toward Zhu Wen. Wang, perceptive, noticed immediately and beckoned him closer for a whisper.
The assistant quietly explained, and Wang’s expression darkened further.
“Are you serious?” Zhu Wen actually took the crew’s footage and hired online shills to stir up publicity? Wang’s disbelief was clear. The assistant nodded obediently.
“And Yu Junqing? What’s he doing now?” Wang immediately thought of the key person. If reporters cornered him, it would be disastrous.
“When I arrived, I saw dy. She said she would notify Yu Junqing to leave through the back exit,” the assistant said quickly.
“Idiot!” Wang exploded, terrifying everyone around.
“Director…” The assistant shrank back, afraid to look up.
“Don’t just stand there! You handle this mess. I’ll deal with the reporters outside. Make sure Yu Junqing gets out safely through the back!” Wang commanded sharply as he moved toward the front exit. Everyone present understood exactly where his loyalties lay.
For a moment, several people glanced at Zhu Wen with faint pity.
Zhu Wen felt uneasy. What was Wang’s intention? He turned to his cowering assistant, his low voice laced with barely concealed anger. “What were you trying to tell me earlier?”
The assistant, even more frightened, almost buried her face in her chest. She muttered a few words.
“On Weibo… someone posted footage from the shoot, saying Yu Ge was bullying you…”
Zhu Wen furrowed his brows tightly. “Explain clearly. What footage?”
“It’s from a few days ago, the part Director Wang had Yu Ge film for you to see…” The assistant avoided saying it was a coaching scene.
Zhu Wen’s mind clicked. Interesting. Just someone posting the footage on Weibo, and now he had to take the blame?
“Because… Wen Ge, didn’t you just post on Weibo a few days ago?” The assistant, though not a frequent Weibo user, managed Zhu Wen’s account daily and knew the comments. Most people had sided with him against Yu Ge. But now, wouldn’t everyone assume Yu Ge was the culprit?
Zhu Wen laughed bitterly to himself. Unlike others, he didn’t buy into the notion that Yu Junqing was some pure, untouchable figure. In this industry, very few were truly clean.
“But Wen Ge… now everyone’s…” The assistant bit her lip, carefully warning him, adding that reporters had already surrounded the front entrance.
“Doesn’t matter. If Yu Junqing can’t escape, fine. I want to see what he will say,” Zhu Wen said stubbornly, pretending he wasn’t concerned about being caught by reporters himself.
Meanwhile, Yu Junqing wasn’t in a better position.
Dy had applied his makeup hastily, and by the time he ran out, sweat had blurred it. He wiped at his face, removing a lot of the makeup.
He now stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light. But something felt wrong.
Across the street, a girl had been staring at him for a long time. Yu Junqing worried that once the light turned green, she would rush over.
He felt a pang of anxiety. If he were recognized in this state, it could become another big news story—something he wouldn’t be able to control.
His eyes darted around, searching for an escape route.
“Get in.” A black car screeched to a halt in front of him. The window rolled down slightly, revealing a familiar face.
“Rui Ge!” Yu Junqing exclaimed, reacting quickly. He opened the door and slid inside without hesitation.
“Sit tight. I saw a few media cars nearby,” Bo Rui said, eyes on the road. The black car disappeared into the distance like a streak of smoke, leaving the slightly chubby girl across the street disappointed that she hadn’t clearly identified the mysterious figure.