The director interrupted them, "Ms. Song, go change your clothes first, we'll be filming the next scene soon!"
Song Shi'an got a makeover after getting into the car. He took off his glasses, trimmed his eyebrows, and they looked much sharper.
She changed into a gray sweatshirt, pulled the hood up over her head, paired with black wide-leg casual pants and white sneakers.
He completely transformed from the gloomy, introverted guy he was just moments before.
The director walked over with the script. "This scene is inserted later. You must portray that contrast, but you can't make them seem like completely different people. Combine them. If it's not good in one take, we'll shoot it a few more times. The main thing is the eye acting."
Song Shi'an glanced through the script and nodded. "No problem."
The prop master called out from the doorway, "Director, the props are ready at the door!"
Song Shi'an jogged to the door and saw the black burlap An'an lying quietly on the ground. It was just what he expected.
He bent down and patted the sack, then looked up in the direction of the cemetery, a slight smile playing on his lips.
Lin Fan watched his brother's meaningful smile from the side. Combined with the setting, it looked utterly bizarre—was extreme beauty somehow evoking a ghostly aura...?
The director yelled from behind the monitor, "All departments, get ready! We'll be done once this scene is over, so don't mess things up!"
The sound of clappers echoed through the empty cemetery.
The pale moonlight bathed the tombstones, and a tall figure slowly walked in from the cemetery entrance.
Pale, slender fingers gripped a corner of the burlap sack, which dragged along the ground with a dull screech.
The man walked around, stopping occasionally, his gaze sweeping over the names on the tombstones, as if selecting something suitable.
When he reached a deeper part of the area, he stopped, squatted down, and tested the soil under his feet with his hand. Then he picked up the shovel next to him and began to dig the soil away, one stroke at a time.
He moved slowly and deliberately. When he had dug deep enough, he dragged the sack over, untied the rope at the top, and then pulled it up by the bottom with one hand.
The sack flipped over, and its contents rolled into the pit with a dull thud.
The man stood by the pit, looking down for a while, then suddenly raised his head. The moonlight illuminated half of his face, and a chilling smile appeared on his lips.
After filling the grave with soil, he straightened up and walked step by step towards another part of the cemetery.
He walked to a tombstone, squatted down, took an orange out of his pocket, and placed it in front of the tombstone. "Here, have this. I'll be going back soon."
He squatted there and stared at the tombstone for several seconds, then stood up, dusted off his hands, turned, and walked step by step toward the cemetery exit, finally disappearing into the shadows where the moonlight couldn't reach.
On a tree outside the cemetery, the photographer huddled between two thick branches, his hand holding the telephoto lens trembling slightly.
He glanced down at the finished photo on the camera screen, at the eye shining in the shadows under the moonlight, and at the curve of that mouth. Suddenly, a cold sweat broke out on the photographer's back.
When the person in the shot looked up, they were looking directly in his direction.
That look in his eyes seemed to know where he was hiding, as if he felt that the next second he might be lying in that pit.
I hurriedly packed up my equipment and climbed down the tree, twisting my ankle as I jumped down.
He scrambled to his feet and limped frantically towards the car, muttering, "Mommy, that was terrifying! I'll never come to the cemetery at night again!"
The director, watching the scene of that glance back on the monitor, slammed his hand on the armrest of his chair. "Cut! That's good! The actor playing the corpse, come over and do a reshoot!"
Song Shi'an put the shovel aside and shook his aching wrist.
Burying a person is indeed physically demanding; it's more reliable to have at least two people doing this kind of work.
When he looked up, a person covered in blood was getting off a prop truck and walking straight toward him.
The visual effect was quite striking; blood was smeared all over his face and body, and you could even smell the sweet, cloying scent of the prop blood when you got closer.
Song Shi'an took half a step back. The person who was taking photos of the bloodied man in the tree had left too early; otherwise, they could have taken some pictures of him. What a pity.
The director came over and handed her a bottle of water. "Ms. Song, your scenes for today are finished. According to the filming schedule, you have a week to practice your movements. If you're not in a hurry, we'll send a car to take you back to the hotel later."
Song Shi'an quickly waved his hand. "No need, no need, I can just take a taxi back myself."
He couldn't wait to leave this place; he didn't want to stay a second longer.
Lin Fan chimed in, "I need to go back and get something. You go ahead, I'll be there later."
Song Shi'an nodded, took out his phone, and opened a ride-hailing app.
The cemetery entrance was deserted. I walked around for a while and then stood under a streetlamp waiting for ages.
The driver was about to go home and rest after picking up his next fare when he received the order: a cemetery! Who would be doing at a cemetery so late at night?!
Startled, they immediately cancelled the order.
Song Shi'an looked at his phone and saw that the car he had just booked had been canceled. This place seems a bit out of the way... He'll have to pay extra.
After being canceled three times in a row, someone finally came to pick me up.
As he got into the car, the driver glanced at him several times in the rearview mirror, and after a long pause, blurted out, "What are you doing here so late at night? I wouldn't dare come if the price weren't so high."
Song Shi'an smiled sheepishly, "I just happened to be passing by."
The driver shook his head. "I can tell you're from out of town. There's a reason why this place was converted into a cemetery."
Over the next hour, Song Shi'an listened to the driver recount the legendary stories of that land: the relocation of graves, the search for people, the raising of corpses, the setting off of firecrackers in the middle of the night—each story sent chills down his spine.
When he got back to his hotel room, he didn't even dare to take a shower. He left all the lights on, huddled under the covers, and took out his phone to send a message to the F4 Group: "Brothers, are you guys there?"
Chi Xun replied instantly, "What time is it? What's wrong?"
Song Shi'an instantly felt much more at ease. "You weren't asleep either!"
Chi Xun immediately sent him a picture; it was his poster. "Big brother! Don't you know about the support for your birthday party?"
Song Shi'an stared at the poster for a long time. June 16th—the original owner of this body shared the same birthday as him?
He was stunned for a moment before replying, "What's this about birthday support?"
Chi Xun sent another link.
Song Shi'an clicked on it out of curiosity, and was almost blinded by the screen when it lit up.
The list goes on and on, including joint support efforts by land, sea, and air; rotating advertisements on screens; subway lightbox displays; drone formation performances; and flower walls, coffee displays, and charity projects organized by overseas fans.
Looking at the project titles that say " Song Shi'an's Birthday Support Project," I feel a bit emotional.
He actually receives this level of treatment; the only time the old headmaster ever bought him a cake in his entire life was...