Tushan Yan sat up and said coldly, "This is no place for mortals such as yourselves. Leave at once."
Chu Zhaoci had struggled to climb all the way here and refused to give up. He knocked his head heavily against the ground three more times. "Divine Lord! I beg you! My mother is at death's door, waiting for medicine to save her life. I'm willing to pay any price!"
Tushan Yan did not even lift his eyelids. "Obstinate fool."
With that, he lightly raised a hand and waved it.
Before Chu Zhaoci could even register what had happened, his entire body went flying as though struck by an enormous invisible hand, and he plunged off the cliff with a scream.
"Cut!"
Zhou Xuye climbed off the safety mat below, brushed the dirt off himself, and called toward the monitor, "Director, surely that one's a keeper!"
Director Sen poked his head out from behind the monitor, his face blooming with a smile. "Excellent! Great performance. One take!"
Song Shi'an climbed down the ladder from the tree. His white robe was so long that he stepped on his own hem several times on the way down, nearly tumbling off with the robe and all.
Director Sen jogged over, his smile as radiant as if he had won the lottery. "Well, Xiao An, it's still early. Why don't we head to the studio and take a few costume portraits for promotional use later?"
Even cannon fodder who only appeared for a few minutes got costume portraits? The directors he'd met lately were all strangely nice.
Then he was taken to the photography studio, where he posed for a good eighty to a hundred shots under the photographer's direction.
Standing shots, sitting shots, side shots, looking-back shots. In between, the photographer had him take off the sable-fur stole and put it back on several times.
Hadn't they said just a few shots? Did the word "few" have some special meaning he didn't know about?
They kept at it until almost six in the evening before wrapping up.
Director Sen personally saw him to the set entrance. "Thanks for your hard work, Xiao An. There's one last shot tomorrow. Get some rest when you get back, and let's try to get it in one take tomorrow too."
Song Shi'an hastily agreed.
Since he had another scene tomorrow, they left his hair in place, and he walked out of the makeup room with waist-length hair.
Lin Fan was already waiting at the door. As soon as he saw him, he handed over a mask. "There's a bunch of fans waiting outside to catch the actors coming and going. Put your mask on."
Song Shi'an blinked in confusion. "What do you mean, catch the actors coming and going?"
"It's when fans wait outside the set every day to see actors arrive at work and leave."
Song Shi'an did not quite understand why anyone would wait around to watch people come and go from work, but following the principle of respecting what he did not understand, he took the mask and put it on.
He took the mask and put it on, then changed back into his own clothes. With that waist-length hair cascading down his back and the black mask on his face, he looked like a young nobleman who had stepped out of a historical-style comic.
The moment he walked out through the set gates, a crowd of fans waiting outside surged toward him.
Zhou Xuye's fans thought their idol had finished work and squeezed forward, holding up letters and gifts.
Lin Fan hurried to stand in front of him. Only when everyone noticed that this assistant was not the familiar face who usually accompanied Zhou Xuye did they begin curiously sizing up the actor wrapped up so tightly before them.
One sharp-eyed fan of the original novel stared at Song Shi'an's waist-length hair for two seconds, then looked at his styling, eyes, and brows before suddenly exclaiming, "He's the one playing Tushan Yan, isn't he?"
The moment Song Shi'an heard that, he took to his heels.
Lin Fan followed close behind, their retreating figures growing more and more distant in the fans' phone cameras.
A few quick-reacting fans snapped away. Although all they caught were the backs of their heads and blurry profiles, that retreating figure with his long hair streaming behind him looked quite atmospheric in the sunset.
Back at the hotel, Song Shi'an pulled off his mask and collapsed onto the sofa.
Lin Fan put down his backpack and dutifully took out his phone to give his report. "I'll go buy dinner for you. Would you like a vegetable salad or a weight-loss meal?"
Song Shi'an raised his head and looked at him with eyes that had lost all hope in life. "Have all you assistants been brainwashed by the company? Artists have to eat grass, is that it? Just get something normal. I'm not picky."
Lin Fan hesitated.
One of the rules in the assistant handbook was to control an artist's diet to maintain their figure, but honestly, Song Shi'an's figure did not seem to require any worrying over at all.
Seeing him still agonizing over it, Song Shi'an sighed and took out his own phone. "I'll just order delivery. What do you want?"
Lin Fan snapped out of it, looking a little embarrassed. "Anything's fine with me."
Song Shi'an unleashed a flurry of moves as fierce as a tiger and finished ordering in two minutes.
Lin Fan glanced at the order page: spicy dry pot, grilled skewers, and two bottles of cola.
He silently swiped right past the dietary management chapter of the assistant handbook on his phone and pretended he had not seen it.
"You've had a tiring day too. Go get some rest."
Lin Fan nodded and returned to the room next door.
Song Shi'an spent ages struggling through a shower in the bathroom, taking great care the entire time not to get his wig wet. By the time he finished, his neck felt as though it was about to snap.
He flopped onto the bed, his whole body sinking into the mattress, and felt his soul slowly returning to its place.
He grabbed his phone and opened Weibo out of habit, only for his notifications page to freeze immediately.
The loading spinner went around for ages. He had wanted to replace his phone last time but could not bear to spend the money, and now this ancient thing was still clinging to its last breath.
He patted the back of the phone. Hang in there, Little Qiang!
After spinning for ages, it finally loaded. He glanced through his messages. There were so many people.
He casually scrolled through his recommended feed for a while, until his finger stopped.
On the screen was a blurry photo of someone sprinting away, with a young assistant running alongside him, his face contorted.
Wasn't that a candid photo someone had taken when he left work that evening?
He opened the comments for a look.
"They replaced Tushan Yan again? How many has it been now?"
"Girl, why didn't you get a picture from the front!!"
"The previous ones all got blasted full of holes. Tushan Yan is an ancient god, the greatest beauty in the three realms!"
"The different fandoms have been fighting for days, and someone still dared to take on this hot potato. This guy's brave!"
After reading them, Song Shi'an silently placed his phone facedown on the bed.
He finally understood why two days of filming paid fifty thousand. Sure enough, pies did not fall from the sky.
That fifty thousand was not an acting fee. It was compensation for emotional distress.
Before he even had time to feel sad, the doorbell rang. His delivery had arrived.
He opened the door and picked up the food, then went to knock on the door next door. "I left your share by the door. Remember to eat." With that, he immediately ducked back into his own room, moving as quickly as a thief.
The moment he opened the plastic bag, the pungent aroma of the spicy dry pot rushed straight into his nose.
He picked up his chopsticks and was about to dig in when his waist-length hair fell forward again, nearly sweeping into the bowl. He brushed it back, but his hair still had a mind of its own.
Song Shi'an was furious. He looked around, found the long paper sleeve that had held the disposable chopsticks on the table, gathered his hair behind his head, and wound the paper around it twice before tying a knot.
He inspected his reflection in his phone's black screen. His long hair was tied into a haphazard little ponytail at the back of his head. It was crooked, but at least it would not fall into his bowl anymore.
He nodded in satisfaction, feeling like an absolute genius.