Chapter 136.1: “Storm” Gathering
When Shen Xiu heard this, he frowned slightly. He didn’t like others touching his things, and instinctively said, “I’ll handle it myself…”
Seeing the slight crease between Shen Xiu’s brows, Lu Wen immediately understood what he meant and quickly explained, “Don’t worry, I’m just helping to bring your luggage back to the hotel room arranged by the production team. I won’t touch your stuff.”
He had long heard about Shen Xiu’s strong sense of personal boundaries and naturally made sure everything was arranged properly to avoid making him uncomfortable.
Lu Wen’s words reassured Shen Xiu. They wouldn’t touch his things… Wait, they were only trying to help. Was he overreacting?
Only then did Shen Xiu realize his own response and awkwardly looked at Lu Wen. “Sorry, and thank you for the trouble.”
Just like when he picked Shen Xiu up at the airport, Lu Wen was caught off guard by such politeness—something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He was briefly stunned by Shen Xiu’s words before quickly waving his hand.
The smile on his face grew more genuine, more sincere than his earlier courteous facade. “It’s no trouble at all, really. This is nothing—it’s what I should be doing.”
Though Shen Xiu’s tone was indifferent, whether it was sincere or not, it was already far better than those who couldn’t even be bothered to fake politeness.
“Let’s go,” Lu Wen said as he took the lead.
The sky gradually darkened. If he hadn’t been here many times before, Lu Wen would’ve worried about getting lost outside the hotel grounds.
“Mm,” Shen Xiu responded and followed behind Lu Wen.
The two had only met once before during the contract signing. Shen Xiu wasn’t much more familiar with Lu Wen than he was with Jin Can.
In this unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people, Shen Xiu’s posture unconsciously tensed. Even as he walked, his eyes darted around and his ears stayed alert, as if he wished he could teleport straight to the destination and end this awkward silence of walking alongside someone he didn’t know how to talk to.
Lu Wen walked in front, unable to see Shen Xiu behind him, yet Shen Xiu’s presence was so strong it was impossible to ignore.
Lu Wen wasn’t sure if it was because of the large temperature difference between day and night here, or because he could feel Shen Xiu’s gaze on his back, but walking ahead, he couldn’t shake a creeping sense of unease.
Especially now that the sky had gone completely dark—he had to rely on the faint markings along the roadside to find his way. It made him think of scenes from Storm, and he suddenly had the eerie illusion that someone was about to pull a gun on him from behind at any second. It gave him chills.
Wanting to escape this unsettling feeling as quickly as possible, Lu Wen subconsciously picked up his pace.
Shen Xiu, following behind, noticed Lu Wen speeding up and felt a strange sense of camaraderie.
Sure enough, Lu Wen must be like him—uncomfortable being around strangers. That explains the quickened pace.
Wait a second… speeding up now meant escaping this awkward silence with Lu Wen, who at least he’d met before. But what if the person he was about to meet was even more of a stranger? Wouldn’t that be even more awkward?
Shen Xiu: “…”
Was it too late to start walking slower?
Up ahead, Lu Wen spotted a vague group of people in the distance, and it was like a beacon of hope. His tone visibly lightened. “We’re almost there!”
Shen Xiu: …Well, too late now.
“Who are we meeting?” Shen Xiu asked, a final act of resistance.
Relieved that he was about to escape the suffocating feeling of being silently stared at from behind, Lu Wen replied cheerfully, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Shen Xiu: “…Okay.”
That kind of answer… is terrifying.
As night fell, without any lighting and only a faint glow from the moon to illuminate the land, the further they walked from the hotel grounds, the more deserted and remote the area seemed.
In a foreign country, Shen Xiu couldn’t help but develop a bit of paranoia, feeling as if Lu Wen might be leading him into a trap. His body tensed even more, and his eyes locked onto the distant group of people. Almost reflexively, his gaze swept the surroundings, searching for places he could hide in case something went wrong.
“Shen Xiu, you’re here!”
Just as Shen Xiu was fully on guard, a familiar voice suddenly reached his ears.
He looked closely and saw a figure who had been crouching on the ground stand up, pat the dust off their clothes, and then walk toward him.
“!” Shen Xiu froze. The nervousness from facing strangers vanished, only to be replaced by the nervousness of facing his idol.
His throat bobbed slightly as he took a few steps forward.
Because of his nerves, his voice came out a little hoarse. “Director Xuan!”
As the words left his mouth, Shen Xiu stopped in front of Xuan Yushu, his hands awkwardly hanging at his sides, not knowing where to place them.
In the sky, only a sliver of moon hung, barely enough to make out the outlines of their faces.
Before Shen Xiu arrived, Xuan Yushu had been crouching on the ground trying to get into character. Shen Xiu hadn’t recognized him until he heard his voice.
Xuan Yushu couldn’t see Shen Xiu’s face clearly either—only the tall shadow looming before him.
Still, that cold and familiar voice was unmistakable. Xuan Yushu didn’t need to see his face to know it was him. “Shen Xiu, long time no see.”
Shen Xiu’s mind buzzed, and he instinctively responded, “Yeah, long time no see.”
“Hahaha, surprise, right?” With Xuan Yushu there, Lu Wen felt more relaxed and joked lightheartedly.
Shen Xiu nodded seriously. “Mm, very surprising.”
Lu Wen: “……”
Who reacts to a surprise like that?! Shen Xiu was clearly faking the surprise just to humor him!
Xuan Yushu waved a hand at Lu Wen. “Alright, go take care of your business. There are still a few people who haven’t arrived. Go pick them up, and give me a call once you’re done—we’ll head over then.”
Lu Wen nodded. “Got it. See you.”
After saying goodbye, Lu Wen walked off. Without Shen Xiu’s intense, hawk-like gaze bearing down on him from behind, his steps became noticeably lighter.
Once Lu Wen left, Xuan Yushu lifted his hand and gestured for Shen Xiu. “Come on, let’s take a walk over here.”
“Okay,” Shen Xiu replied, following behind him.
“Just getting familiar with the area. Unless something changes, we’ll be filming all the desert scenes for the next week right here.”
Shen Xiu had already read the script and knew they would be filming in Amara, but he hadn’t known the exact location. Hearing this, he looked around and silently began to memorize the positions of the undulating dunes and rocky outcrops hidden in the shadows.
Xuan Yushu spoke again, casually, “Didn’t expect the director to be me, huh?”
“I didn’t expect it either,” he added with a chuckle, “that I’d one day turn around and shoot a commercial film.”
Weren’t they just talking about the shooting location? Why the sudden switch to the topic of who the director is? Shen Xiu, confused, could only respond with a vague, “Mm.”
Back during their studies, one of their courses was dedicated to learning about the preferences of renowned directors from different eras. Xuan Yushu, hailed as a modern-day genius, had naturally been one of the figures they studied.
In his early career, Xuan Yushu had bowed to reality many times for money, directing numerous pure commercial films. But after rising to fame, he stopped touching commercial work altogether, choosing instead to focus on the artistic films he truly loved.
Shen Xiu knew all of this—but what he didn’t know was why Xuan Yushu was bringing it up now. Other than giving polite responses, he had no idea what to say.
Xuan Yushu continued, “Lu Wen doesn’t like adaptations. He prefers writing his own scripts. From a commercial film perspective, I’m honestly not a big fan of that.”
“After all,” Xuan Yushu said, “the audience doesn’t care about the screenwriter. No one buys a ticket just for the writer.”
To him, making commercial films was about straightforwardly making money—having a built-in fanbase was the safest bet.
Shen Xiu: “…”
Help. Never mind the fact that this was his idol—right now, the director of Storm was standing here telling the second male lead that he doesn’t like the screenwriter of Storm.
What was he supposed to say to that?!
Shen Xiu’s mind was a mess, and he felt an overwhelming urge to dig a hole and disappear.
Not knowing how to respond, he could only be grateful Lu Wen wasn’t present. If the director and writer of Storm ended up battling it out right in front of him, he’d be the unlucky side character awkwardly caught in the crossfire.
Xuan Yushu didn’t seem to expect a reply from Shen Xiu and just kept talking to himself. “But it’s fine. With you all here, the fanbase is solid—practically a guaranteed win.”
Shen Xiu: “?”
You all?
A cascade of question marks filled Shen Xiu’s head.
At this point, Xuan Yushu came to a stop and turned to look at Shen Xiu, who had stayed silent through all of this. He gave a little smile. “Did I come off too blunt?”
Shen Xiu: “…It’s fine.”
At least he hadn’t trashed him—just the absent Lu Wen.
“Hahaha…” Hearing Shen Xiu’s indifferent and unbothered response, Xuan Yushu laughed heartily.
He knew it—Shen Xiu wasn’t the type to care about that kind of drama.
“Don’t worry. Even if I’m not a fan of Lu Wen, I’ll shoot this well—as a way of thanking you for helping Xuan Ji.”
Even if it was a commercial film he didn’t like, he’d take it seriously.
“?”
Shen Xiu couldn’t hold back his confusion. “…Director Xuan, did you misunderstand something? I’ve never helped Xuan Ji.”
Shen Xiu’s response was exactly what Xuan Yushu expected. Whether it was Shen Xiu’s sharp-tongued feedback during filming, his agreement to take a role in Xuan Ji’s film, or the fact that he convinced K Corp to invest in the Immortal Path just to give the project a strong foundation—none of it, in Shen Xiu’s eyes, counted as anything worth mentioning.
Xuan Yushu smiled and responded casually, “Ah, right right right—you didn’t.”
Even if Shen Xiu didn’t care about any of that, as Xuan Ji’s father, Xuan Yushu felt it was his duty to repay the favor. Telling Shen Xiu all this was his way of making it clear why he had taken on the role of Storm’s chief director.
Whether Shen Xiu cared or not was his own business. Whether Xuan Yushu said it or not, was his.
Once more, Xuan Yushu reassured him: “I know what you care about, so don’t worry—I’ll make sure each of you looks great on screen.”
Another question mark slowly popped up in Shen Xiu’s mind: “?”
Before he could say anything, Lu Wen came rushing over. “Director Xuan, are we good to go? Everyone’s here!”
Xuan Yushu raised a hand and made an OK gesture—then immediately remembered it was pitch dark and no one could see anything. So he quickly added, “Yeah, all set. Coming now!”
Then he turned to Shen Xiu. “Let’s go.”
“Mm,” Shen Xiu replied, trailing behind him.
As they passed the group of shadowy figures from earlier, Xuan Yushu called out, “That’s a wrap, everyone! Head back. We meet at nine tomorrow morning.”
The crew responded, starting to pack up their things and chatting as they made their way back.
Though he still couldn’t see anyone’s faces, Shen Xiu could clearly hear the lively conversations. He quietly followed behind the one person he was most familiar with—Xuan Yushu—replaying everything that had happened since he arrived.
When he finished mentally reviewing it all, Shen Xiu realized:
Aside from Xuan Yushu telling him to memorize the terrain in the dark…
He hadn’t really understood anything else the director had said.
