Chapter 170: Filming Completed
Less than three minutes after Shen Xiu replied, the replies under his comment exploded like fireworks.
— Wait, what? You wrote it yourself?
Directors these days really out here doing the most—writing their own scripts now? This is terrifying. @all_directors out there, y’all good?
— Directors: Excuse us?? Is this a personal attack??
— As expected of my Xiu-baby! He’s amazing—writing the script himself! When did he even start writing it? How come there wasn’t a single hint?
— Do you even have to ask? It’s just a movie script—child’s play for my Xiu-baby!
— The movie’s called New Life, right? Just from the title, you can tell it’s a super optimistic and uplifting story!
Reading Shen Xiu’s comment, the cast members who had seen the entire script didn’t dare make a sound.
If they hadn’t read the whole thing themselves… they might’ve believed him!
Shen Xiu’s so-called “uplifting and completely normal story” didn’t exactly match their version of reality.
Yet Shen Xiu, who wrote that reply with utter seriousness, didn’t feel there was anything wrong with it at all.
—
A week later, right on schedule, the New Life production team held their official kick-off ceremony at 8:08:08 AM, exactly as Shen Xiu had predetermined.
Since he was too embarrassed to consult a fortune teller for an auspicious time, Shen Xiu turned to his phone and tried calculating it himself.
After a lot of back-and-forth, he concluded that most of the online fortune-telling tools weren’t exactly reliable—they kept giving him times associated with either the number “4” or “10.”
As a part-time believer in superstition, Shen Xiu decisively went with 888, a number that sounded incredibly lucky.
He had originally considered 666, but 6 a.m. was just too early—no one would be awake—so he settled on the more reasonable 888.
Having already attended two film opening ceremonies himself, Shen Xiu was now experienced. Apart from the time, he essentially copied the rest of the process from the previous two ceremonies he had participated in.
Not everyone needed to burn incense—people like Xia Wenhao, who wasn’t part of the cast but came to support Rebirth, or Shang Yu and Song Chengwang, who were there simply as investors joining in on the fun, were exempt from that part.
Everyone in the crew knew they were from The Galaxy, so when they saw the group gathering together for a chat, no one went over to be a third wheel.
Song Chengwang leaned against a load-bearing pillar at the corner of the corridor, watching Shen Xiu in the distance, surrounded by people as he performed the incense ceremony. He couldn’t help but comment, “I’ve seen so many opening ceremonies, and directors are always serious—but even when it’s his own film, Captain Xiu still acts so cold.”
Mu Zhenchu didn’t quite agree and countered Song Chengwang’s remark.
“Really? I actually think Captain Xiu takes it pretty seriously. Look, he even picked 8:08:08 as the opening time. That sounds super lucky… Wait a second… is Captain Xiu superstitious?”
Shang Yu let out a light chuckle. “Believing Captain Xiu is into superstition? You’d be better off believing he has OCD.”
Song Chengwang nodded in agreement, his gaze lazily drifting to Shen Xiu—now done with the incense and standing to the side, calmly observing the ceremony. “Exactly. There’s no way Captain Xiu is superstitious. You’re thinking of Xiang Yueting—he’d probably stop at a koi pond just to make a whole wish list.”
What Song Chengwang and Shang Yu said instantly made Mu Zhenchu abandon his suspicions.
“You’re right, I was being silly. Someone like Captain Xiu would probably believe more in ‘man conquers destiny.’ To him, anything supernatural is just nonsense.”
“Achoo…” Xiang Yueting, standing beside Shen Xiu, suddenly sneezed.
Shen Xiu turned his head to glance at him. “Are you sick?”
Afraid Shen Xiu would think he might delay filming, Xiang Yueting quickly waved his hand. “No, not at all. My nose just itched all of a sudden. I think someone’s talking bad about me behind my back.”
After saying that, something seemed to click—he turned his gaze sharply toward Song Chengwang in the distance.
Song Chengwang met Xiang Yueting’s eyes and gave him a perfunctory smile before looking away, clearly not interested in responding.
Xiang Yueting: “…The moment our eyes met, he looked guilty and turned away. No doubt about it—Old Song’s definitely the one talking bad about me!”
Shen Xiu: “…”
Faced with a “dispute” between two of his teammates, and afraid of being dragged in as a referee, Shen Xiu decisively walked over to Shi Buwen, pretending to be busy.
“Let me see.”
Shi Buwen was looking down, checking something on the papers in his hand. When he heard Shen Xiu’s cold voice, he instinctively complied and handed over the sheet to Shen Xiu, who was walking toward him.
Shen Xiu took the paper and lowered his head, pretending to study it seriously.
Shi Buwen: “…”
Seriously? Didn’t Shen Xiu usually leave these small matters to him? Now he had to look over it personally to feel at ease?
That level of control… was a bit too intense.
Shi Buwen glanced at Shen Xiu’s sharply defined profile but didn’t dare say it out loud.
Once the opening ceremony was over, Shen Xiu instructed Jin Can to send the video footage and prewritten social media captions to the manager’s account managed by the system.
Jin Can bundled up the photos and copy and sent them over, all the while wondering who exactly Shen Xiu’s manager was—someone who had never once appeared in public with Shen Xiu, yet had earned his full trust.
But seeing Shen Xiu’s cold, unreadable expression, Jin Can didn’t dare ask.
The photos released from the New Life kick-off ceremony, whether of the lead Qin Xiao or the rest of the cast, showed nothing flashy or eye-catching in terms of styling.
Aside from Jiang Yanxi and the other three, the rest of the cast Shen Xiu had chosen were mostly fresh graduates from acting academies—newcomers signed to agencies. They weren’t famous, had no online traffic, but their acting skills far surpassed the average idol star.
As a result, once the opening ceremony photos were posted, the bulk of the shares and reposts still came from fans of The Galaxy members or the group’s fandom at large.
With no knowledge of the original story, everyone could only try to guess the plot from the photos.
@NewLifeOfficial: Wishing a great start to filming~ [6 Photos]
— Wishing New Life smooth sailing 666, box office boom 888!
— Judging by the styling, everyone looks so fresh and youthful—so, is it a coming-of-age school drama?
— Based on Xiu-baby’s earlier reply, it’s definitely a youth film. The so-called “positive and normal content” probably just means teenage hormones going a little astray, but in the end, the students encourage each other and all get into college—a classic feel-good plot.
— If that’s the case, then… it sounds kind of bland?
— I feel like… it won’t be that simple. This is Xiu-baby’s first film, after all. Mark my words—I might end up a prophet.
There was no doubt: most netizens, after seeing the photos from the opening ceremony, thought New Life looked too ordinary—lacking appeal.
But then they remembered… this was a Shen Xiu film.
And suddenly, it didn’t feel so plain anymore—anticipation shot right back up.
—
After the opening ceremony concluded, the crew members took their positions and began filming.
It was currently summer break, so most high schools were empty. The New Life production team had borrowed an old local high school and an abandoned hospital on the outskirts of the city for filming.
Shen Xiu planned to shoot all the school scenes first before moving on to the hospital scenes.
As the chief director, in order to better manage the team and make it clear that he was serious and not to be trifled with, Shen Xiu deliberately modeled himself after his idol, Xuan Yushu. He sat in the director’s chair, staring at the camera he had studied countless times in his room the day before and was already very familiar with.
He furrowed his brow on purpose, trying to look stern and authoritative.
“Are you ready?”
At the sound of Shen Xiu’s cold voice, the veteran extras with only minor roles immediately tensed up.
“Ready.”
“All set.”
“OK…”
Once he heard everyone’s responses, Shen Xiu focused on the camera in front of him and raised his hand in an “OK” gesture.
A crew member immediately clapped the slate and shouted, “Action—!”
Filming began. Once Shen Xiu was immersed in the process, he no longer had time to think about pretending to be mature. He focused entirely on the actors’ performances through the lens…
Actors without scenes in the current shot stood at a distance, watching Shen Xiu from across the crowd and couldn’t help whispering among themselves.
“Director Shen looks so experienced…”
“Of course he is. Don’t forget, based on the filming assignments leaked by his classmates, Director Shen has done this countless times before. This might be officially labeled his first movie, but for him, this is child’s play—piece of cake~”
“Oh no, the way Director Shen frowns makes me so nervous. I only have one line, but with him looking like that, it’s terrifying. I’m done talking—I need to go over my line and practice my expression!”
…
After a full day of non-stop filming, the entire crew had been running at full capacity.
At 10 p.m., filming finally wrapped up, and Shen Xiu treated the entire crew to a late-night meal.
It was only during supper that everyone who had participated in the day’s shoot—whether crew members or actors—suddenly realized that everything throughout the shoot had gone smoothly and orderly, without a single hiccup.
Shen Xiu was worried that if he joined them for the meal, everyone would fall silent out of deference to his presence.
After all, up to this point, the only people who could speak freely around him were the members of The Galaxy and teachers like Shi Buwen, Xuan Ji, and Mr. Kaiser.
To avoid making others uncomfortable—and to double-check that everything shot today was indeed flawless—Shen Xiu stayed in his room during supper, reviewing the day’s footage.
With Shen Xiu absent, everyone finally felt free to talk without restraint.
“Did you guys notice? Director Shen’s need for control is intense—it’s honestly a bit scary. When I went to see Director Shi earlier, I happened to glance at the shooting schedule on his desk. Turns out our entire day was executed exactly according to that plan—down to the minute. I overheard the assistant directors chatting and they said it was Director Shen himself who wrote it.”
“No wonder he’s called the Demon King Xiu—terrifying! I can’t even imagine what would happen if someone strayed from his plan. He’d probably execute them on the spot with just a glare.”
“This is insane, absolutely insane. We’re all here eating, and Director Shen is reviewing footage from today. Is he trying to singlehandedly push the film industry into overdrive?”
“Ahem… Director Shi just walked in—let’s change the topic to food. Honestly? This is the first crew I’ve been on where overtime is paid triple. For that kind of money? I love working late!”
“Right? Not only do we get overtime pay, we also get such a lavish supper. I’ve worked with so many crews, but only Director Shen’s makes me feel genuinely happy to be here!”
…
At 11 p.m., Shen Xiu returned home.
After an entire day of being on edge, the moment he stepped through the door and heard it automatically close behind him, all the tension in his body seemed to release at once.
Upon hearing the noise, Lucky—who had now grown into a plump little black furball—came bouncing over with his tail held high.
“Lucky…”
As Shen Xiu called out, he naturally bent down and scooped up the charging Lucky with practiced ease, then strode over to the sofa.
Sitting down with his back against the cushions, Shen Xiu hugged Lucky and began absentmindedly stroking him, using the moment of petting to relieve the mental stress built up from the day’s filming.
Pretending to be a cool, competent adult all day—from body to mind—had nearly exhausted him!
The thought that he still had over a month of this “acting mature” life left to go made Shen Xiu tilt his head back and stare mournfully at the ceiling.
Shen Xiu liked being busy—but he didn’t like pretending to be a grown-up.
—
Over a month later, filming for New Life wrapped up.
As his first film project, Shen Xiu was taking it very seriously.
The content had basically been completed according to his vision, and he would personally oversee the editing and visual effects.
Naturally, the box office became Shen Xiu’s main concern.
Especially after seeing several push notifications about recent box office flops, his anxiety intensified—to the point where he even dreamed at night about New Life bombing miserably.
So, Shen Xiu decided to fully apply the “techniques” he had learned from his idol, Xuan Yushu, to New Life.
Ever since New Life wrapped, countless media outlets had been scrambling to get exclusive first-hand information about the film.
Among the many interested media outlets, Shen Xiu chose without hesitation the one he had worked with the most and felt most comfortable around—Yu Xiangwan.
After discussions between both parties, they decided to host a livestream to build hype for New Life.
The livestream was scheduled to take place two days before Shen Xiu’s senior year of college began.
As the director of New Life, Shen Xiu chose his own residence as the livestream location.
Aside from Jiang Yanxi, Xiang Yueting, Zhuang Yi, and Ning Sinian—who had all been there before—the rest of the cast had only seen glimpses of Shen Xiu’s home through online livestreams. This was their first time stepping into it in person, and they were stunned.
While Shen Xiu took Lucky to its room, the rest of the guests sat stiffly on the living room sofa, unable to stop themselves from glancing around.
“That painting… I heard it sold at auction for sixty million.”
“Forget the painting—just this set of sofas we’re sitting on now is worth millions…”
“These water glasses we’re using? Each one costs tens of thousands.”
“Should we try to take a look around this 400-square-meter living room?”
“Now I finally understand what the scent of money means. Forget walking around—I’m too afraid to even touch anything.”
“I’m so jealous of Ning Sinian and the others,” someone said, their gaze falling on Xiang Yueting and his group, seated a good distance away.
“They’re so at ease here. When they came in just now, even the shoes they wore were different from ours. You could tell immediately that they visit often—there were even designated house slippers prepared just for them.”
…
Shen Xiu closed the door and heard voices coming from the living room. Worried he might overhear something he wasn’t supposed to, he deliberately made his footsteps louder as he walked.
The low murmurs in the living room immediately stopped when they heard his approach.
Only after confirming that everyone had gone quiet did Shen Xiu step out.
When they saw him, everyone offered polite, slightly stiff smiles and greeted him, “Director Shen…”
“Mm,” Shen Xiu responded, then sat down beside Yu Xiangwan.
Zhuang Yi and the other three, knowing the rest of the group wasn’t very comfortable since it was their first time in Shen Xiu’s home, had walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window earlier. Now, seeing Shen Xiu come out, they returned and sat down on the couch.
Yu Xiangwan, acting as the host for the livestream, sat to the side, while the main actors from New Life took the center seats.
Among them, Ji Huaiyin, who played the lead role, sat in the center position. As the director, Shen Xiu sat beside Yu Xiangwan.
Xiang Yueting and the other three didn’t have many scenes in the film—they were mainly there to add a casual, relaxed vibe to the setting, helping ease the tension. They sat at the far end of the couch.
Seeing everyone seated according to the plan, Yu Xiangwan smiled and said, “Everyone ready?”
“Ready.”
“Yep!”
“OK~”
…
Once she heard everyone’s responses, Yu Xiangwan turned to her assistant. “Let’s start the livestream.”
“Got it.”
As soon as the assistant spoke, the livestream went live.
The event had already been teased on the official account earlier, and thanks to reposts by The Galaxy members, New Life cast members, as well as actors and directors who had worked with Shen Xiu before, viewers began flooding into the stream in droves.
Watching the viewer count steadily rise in the livestream room, Yu Xiangwan greeted the audience along with the cast of New Life, then decided to start off with a few light-hearted warm-up questions.
Yu Xiangwan: “…So, as the director of New Life, Director Shen, if you had to describe the filming process with one word, what word would you choose?”
The filming process?
Shen Xiu recalled how the shoot had gone exactly according to his carefully crafted plan, without the slightest deviation. Without hesitation, he answered, “Perfect.”
After Shen Xiu finished answering, Yu Xiangwan turned to Ji Huaiyin: “As the lead actor of New Life, Mr. Ji, what word would you use?”
Just thinking about the whole filming process made Ji Huaiyin’s head buzz. He blurted out, “Who am I, where am I, and what am I even doing?!”
Yu Xiangwan: “…Uh, Mr. Ji, is that… one word?”
She had asked for one word, so how had he ended up saying a whole sentence?
Shen Xiu turned his head, eyes landing on Ji Huaiyin with the same confused look as the host.
The moment Ji Huaiyin finished speaking and saw the chilly look Shen Xiu was giving him, he jolted in panic and immediately corrected himself: “What I meant was—perfect. Yep… perfect! That’s right. Absolutely perfect!”
Yu Xiangwan: “……”
[Blink twice if you’re being threatened!]
[Boss Xiu: Hmm? What were you saying just now? I’ll give you one chance to rephrase that.]
With a smile tugging at her lips, Yu Xiangwan cleared her throat lightly and looked at the other cast members: “And the rest of you? What word would you use to describe the filming process?”
The actors, who’d just been watching the drama and now got called on: “……”
Do you even have to ask? Of course, their feelings were exactly the same as Ji Huaiyin’s!
“Perfect!”
“That’s right, totally perfect!”
“Mm-hmm, what everyone else said—perfect!”
Help! On Demon King Xiu’s turf, and right in front of him—how could they possibly dare to speak their minds?
To be honest, none of them even knew what kind of chaotic or twisted final product the edited film would turn out to be.
Every actor with a significant role in New Life gave the exact same answer: perfect.
Shen Xiu: “!”
See? What a smooth and happy collaboration they’d had!
Yu Xiangwan: “……”
Great. Moving forward, she absolutely must not ask Shen Xiu any more questions.
[Hahaha, the screen is full of people trembling under Boss Xiu’s reign of terror.]
[Curious—what on earth did they film that’s making everyone so evasive and ending with “perfect”? Could it be so bad that they’re too scared to say the truth?]
[What do I do? These answers only make me more curious. Damn it, this manipulative PR tactic totally got me—I admit, my curiosity is being ruthlessly exploited!]
Yu Xiangwan asked a few more warm-up questions, and as the number of viewers in the livestream room continued to climb, she officially shifted the conversation to questions about New Life.
As the lead actor, Ji Huaiyin naturally became her main interview target.
Yu Xiangwan: “During filming, which scene left the deepest impression on you?”
Ji Huaiyin didn’t even dare recall them in detail. He answered without hesitation: “Every single one!”
By the end of each scene, he felt like he was losing his mind.
Yu Xiangwan: “……”
This interview is impossible! But… such an answer definitely piqued people’s curiosity.
Yu Xiangwan: “Without giving away any spoilers, can you describe what kind of story New Life is?”
Ji Huaiyin glanced at Shen Xiu—he didn’t dare say too much, and could only offer: “It’s a story about a lost teenager who, after going through many hardships, finds himself again.”
Yu Xiangwan hadn’t read the script—only the main cast members had—so she relied on the livestream comments and Ji Huaiyin’s words to conclude: “It does seem like what Director Shen said—it’s a very positive and uplifting story.”
Ji Huaiyin nodded stiffly. “…Yeah.”
Going through all those hardships just to return to his own world—how could that not be called uplifting?
The rest of the cast: “……”
Ha. Lies. They just sat there quietly, watching him spin nonsense!
[Judging from everyone’s expressions, I feel like things aren’t as simple as they seem.]
[+11111, the looks on their faces when Ji Huaiyin answered were very telling.]
[Babies, have you noticed? I’m getting even more curious now!]
[Marking this for later—calling it now, I might be a prophet.]
…
At noon, the interview ended. To thank Yu Xiangwan and the cast for helping with the promo, Shen Xiu, as planned, invited everyone to lunch.
Including Shen Xiu himself, there were five people from The Galaxy. With the actors and Yu Xiangwan’s team added in, the group totaled twenty people.
Shen Xiu alone couldn’t drive everyone, so he looked to his friends. “Sinian, you guys…”
Jin Can had already told Xiang Yueting and the others in advance about helping with the driving, so before Shen Xiu could even finish his sentence, the four of them readily agreed.
“It’s just driving—piece of cake!”
“I’ve been wanting to drive for a while—thank you, Captain Xiu, for giving me the opportunity!”
“No problem.”
“Same here.”
All four agreed without hesitation. With twenty people, one elevator wouldn’t be enough. Shen Xiu used his iris scan to unlock access and had Xiang Yueting take nine people down to the second basement level in one elevator, while he took the remaining nine in another.
Inside the elevator, everyone watched the floor numbers drop, puzzled—no one had ever heard of Yulin Banxia having a second basement level. Did Shen Xiu press the wrong button?
Ding.
With a soft chime, the elevator doors opened.
As the doors slowly slid apart, everyone stared at the sight before them in the B2 parking garage—expressions frozen in shock.
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