Chapter 139.2: Storm Filming (2)
Xuan Yushu always strove for realism in his filming. If he couldn’t use the real thing, he’d create something as close to real as possible, avoiding excessive reliance on special effects.
Creating effects like explosions and gunfights wasn’t too costly, but it was troublesome. If one take wasn’t good enough, the scene had to be reset completely for the next.
Hearing Shen Xiu’s response, Xuan Yushu raised his hand, intending to pat Shen Xiu on the shoulder. But when he looked up and met Shen Xiu’s cold, sharp features under the lighting, his hand changed direction midair.
The hand that was meant for Shen Xiu’s shoulder landed instead on Mu Zhenchu’s.
“Good luck!”
Mu Zhenchu: “…Good… luck?”
After saying that, Xuan Yushu turned and walked away.
Mu Zhenchu stared at his back, then glanced at his own shoulder, confused. He didn’t quite get it—Xuan Yushu had clearly been looking at Shen Xiu when he said “good luck,” so why had his hand landed on his shoulder?
…
“Action!”
In the darkness, the harsh sound of bullets hitting metal pierced the air, followed by a series of crashes and explosions—flames shot up into the night sky…
Inside an overturned vehicle, bullets continued to slam into the car’s body. Ba Ze lowered his head to look at his left leg, which was trapped in the wreckage, and cursed furiously, “F*ck!”
As he spoke, he looked up toward Han Fei, whose face was pale from heavy blood loss, illuminated intermittently by the flickering flames.
Yi Chen, blood trickling from his forehead, heard Ba Ze’s swearing and instinctively glanced at Han Fei before turning a frown toward Ba Ze. “Save your energy. If you don’t want to die, shut up.”
Ba Ze ignored Yi Chen and looked toward Han Fei, who hadn’t glanced at him once since the crash. A sense of dread crept into his chest. “Mr. Han, you…”
Clang!
Han Fei’s thin lips pressed together as he kicked a certain spot on the car frame.
Ba Ze suddenly felt a sharp pain on the surface of his calf. Reflexively, he looked down at where his leg was pinned.
The next moment—before he could even process the pain—Han Fei grabbed him by the arm and yanked him out from the wreckage in one swift motion.
Yi Chen hadn’t expected Han Fei to exert himself like that. His anxious gaze fell on Han Fei’s waist, where blood was steadily seeping out. “Mr. Han, your injury…”
Han Fei raised a hand to press against his abdomen and dropped a single cold word: “Go.”
Yi Chen wanted to say more but instinctively fell silent, following closely behind Han Fei as they disappeared into the night.
Ba Ze was dazed, too stunned to speak. He walked last, alertly scanning the surroundings while staring at Han Fei’s back ahead of him, tears welling in his eyes.
The three of them dodged bullets as they made a swift retreat…
After a tense and frantic escape, they finally evaded their pursuers and hid in a dilapidated building.
Han Fei leaned against the wall, his blood- and smoke-stained clothes discarded to the side. Yi Chen was pouring medicine—found inside the house—onto the wound on Han Fei’s waist.
Han Fei’s gaze rested on the spot where his clothes had been tossed. He stared at the patch of blood next to them, his brows knitting slightly.
Ba Ze came in from outside. “No one followed us. We’re safe.”
Hearing this, Yi Chen breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed a bottle of medicine from the ground without even looking, and tossed it behind him. “Medicate yourself.”
Ba Ze caught the medicine in one hand and stood there motionless, eyes sneaking glances at Han Fei.
Seeing Han Fei’s sharp, cold profile, he awkwardly spoke up, “Let Mr. Han use it. My injury’s nothing, I don’t need it.”
As Han Fei’s personal bodyguard, not only had they let him take a bullet, but they had even ended up being saved by him.
“Mr. Han doesn’t need your medicine,” Yi Chen said with exasperation.
“…Oh,” Ba Ze mumbled awkwardly.
Seeing that Han Fei didn’t seem inclined to speak, he lowered his voice. “I’ll stand guard outside.”
No one responded. The silence in the room became suffocatingly awkward, and Ba Ze stiffly left.
After he was gone, Han Fei, still staring at the bloodstain, finally spoke: “Karma.”
Yi Chen’s hand paused as he was bandaging. “Mr. Han… what do you mean?”
Han Fei’s gaze remained fixed on that smear of blood, his voice cold as he explained, “Earlier, I killed a doctor outside. That blood is probably his.”
Yi Chen froze for a second, then quickly remembered and blurted out, “Mr. Han, I fired that shot, not you.”
They had fled into this place in a rush. It had been pitch black—no light at all—and yet Han Fei had still recognized that this was somewhere they had been before. Yi Chen was silently shaken to the core.
“It doesn’t matter,” Han Fei let out a cold laugh. “It’s all the same.”
Yi Chen didn’t understand what Han Fei meant, but he didn’t dare speak further.
A dozen seconds later, Yi Chen frowned and looked up. “Mr. Han, your wound must—”
Before he could finish, Han Fei’s cold voice cut in, “Notify Xie Yi. I’m returning to Yicheng.”
Hearing this, Yi Chen finally let out a sigh of relief. “Understood!”
After a close-up shot of Han Fei’s brutal wound, Xuan Yushu raised a hand and made a gesture before calling out, “Cut!”
At the word “cut,” Mu Zhenchu immediately rushed in from outside.
Scanning the room and locking eyes with Xuan Yushu, he anxiously asked, “Director Xuan, did we pass?”
Just now, when his leg was trapped in the car and nearly the entire frame had collapsed on him, his panic hadn’t been acting. That kind of scene—Mu Zhenchu had no desire to go through it again.
Hearing Mu Zhenchu’s question, Shen Xiu and Song Chengwang also looked toward Xuan Yushu.
Song Chengwang didn’t want a retake either. The narrow, winding paths were one thing—what made it worse was that Director Xuan loved long continuous takes. Thankfully, Shen Xiu had been there; otherwise, in the pitch black, he’d have had no idea how to get to the previous set location.
What made it even more awkward for Song Chengwang was that, although the camera only showed the three of them in the scene, behind the lens the entire room had been packed with crew members.
It was… very awkward.
Xuan Yushu’s gaze swept over the three, then he smiled and said, “Congratulations. That’s a wrap!”
Not only was it a pass—it was perfect.
Xuan Yushu had noticed that every time Shen Xiu was involved, filming always went smoothly.
There was something about Shen Xiu—some kind of magic—that made everything fictional feel real through his performance.
Xiang Yueting leaned in to examine the area around Shen Xiu’s wound. “Captain Xiu, your acting was so good it made me hurt just watching. This is really fake, right?”
If it were anyone else in the group, Xiang Yueting wouldn’t hesitate to reach out and check for himself—but since it was Shen Xiu, all he could do was stare longingly.
Just as Shen Xiu opened his mouth to respond, Xiang Yueting changed the subject again. “Why do you always have an eight-pack, while I nearly kill myself training and still only manage four? That’s not scientific!”
In that scene, Han Fei had taken a bullet to the abdomen and had to take off his shirt so Yi Chen could apply medicine.
As a result, everyone had seen Shen Xiu’s bare upper body.
Shen Xiu: “…”
He’d always admired Xiang Yueting’s ability to jump topics at lightning speed.
And now he had no idea how to respond.
Not knowing what to say, Shen Xiu quietly picked up the shirt next to him and pulled it on, his ears flushing red.
Xia Wenhao bluntly said to Xiang Yueting, “Just train harder. But if all you ever do is talk about training and never actually train, how are you supposed to get anywhere?”
Shang Yu chimed in, “You could do what Shen Xiu does—wake up at 7 a.m. every day and hit the hotel gym.”
Xiang Yueting: “Seven a.m.? Captain Xiu, are you some kind of demon?”
They weren’t even in the training camp anymore, and he was still this intense!
Before Shen Xiu could reply, Xiang Yueting jumped topics again.
“Wait a second, Shang Yu—how do you know that?”
Song Chengwang said dryly, “Because he’s also a demon who secretly hits the gym at 7 a.m. every morning to work on his body.”
As for him, his six-pack was good enough—no way he was joining that madness.
Ning Sinian looked down at his own body. “Too early for me. I’ll pass.”
Jiang Yanxi agreed. “Same here.”
…
While the others were chatting idly, Xuan Yushu was reviewing the footage from the earlier shoot.
After confirming that the scene had no issues, he finally instructed the crew to pack up and prepare for the next shoot.
Over the following days, Xuan Yushu completed all the scenes involving the main and supporting actors in Amara. As soon as filming wrapped, the whole team packed their bags and set off for Yicheng.
—
On the flight to Yicheng—
The Storm production team had arranged the lead actors’ seats so they were close enough to chat during the flight.
Xiang Yueting sat beside Shen Xiu, constantly turning to talk to him, then turning to chat with others.
“Hey, did you guys hear it’s snowing in Yicheng?”
“Come on, they gave our phones back last night. Of course we know.”
“Ugh, you really don’t know how to chat. When someone asks that, you’re supposed to say you don’t know! Here, let me show you how it’s done.”
Xiang Yueting turned to Shen Xiu. “Captain Xiu, did you know it’s snowing in Yicheng?”
Shen Xiu: “…I just found out.”
Xiang Yueting turned excitedly toward Song Chengwang, who’d just snapped at him: “Hear that? Captain Xiu knows how to chat! Said he just found out—clearly picked it up from my subtle hint!”
Shen Xiu: “…”
He had literally just found out. It wasn’t a clever conversational trick.
He’d gotten his phone back last night and had spent the whole time looking at pictures of Lucky—checking the weather in Yicheng hadn’t even crossed his mind.
But when Shen Xiu saw how happy Xiang Yueting looked, he said nothing.
—
That evening, the Storm crew arrived in Yicheng from Amara.
Before the move, the production team had already reserved a hotel and arranged accommodations.
They also sent cars to pick everyone up from the airport.
On the day they arrived in Yicheng, there wasn’t any snowfall, but the ground was blanketed with snow that must have fallen sometime earlier.
In the dazzling brightness of Yicheng’s night—where darkness never quite fell—the pure white snow gave the extravagant city a fresh coat of elegance.
The group boarded the hotel’s shuttle, and as the car pulled away, Xiang Yueting gazed out the window and couldn’t help but exclaim, “It’s so beautiful!”
“I remember there being a snow scene in the script I got, but I’ve asked too many people and my memory’s a blur—can’t recall who it’s between anymore…”
“Tsk, whatever. The point is, filming with such gorgeous snow as the backdrop—the visuals are going to be stunning!”
“Xiang Yueting, seriously, haven’t you seen snow before? Why are you acting like it’s a miracle?” Song Chengwang gave him a helpless look. He truly didn’t understand how Xiang Yueting could be so enthusiastic about everything.
“Of course I’ve seen snow! But never Yicheng’s snow. This is my first time here. Hey, should we add this place to our future vacation list?”
“Add it! Add it!” several voices agreed.
Sitting in the very back of the stretch car, Shen Xiu heard the conversation and silently added Yicheng to the travel list in his mind.
But going on vacation meant leaving Lucky behind again… Could Lucky fly?
System: [Of course it can!]
There are pet-friendly flights, though the paperwork can be a hassle.
But that’s not the main point—the main point is: you have access to a private jet. Forget just one Lucky, you could bring a hundred Luckys if you wanted!
Shen Xiu: [!]
Hearing that, Shen Xiu quietly added Lucky to his list of future travel companions.
Spending the day exploring with friends and coming home each night to see Lucky… Shen Xiu couldn’t even imagine how happy that would make him.
Shen Xiu gazed out the window at the snowy landscape, and despite himself, the corner of his lips curved up ever so slightly.
Shang Yu happened to glance sideways and caught that faint, almost imperceptible smile.
For a brief moment, Shang Yu was stunned.
Noticing how Shang Yu, who had been chatting just a moment ago, suddenly fell silent, the others followed his line of sight—and naturally, they all saw the subtle smile at Shen Xiu’s lips.
The once lively car instantly quieted down.
Shen Xiu, after savoring his moment of joy in silence, withdrew his gaze from the window—only to find all his teammates staring at him in perfect unison.
He blinked in mild confusion.
“…What’s wrong?”
His cool voice cut through the stillness, snapping everyone out of their momentary trance.
“Ahem, nothing.”
“Yeah, nothing at all.”
…
Everyone insisted it was nothing, so although Shen Xiu felt something was off, he didn’t press further.
Xiang Yueting, however, couldn’t hold it in. He whipped out his phone and started frantically typing in the group chat—then suddenly remembered Shen Xiu was in that chat. He quickly copied his message, backed out, and created a temporary side group.
The name of the group said it all:
[SHEN XIU SMILED!!!]
Xiang Yueting: Did you all see that?!
Xiang Yueting: Omg help, I’ve known Shen Xiu for so long—not that it’s the first time I’ve seen him smile, but this one was totally different! Not like the polite, perfunctory smile he gave us when we first met, and definitely not like his in-character smile either!
Xiang Yueting: He was smiling at the snow outside… so—does that mean he smiled because he likes the snow here?!
Xiang Yueting: ???
Xiang Yueting: Why are you all quiet??
Xiang Yueting: Shen Xiu doesn’t even know about this group, what are you scared of?!
Everyone saw it. Everyone felt it.
And none of them wanted to break the spell of that fleeting, rare smile.
Seeing the endless ding ding ding of new messages, Ning Sinian, Shang Yu, and the others all cast a silent, weary glance at Xiang Yueting.
They had wanted to reply, really. But the moment they saw who was added into the group chat, their fingers froze mid-air.
Because—let’s face it—they had never seen anyone create a gossip chat about someone and also add that someone into the group.
Classic Xiang Yueting, weird as ever.
Just one second after Shen Xiu noticed he’d been pulled into a new chat by Xiang Yueting, before he even had time to mute the group—he was greeted by message after message flying across the screen.
Shen Xiu: …
He didn’t know whether Xiang Yueting felt awkward—but as the subject of the chat, he certainly did.
Also… he smiled? When?
[Group Chat]
Shen Xiu: It wasn’t because of the snow.
Shen Xiu: …Did I really smile?
As soon as that message appeared, Zhuang Yi and a few others quietly turned their heads to stare out the window—suddenly very interested in the scenery.
Xiang Yueting, seeing Shen Xiu’s response, scrolled up through the chat in horror.
Then he saw it—the list of members he’d added—and his soul left his body.
No reply.
Just a quiet group deletion.
The group vanished.
Shen Xiu looked up from his screen—and made eye contact with Xiang Yueting’s apologetic, beet-red face.
Xiang Yueting, mortified: “Brother Shen, I didn’t mean to talk behind your back or anything! I was just so shocked I wanted to, y’know, have a quick side-chat to… process…”
He was terrified Shen Xiu would think he was trying to isolate him.
Shen Xiu: “…I know.”
From the tone and wording of Xiang Yueting’s messages, Shen Xiu had already guessed there was no malice. Just pure, unfiltered honesty.
After all, he had been truly isolated before.
He considered himself somewhat of an expert on the subject.
True isolation… was like how his old roommate, Ling Yuanzhen, used to do it.
There were four people in their old dorm.
Besides the dorm group chat that included him, Ling Yuanzhen had gone and created three more chat groups—with everyone except Shen Xiu in them. To pad the numbers and keep the conversations flowing, he even pulled in people from other dorms just to join in on the daily roast of Shen Xiu.
If it hadn’t been for the other two roommates quietly screenshotting the chats for him before they left the groups, Shen Xiu might’ve never known that Ling Yuanzhen had been running a whole underground slander network.
To this day, Shen Xiu remained deeply impressed.
Xiang Yueting, blinking innocently: “Can we… pretend none of that just happened?”
Shen Xiu, without hesitation: “We can.”
After all, he was part of the awkwardness too.
The van pulling them from the airport arrived at the underground parking lot of the hotel.
Jin Can, who was in charge of logistics, stepped up to guide the nine cast members to their rooms: “Follow me.”
This trip would last over two months. No one had packed lightly, but they’d kept it manageable—most of them lugging along two suitcases each.
The group split into two elevators to head up.
Jin Can used room cards to unlock each person’s hotel room, handing the key cards over one by one.
Shen Xiu was the last to get to his room. Jin Can repeated the same reminder he’d given the others: “You’ll have a day off tomorrow. Filming resumes at 9 a.m. the day after. If anything changes, I’ll let you know.”
Shen Xiu: “Alright. Thank you.”
Jin Can: “Of course. Goodnight.”
He left Shen Xiu to unpack in peace.
They had one full day to rest. Filming would begin again in Yicheng the day after.
Meanwhile, in another part of the hotel, the director’s team and the writers’ team were all gathered in Xuan Yushu’s room, once again hashing out the details of the upcoming shoot.
After the meeting wrapped up, Xuan Yushu said:
“Let’s post on social media—announce that we’ve arrived in Yicheng.”
Lu Wen said, “We don’t have any official announcement photos. After getting off the plane, everyone went straight to the hotel shuttle. Now they’re all in their rooms—no new pictures to post.”
Xuan Yushu thought for a moment, then replied, “Use some behind-the-scenes shots from our time filming in Amara. Make sure to include the one where Xiang Yueting was flailing around all uncoordinated, and definitely use the shot of Shen Xiu’s abdominal injury scene.”
—
Thirty minutes later, the official Storm crew account posted a new social media update featuring a set of animated behind-the-scenes GIFs:
@StormOfficial: Arrived in Yicheng~ ✈️❄️
[GIF x8]
Hmm