Chapter 80 Sudden Turmoil Close at Hand

What Li Yiting said and what Qianya was thinking were two completely different matters. Li Yiting had his own information channels, and this particular piece of intelligence came from the Beiting Detective Group, directly concerning the script Liu Zichen was starring in.

Since Qianya had never been in that group, it was entirely normal for her to be unaware of this other faction.

The upcoming blockbuster international film, *The Little Mermaid VII*, also demanded that shooting be completed within a month.

It was like driving ducks onto a perch. According to Big Boss, this was entirely the decision of the company's upper management. In the current film market, everything had to be seized a step in advance; otherwise, once a script leaked and a copycat production emerged, then no matter how good the subject matter or how brilliant the script, it would inevitably go down the drain.

Some small companies in the same industry would rack their brains to unearth the shooting inside information of a production crew, cobble together a bizarre, low-budget movie, and broadcast it over the internet a day or two in advance. While these people made a handsome profit, the major corporations invested massive amounts of capital into filming, only to discover upon release—

To their utter astonishment, someone else had already filmed a similar theme! The genuine blockbuster ended up looking like a derivative imitation, or even like a plagiarized, pirated work. Not only did they fail to make money, but their reputation was also dragged through the mud.

It wasn't that nobody watched or that there was no box office; the issue was the imbalance between revenue and expenditure: an investment of one billion with a box office of 999 million was still a loss, or at the very least, meant that a massive group of people had worked for nothing.

To cope with this situation, the production crew strictly controlled the script on one hand, striving for absolute secrecy; on the other hand, they accelerated the shooting schedule, pouring huge sums into advertising campaigns even as filming progressed. Where did the exciting highlights, behind-the-scenes footage, and trailers come from? They were rushed out precisely like this.

This was a veritable vicious circle. The frantic race against time and the compressed schedule naturally resulted in films whose external appearance was magnificent like jade, while their inner core was rotten like grass—which came as no surprise at all.

Even worse, industrial espionage activities were becoming increasingly rampant. These spies were not the geopolitical kind, but the nature of the work they engaged in was largely the same: stealing.

On the tenth day, the crew of *The Assassin* suspended shooting because a major incident occurred: the script for *The Assassin* had been stolen.

Logically speaking, Niu Dapao had already memorized it inside out, so whether it was stolen or not was completely irrelevant.

Yet Niu Dapao, normally so unyielding, decisively halted the filming. This left the cast and crew bewildered and at a loss. They had just adapted to his pace, recent shooting had been going smoothly, and many people were dreaming of becoming overnight sensations—why pull the plug now?

They were given a two-day holiday while Niu Dapao intended to tear up the script and start over, drastically rewriting the main plotlines.

Meanwhile, the company's security department reported the incident to the police at the very first moment, and the legal department actively contacted law enforcement as well.

***

Qianya suddenly found herself with nothing to do.

She didn't mind it at all, and taking advantage of this golden opportunity, she strolled around the company. Naturally, she passed by Liu Zichen's film crew, and it was only then that she realized Beiting had already infiltrated Universe Media as well, with a momentum no less impressive than her own.

She did not greet Liu Zichen and Shen Mingyue, as such a gesture would have been entirely redundant at that moment.

However, she truly had time on her hands, so she quietly stood in a corner, watching every move at the shooting location. The director of this particular project looked rather lazy, with disheveled hair, reclining lazily in a backrest chair as if dozing off. Qianya had seen the relevant roster and knew his surname was Lai, and his full name was Lai Quande.

This man also had a nickname: Big Lazy Lai. Not very old, just past forty, he was considered a relatively promising young director.

Although the nickname didn't sound particularly pleasant, just like Niu Dapao, he was a man of distinct personality. While he didn't like to roar and bellow, his professional competence was exceptionally high. It was just that his occasional "Ge You-style slouch" on set gave many people the wrong impression.

At this moment, his eyes were narrowed into slits, fixed intently on every movement unfolding on the set.

Unless there was an obvious problem, he basically remained silent.

However, if you thought that acting under his direction would be a breeze, you would be gravely mistaken. As long as your scene had even the slightest blemish, it was likely to be reshot—once not working, then twice; twice not working, then four times... and so on. The record he set was one hundred and twenty-two takes to pass.

He offered no guidance during the filming process, relying entirely on the actors to figure it out themselves. Experienced actors with formal training and solid acting skills fared better, but newcomers found it virtually unbearable. Slowly, he earned the moniker "Big Lazy Lai."

Liu Zichen was utterly exhausted. Her role itself didn't require an excessive amount of physical labor, so she hadn't been reduced to the disheveled state Qianya was in; however, having her makeup ruined and reapplied over and over again left her more than a little irritable.

As for Shen Mingyue, her complexion was even uglier. She had already left in a huff, falsely claiming she felt unwell and returning to rest. Anyway, her scenes weren't very substantial—the primary focus remained on the female lead, the mermaid.

Right then, the previous scene was being shot for the fifth time.

Liu Zichen no longer knew how to perform the part; she could only mechanically follow her own instincts.

A rare and somewhat familiar bark echoed from the side of the stage: "Just act the way you usually do."

Recognizing this as a rare directive from Director Lai, she hurriedly reined in her drifting thoughts and tried to find her footing.

The current sequence was this: the mermaid receives a summons from another world, but she is uncertain whether her feelings are real, leading to a deeply contradictory internal monologue. Moreover, this monologue wasn't merely verbal; it had to be matched with expressions, gazes, physical movements, and everything else in sync.

This was already a requirement for theatrical drama professionals, and Liu Zichen possessed zero foundation, so naturally, she found it excruciatingly difficult.

Whenever she paid attention to one aspect, she would miss another, leaving her completely overwhelmed.

In her peripheral vision, Liu Zichen seemed to see Director Lai shake his head a few times. Although the movement was subtle, her heightened sensitivity left her extremely nervous.

At this moment, she tilted her head back to brew her emotions, preparing to deliver her lines.

Huh? Why was the chandelier overhead swaying back and forth? She steadied her mind, attempting to control her momentary dizziness.

The chandelier continued to sway, its arc growing wider and wider.

Finally, it detached and plummeted straight down!

Liu Zichen was still distracted and entirely oblivious to the impending danger, reacting merely by instinct as she dodged slightly to the side.

Bang! A deafening crash stunned everyone present. The massive glass chandelier smashed precisely into the spot where Liu Zichen had been standing, and a sharp decorative hook grazed past her flank.

A hand grabbed Liu Zichen's arm, whisking her away by half a meter at the very last fraction of a second.

It was a brush with death; without that emergency rescue, the chandelier would have crashed directly onto the top of Liu Zichen's head.

Lai Quande, who had been lying about like a dead pig, bolted upright from his chair, bellowing for the security personnel and letting loose with an unprecedented stream of curses. Chaos erupted on the set as everyone scurried about like headless flies. Since none of them had any close ties to Liu Zichen, their sole instinct was self-preservation.

Liu Zichen finally regained her wits. Looking at the massive pile of shattered glass glittering beside her, beads of cold sweat the size of soybeans broke out across her forehead.

She had just walked through the gates of hell! Brave though she usually was, she couldn't help but gasp deeply now. What on earth had happened?

Who could have rushed onto the set and pulled her away in such a short span of time? She knew full well that within a ten-meter radius around her, there had been absolute emptiness—it was a solo scene. Remembering the person who had just come to her rescue, she turned her head and saw that this ethereal figure was still standing beside her, looking utterly calm.

"Fortunately I came to deliver food to the director, otherwise you'd have been in serious trouble this time," the woman spoke up first.

Liu Zichen stood frozen for a long moment before her pale lips parted slightly: "How could it be you?... Truly... thank you." She had originally wanted to say it was a pleasant surprise.

"Well, let's step back a bit first. Who knows if there are any other hidden traps lying around," said Gu Na—the very "Flying Heroine" who had once received a favor from Beiting. Although her attire was casual, her heroic and spirited bearing remained unchanged. She pulled Liu Zichen by the hand, walking briskly toward a more crowded area.

As they walked, she explained, "I just took over the job of production coordinator these last two days. Sister He caught a cold and fell ill."

Liu Zichen suddenly understood: "You're working here?"

"Yes," Gu Na smiled. "I have to make a living somehow. I used to hang around the entertainment circle, and now that I've retired to the second line, I just come here to lend a hand."

She laughed at herself, saying, "I suppose I can never truly leave this familiar place after all."

At that moment, Qianya came running toward them. Qianya had been much further away from the set; forget executing a rescue, she hadn't even had enough time to process what was happening.

Her very first question upon arriving was, "Who is this?"

Noticing Qianya, Liu Zichen quickly wiped the sweat from her brow and managed a strained smile.

"This is a friend of mine, Xiaoya," she introduced her, though she hardly knew how to explain further. "If not for her just now, I would have lost my life."

Gu Na, however, was quite magnanimous, casually remarking, "It was merely a matter of convenience. Hello, my name is Gu Na, the new production coordinator. The little sister looks like she's also with our company. Since you're friends, I'll go attend to my duties. Phew, cleaning up that mess is going to be an exhausting task."

"Oh, hello," Qianya looked her up and down with curiosity, utterly unable to fathom why a middle-aged woman dressed like a cleaner possessed such formidable reflexes.

Gu Na smiled at her, likely perceiving Qianya's confusion, but she offered no further explanation and went about her own business.

Qianya supported Liu Zichen, asking with deep concern, "Sister Zichen, are you alright?"

Liu Zichen shook her head. Moving her body slightly, she finally felt a dull ache on her right ribs—it seemed she had been grazed after all, though the injury wasn't serious.

She forced a smile and said, "I'm fine, really. Uh... Qianya, let's go back and talk about it."

Qianya muttered almost to herself, "Honestly, at that distance, even I probably wouldn't have been able to pull you out in time."

"There are plenty of extraordinary people with unusual skills in the pugilistic world," Liu Zichen said, genuinely amused this time. "Did you know? That Gu Na just now—we all affectionately call her the Flying Heroine."

"A flying heroine?" Having stayed in China for so long, Qianya naturally understood the meaning of the term.

"Right, the legendary swordswoman who can fly."

Chatting and laughing, the two of them left the scene of the incident. Security personnel came over to ask a few brief questions, and seeing that she was smiling and unharmed, they went off on their own to investigate the cause of the accident.