Fu Xiao's hand holding the binoculars trembled, though it was hard to tell if he was shaking with rage or amusement.
He watched helplessly as Zhou Jinnan pulled a pristine white silk handkerchief from his suit pocket, draped it over his hand, and carefully took down a half-piece of cured meat hanging from the ceiling beam.
Immediately after, Zhou Jinnan directed his subordinates to wrap the cured meat tightly in old newspapers and stuff it into a leather suitcase.
The veins on the back of Fu Xiao's hand bulged. “Has this guy gone mad from poverty?”
“Captain, are we still going in to arrest him?” his subordinate beside him asked hesitantly.
“Arrest my foot!” Fu Xiao slammed down his binoculars. “He didn't leave behind a single scrap of evidence. What are we going to arrest him for, to invite him to tea? Withdraw!”
The scene shifted to the Chief's office.
Zhou Jinnan carried a battered leather suitcase, barging through the door with his long legs in a desperate hurry.
“Chief! You have to stand up for me.” Zhou Jinnan's face was filled with grief and indignation, his sense of grievance utterly self-righteous.
Lu Cheng looked at the junk tossed onto the floor, his brow twitching violently. “Where are the people?”
“What people! That dilapidated house on Jing'an Road—even a rat wandering in there would come out in tears!” Zhou Jinnan flipped open the lid of the suitcase.
Inside was nothing but old pocket watches, broken clay teapots, and even a piece of cured meat wrapped in newspaper.
“Look at this! This is the contact station the Intelligence Department talked about? My dozen or so brothers worked tirelessly to make this trip, and in the end, we didn't even get a sip of hot soup.”
Zhou Jinnan leaned in close to the massive desk, propping his hands on the surface.
“The Intelligence Department gave us a false tip. This wasted travel expense, plus the compensation for my brothers' wasted efforts—surely you don't expect Squad One to pay for this out of our own pockets?”
Lu Cheng remained silent, merely staring into Zhou Jinnan's eyes.
These eyes were clear as day. Aside from the resentment of not lining his pockets, there was absolutely no trace of acting to be found.
Lu Cheng temporarily dismissed his suspicions.
He pulled open a drawer, fished out two gold bars, and tossed them casually onto the desk.
“Take these and divide them among yourselves. And throw this pile of junk on the floor out.”
“Thank you, Chief! You are too generous, Chief!” Zhou Jinnan's eyes lit up instantly. He swiftly grabbed the gold bars and tucked them into his coat.
Carrying the battered suitcase, he turned and left, thoroughly pleased with himself.
Just as he stepped out of the room, he bumped right into Fu Xiao, who was walking toward him.
Zhou Jinnan took half a step back and deliberately patted his chest, causing the two gold bars to clink together with a crisp, pleasant sound.
He grinned at Fu Xiao. “Oh, Captain Fu. Why such a dark face? Didn't sleep well last night?”
Fu Xiao glared at him fiercely, let out a cold snort from his nose, and pushed the door open to enter the Chief's office.
The corridor was dimly lit.
The instant the door closed, the playfulness on Zhou Jinnan's face vanished without a trace.
He strode toward the depths of the corridor, carrying the battered leather suitcase.
“Cut!”
“Let's do a safety take for the wide shot!”
Han Song walked over, sizing up Jiang Yue from head to toe with a look of utter disbelief. “How is your brain wired, kid?”
“The part where you used a handkerchief to take down the cured meat wasn't in the script at all. Did you ad-lib that yourself?”
To be honest, during their scene just now, Han Song had almost been unable to keep going. He had to rely entirely on his years of professional experience to avoid bursting out laughing.
Jiang Yue took the bottle of mineral water handed to him by a crew member, unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and spoke in a relaxed tone.
“Since he's going to be corrupt, he might as well be corrupt with style.”
Han Song chuckled. “Oh, look at you talking all fancy now. Did you secretly elevate your artistic mindset behind our backs?”
Jiang Yue explained with a smile, “I read a theoretical book on acting a couple of days ago.”
“The book said that acting a character requires a 'behavioral anchor.' During that scene just now, I figured that since he doesn't even care about his dignity anymore, swiping a piece of cured meat fits his stingy persona perfectly. It was purely a sudden inspiration, just good luck.”
Chen Jiaming, who happened to be passing by, heard this and shook his head with a smile. “That's not just good luck. This industry really demands talent.”
Jiang Yue silently thought to himself. Mr. Chen truly was an old hand in the industry; his words were so pleasant to hear. But Jiang Yue didn't believe a word of it. After all, he relied entirely on his system cheat to carry him.
Han Song nodded in deep agreement. Without a spark of natural talent, one could never survive in this circle.
...
In late December, the temperature in Shanghai plummeted drastically.
Chedun Film Park welcomed its first freezing rain of the winter, which was bone-chillingly cold.
The cold wind, carrying ice pellets, poured straight down people's necks.
Everyone in the crew obediently wrapped themselves in thick military overcoats.
The white breath exhaled by everyone condensed in the air like clouds of fairy-tale mist.
After more than a month of high-intensity, back-to-back shooting, 《The Hidden Sentry》 reached a minor climax of the show.
In the plot, Zhou Jinnan's handler, “Old Ghost,” had been captured by Squad Two and was brought directly to the headquarters' plaza for public execution.
Zhou Jinnan was completely unaware of this.
“Old Li, the foundation of this scene depends entirely on you.” Behind the monitor, Xu Pingqiu rubbed his frozen hands together as he instructed the actor next to him, who was having artificial blood applied.
The actor playing “Old Ghost” was none other than the veteran actor Li Changming, who had previously shared scenes with Jiang Yue in 《The Grand Game》.
Li Changming pulled his thin, tattered robe tighter around himself, unbothered by the bloodstains on his face.
He looked over with a smile at Jiang Yue, who was resting with his eyes closed not far away. “Don't worry, Director Xu. This kid Jiang Yue will definitely deliver.”
Five minutes later, the set was cleared.
“All departments in position! Lower the lighting by one level to create a gloomy, oppressive atmosphere!” Xu Pingqiu raised his megaphone, his voice tearing through the freezing wind. “Scene sixty-eight, take one, Action!”
The clapperboard snapped shut with a crisp “clack.”
The camera panned in smoothly.
On the small plaza of the Secret Service, the atmosphere was solemn and tense.
Fu Xiao wore a crisp, tailored uniform, his face dark and menacing, with his military boot stepping heavily on the back of the blood-covered elderly man.
Surrounding them, armed secret agents set up a cordon, keeping the onlookers strictly at bay.
“Stubborn, are we? Let's see how long you can hold out!” Fu Xiao drew his sidearm and swiftly chambered a round.
Right at that moment, two people strolled down the steps.
Leading them was indeed Zhou Jinnan. He wore his signature leather jacket with the collar turned up, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.
With his hands in his pockets, he walked down the steps with a lazy stride, casually complaining to the subordinate beside him.
“What kind of crazy temper is Captain Fu throwing so early in the morning? Isn't he afraid of disturbing the Chief's peaceful sleep...”
Halfway through his banter, he casually lifted his eyelids, his gaze passing over the shoulders of the agents and landing in the center of the plaza.
Just one look.
The movement of Zhou Jinnan biting the cigarette froze for half a second.
His pupils dilated uncontrollably, and the disguise he usually maintained with ease almost shattered.
This was his only comrade-in-arms during his three years of undercover work. This was his handler!
Zhou Jinnan's right leg involuntarily took half a step forward, his fingers hanging by his side twitching subtly, ready to draw his gun at any moment.
It was this impulsive half-step that Old Ghost, lying on the ground, caught.
Through the bloodstains on his forehead, Old Ghost's gaze pierced through the freezing air and met Zhou Jinnan's.
Seeing the horror and loss of control in those eyes, a flash of anxiety crossed Old Ghost's eyes.
He arched his back, and despite the force of Fu Xiao's boot pressing down on him, he forced his head up and spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm onto Fu Xiao's uniform.
“Fu Xiao! You coward! If you have the guts, give your grandpa a quick death right now! If your grandpa even flinches, I'll be your son!”
Old Ghost used the most resolute method to draw all attention back to himself.
This roar was like a bucket of ice water poured over Zhou Jinnan's head, snapping him back to reality.
In just a few seconds, scenes from the past flashed through Zhou Jinnan's mind like broken film.
On a rainy night two years ago, inside a cramped contact station.
Old Ghost had said while wiping the radio transmitter parts, “Xiao Zhou, remember our agreement. If I am captured one day, do not do anything. Surviving is your greatest mission.”
Zhou Jinnan did not remember how he felt back then. He only remembered asking a single question: “When will I no longer have to hide?” “When the organization sends someone to reactivate you.”
These scenes felt as if they had happened just yesterday. Yet no one expected this day to arrive so quickly, and so brutally.
In reality, Old Ghost's peripheral vision swept across the crowd one last time. There was no longer any anxiety in his eyes, only a calm resolve to die.
He was telling him with his eyes: Close your eyes, and survive!
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