Jiang Yue closed his laptop and explained casually, “I was just discussing program modifications. I was processing data for an algorithm model earlier. I majored in computer science in college.”
“Computer science?”
Chen Jiaming turned around, resting his arm on the back of his seat, and looked Jiang Yue up and down.
“You didn't graduate from an acting program?”
“School of Computer Science, Donghai University.” Jiang Yue nodded. “Acting is a second career for me.”
“A second career?!”
Han Song's eyes widened from beneath his eye mask. “You, a code-writing science student, are here competing in acting with us trained professionals?!”
In the eyes of these actors, code was basically a foreign language.
How could a science guy, whose mind dealt with such complex logic, also perfectly capture the extremely complex emotions and slick demeanor of Zhou Jinnan?
What was his brain made of? An octa-core processor?
Chen Jiaming smiled and shook his head, a trace of admiration in his eyes.
“When others cross industries, they say it’s like trying to cross a mountain. You just went ahead and leveled the mountain.”
“Teacher Chen, please don't overpraise me. I'm just trying to make a living,” Jiang Yue replied with a humble smile, refusing to accept the high praise.
“Alright, alright.”
Xu Pingqiu turned around and jokingly scolded them, cutting off their teasing.
“It’s a good thing Jiang Yue is smart. The upcoming scenes are just as heavy. Having a sharp mind means fewer NGs.”
Xu Pingqiu looked toward the back row. “Han Song, you should learn from him. Don't just hold your script and memorize it by rote every day.”
“Director Xu, you’re being biased!” Han Song complained, looking aggrieved.
A burst of lighthearted laughter erupted in the bus. The exhaustion from consecutive days of filming was mostly swept away by this banter.
Although they didn't know exactly what Jiang Yue was working on, their respect for this easygoing, deeply talented young man grew even stronger.
It wasn't the naturally gifted genius that was terrifying, but the genius who worked harder than you—and in more than one field.
At 4:00 PM, the bus stopped in front of a four-star hotel near the Qionzhou Film Base.
Since the scenes in Qionzhou would take nearly a month to shoot, the crew had booked an entire floor of the hotel.
After checking in and throwing his luggage into his room, Jiang Yue freshened up.
At 6:00 PM.
Xu Pingqiu booked the largest private room at an old, established seafood restaurant across from the hotel.
“Everyone has had a hard time in Shanghai these past few days.”
Xu Pingqiu stood at the head of the table, raising his beer glass with a rare, highly relaxed smile.
“Filming in Qionzhou starts tomorrow. No talk about work tonight—eat and drink to your heart's content! It’s on my tab!”
“Director, you’re the best!” Han Song was the first to cheer.
Su Binxuan and Chen Yunjie also clapped excitedly.
Southern-style seafood dishes were served one after another.
Steamed grouper, salt and pepper mantis shrimp, and stir-fried crab with ginger and scallion filled the room with mouthwatering aromas.
After a few rounds of drinks, the atmosphere grew increasingly lively.
Chen Jiaming clinked his teacup against Jiang Yue's glass. “Brother Jiang, I see your alcohol tolerance is also quite impressive.”
Jiang Yue set down his glass and quickly peeled a shrimp.
“Since I spend so much time sitting in front of a computer, I usually go to the boxing gym to hit the sandbag. It keeps my physical fitness up and my metabolism fast.”
“Writing code and boxing.”
Han Song leaned over, teasing with a slightly slurred voice, “Just how many skills do you have, kid? Tell me, are you actually an alien in disguise?”
“Brother Han, drink a bit less. You’re already tipsy.” Jiang Yue picked up a towel to wipe his hands.
The private room was filled with laughter and joy.
The meal was incredibly satisfying.
In this industry, film crews were often like temporary theater troupes—people came together for a show and went their separate ways once it was over.
But in the crew of 《The Hidden Sentry》, the lead actors were all dedicated, seasoned veterans and down-to-earth newcomers, free of any petty drama or political maneuvering.
As the dinner neared its end, Xu Pingqiu pulled Jiang Yue aside, his tone turning unusually serious.
“Jiang Yue.”
Xu Pingqiu patted Jiang Yue on the shoulder.
“You did an excellent job in Shanghai, but you can’t afford to get sloppy with the scenes here in Qionzhou.”
Jiang Yue put away his smile and nodded solemnly.
“Don't worry, Director Xu. I understand.”
“Go back and get some rest.” Xu Pingqiu waved his hand.
Stepping out of the seafood restaurant, the night breeze of Qionzhou blew over them, carrying a distinct humid and salty sea scent.
Back in his hotel room, Jiang Yue did not rest immediately.
He plugged in his laptop, and as the screen glowed in the dark, Yuantu Technology's algorithm model began running rapidly in the background.
The next day, at the Qionzhou Film Base.
The old arcade street was lined with Japanese flags, and extras crowded densely outside the barricades.
Actors playing reporters held vintage cameras, their lenses all aimed at the high platform in the middle of the street.
This scene was a major turning point.
The Japanese, in collaboration with the Secret Service, were releasing a statement defaming patriotic organizations.
Lu Cheng, naturally suspicious, had deliberately set a trap, forcing Zhou Jinnan to sign this traitorous document in public.
It was an open scheme, and a test of his loyalty.
Once he signed, Zhou Jinnan would have no way back and would become a mere tool in Lu Cheng's hands.
“All departments, get ready!”
Xu Pingqiu raised his walkie-talkie. “Action!”
On the high platform.
Lu Cheng stood with his hands behind his back, clad in a black Zhongshan suit, his face expressionless.
Beside him, the Japanese representative wore a hypocritical, fake smile.
Surrounded by a crowd of secret agents, Zhou Jinnan walked slowly onto the stage.
Today, he had changed into a white striped suit, his hair combed back meticulously. A gold pocket watch chain hung from his vest pocket, exuding a natural, cold, and seductive "Refined Scoundrel" charm.
Zhou Jinnan walked to the long table, nodded slightly to Lu Cheng first, and then turned to face the crowd below.
Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled a fountain pen from his breast pocket, leaned over, and swiftly signed his name.
After signing, he even deliberately picked up the statement and shook it, displaying it openly to the cameras below.
Bang!
The vintage camera flashes exploded in clouds of white smoke.
Lu Cheng’s coldness, the Japanese representative's fake smile, and Zhou Jinnan's action of holding up the agreement were all frozen in the photographs.
The crowd below was dead silent, with hundreds of furious gazes locked onto Zhou Jinnan.
Facing the blinding flashes, Zhou Jinnan curled his lips and laughed out loud.
He deliberately smudged the wet ink on the paper with his thumb, lifted the statement a bit higher, and tilted his chin up, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with dismissive arrogance.
He acted out that fearless, insolent pride to his very core.
Watching from behind, Lu Cheng took all of this in, and the last shred of his suspicion finally vanished.
“Cut! Perfect!” Xu Pingqiu called out, leaning out from behind the monitor.
Next was a quick transition shot: newspapers featuring the photograph spread through the streets of Shanghai, with citizens spitting and cursing at Zhou Jinnan’s picture.
December in Qionzhou was neither cold nor excessively hot.
However, to recreate the scorching afternoon sun of the South Seas, the lighting crew had set up over a dozen high-power lights, making the set extremely hot.
Jiang Yue walked to the resting area, loosened his tie, and casually unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt to cool down.
He took the ice water handed to him by a production assistant and drank a large gulp, tilting his head back.
The thin shirt, damp with sweat, clung tightly to his body, outlining the firm, sharp muscles he had built through intense workouts at the boxing gym over the past few months.
Combined with his clean, fresh face that looked slightly youthful like a college student's once he dropped his character's disguise, the striking contrast was incredibly impactful.
A few crew members who were packing up props glanced over, their movements unconsciously slowing down.
Han Song walked over in his police uniform, enjoying the breeze from a portable neck fan.
“Hurry up and button your shirt.”
Han Song found the scene amusing and added, “You were smiling so obnoxiously on stage just now, and now you’re here radiating charm.”
Jiang Yue put down the water bottle and tilted his head innocently.
Though he didn't quite understand what Han Song was laughing about, he obediently buttoned up his shirt.
Rate on N.U.
