Provoking Fire [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 28

The Gu Family, renowned demon slayers, had always emphasized righteousness in their teachings. Gu Feishuang, true to her lineage, radiated unwavering integrity. Even after Yan Qiuxi nearly pushed her into the muddy ground, leaving her disheveled, her bright eyes remained untainted.

Though the girl’s attempts at comforting were clumsy and her tone stiff, Yan Qiuxi sniffled and finally released the charred corpse she had been clutching. She hadn’t noticed that the person beside her had tilted the oiled paper umbrella entirely toward her, shielding her from the rain. Clinging tightly to the red string, she personally tied it around the corpse’s unrecognizable wrist.

Once finished, she extended her hand, signaling Gu Feishuang to tie the other end around her own wrist. As a product of a prestigious clan, Yan Qiuxi naturally trusted its efficacy. At this moment, Gu Feishuang’s words had become her greatest source of solace.

Gu Feishuang lowered her head, carefully tying the red string around Yan Qiuxi’s wrist. Her fingertips brushed against Yan Qiuxi’s rain-chilled skin, and she gently wiped away the lingering dampness.

The rain continued to fall, and the narrow, icy streets remained silent. Yan Qiuxi looked up, yet the spot on her wrist where Gu Feishuang had touched her felt warm. That day, the Capital’s relentless rain and the unquenchable flames were both seared into her heart, along with the slightly awkward, even clumsy, girl who tried to comfort her.

It turned out that not all members of these noble families were as cold and aloof as she had imagined.

Chu Xiyue stumbled once during this scene but then delivered a smooth performance, which seemed to satisfy the Director. Just as it was noon, the rain stopped, and he called for everyone to break for lunch.

Gu Feishuang and Yan Qiuxi, the two female leads, were both required to be slender. One carried the heavy burden of clearing her family’s name, wandering the martial world alone; the other appeared carefree but was actually meticulous, having grown up in poverty and made a living capturing wanted demons for the court.

It wasn’t that she was actually thin, but rather that she appeared thinner on camera. Cameras always tend to make people look slightly wider. That’s why the production team provided fat-loss meals, though not the completely oil-free and salt-free kind. The meals consisted of stir-fried chicken br3ast with cauliflower, cold-dressed bean sprouts and purple cabbage—all light, refreshing, and easy on the stomach. They came in pre-packaged lunch boxes, with the rice portion no larger than a fist.

Compared to some productions that only offered cucumber and fruit salads, the In Character crew’s treatment might seem decent. But these fat-loss meals were hardly gourmet.

Chu Xiyue only needed to maintain this strict diet during filming. In reality, she wasn’t prone to weight gain; her regular diet combined with exercise usually kept her in shape. However, the set lacked the facilities and time for proper workouts, leaving her no choice but to endure the bland meals with a heavy heart.

And she quickly discovered they were indeed quite unappetizing.

Chu Xiyue initially lost her appetite after just a few bites. But then she noticed Su Yan sitting nearby, eating slowly and deliberately. Even the humble bean sprouts, a dish notoriously difficult to make visually appealing, were consumed with such grace that it seemed as if she were savoring steak and pasta in a fine dining restaurant. Her posture was impeccable, her bites deliberate and measured, and her entire demeanor radiated an indescribable nobility.

Su Yan ate at a steady pace, showing no intention of wasting food. Chu Xiyue glanced at her, then at her own plate, and finally decided to finish her meal as well, scraping the last grains of rice from her bento box.

In the afternoon, the two actresses filmed their individual scenes separately, which went smoothly and left them with ample time. From afternoon until evening, they needed to complete the action sequences of chasing monsters outside the city walls, as well as the scene where they encounter the Nightmare Demon disguised as an ordinary young girl.

In the world-building of In Character, Nightmare Demons are creatures that can induce natural sleep. While not inherently aggressive, they prey on individuals with inner demons, trapping them in nightmarish dreams from which they cannot escape. The power of their suffering then amplifies the Nightmare Demon’s magical abilities.

This was a crucial character, adept at feigning innocence and eliciting sympathy. From the start, she seemed to manipulate the two protagonists, clinging to them with an innocent facade. Her role was essentially the third female lead, played by Bei Yaoyao, a darling of the new generation known for her pure, sweet looks—a stark contrast to the more sophisticated appearances of the two leads.

Bei Yaoyao had only recently graduated from film school, and her acting was still a bit raw. She stumbled during the second shot, a group scene featuring several key extras. Any misstep by a single actor would force a retake, and the entire group scene had to be filmed multiple times. Each attempt was plagued by problems, either here or there, and after several rounds, everyone’s performance began to deteriorate.

Director Yang wasn’t the type to lose his temper easily, but the repeated failures to nail the shot inevitably frayed his nerves, and his brow furrowed.

“Number Three, you grabbed the person’s hand like you had no strength at all! The Nightmare Demon is disguised as a frail, vulnerable human girl. Only by being bullied can she evoke the protagonists’ pity and set the stage for what comes next! Do you think this is a game? You’re supposed to genuinely provoke them!”

“The Nightmare Demon’s expression when she looked up was too wooden. Can’t you make your eyes more lively? You’re supposed to be chasing Gu Feishuang!”

“Now you’re being too deliberate!”

Extras were merely background figures, so the Director focused most of his attention on the lead actors’ reactions. Bei Yaoyao, like Chu Xiyue the day before, was repeatedly stopped, her spirit drooping like a wilted flower. This afternoon, she had greeted everyone with vibrant energy, but now she stood dejected, head bowed.

As dusk gradually deepened, the props team lit the set, illuminating the surrounding area.

The Director, exhausted from his scolding, realized Bei Yaoyao wouldn’t be able to adjust her performance anytime soon. He waved her aside to wait, allowing the extras to rest as well, and shifted focus to filming Su Yan’s scene with another actor.

Bringing Su Yan in felt like using a living textbook. Regardless of her personal life, on set she was always emotionally charged, slipped into character effortlessly, and had memorized her lines perfectly, requiring minimal guidance from the Director.

Since Su Yan’s scene took place in the same setting, only minor adjustments to the set were needed. Once the props team finished, she stepped into frame. Bei Yaoyao didn’t dare truly rest; she accepted the water her assistant offered, took a few sips to moisten her parched throat, and kept her eyes fixed on Su Yan.

Sitting on a stone bench, she didn’t notice Chu Xiyue effortlessly vault over the backrest and settle beside her, joining her in watching.

Su Yan’s scene was a pure chase-and-fight sequence. Her co-star was a veteran male actor, his tall frame tightly wrapped in black clothing, his imposing figure barely visible beneath his cloak. Even Su Yan, who was considered tall for a woman, looked noticeably shorter beside him, the height difference striking.

The veteran actor was a specialist in martial arts dramas. While not every show he starred in became a hit, his name alone conjured images of intense fight scenes. As an ancient fantasy script, In Character naturally featured plenty of combat sequences. With the clapperboard’s strike, Su Yan and the veteran actor were hoisted onto wires, initiating their chase across the long street.

“Stop!”

Earlier that day, Gu Feishuang had taken in a bullied young girl, harboring suspicions about her true nature. Yet Yan Qiuxi had shown the girl special favor, perhaps out of sympathy for her recent loss of family. Unwilling to shatter Yan Qiuxi’s compassion, Gu Feishuang secretly remained vigilant.

Little did she know, trouble would strike soon after they retired for the night. Yan Qiuxi slept soundly, but Gu Feishuang, as a member of a demon-hunting lineage with proper training, maintained a high level of vigilance. Even in her sleep, she kept an unopened talisman concealed within her sleeve. Silently rising, she used her light footwork technique to pursue the intruder, the pair vanishing onto the long street in the blink of an eye.

It was late at night, and the once bustling street, now past curfew, had lost its earlier vibrancy, leaving only the remnants of street vendors’ stalls behind. Gu Feishuang tapped her toes lightly on the ground, her explosive talisman folded into a triple layer within her sleeve. With a whoosh, she launched it like a flying arrow, but the figure dodged it effortlessly. In a flash, flames erupted beneath him.

Gu Feishuang’s aim wasn’t to defeat him with a simple talisman attack, but rather to slow him down. Seizing this momentary delay, she easily closed the distance, drawing her magical artifact, the Azure Frost Sword. Its razor-thin blade flashed, slicing through several strands of the black-clad figure’s hair with a whoosh.

The figure turned to face her, their spiritual energy clashing violently. They alternated between direct palm strikes and sword clashes, locked in a fierce, evenly matched battle.

The scene was filmed on location without green screens. Both actors were suspended by wires, moving through the air with the effortless grace of sword-wielding cultivators. Su Yan deftly flipped backward to evade an incoming attack, then immediately retaliated with a fluid, water-like sweep of her soft sword, followed by a sweeping kick that landed with a muffled thud.

Bei Yaoyao’s initial curiosity had long since given way to wide-eyed, unwavering attention. She was so engrossed in the scene that she even forgot to gasp in amazement. And it wasn’t just her; even Chu Xiyue, who had never witnessed such intense action firsthand, was stunned. The scene was breathtaking even without special effects—a true clash of steel, executed without any slow-motion enhancements.

To prevent injuries to the lead actors, such physically demanding fight scenes are often performed by stunt doubles. Yet the duo’s flawless performance, from their seamless coordination to the raw power of their strikes, rivaled that of professional martial artists. It was clear they had practiced extensively beforehand.

Chu Xiyue’s gaze drifted to the director’s monitor, where Su Yan’s movements flowed with remarkable fluidity. Her techniques were precise and disciplined, perfectly embodying Gu Feishuang’s character.

The woman’s hair danced in the air as she moved with agile grace, captivating all eyes. It wasn’t until the director shouted “Cut!” that Chu Xiyue snapped out of her trance. Everyone had been so engrossed that this notoriously difficult fight scene had been completed in a single take.

“Teacher Chu! Teacher Chu!” Bei Yaoyao tugged at Chu Xiyue’s hand, shaking it excitedly. “Teacher Su is incredible!”