Heliu picked up a piece of green bamboo shoot and put it into his mouth. He still wore a blank expression, but his eyebrows and eyelashes visibly relaxed.
Could the Second Master have believed it?
Lin Yishui looked up at Heliu, whom he held in his heart to be brilliant and wise, “…”
He felt it was completely absurd.
Yet the head butler was secretly and darkly pleased, stubbornly believing this was because the Second Master’s attitude toward Young Master Chi had already undergone a shift; after all, only romance could make a person lose their wits.
Heliu tentatively tasted a piece of the pastry, unaccustomed to that kind of overly sweet and greasy texture. He put his chopsticks down and, seeming as if nothing were the matter, casually said, “The biscuits are still better.”
Fathoming the Sovereign’s will, Lin Yishui tentatively replied, “I will convey this truthfully to Young Master Chi.”
Heliu frowned slightly, but did not refute him.
In a tacit, shared silence, they ate. For a time, the only sound at the dining table was the clinking of chopsticks and cutlery.
There were three people, yet it still appeared thoroughly desolate.
Heliu took a sip of soup, put down his spoon, and asked, “The people following him?”
Lin Yishui said, “Rest assured, I’ve specially selected experienced bodyguards with strong capabilities and excellent concealment. They will definitely guarantee the safety of Young Master Chi.”
Heliu pondered slightly. “Add two more private investigators to record his whereabouts at any time.”
Lin Yishui was stunned.
A jolt went through the head butler’s heart.
Sure enough, Heliu’s face sank. “Go check immediately. Where is he right now, and with whom.”
Lin Yishui lowered his head. “I will make arrangements right away.”
The small napkin on the table was wrung into two dead creases. Heliu looked toward Steward Zhu. “Next time, there is no need to find such a clumsy excuse.”
The head butler almost failed to draw a single breath.
“It’s just a meal; I am not yet to the point of venting my anger on anyone.”
The chopsticks, which had only been moved twice during the entire meal, were heavily placed back onto the dining table. Heliu stood up and strode out of the dining room.
Heliu’s departure pace was even faster, not even sparing the back of his head.
Heliu’s emotional control was already exceptionally outstanding, yet he still inadvertently leaked a few things in the minute details, escaping neither the sharp, gossipy eagle eyes of the head butler.
The old man lowered his voice and said to Assistant Lin, “Don’t you think the Second Master’s back looked a bit disappointed?”
“Yes. Just now, that phrase ‘won’t vent my anger’ also had a few notes of complaining emotion.” Lin Yishui always remained overly calm when he ought not to be, objectively and rationally analyzing, “Clearly, the Second Master’s degree of attention toward Young Master Chi is excessively high, long ago surpassing the scope of how one treats a nominal partner.”
The head butler nodded. “Indeed. I heard that a few days ago, he even personally went to the swimming pool to deliver clothes to Young Master Chi.”
With Lin Yishui’s calm AI-like vocal timbre, he stated, “He also specially asked me for the biscuits baked by Young Master Chi.”
The small details over the past half-month gradually gathered together.
The two compared notes, and seemed to simultaneously discover some earth-shattering major event.
The head butler couldn’t believe that spring could arrive so effortlessly, and said with much hesitation, “Yet the Second Master still seems somewhat distrustful of Young Master Chi?”
Lin Yishui said coldly, “Sometimes monitoring and tracking are not necessarily for the sake of revenge or harm; they may also stem from possession—an almost obsessive desire for possession, which you could also call jealousy.”
The head butler pondered for a few minutes, nodded, and deeply felt it was so.
No one knew whether Heliu had actually eaten his fill from that meal, but Chi曳 (Chi Ye) was truly starving as he transferred back and forth across three subway lines before finally reaching the city center.
Because it was genuinely exhausting, he fell asleep during one of the transfers, missed his station, and had to double back half a circle.
It was too difficult.
By the time he endured all sorts of hardships and finally arrived at his destination—the filming location, which was the entrance of a certain university—the sun had already set in the west.
It was long past the group gathering time notified in WeChat group chat.
The modern campus drama Chi Ye had selected was a web series adapted from an IP novel, titled 《青春许你》 (“Youth Promises You”).
The production scale was not large, funding was limited, and there was no need to deliberately find a film city or some set-building base; they only needed to pick a reasonably similar school plus the nearby commercial district to complete all the filming.
IP web series with this kind of configuration were naturally looked down upon by powerhouse actors, and even spurned by minor fresh idols with some foundation of traffic, but for free agents with only acting skills like Chi Ye, it was simply optimal.
After all, the looser the management, the more loopholes there would be, and naturally the more opportunities there would be.
A “low-budget” crew truly did not live up to its literal low profile; the entire set had only two security guards maintaining order.
Visiting fans, staked-out paparazzi, and even students who had just finished class could all take a peek as they passed by.
Chi Ye directly found an older-looking security guard who seemed easier to talk to, reported the name of the group leader, and was actually let right into the inner area with almost no obstruction.
Here and there on the set, a few production assistants were helping move equipment, the lighting and camera crews were discussing how to adjust the lights, and several young actors were already in position holding scripts to practice their lines.
Looking at everything he had once been familiar with, Chi Ye felt—for the first time after transmigrating into this book—that he had come alive again.
Comparing with the profile pictures in the WeChat group, Chi Ye found the main group leader who had posted the resource and took the initiative to go over and greet him.
The group leader was busy organizing several extra actors to listen to the assistant director talk about the scene, rushed to the point of dizziness, and didn’t even turn his head when he heard the voice. Taking Chi Ye for an ordinary extra who had arrived late, he said in an ill-tempered tone, “Why are you coming so late? Wait over on the side; there might not be any scenes for you today.”
Chi Ye didn’t retort either, smiled good-naturedly, and stood aside with his head lowered.
Only after the group leader finished his business with this scene did he remember to turn back and take a look at Chi Ye. At just a single glance, he couldn’t bear to move his eyes away anymore.
In his previous life, Chi Ye had seen countless handsome men and beauties in the entertainment industry, and had no intuitive feeling about his current facial features and physique, merely thinking the original body’s face was just ordinarily good-looking.
In reality, however, this appearance stood out remarkably among ordinary people: his skin was white and translucent, and everything below his neck was legs, making him seem to carry his own reflector as he stood among a crowd of extra actors.
The group leader ate by this profession, and his eye for people was as sharp as a talent scout’s. He instantly changed to a different attitude and took the initiative to talk to Chi Ye: “How come I haven’t seen you before? College student? Out experiencing life or chasing stars?”
Chi Ye smiled cheerfully: “I just graduated from the neighboring film academy. Recently the industry is depressed and I haven’t been able to sign with a company, so I came out to try my luck.”
The group leader didn’t really believe what Chi Ye said. Film academy graduates coming to play extras?
These days, no matter what trade or profession, everyone had to make up flashy titles for face value; even the gate guard of the August First Film Studio claimed to be an insider.
But since he was good-looking, in this circle, looks were justice.
The group leader casually echoed a few pleasantries.
Chi Ye had suffered too many losses in his past life and was well-versed in the shadowy operations on film sets. Having finally relived his life, compelled by circumstances, he could no longer afford to be too proud. Lowering his head, he unzipped a large backpack, rummaged around for a long time, pulled out a car keychain printed with a logo, and stuffed it into the group leader’s hand. The group leader had long been accustomed to taking and demanding things, and did not decline.
Yet when he took the key fob and looked at it closely, he was genuinely stunned.
The group leader himself didn’t have much economic strength, but having frequented film crews and dealt with various stars for years, he could barely be counted as walking on the fringes of the fashion circle. Immersed among luxury goods, he had trained a pair of sharp, boutique-clerk-like eyes.
Whether it was high imitation or genuine, one could tell at a single glance.
The small car keychain seemed unremarkable, but it was genuinely a current-season limited edition; buying half a car with it would be more than enough.
The group leader’s palm shook, and for a moment he didn’t quite dare to accept it.
Chi Ye had always known how to strike a pose, hiding the remaining few keychains deep inside his backpack. Pressing down on the group leader’s hand as it tried to pull back, he said politely and earnestly, “Just a token of my appreciation. Since I’m new here, I’ll still have to rely on you to take care of me in the future.”
On the surface, it was an utterly sincere attitude, but deep inside, Chi Ye knew very well that such trinkets were simply too insignificant to the original body—not even as valuable as Bobo’s teething toy, with seven or eight more un-unpacked ones lying in the drawer.
The group leader had seen too many impractical young people on film sets and just assumed Chi Ye was the same, going bankrupt to buy a keychain just to fulfill his stardom dream.
The group leader still had some conscience left, hesitating whether to offer a word of persuasion, when he suddenly paused.
A young male actor wearing a white hoodie ran out of the film set with red-rimmed eyes, followed by several assistants, passing right in front of Chi Ye and the group leader.
Stirring up a gust of wind.
That assistant director who had just been explaining the scene chased after the actor shouting a few times, appearing to want to give chase, but ultimately waved his hand, stopped in his tracks, and clutched his chest panting.
The group leader’s eyes lit up. He reversed the keychain into a tight grip and stuffed it with a clear conscience into his pants pocket.
Lowering his voice, he said to Chi Ye: “Perform well later. Your opportunity has arrived.”