Chapter 106: Testing the Waters

Xu Zhizhi had met the film’s screenwriting team before.

The initial idea and storyline were conceived by Chu Lu and Li Feng, but since neither were professionals, they hired a team of screenwriters to polish and complete the script.

Xu Zhizhi had seen the main members of the team, but Li Wanwan had never appeared before. That was why she was so surprised that the person she had saved was part of the production crew.

After a brief pause, Xu Zhizhi extended her hand and said, “Welcome.”

“About last night, I really want to thank you properly. After work today, can I treat you and your assistant to dinner?” Li Wanwan asked, her eyes filled with hope as she shook Xu Zhizhi’s hand.

After a moment of thought, Xu Zhizhi nodded in agreement.

Not far away, Li Feng called out to Li Wanwan, “Come over here.”

Li Wanwan beamed and quickly ran toward him.

“Uncle,” she greeted him sweetly.

Xu Zhizhi raised her eyebrows in surprise at the term of address but said nothing, turning instead to get into makeup and costume.

Feng Jie leaned in and whispered, “Who would’ve thought?”

Xu Zhizhi, considering that both shared the surname Li and had collaborated on the script, guessed they might be uncle and niece. She signaled Feng Jie to drop the subject.

Li Feng looked at his niece as she approached and asked in a low voice, “You’re planning to have dinner with Xu Zhizhi?”

“She’s the one who saved me last night! She even risked her safety to do so,” Li Wanwan replied, her face paling slightly as she recalled the events of the night before.

Her expression turned somber. Before she turned thirty, her parents had treated her well. But as the milestone approached, they grew anxious, obsessively urging her to settle down and start a family.

She had once believed her family was open-minded and harmonious. Despite occasional harsh words due to their personalities, she thought they were good parents.

But now she realized it had all been an illusion. Her family was never as healthy as she imagined.

Li Feng glanced toward Xu Zhizhi, his gaze complex. “Don’t overthink it. She saved you, so treating her to dinner and giving her a proper thank-you gift is the least you can do.”

“I will! I’ve already arranged to have dinner with her!” Li Wanwan said cheerfully.

Li Feng reached out and patted Li Wanwan’s head, letting out an almost imperceptible sigh.

Meanwhile, Xu Zhizhi was in the makeup chair and Feng Jie had already returned with information.

Li Wanwan was an intern screenwriter and also Li Feng’s biological niece, who was brought onto the set through his arrangement.

Xu Zhizhi acknowledged the news with a faint ‘Mm’ and didn’t think more about it. Instead, she shifted her focus to the scenes she was scheduled to shoot today.

That day’s scenes involved counterfeiting. Wen Yang accidentally discovered that her boss owned a valuable antique. However, the boss wanted her to find a fake version of it, so he could swap the original with the counterfeit after an appraisal, thereby cheating others out of their money.

Wen Yang decided to turn the tables and make her own counterfeit, intending to deceive both her boss and the victim. It was a classic case of ‘stealing from a thief.’

For that, Xu Zhizhi had to shoot detailed scenes showing the counterfeiting process and crafted the fake item from scratch by employing counterfeiting skills.

Although the scenes wouldn’t be finished in a single day, the counterfeiting sequence spanned multiple acts, requiring Xu Zhizhi to immerse herself completely in the role each time while also generating enough Malice Points.

As Xu Zhizhi flipped through the script, she could feel the pervasive malice embedded in every line.

She didn’t even need to guess. She knew it was the system’s handiwork.

But she still couldn’t figure out how the system had interfered with the script. Its authority shouldn’t extend to influencing reality, should it?

Previously, the system’s control was limited to her alone and affected only her assets and choices.

Why now, all of a sudden, could it manipulate the creation of the script?

And the script itself felt strangely familiar to her.

What exactly was hidden behind all of this?

For days, whenever Xu Zhizhi wasn’t on set, her thoughts circled back to those questions. She truly couldn’t figure it out and kept pondering how far the system’s reach extended.

After finishing her makeup, the set was quiet, with only Xu Zhizhi and Feng Jie present.

Xu Zhizhi turned to Feng Jie and asked, “Jie-jie, if you encountered something that threatened your life but was too difficult to fight directly, and you couldn’t harm it, how would you protect yourself?”

“Huh?” Feng Jie was momentarily stunned. She thought carefully before responding, “If I can’t hurt it but it’s life-threatening, I’d run. Running is always the best strategy!”

Xu Zhizhi’s lips moved slightly as she mulled over the answer, lowering her head in thought. “Is that so?”

“What’s wrong? Zhizhi, you’ve been acting strange these past couple of days. If something’s wrong, promise me you’ll tell me, okay?” Feng Jie looked at Xu Zhizhi with concern. She had noticed that Xu Zhizhi’s mental state had been visibly off recently and worried that she might be silently dealing with something serious.

Originally, Feng Jie had planned to keep observing but now Xu Zhizhi was bringing up life-threatening topics, it definitely was not a normal conversation.

Xu Zhizhi tilted her head to look at Feng Jie. “It’s nothing. My mind has just been wandering lately.”

“…If you say so,” Feng Jie replied cautiously.

After their brief exchange, Xu Zhizhi stood up and headed out to rehearse her scenes, practicing her positioning, expressions, and lines.

The film featured many solo scenes for her character, Wen Yang. Though the lines were few during those moments, the positioning was extensive and complex.

In one temporary set designed as a modest apartment, Wen Yang stared at the photos she had taken and a look of greed crept across her face.

She was like a predator, her eyes filled only with the desire to seize what she wanted. Like a manifestation of pure avarice, Wen Yang ignored everything else in pursuit of her goals.

After careful deliberation, she decided to create a counterfeit so convincing that it could pass for the original.

A determined smile tugged at her lips, with a hint of provocation. At that point in her life, she was still young and brimming with youthful arrogance.

She began selecting clay, preparing to craft the item from its base material to its intricate patterns. Piece by piece, she started working, her gaze sharp and focused with an astonishing seriousness.

The feeling was incredibly captivating, like a glowing object that attracted everyone’s attention.

From nothing to something.

At the very beginning, it was a failure. Of course, on-site, it was a deliberate failure. Xu Zhizhi’s skills had made her so proficient at faking that it was almost impossible for her to fail.

In the movie, Wen Yang experienced countless failures before discovering that it wasn’t necessary to wash the surface to create the fleeting effect of aged porcelain that seemed to have endured the passage of millennia.

The aged look was discovered by accident and the effect was better than she had imagined.

Following her vision, she smashed the ones she deemed unsatisfactory and started afresh, crafting the base again. She picked up a brush and meticulously painted the patterns of the vase in her mind.

On-screen, Wen Yang sat there, the interplay of light and shadow casting over her. Half of her face was bathed in sunlight, the other half submerged in darkness.

At that point, the shoot was supposed to stop but no one called for a cut.

The scheduled shooting time had long passed.

Li Feng didn’t call for a halt and no one else on set dared to.

On-screen, Wen Yang continued her painting.

She didn’t stop, and Xu Zhizhi, immersed in the role, had no idea the shoot had gone beyond its planned time.

Li Feng silently observed while clutching a white loudspeaker, his lips pressed together without uttering a word.

In that atmosphere, only Li Wanwan, who knew nothing, stood with shining eyes.

She stared at Xu Zhizhi, then jogged to her uncle’s side and leaned close to whisper in his ear, “Zhizhi is amazing at acting! She’s just like Wen Yang in the script.”

Li Feng remained silent, unwilling to respond, his eyes fixed on the screen as he allowed Xu Zhizhi to improvise freely.

Li Wanwan continued, “Uncle, don’t you think so? Where would you rank Xu Zhizhi among the actors you’ve worked with?”

“Go, go, go. Do I need you to evaluate her? As if you’re the authority here,” Li Feng turned his head with a frown, shooing Li Wanwan away.

Li Wanwan crossed her arms and tilted her chin slightly upward, looking admiring. “I’m not leaving! I just want to watch. Zhizhi is beautiful, talented, and kind. When I jumped down, she didn’t hesitate to jump in and save me. Without her and her assistant, I wouldn’t have been able to climb back up last night even if I wanted to.”

Li Wanwan, filled with grievances and a desire to vent, poured her heart out to her uncle.

She had heard before from the screenwriters she was familiar with that her uncle didn’t like Xu Zhizhi.

Her purpose in saying this was to nudge her uncle not to view Xu Zhizhi with prejudice.

Xu Zhizhi was great, and she wanted her uncle to see that.

“Fine, fine, I get it. She’s great,” Li Feng replied, his tone displeased.

Li Wanwan, oblivious to the change in tone, continued, “Uncle, Zhizhi is truly amazing! Last night when I was pulled up, it was her and her assistant who took me back to change clothes, made cold medicine, and spoke up for me—”

“Enough! Stop talking!” Li Feng suddenly stood up, causing the chair behind him to topple to the ground with a loud ‘bang!’

The steel-framed chair clattered loudly against the concrete floor, drawing everyone’s attention to the pair.

Startled, Li Wanwan flinched and her face turned pale as she stared at Li Feng. “Uncle…”

The entire crew, including Xu Zhizhi, turned their eyes toward the two, puzzled by the sudden outburst.

Li Feng’s chest heaved rapidly and his eyes were icy cold, sending chills down anyone who looked at him.

Instinctively, Li Wanwan took two steps back, staring at the unfamiliar version of her uncle. At that moment, she even doubted whether the man before her was the same person she knew.

Xu Zhizhi wiped the clay off her hands, stood up, and looked toward Li Feng a few meters away.

The scene plunged into a deathly silence.

Li Wanwan timidly gazed at her uncle, her eyes quickly welling with tears.

After a while, Li Feng finally came back to his senses. Looking at his niece, his tone was still somewhat firm as he said, “Enough. I still need to film. Stop talking so I can focus.”

“…Okay,” Li Wanwan replied, tears welling up in her eyes as she turned and quickly ran out.

The entire crew exchanged bewildered glances, as the incident had happened too suddenly.

After Li Wanwan ran off, Li Feng swept his gaze across the set, his expression cold. “Why is everyone standing around? Get back to work!”

Xu Zhizhi retracted her gaze and, after thinking for a moment, looked toward Feng Jie.

The two had worked together for two years and a single glance was enough for Feng Jie to understand Xu Zhizhi’s meaning. She turned and went to look for Li Wanwan.

Although Li Wanwan was older than them, she might not have experienced much in life. As a result, she was prone to overthinking when something happened.

Xu Zhizhi had a good heart and Feng Jie understood her intentions.

Xu Zhizhi sat back down, waiting for the director to speak.

She had asked Feng Jie to check on Li Wanwan, not out of an overly kind nature, but because she wanted to learn something.

Li Feng did not call for a break but instead instructed Xu Zhizhi to reshoot.

Xu Zhizhi’s lips twitched, suppressing the urge to curse. She smiled and nodded, continuing the scene.

Repeatedly immersing herself in the role, Xu Zhizhi felt like she was becoming Wen Yang.

They continued filming until the afternoon.

Xu Zhizhi performed her tasks excellently and the aura of malice around her continued to intensify.

The system remained silent, like a cold, venomous snake lurking in the shadows, observing her.

Beneath the calm surface, turbulent undercurrents churned.

At 5 p.m., the crew wrapped up on time.

There weren’t many night scenes, as Li Feng had scheduled them for later unless they could be shot seamlessly after the daytime scenes.

Li Wanwan had collected herself and returned, chatting and laughing with Xu Zhizhi, her arm linked with hers.

“I’ve booked a famous Western restaurant for us. The steak there is amazing!” Li Wanwan whispered enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Xu Zhizhi nodded, putting on her black trench coat and a mask.

Feng Jie moved quickly, packing up their belongings and loading them into the car.

Li Wanwan also had her own car and soon they arrived at the restaurant.

Since Xu Zhizhi was a public figure, Li Wanwan had reserved a private room.

After sitting down and ordering food, Li Wanwan waited for the waiter to leave before speaking in a low voice.

Li Wanwan had a pseudo-cheerful personality. She often seemed outgoing but was actually somewhat sensitive.

According to her, it was because her parents had been overly controlling of her life since she was young.

Xu Zhizhi had already guessed it from observing yesterday’s events. Two highly controlling parents, who would lash out verbally when things didn’t go their way, couldn’t possibly raise a carefree and cheerful daughter.

As for the matter of marriage, it was just another form of control.

Li Wanwan’s breakdown stemmed from that as well. Previously, there had been no major conflicts because she had always complied.

But when the topic of marriage arose, Li Wanwan felt unwilling but still went along with their plans.

Then came the breaking point.

Li Wanwan couldn’t accept it, and her parents treated it as casual banter, not taking it seriously. They thought a few words were enough to resolve it.

Li Wanwan couldn’t accept it. Her patience disappeared and the conflict became irreconcilable.

Realizing how wrong the situation was, she finally broke down and attempted suicide.

As they talked about family life, Xu Zhizhi deliberately guided the conversation and prompted Li Wanwan to reveal everything.

During the conversation, Xu Zhizhi also inquired about Li Feng.

Li Wanwan shared some details.

Her uncle was married and had a harmonious relationship with his wife. They were financially secure and he had a son with physical disabilities, who rarely left home and whom Li Wanwan seldom saw.

When Li Wanwan brought up her uncle, she remembered the events of the day and felt a lingering sense of grievance.

She didn’t understand why her uncle had been so angry when she hadn’t said anything wrong.

Xu Zhizhi comforted her, advising her to let it go and not overthink.

The meal ended on a pleasant note. Li Wanwan felt as though her soul had been rejuvenated as if she’d experienced a mental spa.

Xu Zhizhi only smiled silently. Her knowledge of psychology rivaled that of today’s experts.

On the way back, Feng Jie asked curiously, “Zhizhi, did you offend Li Feng in some way? Why does he target you like that? He can’t even handle hearing you praised.”

Xu Zhizhi shook her head, indicating she didn’t know.

Even if she did, she wouldn’t say.

Back in her room, Xu Zhizhi walked into the bathroom and turned on the faucet.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her features were delicate, her eyes gleaming like autumn waters, her skin pale and flawless, and her figure slender.

She looked at the beautiful diamond necklace around her neck, thinking about the person who had given it to her.

Taking out her phone, she sent a message.

ZhizhiDoesNotKnow: [Qin Su, I have a question for you. How did Sleeping Beauty awaken?]

Qin Su: [Through love.]

ZhizhiDoesNotKnow: [Isn’t it because of a kiss?]

Qin Su: [No, it’s because of love. For example, I love you.]

Xu Zhizhi was caught off guard by his direct confession, her face instantly flushing a soft pink. At the same time, her heart felt like it was soaking in honey, warm and sweet.

Gathering herself, she refocused on the matter at hand and began typing again.

ZhizhiDoesNotKnow: [What if I were the one who fell asleep?]

Qin Su: [I would tell you I love you and uncover the mystery of your slumber to wake you up.]

Xu Zhizhi’s heart began to race.

Their relationship had always been relatively calm. Xu Zhizhi, being somewhat oblivious to emotions, rarely expressed her feelings clearly. Qin Su, though straightforward, had not spoken so directly about love before.

Hearing such words suddenly, Xu Zhizhi felt as though her heart might leap out of her chest. She placed her phone face down on the table and her gaze shifted to her reflection in the mirror.

The woman in the mirror had eyes sparkling with light and her whole being radiated happiness.

The person she trusted most was Qin Su.

Others might do many things for her but it was often to repay her kindness or because they thought she was a good person.

If everything were revealed, would her parents still remain her parents? Would they still be willing to help her?

Xu Zhizhi wasn’t sure.

She wasn’t confident that, under certain circumstances, they would trust her unconditionally.

But Qin Su loved her. He wasn’t drawn to her because of her assistance or her kindness. Xu Zhizhi knew Qin Su had quietly waited for her.

Of course, love couldn’t solve everything.

But Qin Su’s character, his unwavering faith in her, and his strong will allowed Xu Zhizhi to believe in him.

She believed he could provide her with every clue she needed.

No matter what, Qin Su would stand by her unconditionally and choose to help her.

Xu Zhizhi stared at her reflection in the mirror, feeling an unprecedented sense of inner peace.

Now, all that remained was to wait for the real battle to begin.

Having made her decision, Xu Zhizhi turned and left.

The next day, Xu Zhizhi resumed filming as usual.

She allowed the Malice Points and her immersion in the role to erode her self-awareness rapidly.

At the same time, her acting skills improved significantly, to the point where Li Feng finally gave her some rare praise.

The atmosphere on set also grew more harmonious.

The filming reached a scene involving the magic skills that Wen Yang had mastered. Those skills had helped her rake in millions.

Wen Yang stood on a high platform, bound by iron chains, with a swimming pool below her.

From a height of 18 meters, she had to jump and free herself from the chains before landing in a prepared net.

If she failed to free herself, she would hang midair and the inertia could potentially cause spinal fractures and paralysis.

Although the director didn’t arrange for Xu Zhizhi to attempt anything so dangerous, the jump and the act of unchaining herself were still required. Safety measures ensured she would only dangle in the air without risk of injury.

Xu Zhizhi herself had coordinated extensively with the props team to prepare for the scene, ensuring every mechanism was safe and reliable.

Li Feng had spent considerable time scouting for a suitable location for the live shoot.

Wen Yang stood on the diving board, delivering her lines to mislead the audience.

“…When I jump, you’ll all see the result. No need for more words. Witness this!”

She appeared visibly nervous as she stood there, glancing toward the edge of the platform. Then, with a defiant smile, she looked at the distant figure of the police officer pursuing her.

Unbeknownst to them, she had already notified the authorities of her plan.

That night, she would rob a bank.

Alone. A single person robbing a bank.

To most, it sounded impossible. Even the police didn’t believe it but they still showed up.

On a towering platform, the water in the swimming pool shimmered under the lights, with a massive net suspended over it.

The thrilling live performance began.

After delivering her lines with a smile, Wen Yang leaped off the platform amid the gasps of the audience.

The steel cables, taut and straight, plummeted without a hint of slack.

Mid-air, Wen Yang began swiftly unbinding herself from the restraints.

Her rapid movements were captured by high-speed cameras and amplified the real-time excitement, drawing a chorus of gasps from the crowd.

At the last critical moment, Wen Yang freed herself and fell into the net.

Cheers erupted and large banners unfurled in celebration.

But to everyone’s shock, the banners didn’t announce the success of the magic trick.

They declared the successful robbery of the bank.

The police officer, upon receiving a call from his colleagues, bolted upright and charged toward Wen Yang. But she had already opened the bottom of the net, diving into the water and vanishing like a mermaid.

Frustrated, the officer scrutinized the scene, trying to figure out how Wen Yang had escaped.

His colleagues at the bank informed him that millions of dollars had disappeared without a trace as if the money had never existed.

The event marked the peak of the police’s pursuit of Wen Yang. Shortly afterward, she received a call from her parents.

She chose to ignore it.

After the performance, Xu Zhizhi sat alone for a long time.

Feng Jie immediately noticed something was wrong. Xu Zhizhi seemed lost in her own world, unable to hear anything around her.

“Zhizhi, Zhizhi,” Feng Jie called, lightly tapping Xu Zhizhi on the shoulder to snap her out of it.

It took a moment before Xu Zhizhi blinked and looked at Feng Jie with a dazed expression. “What is it? Why are you calling me?”

Feng Jie’s face shifted and her concern was evident as she stared at Xu Zhizhi, unable to find the right words.

Lowering her lashes, Xu Zhizhi seemed to realize something and raised her head. “I was too immersed in the role, wasn’t I?”

“Yes…” Feng Jie nodded worriedly.

Xu Zhizhi pressed her lips together, her eyes clouded with confusion. Then, turning to Feng Jie, she said, “It’s fine. I just need some time to adjust.”

Feng Jie hesitated before nodding, though unease lingered.

In her mind, she was already contemplating finding someone to ask about how to deal with that level of immersion.

While she had ideas, there wasn’t much she could do. Feng Jie understood the entertainment industry well, including the phenomenon of getting too immersed in a role.

For actors, both in domestic and international contexts, that level of immersion was often considered normal. It was a way to deliver exceptional performances and many directors demanded it.

However, no one ever discussed how to come out of character. Like getting into the role, exiting it relied entirely on the actor’s own intuition.

Since nothing had ever gone wrong before, Feng Jie hadn’t paid much attention. But this time, the situation felt unprecedented and she feared for Xu Zhizhi.

If it were any other actor, Feng Jie might not have worried so much.

But Xu Zhizhi was different. She took her acting very seriously, which made her level of immersion dangerous.

There were numerous reports, both domestically and internationally, of actors who couldn’t detach from their roles and ended up taking their own lives.

Realizing Xu Zhizhi was caught in her character, Feng Jie frowned deeply, a sudden sense of helplessness washing over her.

She helped Xu Zhizhi to the side, her peripheral vision catching the faintly satisfied expression on Li Feng’s face.

That man was far more dangerous than someone like Xu Hua, whose cruelty was purely verbal.

Noticing Feng Jie’s concern, Xu Zhizhi gently patted her hand in reassurance.

She sighed, realizing it took her significantly longer to snap out of the role this time compared to before. It wasn’t until four or five minutes later that she fully remembered she wasn’t Wen Yang.

“Are you okay, Xu Zhizhi? Could you not come out of the role?” Director Li Feng, in a rare show of concern, asked about her state upon noticing she was still immersed in the role.

Xu Zhizhi raised her eyes to look at Li Feng, her lips curling slightly, but her gaze carried a hint of hostility. “Director Li, are you actually concerned about whether I can detach myself from the role or not?”

“I… I just hope you’re in a better state,” Li Feng stammered, a flicker of guilt crossing his eyes.

Xu Zhizhi stood up from her chair and met his gaze coldly. “I think you’d actually prefer if I stayed stuck in the role forever, wouldn’t you?”

Her words made Li Feng involuntarily take a step back, avoiding her gaze as his eyes darted away.

Feng Jie, standing beside Xu Zhizhi, silently stood in support of her.

However, Xu Zhizhi said nothing further and turned to pull Feng Jie away with her.

Li Feng watched her leave, confusion and a trace of panic evident in his expression.

Dahliya: I have an idea, can Zhizhi hypnosis herself to wake up from her immersion every time the director says Cut? Isn’t that how Zhou Shen from Wear the Face of the Devil did it in the God of Light arc?