Who is Helping Me Win by Lying Down [Transmigration] - Chapter 87

Chapter 87

Chen Shu bent his elbow and pressed it against Yan Jingchuan’s head, lowering it again and again as directed by the filmmaker until he simply leaned over Yan Jingchuan, using one knee against Yan Jingchuan’s leg as a pivot.

Only then was Han Shan finally satisfied, and they continued filming until the scene was complete.

After finishing Yan Jingchuan’s scheduled scenes for the day, Han Shan didn’t request additional shots for the next day’s content. Instead, he promptly invited Yan Jingchuan to rest and turned his focus to capturing supplementary footage of the other actors.

Due to the earlier need to concentrate on Zhang Zhendong’s scenes, there was still a heavy workload remaining.

The set hadn’t been dismantled.

The first shot would still feature Chen Shu.

Warehouse.

The actor who had served as background when Yan Jingchuan made his entrance remained kneeling in the center of the set.

A trained method actor, he immediately got into character as soon as the clapperboard snapped.

His makeup was realistic and tragic.

Hooded, his clothes were almost soaked through with blood, countless wounds layered upon each other, flesh torn open.

He knelt weakly on the ground, one leg twisted, relying solely on the other to support his straight spine, trembling incessantly yet never collapsing. The ground beneath him was stained with blood, and drops of bloody sweat rolled from his chin into puddles.

You go have some fun too.

Chen Shu had just drawn his gun when he was ordered to continue torturing this tormented undercover police officer rather than killing him.

No one wanted information; everyone just wanted the police officer to suffer a fate worse than death.

On camera, Chen Shu’s gun-holding hand trembled violently, yet he couldn’t show the slightest abnormality on his face.

He walked up to his colleague with his back to the crowd, and only then did subtle expressions begin to surface on his face—complex, struggling, pained. As he stepped under the only source of light from the skylight, a trace of restrained tears glistened in his eyes.

Behind the monitor, the entire set fell silent, everyone holding their breath as they listened to the firm, steady footsteps echoing through the empty warehouse.

Abruptly, the footsteps halted.

The colleague lifted his head, gazing up at Chen Shu bathed in the bright light.

Soon, Chen Shu stepped out of the light into the darkness, the tear stains already gone, his face now wearing only the vicious mask of a criminal.

Meeting his colleague’s gaze, his cheek twitched spasmodically, but without hesitation, he delivered a fierce punch to the other’s bruised, swollen, and broken face.

The police officer fell heavily to the ground with a dull thud, yet still uttered no sound, only moving his mouth and tilting his head to spit out a mouthful of bloody foam.

Chen Shu bent down, grabbed his colleague by the collar, and pulled him close.

One punch.

Another punch—

Until the police officer’s eyes grew unfocused, emitting unconscious groans.

Deafening cheers immediately erupted, piercingly echoing through the warehouse.

Chen Shu’s bloodied fist paused mid-air, his jaw muscles clenched tight.

Suddenly, the police officer opened his swollen, red eyes, looked at Chen Shu, and grinned.

The smile held no contempt or scorn, only the light that had filled his eyes moments earlier when he looked up, along with apology.

Someone behind grew suspicious: What’s going on?

The next moment, the police officer violently broke free from his restraints, snatched the handgun from Chen Shu’s waist, and fired directly.

Chen Shu dodged in time, sustaining only a graze, and didn’t give him a chance for a second shot. He delivered a kick to the vulnerable neck, fatal in one blow.

The police officer was sent flying backward by the kick, his legs still mired in the mud, while his upper body collapsed under the sunlight streaming through the skylight.

The camera returned to Chen Shu, slowly zooming in for a close-up.

Chen Shu clutched his wound and looked down at his colleague, using his pained frown to cover his eyes, which also held deep apology, as he closed them.

The shot ended, and Han Shan led the standing ovation.

The monitor began replaying the footage.

Yu Ran joined Han Shan in applauding, his gaze fixed on the screen.

The cinematographer never hesitated to capture Chen Shu in close-ups, as his looks and acting skills were flawless—no one wanted to miss a single shot. Every performance by Chen Shu felt like an audiovisual feast.

This scene focused more on portraying the inner turmoil of the protagonist Wei Liang, with close-ups continuously employed.

As one of the film’s most poignant segments, it satisfied Han Shan immensely in just one take.

Even the action sequences were executed with remarkable fluidity.

Yu Ran sighed helplessly.

It wasn’t the first time he had felt the gap between himself and Chen Shu, but it still left him somewhat disheartened.

Nevertheless, collaborating with such an actor was a boon—at least the film’s quality was assured.

He turned his gaze back to the monitor.

The camera had resumed, now filming the actors touching up their makeup.

After a while, Chen Shu finished reshooting his scenes and accepted a bottle of water handed to him. Thank you, he said.

He took a sip before realizing it wasn’t Xiao Tian who had passed him the water, but Yan Jingchuan.

Yan Jingchuan had already changed out of his costume, though the white streaks at his temples remained.

Chen Shu asked, You haven’t left?

Yan Jingchuan replied, I was waiting for you.

Chen Shu glanced at the Buddhist beads in his hand. How was the experience of filming?

Yan Jingchuan answered calmly, Not bad.

Then he asked in return, What did you think of my acting?

Chen Shu said, Not bad.

Yan Jingchuan paused.

Chen Shu glanced at him and elaborated, Director Yan’s acting is excellent. If you ever tire of business, you might consider a career in the entertainment industry.

Yan Jingchuan said, Is that so? I may need your referral then.

Chen Shu smiled. Certainly.

Zhang Shi thought, Stop talking! What if one of you ends up with a heart attack from all this?!

Under a cloud of anxiety, he followed the two to the dressing room. After Chen Shu changed, they returned to the hotel together.

With the day’s experience, Yan Jingchuan’s filming progressed even more smoothly the next day.

Though he didn’t portray the ruthless cunning Han Shan had envisioned, his rendition of the character’s cruel methods brought a different, more oppressive intensity—a pleasant surprise. Han Shan did not interfere with his approach.

However, after these two days of shooting, the temperature dropped sharply, and Chen Shu no longer allowed Yan Jingchuan to visit the set.

As the Lunar New Year approached, Chen Shu initially planned to send Yan Jingchuan home first, but the schedule aligned perfectly—the film wrapped up just before the holiday.

The final scene was part of the movie’s conclusion.

Although the protagonist Wei Liang had managed to deliver critical intelligence at great risk, time became the greatest challenge.

To buy time without raising suspicion, he instigated internal conflict, sacrificing his life to secure precious moments, ultimately ensuring that Jiang Zhendong and his drug trafficking ring were brought to justice.

After the court sentenced them to death, the camera shifted to the solemn martyrs’ cemetery.

Rows of unnamed tombstones stood silently, slowly panning across the screen.

The final shot focused on a new grave.

Like the others, it bore no name. As the camera pulled back, only the vibrant fresh flowers placed before it bloomed under the sunlight.

Chen Shu’s final scene showed him leaning alone in a deserted corner, listening to the distant sounds of struggle as he gazed at the last sunrise of his life—a dawn veiled in hope.

By the time the first light touched the horizon, Wei Liang had already passed away.

When the police found his body, the close-up revealed him smiling peacefully in eternal sleep.

Watching the monitor, Han Shan’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

The actors’ immersive performances were so powerful that they easily evoked empathy from the audience—a testament to both the script and the cast’s talent, and he was no exception.

Just hoping Chen Shu’s fans are mentally prepared and won’t cry too hard.

After all, this film based on numerous anti-drug police officers doesn’t have a happy ending.

The scene filmed today might be happening in some corner right now, but real police officers can’t resurrect off-camera like actors, and the outcomes aren’t necessarily as perfect as in the movies.

The clapperboard snapped shut.

Official wrap.

Han Shan was still the first to stand and applaud.

Prepared crew members came forward with flowers, and everyone took commemorative photos together.

With the New Year approaching, Han Shan dismissed everyone to go home that same day.

Chen Shu and Yan Jingchuan also flew back.

After getting off the plane and into the car, the Spring Festival atmosphere was already evident along the way.

Red lanterns and double happiness characters were visible everywhere.

Before the car reached Hengtai Community, Yan Jingchuan received a call from Wen Jiao asking when he’d return for the New Year.

Chen Shu had the driver change direction and head straight to the old residence.

Yan Jingchuan frowned: What about you?

Chen Shu said: I’m going home too.

Since coming to this world, he hadn’t had much interaction with his original body’s parents.

Initially, Chen Hexuan and Hua Yun were too busy with work to spare much time, so the distance wasn’t noticeable; as their business expanded with franchise operations, they actually gained more free time.

Since Chen Shu had been filming these past three months, they’d only connected by phone. Hearing his film wrapped before the New Year, they’d recently been subtly asking if he’d come home for the celebrations.

He had no experience dealing with parents, but having been given a second life through the original body’s form, he’d do his best for anything within his capabilities.

Yan Jingchuan pressed his lips together.

The car continued speeding along the highway. Zhang Shi got off midway.

With limited vacation time, the Spring Festival holiday was his only real break, and he couldn’t waste a single moment.

After he disembarked, the driver continued toward the old residence.

When they arrived, Wen Jiao and Yan Xinli were chatting by the entrance. Seeing the car slowly stop, they smiled and came forward.

You came so fast! Your dad and I thought you wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow.

Out of courtesy, Chen Shu got out to greet them before preparing to leave.

But they enthusiastically insisted he stay.

Wen Jiao said: There’s still two days until New Year’s Eve. Chen Shu, why don’t you stay tonight? It’s not too late to return home tomorrow for New Year’s Eve.

Yan Xinli agreed: Yes, you two just flew back and had such a long car ride. You should rest here tonight.

Since Yan Jingchuan rarely came home, Chen Shu didn’t want to intrude on their family reunion during such occasions.

I’ll just—

Before he could finish.

Yan Jingchuan turned to look at him, his gaze dark and intense.

Chen Shu paused.

He said: Then I’ll trouble you.

Yan Jingchuan suppressed his slightly upturned lips and turned to grab the dog leash.

Wen Jiao laughed: What trouble? You and Jingchuan are together, so you’re family to us too!

Wangcai chose that moment to jump out of the car, wagging his tail.

Woof!

Yan Xinli also smiled: Well, Wangcai is family too.

After speaking, they gestured for Chen Shu and Yan Jingchuan to enter: Come inside quickly, the old master must be getting impatient.

By the time they got out of the car, dusk was falling, so they all had dinner together.

During after-dinner conversation, Wen Jiao asked: Chen Shu, are you going back for New Year’s tomorrow too?

Chen Shu said: Yes.

Yan Xinli and Wen Jiao exchanged glances before asking: Jingchuan… probably isn’t going, right?

For so long, during Yan Jingchuan’s rare visits home, he’d been inseparable from Chen Shu except for one time when Chen Shu couldn’t get away. They were worried that if Chen Shu left, Yan Jingchuan might not stay either.

Chen Shu said, He’s not going.

The two breathed a sigh of relief.

Yan Jingchuan suddenly spoke calmly, I’ve never been to Chen Shu’s home.

Chen Shu paused again while drinking water.

Yan Xinli and Wen Jiao exchanged another glance.

Hmm? Yan Jinqing finally found a topic, Then do Chen Shu’s parents know about your relationship?

Yan Jingchuan looked at Chen Shu.

Chen Shu said helplessly, I haven’t had the chance to tell them yet.

Yan Jinqing perked up, speaking nonchalantly, Is it because you’re uncertain whether things will work out with Jingchuan? That’s quite normal. Jingchuan, you shouldn’t pressure Chen Shu either, just let things take their natural course.

Yan Xinli: …

He discreetly nudged Yan Jinqing with his elbow, begging his dear father to hold his tongue.

Instead, Yan Jinqing slapped his hand away with a crisp smack on the back of his hand.

Wen Jiao had to interject, Chen Shu just hasn’t figured out how to bring it up yet. These things can’t be rushed.

No.

Chen Shu put down his water glass, Whenever Jingchuan wants to go, we can go anytime.

The other three looked at Yan Jingchuan.

Yan Jingchuan said, Then let’s go tomorrow.

Yan Xinli: …………?

Author’s note: ??