After Transmigrated as a Black-Hearted Entertainment Boss [Transmigration] - Chapter 32

“Have you ever eaten braised pork belly? I ate it when I was a child… and I still dream about that taste now.” A man stood at the very edge of a window holding an unconscious child, teetering precariously. His expression was dazed, and his eyes glinted with an eerie green light.

Standing a few meters away, Lei Ze’s left eye flickered with blue light. His tone was perfectly calm: “I’ve eaten synthetic braised pork belly.”

“Synthetic meat,” the man let out a soft laugh. “That and farmed pork are entirely two different things.”

Theoretically speaking, the human sense of taste cannot distinguish between synthetic and farmed meat. Lei Ze thought silently to himself, but he didn’t voice it out loud, fearing it would further trigger the man.

The man was a regional distributor for the “Afterlife” drug trafficking network. Lei Ze had painstakingly tracked him down and was only one step away from tracing the source of the goods.

Who would have thought that after Lei Ze broke in, this man would scoop up the child and rush to the window? No one knew how he had bypassed the property management to alter the apartment, but at the press of a button, the entire floor-to-ceiling window dropped away, exposing a gaping, cavernous opening.

The biting, freezing wind from the 273rd floor rushed through the opening, causing the man and the child in his arms to tremble violently like two withered leaves, making the emerald green in his eyes look increasingly distinct.

“What does farmed meat taste like?” Lei Ze adjusted his vocal parameters, softening his voice to make it sound gentle and soothing. He wanted to prompt the man’s desire to speak so he could seize an opportunity to get closer.

As long as he shortened the distance to within three meters, he was confident he could save them.

Sure enough, the man showed great interest in the topic. “What does it taste like? It’s tender, juicy, and delicately textured. After being slow-cooked for a long time, the flavor of the seasonings seeps deep into it… Sigh, what’s the use of me telling you this? You’ve never eaten it anyway.”

The man’s sudden shift in attitude caused Lei Ze’s steps to halt.

The man glanced at his feet and smiled ambiguously. “You punks born in the new generation know absolutely nothing. Yes, technology has advanced, and the average lifespan is as high as 120 years old, but what’s the point? I originally never wanted children… I didn’t have her by accident until I was 100 years old, but the older she gets, the more guilty I feel…”

“Mr. Officer, tell me, which is more important: the material or the spiritual?” Without waiting for Lei Ze’s answer, the man muttered to himself, “Both are important. So once the balance is shattered, what’s the point of living? What’s the use of a rich spirit? Humans live on material things…”

The man’s words abruptly ground to a halt. His eyes widened as he looked behind Lei Ze, his expression turning bizarre to the absolute extreme.

Seeing this, Lei Ze reflexively wanted to look back, but he was afraid the movement would trigger the man. He could only forcibly control his body to keep his eyes fixed on him, subtly shifting forward.

The man failed to notice Lei Ze’s minor movement, staring blankly at a spot behind him. The expression on his face looked like a pleasant surprise, yet also like terror dialed to the absolute limit.

After a brief moment, a twisted smile arched on the man’s face, his voice drifting: “I have to go. It won’t be good if he catches me… Baby, Daddy is taking you away from this twisted world!”

“Wait…!” Lei Ze lunged forward with all his might, but he failed to catch even the corner of the man’s clothes, only able to watch blankly as the other fell into the darkness.

A rare look of fury appeared on his face as it flickered with blue light, but due to his cybernetic nature, the emotion vanished in a flash. Immediately after, he looked back—

“Okay, cut!”

Following Zhou Fanghong’s command, the tension on Gu Nan’s face relaxed instantly. He looked back toward the camera, only to see an unexpected person standing right next to the massive, nearly head-high machine.

“Young CEO Tao!” Gu Nan’s eyes lit up, and he stepped forward quickly, an unsuppressable smile spreading across his face. “When did you get back? How long have you been here? H-How was it?”

By the time he finished asking, Gu Nan seemed to realize that his attitude was a bit too enthusiastic. His expression grew uncomfortable, and his final few words were delivered in a bizarre, stammering manner. His ears flushed so red that even the makeup artist adding touch-ups couldn’t bear to look, dipping her brush into some powder to dust them a few times.

Tao Zui was also a bit dazed. Although he had indeed been gone for nearly half a month and intended to give Gu Nan a surprise, he hadn’t expected such a massive reaction!

Does this mean Gu Nan actually missed me a lot too… No, that’s not right.

The joyful emotion that had just filled his heart was pressed right back down by Tao Zui.

In reality, thinking about it carefully, it was quite normal. How old was Gu Nan? Kids his age were still fooling around happily in school, yet he had to come out and venture into the world all on his own, so it was completely natural for him to be somewhat dependent on him.

Keep a balanced mind, keep a balanced mind…

Reining in his racing heartbeat, Tao Zui teased, “What do you mean ‘how was it’? How your acting was? If I praise you, won’t people say I’m just a merchant singing praises for my own goods?”

“Then let me be the one to praise him, alright?” Zhou Fanghong lifted his head from the camera monitor, giving Gu Nan a massive thumbs-up. “Badass! Practically every single scene is a one-take. He can get into character himself and pull his scene partners in too. I’ve never seen anyone with this level of focus during their first acting gig.”

“Not only does he act well, but he’s also hardworking and exceptionally humble. Whether he has scenes or not, he always comes to the set to learn… Tsk, tsk, tsk, Old Tao, you’ve truly struck gold. If Gu Nan doesn’t blow up, it would defy the laws of nature!”

Zhou Fanghong seemed to have shaved his beard, but clearly not recently. The significantly shorter stubble made him look less unkempt and added a touch of seasoned ruggedness, making his high praise unexpectedly persuasive.

“Director Zhou is right. I’ve been acting for some thirty years, and I’ve never seen someone so young with such excellent acting. The younger generation truly commands respect!” The man playing the regional distributor walked over surrounded by staff members—it was precisely Wang Minda, who had played opposite Gu Nan when he auditioned for the role of Bone in Day and Night.

“Teacher Wang.” Tao Zui proactively stepped forward to shake hands with Wang Minda. “I’m exceptionally pleased to collaborate with you. If there’s anywhere Gu Nan falls short, I hope you can offer him some guidance.”

Wang Minda laughed. “Where would he need my guidance? This kid has high comprehension and raw talent; he’s a natural-born actor. His future achievements will definitely surpass mine.”

“You flatter him, Teacher Wang.” Tao Zui smiled and glanced at the sheepish-looking Gu Nan, turning to ask instead, “Is the filming for Day and Night going smoothly? It has always been our regret that we couldn’t collaborate with you and Director Jiang.”

At the mention of Day and Night, the smile on Wang Minda’s face visibly stiffened. It took a long while before he let out a bitter smile. “It’s going smoothly, but… sigh, one can only say, do our best and leave the rest to fate.”

Hearing this, Tao Zui’s mind stirred, a timely look of surprise appearing on his face. “Oh? Did something happen?”

Wang Minda shook his head. “Not exactly, it’s just… sigh, it’s hard to say. One can only say that comparison is the thief of joy; some things just don’t measure up!”

Seeing that Wang Minda was unwilling to elaborate, Tao Zui didn’t press further. Coincidentally, Zhou Fanghong’s voice rang out, so he temporarily set the matter aside.

“Teacher Wang, could you please step over for a moment? Let’s shoot a close-up touch-up, right over there…”

After another ten minutes or so, following a sharp “cut,” Zhou Fanghong lifted his small megaphone and announced with a smile, “Congratulations to Teacher Wang Minda and little Qin Susu for wrapping up their scenes!”

Thunderous applause instantly erupted all around. Two staff members stepped forward to present one large and one small bouquet of flowers. Zhou Fanghong also stepped forward, pulling two red envelopes from his pocket to hand to them. “Teacher Wang, thank you for coming for this cameo. You’ve truly done me a massive favor.”

The character Wang Minda played was similar to the role of Bone in Day and Night—his screen time was minimal but played a critical role, revealing a wealth of information and conveying the deeper themes the director buried in the plot within a few short frames.

If an actor could deliver a multi-layered performance, it would not only become a highlight of the entire film but also prompt the audience to reflect and explore, elevating the viewing value of the entire piece.

Whenever an actor’s character died, the crew would hand over a red envelope to ward off bad luck, so Wang Minda naturally wouldn’t refuse. Holding the bouquet, he accepted the envelope. “No need to be polite. If it weren’t for your mother’s support back then, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I’m very happy to see you follow in her footsteps. I hope you can fulfill her unfinished dreams.”

Zhou Fanghong put away his playful attitude, responding solemnly, “Rest assured, I will definitely work hard.”

Wang Minda smiled with gratification, turning to look at Tao Zui and Gu Nan. “The crew’s filming isn’t over yet, and I’m in a rush to catch a flight, so I won’t chat further. Once the movie wraps and you return to North City, let’s grab some tea together. Director Jiang has been mentioning Gu Nan constantly too.”

“Alright, thank you for your hard work.” Tao Zui watched Wang Minda leave in a hurry holding his flowers after bidding farewell, speaking with some confusion, “Does he have to catch a flight right after stepping off the set?”

Hearing this, Wang Dafa beside him laughed. “Exactly. He bought plane tickets spanning from the morning all the way to the afternoon—he bought a ticket for every single flight tier. He catches whichever one matches the moment he wraps up.”

“Are popular actors really this busy?” Tao Zui, who held five future popular stars in his hands, asked in a somewhat daunted tone.

“Not exactly. This time was mainly a coincidence,” Wang Dafa waved his hand. “Originally, Teacher Wang gave us a two-day window, with an event sandwiched in the middle, totaling three days. Who knew his scene partner would be so capable? Most of the filming wrapped up on the first day, so they made a split-second decision to carry on the next day to finish the wrap-up, allowing him to get an extra day of vacation.”

“I see.” Tao Zui nodded in understanding, letting out a sigh of relief internally.

If popular stars are all this busy, won’t I be worked to death? Even if I split myself into eight pieces, it won’t be enough for five people! I must put recruiting original novel talent on the agenda; a single Long Feifei is clearly not enough…

While Tao Zui was mulling over the recruitment matter, Gu Nan was feeling a bit frustrated.

He hasn’t even heard Tao Zui’s evaluation yet!

They hadn’t met for nearly half a month; didn’t he want to say anything at all? How was his acting? How was his look? How were his lines? Did he, as the boss, not care at all?

Even though his face had flushed from being praised by Zhou Fanghong and Wang Minda just a moment ago, after his brief happiness passed, Gu Nan felt an even greater wave of grievance.

But very quickly, he had no mental energy left to pay attention to these inexplicable emotions. Following Zhou Fanghong’s command, the set fell quiet once more. Gu Nan focused all his attention back onto his character, his expression shifting instantly, which immediately hooked Tao Zui’s attention.

Even though he had just witnessed Gu Nan’s performance with his own eyes, Tao Zui couldn’t help but marvel in his heart once more—

As expected of the protagonist, this acting talent is frighteningly high!

The character of Lei Ze was actually very difficult to play. Due to the character lore, regardless of which identity he assumed, he remained expressionless most of the time. The communication of emotion could only rely on his eyes; a slightly inferior acting ability would leave him blasted by audiences for having a deadpan face.

Yet Gu Nan could display the character’s internal emotions and sentiments purely through his eyes—something many actors failed to achieve throughout their entire careers.

The more Tao Zui watched, the happier and prouder he became. Once this take was also cleared in one run, he gave a thumbs-up to the departing Gu Nan, speaking in a proud tone: “Incredible! Teacher Wang was right; you are a natural-born actor. This talent where heaven chases you down to feed you is simply frightening!”

Hearing this, Gu Nan’s eyes lit up. The cold, gloomy aura of Officer Lei Ze vanished into thin air, and his entire being blossomed with joy. “Really?”

“Of course! That segment just now was played beautifully…”

The makeup artist chasing Gu Nan down to touch up his makeup glanced at his ears. She masterfully whipped out her brush to begin dusting, unable to keep from muttering internally:

You don’t look half this happy when you’re praised by the director every single day…