After Transmigrated as a Black-Hearted Entertainment Boss [Transmigration] - Chapter 33

To call life on a movie set boring was an understatement; it could be incredibly monotonous. The daily expenses for so many people and equipment were right there in the open, so every crew would keep a manic eye on the timeline to rush the schedule. Delaying for even a single day meant losing a day’s worth of money. Consequently, there was absolutely no rest time. Even after wrapping up for the day, there would be an endless stream of meetings—and the more senior the creator, the more meetings they had.

But to call it interesting was also entirely accurate. After all, they were all young people. Slipping in jokes and banter at every available pocket was practically an innate talent. Even when gathered to discuss work, witty gold phrases would pop out from time to time, triggering waves of laughter.

Moreover, much like The Case Files of Dali Temple, The Afterlife didn’t feature any big-name divas. Everyone was equally obscure, so naturally, no one put on airs. Instead, the atmosphere was thoroughly harmonious, and people bantered with absolute abandon.

This was likely what they meant by “pain mixed with joy.” This was especially true for Tao Zui. As an investor who currently functioned as a half-producer on set, he was so busy his feet barely touched the ground. Yet, he rapidly bonded with the crew members. The work environment was countless times happier than his miserable days as a beta service provider in his past life.

After all, previously he had to cater to a client, whereas now he only needed to focus on creation—at most spending a bit of mental effort on controlling costs—sparing him much of the torment brought by clashing opinions.

Most of the time, Tao Zui would anchor himself at the filming location to keep an eye on the production progress. Gaining a deep understanding of the shooting conditions also aided him in managing the budget. Besides, who didn’t love watching Gu Nan act?

Despite not yet being twenty—an age where his peers were still splashing their youth around inside an ivory tower—Gu Nan already possessed a maturity and stability that far exceeded his years.

When dressed in that black police uniform, aside from standard praises like “cool” and “sleek” to describe his handsomeness, it completely allowed the observer to ignore his actual age. Validating his logic as the character in the drama wasn’t something that could be achieved through raw acting talent alone.

In the past, Tao Zui had always believed that a person’s aura could be nurtured over time. As long as one persisted in learning and strictly disciplined themselves, an excellent temperament could be cultivated.

But seeing Gu Nan changed his mind. He realized that some people were truly born with a powerful presence and an indescribable, extraordinary aura. Standing in a crowd, they naturally became the visual focus, capable of standing out through their distinct presence even from a long distance away.

“Cut!”

A chase scene concluded, and Gu Nan climbed out of the prop vehicle, instantly turning his head to look at Tao Zui on the sidelines.

The moment their eyes met, Tao Zui smiled, launching right into a stream of high praise: “That segment just now was played beautifully! If I hadn’t been standing right here watching, I would have genuinely believed you were in a high-speed car chase with someone!”

“You say that for every single scene. I don’t even know if you’re being real anymore,” Gu Nan muttered as he walked up to Tao Zui. His tone carried a hint of dissatisfaction, but the corners of his lips curved up. Clearly, he was saying one thing but thoroughly enjoying the praise.

“How could it be fake? Even if I’m your boss and come with a built-in filter, you still have to trust Director Zhou, right? Isn’t that right, Old Zhou?” Tao Zui turned to ask Zhou Fanghong, who was currently reviewing the playback beside them.

Hearing this, Zhou Fanghong delivered a massive thumbs-up without a second thought. “A stable performance as always. This take is cleared.”

Only then did Gu Nan walk behind the camera to review the playback alongside them, not straightening up until he had watched it from the beginning once more.

“I told you it was a great performance, yet you didn’t believe me,” Tao Zui said, pointing to the thermos in Li Shengping’s hand. “Hurry up and grab a drink of water. Look at how hot you are.”

It was July, and they were filming indoors. On top of that, Gu Nan was wearing a leather uniform, so one could easily imagine how sweltering it was. Even though they kept cooling gear fully prepared every day, the sweat accumulated from a day’s shooting would completely soak his clothes.

Gu Nan offered his thanks and accepted the thermos from Li Shengping. With one hand popping open the drinking nozzle, he pulled down the uniform zipper with his other hand, exposing the white t-shirt underneath.

To ensure the uniform sat smoothly, the pure cotton white t-shirt was highly tight-fitting. At this moment, mostly soaked with sweat, it clung tightly to his body, outlining the youth’s sharply defined muscle contours. Coupled with the motion of lifting the thermos and tilting his head back to drink, a wave of pure hormones rushed right at them. It prompted Tao Zui to shift his gaze away at near-lightning speed, even reciting the Heart Sutra internally.

Form is emptiness, emptiness is form…

An completely oblivious Gu Nan finished his water and huddled right in front of the cooling fan, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt to let the cool air blow inside his clothes. The white t-shirt instantly billowed with wind, causing the beautiful muscle contours to vanish into thin air.

Catching this scene out of the corner of his eye, Tao Zui let out a silent sigh of relief while furrowing his brow, calling out, “Don’t blow it directly at your stomach. Careful not to catch a cold!”

“Oh.”

Seeing Gu Nan offer a response and obediently turn his back to the cooling fan, Zhou Fanghong couldn’t contain a laugh. “Gu Nan is incredibly obedient in front of you.”

Tao Zui raised an eyebrow. “The way you say that makes it sound as if he isn’t obedient when I’m not around.”

“Not exactly,” Zhou Fanghong waved his hand. “It’s just that he talks little and rarely smiles, so very few people dare to approach him. Earlier, even the makeup artist didn’t dare speak up to ask him to bend down for a touch-up.”

Tao Zui glanced at the actors currently huddled with Gu Nan by the fan chatting, laughing. “The way you describe him makes Gu Nan sound like some kind of terrifying monster.”

Zhou Fanghong let out a “heh.” “Don’t disbelieve me. Let me tell you, when your guy Gu Nan keeps an expressionless face, he looks genuinely intimidating.”

Tao Zui tilted his chin toward Gu Nan’s direction. “He doesn’t have much of an expression right now either. Looks fine to me.”

Zhou Fanghong followed his gaze, catching sight of Gu Nan tilting his head toward Tao Zui with confusion, seemingly failing to comprehend why the man was tilting his chin at him.

Seeing this, Tao Zui quickly raised his voice to call out, “It’s nothing, we’re just chatting.”

Hearing this, Gu Nan cast a glance at Zhou Fanghong before retracting his gaze, resuming his conversation with the adjacent actor.

Having witnessed the full display, Zhou Fanghong stroked his chin with puzzlement. “It looks exactly the same, yet…”

Before he could finish his sentence, the floor manager arrived to notify them that the set was prepared. The crew swung back into motion, and this session carried them right up to the meal run.

For the final scene before the meal run, the crew transitioned to Lei Ze’s room. Gu Nan had rarely shed his uniform, dressed instead in a lightweight t-shirt and trousers, making his entire presence look a fraction softer.

In addition to this, his exposed left arm was fitted with a grey, tight-fitting long glove covered in tracking markers. Post-production would use special effects to construct a cybernetic prosthetic limb on top of this foundation, saving time on special effects makeup while allowing for more intricate and realistic details.

This segment filmed a scene where Lei Ze was organizing case files at home when his cybernetic body suddenly experienced a sensory overload, causing him to crash to the floor in spasms.

According to the script, Gu Nan was supposed to slam his fist hard against the floor after the spasms passed to vent the resentment in his heart, and he executed it exactly as written. But after Zhou Fanghong called a cut, the moment he looked toward Tao Zui, a glaring look of contemplation surfaced in his eyes.

Tao Zui was just preparing to execute his duties as Lord of the Compliment Club, but the moment he raised his thumbs, he detected something abnormal: “……What’s wrong? What’s with that expression?”

“I feel the emotional delivery just now wasn’t entirely smooth…” Gu Nan walked up to Tao Zui and murmured in a low voice.

Tao Zui raised his eyebrows, a look of incomprehension entering his expression. “Really? It looked great to me! This should be Lei Ze’s very first sensory overload, and it’s also a scene where he clearly realizes he can no longer be considered human. It’s completely normal to feel anger and resentment.”

Gu Nan’s brow furrowed slightly. “But the fact that sensory overloads occur is something Lei Ze already knew after undergoing the cybernetic modification surgery. Every follow-up examination involves inquiries into whether he has experienced an overload… Even if this is his first time experiencing it, he should still be psychologically prepared.”

“That’s not necessarily true, is it?” Tao Zui wagged his finger in disagreement. “Knowing about it is one thing; experiencing it firsthand is another. When a situation hasn’t landed on oneself, a person dares to claim anything. You only gain a proper say once you’ve actually gone through it.”

Gu Nan gave an “Mm,” but immediately shook his head. “What you say makes sense, but I still feel there should be a distinction between being psychologically prepared and being completely blindsided.”

Zhou Fanghong sat nearby listening, his expression shifting continuously—nodding in agreement one moment as he prepared to echo Tao Zui, then wrinkling his brow in deep thought along with Gu Nan’s perspective the next.

After mulling it over for a bit, he spoke up after careful deliberation, “Actually, I feel what both of you are saying is—”

Tao Zui: “Are you perhaps overcomplicating things? Regardless of whether he was psychologically prepared or not, Lei Ze is bound to feel intensely furious facing this kind of physical state.”

Gu Nan: “Yes, but at the same time, he would also feel a sense of powerlessness, right? After all, things have already reached this point, and there is nothing he can alter anyway.”

Zhou Fanghong: “True. Then how about we shoot another—”

Tao Zui: “Then how do you want to adjust it?”

Gu Nan: “It’s not exactly an adjustment. I want to shoot an extra frame—adding a bit more of an emotional reaction right after he slams his fist on the floor.”

Tao Zui: “Then discuss it further with Director Zhou and Writer Wang to see if it’s necessary to shoot another take.”

Hearing this, Gu Nan turned his head to look at Zhou Fanghong. Before he could even speak, Zhou Fanghong wiped his face and said, “We can do it. Why on earth wouldn’t we? Let’s just go with what you said. Go lie back down; continuity script supervisor, match the scene.”

Gu Nan was visibly startled for a moment, before reacting and letting out a slightly uncomfortable cough. Only then did he turn around, walk to the center of the set, and lie down on the floor, waiting for the supervisor to guide his posture and positioning based on the previous take to match the scene.

Seeing this, Tao Zui let out a somewhat embarrassed laugh. “You heard all of that…”

Zhou Fanghong replied expressionlessly, “Not only did I hear it, but I also comprehend why Gu Nan is so incredibly obedient when it comes to you.”

“Why?” Tao Zui asked with surprise surfacing on his face.

“Because he relies on you! Gu Nan views you as an older brother, so he relies on you in every single matter. Before you arrived, the moment he stepped off a take, he would head straight to the monitor to watch playbacks and discuss the character with me and Old Wang. But after you arrived, his first instinct is always to bolt straight to you, and he doesn’t even look for us when he has questions.”

“It’s also because he relies on you that he involuntarily relaxes in your presence. His aura is no longer tightly wound, so naturally, he stops being so defensive. Others can take the opportunity to get closer to him, and over time, they discover he isn’t actually that unapproachable.”

Zhou Fanghong sighed with emotion. “Actually, this is a good thing. The relationship between an artist, an agency, and an agent is far too complex, and many struggle to find a good conclusion. Since he relies on you, he won’t place too much weight on material interests either. Your partnership will be more solid and long-lasting. All departments in position, keep quiet—”

Tao Zui watched the continuity supervisor walk before the camera lens holding the clapperboard. As that sharp snap echoed, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

An older brother… well, that works too.