Chapter 49

Although Tao Zui was puzzled by the mastermind’s silence, he didn’t expend much energy worrying about it. All signs indicated that the person had too many constraints holding them back. As the target, Tao Zui didn’t have the luxury of living in constant fear; he stayed vigilant, but life had to go on, and work still had to be done.

Time quickly slipped into the end of January. Gu Nan’s Water Village was more than halfway filmed, Su Jiqiu was busy balancing his studies with the script for the suspense drama Keep Your Mouth Shut, and the three younger ones were out running notices during their winter break. Taoli Entertainment, which had been mired in scandals early in the year, finally began to feel like it had been reborn.

With the artists busy with work and studies, Tao Zui, as the boss, was naturally not idle.

In early December, he accompanied Gu Nan to the Water Village set for a full week, only leaving once he was certain everything was in order.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look after Gu Nan, but Water Village was different from The Afterlife. With The Afterlife, he was an investor, giving him a valid reason to linger on set; at the Water Village set, he was merely an agent. The longer he stayed, the higher the board and lodging costs, which were covered by the production. A few days was fine, but overstaying his welcome would be tactless.

Fortunately, the crew was filming at a movie base in North City. It was a bit remote, but only a three-hour drive away, making it convenient enough for set visits.

Not long after leaving the Water Village set, Tao Zui received the good news that Su Jiqiu had been chosen by a director for a supporting role in Keep Your Mouth Shut. Tao Zui then had to follow up on the signing of Su Jiqiu’s performance contract.

By the time the contract negotiations were concluded and signed, [stolen content]it was mid-January, and the three younger boys were on winter break.

Infinite, having enjoyed a minor surge in popularity, were no longer the obscure little group that needed Zhang Ling to flatter everyone for a performance opportunity. While invitations weren’t exactly pouring in, they were steady.

The vast majority were music festivals held across the country, scheduled from April to October after the New Year. Zhang Ling turned down all those before the College Entrance Examination, only accepting a few famous ones afterwards.

Then, there were the variety shows produced by major platforms.

The Songs of the Years episode recorded in mid-October had performed unexpectedly well. The contrast between the three boys being quiet as mice off-stage and wildly cool and stylish on-stage had stunned their seniors, and the audience found their exaggerated reactions and banter hilarious.

Here, a mention must be made of Infinite’s number-one fan acquired at the Blueberry Music Festival, the influencer “Aiyao Punk.” Not only did this blogger actively repost the show’s promotion from the official account, but after the episode aired, she quickly edited a funny video and posted it on her Xiaohongshu account.

In the video, Infinite were smiling shyly in front of their seniors one second, being teased for being quiet and soft-spoken, and the next second, they were exploding on stage, leaving their seniors stunned. The “big head” special effects added to the seniors, contrasted with their previous teases and subsequent roasting, had netizens pounding their tables in laughter, with likes hitting 300,000 in a single night.

Aiyao Punk also uploaded this video to Bilibili and short-video platforms. The metrics were excellent, attracting numerous “roast bloggers” who followed the trend by making REACTION videos to this episode of Songs of the Years, causing the new song Infinite performed on the show to break out of their niche.

This chain reaction left Tao Zui feeling both emotional and eager to secretly contact Aiyao Punk to poach her as an artist promoter [Read on BaiLianTales]for the company. However, he eventually dismissed the idea, merely instructing Chen Lu to keep a close eye on the account and provide fan perks—like music festival tickets or variety show guest spots—when the timing was right.

It was also thanks to Songs of the Years that Infinite began receiving new variety show invitations. Of course, most were lukewarm, and Infinite were mostly there as side-characters or guest stars, but for newcomers, these were excellent exposure channels.

In addition to variety shows, Infinite received some year-end commercial performances. Combined, these miscellaneous jobs didn’t keep them busy to the point of exhaustion, but they did leave Taoli Entertainment, with its shortage of manpower, feeling a headache. They had to pull Su Jiqiu’s assistant, Zhu Zheng, to help, and even Tao Zui ended up running a few of the notices himself.

Once the period of Infinite’s most intensive work settled down, Tao Zui flew non-stop to Qing City—first to check on the post-production progress of The Afterlife, and second, to deliver money to Zhou Fanghong.

Building on the previous foundation, he injected another twenty million, bringing his total investment to one hundred and ten million yuan.

As he handed the money to Zhou Fanghong, Tao Zui said jokingly: “There, I’ve emptied my coffers for you. If it’s still not enough, the entire Taoli Entertainment staff will have to sleep on the streets!”

This wasn’t entirely alarmist. January happened to be the month the company’s office building rent was due—a biennial payment of nearly eight million yuan. He had barely scraped together nineteen million from selling his commercial properties, and coupled with the money remaining from selling his luxury flat, after investing twenty million into The Afterlife and paying nine million in rent, he only had a hundred thousand or so left.

He did indeed have another suburban villa waiting to be sold, but offloading it quickly would require a massive discount. Tao Zui didn’t want to do that unless absolutely necessary.

Upon hearing this, Zhou Fanghong nearly knelt, holding [read the original at bailiantales.com]the check above his head: “It’s enough, it’s enough! I promise! This is absolutely the last time! And you can be sure this money will be worth every cent!”

“Fine, I’ll await the good news. By the way, you received the songs, right?” Tao Zui was referring to the promotional track written by the three younger boys for The Afterlife, as well as the refined, professionally recorded entrance theme for the Underworld soldier Lei Ze.

“Received them, they’re brilliant!” Zhou Fanghong gave a thumbs-up. “Are you really not considering letting them handle the film’s soundtrack?”

Tao Zui shook his head: “No. The Afterlife won’t enter the soundtrack phase until at least March or April; they have exams to study for.”

Just as Zhou Fanghong opened his mouth with a “What are you talking about?” expression, Tao Zui’s phone rang. He pulled it out, took one look, and his brow furrowed immediately.

The screen displayed only two words: Wu Zheng.

Recently, he had been busy with the company’s other business and hadn’t been following the Water Village situation. Now that filming was halfway through and nearing the final stage, contacting the lead actor’s agent at this time didn’t seem like good news.

Sure enough, the moment Tao Zui picked up the call, he was bombarded with a flurry of questions: “Where are you? How fast can you get to the set? Can you be here tomorrow morning?”

Tao Zui signaled to Zhou Fanghong and stepped out of the office with the phone: “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Gu Nan?”

On the other end of the line, Wu Zheng paused, then sighed: “Gu Nan is fine; my movie is the one in trouble. Just tell me, when can you be here?”

Tao Zui checked his watch: “If I leave now, I can be there by nine o’clock tonight.”

“……No need to rush that much, and besides, the crew wraps up by then—it’d be useless even if you came.”

“What exactly happened?” Tao Zui pressed.

Wu Zheng sighed: “I’m really not trying to keep you in suspense on purpose; this is something you have to see to understand. Tell you what, tomorrow morning at ten, come to visit the set. Don’t tell Gu Nan—come quietly.”

“……Alright.” After hanging up, Tao Zui pondered for a while, still unable to make sense of Wu Zheng’s words. He could only hastily bid farewell to Zhou Fanghong and take the next flight back to North City.

The next morning at ten sharp, Tao Zui arrived at the film base and, under the cover of the staff, quietly entered the filming location.

This scene was being shot in an indoor swimming pool that had the heating turned on; the place was so stolen content hot that wearing a down jacket was impossible. Tao Zui took off his coat, held it in his arms, and hid in the crowd to watch Gu Nan film.

The scene featured the protagonist, Xiang Dong, played by Gu Nan, breaking his own record during team training, with the coach—played by Tian Xiujun—hugging him in excitement.

Since the setting was summer, not only were the swimmers shirtless, but the coach was also thinly dressed. Two young bodies unexpectedly embraced, creating a intense stimulation that threatened to overwhelm all the senses.

Fortunately, the other team members quickly swarmed in, breaking up the hug and masking their rapid heartbeats and awkwardness with rough hair-ruffling and shoving.

This was a pivotal scene, the key moment where their relationship shifted from ambiguity to clarity. Wu Zheng had specifically delayed this scene until now to give the actors time to get familiar with each other, hoping they would perform that indescribable state more naturally.

As it turned out, they had been stuck on this scene for two days.

Wu Zheng had actually anticipated they would get stuck. No matter how gifted Gu Nan was or how quickly he learned, some things couldn’t be learned just by trying. Each person’s life experiences brought different perceptions, and while copying might be simple, it was hard to move hearts.

Had he not witnessed Gu Nan’s brilliant improvisation before, his standards might not have been this high. But after seeing those details born from genuine emotion, it was hard to accept clumsy imitation.

And that wasn’t Gu Nan’s only problem.

For some reason, he was highly repulsed by physical contact with others. Forget this hug that broke the window paper—he was even stiff when it came to simple shoulder-patting among teammates. No matter how much Wu Zheng tried to explain, he couldn’t relax. Fortunately, those plot points were irrelevant, and after being stuck a few times, Wu Zheng cut all unnecessary physical movements, leaving only the few critical scenes that couldn’t be altered.

Now, with two problems compounded, Wu Zheng felt despair at the thought that everything remaining was similar scenes—the hug looked intimate, but it was just an impulsive moment, the mildest of the remaining scenes. Later, there were scenes where they were alone in the locker room, followed by the deliberate friction of their hands as they passed each other…

What, the, hell are we going to do when we film those scenes!

As Wu Zheng sat there pulling at his hair in distress, he suddenly thought of the scene he’d seen during the audition.

As a director, his capacity for empathy was no less than an actor’s—perhaps even more sensitive. At that time, he had sensed the unusual chemistry between Gu Nan and Tao Zui.

Gu Nan’s subsequent behavior had also proven he did indeed have someone he liked. Even if his mind was still in a phase where he didn’t understand his own feelings, his body was already prepared.

In that case, when facing the person he liked, Gu Nan surely wouldn’t be that stiff, right?!

Based on this logic, Wu Zheng, who would stop at nothing to get read the original at bailiantales.comthe shot he wanted, immediately decided: Summon Tao Zui to the set! As for whether this would have a negative impact on the development of their relationship…

WHO CARES?! I’m a cold-blooded monster determined to shoot a movie. As long as I can achieve my goal, I won’t feel a shred of remorse!