Chapter 59: Collecting Red Envelopes

Over time, Lai Shuiqing also figured out Li Luo’s personality.

He knew this guy was usually carefree and polite to everyone, but when it came to filming, he became unusually serious—especially when he spotted basic mistakes.

“Props!”

He glared impatiently at the prop crew, their expressions awkward, and continued scolding: “Put on the blood pack—do you need me to do it for you?”

This was indeed a problem—who the hell would stab themselves and leave just a red mark?

Actors noticed something was off and communicated with the director.

That was normal work.

Sometimes, how a scene should be performed required everyone to study it together.

He had no complaints about this.

The actor Wu Dun had given him, Lai Shuiqing was now extremely satisfied with—he feared no hardship, feared no fatigue, and never complained even after filming the same scene over ten times.

Now, not only did he welcome normal feedback, even if someone acted a bit out of line,

he didn’t care at all.

“Sorry.”

After calming down slightly, Li Luo bowed in a circle to everyone around him.

“It’s fine.”

All the actors around said it was no problem—it wasn’t even a couple of hours wasted, and everyone understood the need for the effect.

Even if you didn’t understand, you had to understand.

“Take your time.”

Zhang Guoli made the final call: “No big deal.”

Though he was only a supporting actor, in terms of clout on set, he was unquestionably among the top two.

With him saying that,

no one would say a word openly even if Li Luo kept fussing.

After discussion, the prop team added more blood to the blade and placed the blood pack inside the robe’s collar—when he committed suicide, a light press there would make the fake blood gush out.

The set was ready; Li Luo picked up the long sword.

He lowered his head, cultivating his emotion.

After just ten seconds, he gave Lai Shuiqing a thumbs-up gesture.

“One take.”

“Clap!”

The clapperboard slammed shut.

“All my sins.”

Li Luo staggered, bloodshot eyes scanning the room: “All of this began because of Zhang Cuishan—I am willing to die today!”

“Please spare my sworn brother.”

He looked desperately toward the temple entrance, eyes closing with guilt and longing: “Let this end the conflict.”

Eyes tightly shut, hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

He swiftly drew the long sword taken from Yin Susu across his neck, leaving a bloody gash, then his legs buckled and he collapsed to the ground, crimson blood instantly spreading across the floor.

“Big Brother Five!”

“Fifth Master!”

“Master Zhang, why must it come to this!”

As Li Luo fell, everyone surged forward.

Hearing their frantic cries, Li Luo forced his eyes open, his eyelashes trembled once, then froze completely.

No matter how the others acted,

he was now in a blank state, his gaze quickly turning dull and lifeless.

“Good.”

Before Lai Shuiqing could speak, Wu Dun—who had been sitting beside the monitor the whole time—clapped excitedly; the effect on screen had thrilled him so much his forehead was beaded with sweat.

As an investor, he occasionally came by to check in.

Today, having just arrived, he witnessed such a brilliant scene—he was thrilled.

He felt he’d truly picked the right person!

With the main investor applauding, Lai Shuiqing had no reason to do another take—he himself was extremely satisfied with Li Luo’s performance.

“Don’t move me.”

Li Luo kept his position and called out to the crew: “I’ll just lie here—I’m still in character.”

Amid laughter, filming continued.

He lay there for an entire hour.

Yin Susu burst in, weeping uncontrollably over her own body.

Zhang Sanfeng rescued Zhang Wuji from the Xuanming Elders; Shi Xiaolong cried out for his father—Li Luo felt a secret thrill inside, yet still maintained his vacant, lifeless expression.

Yin Susu spread another false rumor, triggering infighting among the orthodox sects.

After telling Zhang Wuji her famous line—“The more beautiful the woman, the more she lies”—she killed herself on her own body.

As Shi Xiaolong fainted, the entire scene was finally finished.

“Come on, come on.”

The producer stepped forward and handed red envelopes to Li Luo and Guo Feili: “Good fortune, no taboos.”

After filming a death scene, it was customary to give a red envelope.

To ward off bad luck.

This money shouldn’t be kept long—it was best spent the same day.

“Baoqiang.”

Li Luo opened the envelope and pulled out sixty-six yuan: “Go buy some fruit and hand it out to everyone—if it’s not enough,”

“I’ve got more.”

Guo Feili cut him off, handing over her own red envelope.

“Got it!”

Wang Baoqiang didn’t hesitate—he smiled, took both envelopes, and sprinted off.

“You’re such a kind person.”

Guo Feili glanced at Li Luo, her voice still tinged with tears.

“Of course I am.”

Li Luo took the tissue offered by a crew member and wiped the sticky blood from his neck: “You’re not bad either—but are you sure I’m not just using him?”

For some reason, this Peony Immortal had been seeking him out lately.

Constant compliments.

It made him slightly uncomfortable.

“Are you sure you’re not helping him build connections?” Guo Feili’s eyes flickered with mischief as she countered.

It seemed Baoqiang was being ordered around,

but wasn’t this also giving him a chance to meet people?

Li Luo and I are the ones spending the money, but Baoqiang gets to become familiar with everyone on set by handing out fruit.

If you can’t see that,

you’ve wasted all these years on set!

After exposing Li Luo’s hidden motive, she looked smug.

For scene appropriateness, the costume team had dressed her today in a pale yellow dress resembling mourning attire; her face still bore the glistening tears from earlier.

A woman looks most charming in mourning.

Li Luo suddenly thought of this saying.

He couldn’t help staring at the Peony Immortal, dressed like an ancient married woman—though her clothes were tightly covered, they did nothing to hide Guo Feili’s dazzling beauty.

It had been a while since he received a system reward.

Li Luo suddenly felt:

Had he become complacent?

Under his fixed stare, Guo Feili wiped her sweat faster.

Her dangling earrings swayed wildly.

Looking around at the crew, Li Luo rubbed his nose and turned toward the monitor.

“Brother Wu.”

“Director Lai.”

“Teacher Guoli.”

After three greetings in succession, he sat beside the monitor.

“You did well.”

Zhang Guoli didn’t hold back his praise.

What pleased him even more was Li Luo lying on the ground for an hour to support other actors—small details revealed character, and this character he adored.

“Thank you, Teacher Guoli.”

Li Luo smiled warmly and took the cigar Wu Dun handed him: “Thank you, Wu Zong.”

He sat with several big shots behind the monitors, all chewing on thick cigars and puffing smoke, occasionally commenting on the footage they had just shot.

The air of triumph in his demeanor stirred a faint ripple in Guo Feili’s eyes as she rested nearby.

“Everyone, take an apple—Li Luo is treating.”

“Here, take an apple—Li Luo and Feili-jie bought them, super tasty.”

Baoqiang carried two crates of apples around the set, distributing them everywhere; though drenched in sweat, he bustled about with boundless energy, his unmistakable voice drifting lazily toward the horizon.