Chapter 483: You Think I'm Joking with You (Refined)

"Grandpa, morning."

"Morning, Ah, Ah Jun."

"Grandpa, let me help you carry it."

"Okay, thank you, Ah Jun."

"No problem."

"You start work so early every day."

"Yes."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"So handsome, how could you not have one. Do you want Grandpa to introduce you to one?"

"Thank you, Grandpa, no need."

"Haha."

This is an old-style public housing estate in Tai Hang Sai, Sham Shui Po.

It wasn't even 6 o'clock, the morning mist hadn't dissipated yet, and the sky presented a dark blue color. The street lamps on the side of the road hadn't gone out yet, like the stars in Van Gogh's brush, emitting clusters of haloed yellow light in this dim world.

From the mottled iron gate of the public housing, a young man with messy hair and a mask walked out, along with a hunched-over old man with white hair.

The young man was tall and thin, wearing a white shirt that felt empty on him, and the jeans on his lower body were washed white, with the pant legs short by a section, revealing a small section of his lower leg above his old sneakers.

His walking posture carried a peculiar rhythm; it wasn't a limp, nor was it a hobble, but more like a part was missing from his body, and every part would twitch lightly from time to time, making people feel a sense of awkwardness when they looked at it.

He carried a plastic bag, walked to the entrance, and threw the bag into the iron trash can.

"Grandpa, I'm leaving." The young man turned his head and said to the old man behind him.

The old man raised his turbid eyes and said with a smile: "Good, good, Ah Jun, have time to come to my house for soup."

"Okay, Grandpa." The young man nodded, agreed, and walked away quickly through the alley entrance.

The old man watched his back for a while, carried his hands behind his back, and also walked slowly toward the small park at the other end of the alley.

The young man moved in at the beginning of February. His accent didn't sound like a native Hong Konger, but his Cantonese was quite smooth. He was diligent and polite, and except for leaving for a few days at the end of February, he basically got up after five o'clock every day to work, which was better than many young people in Hong Kong now.

It was just that his body really didn't look right.

A pity.

Chen Nuo walked through this small alley; the air was filled with a damp, moldy smell. There were plastic clothes clips by the iron window, clicking in the wind. He lowered his head, avoided the dirty stagnant water on the road, and walked toward the street corner step by step.

It was in this environment that every morning at 5:30, Xie Jiajun had to get up, leave this old government public housing in Sham Shui Po, pass through garbage piles and iron gates, walk through the streets, step into the sleeping streets of Hong Kong, and start his "infantry" life for the day.

To play the role of Xie Jiajun well, he wanted to experience the life of the bottom layer in Hong Kong, so Wen Yongshan took him to Tin Shui Wai and Sham Shui Po. After the overall experience, he felt Sham Shui Po was better and closer, so he finally chose here.

The good thing about Sham Shui Po is the stalls.

Stalls are where citizens set up stalls on the street to sell some old items they don't use. Unlike professional vendors in the mainland, the stalls in Sham Shui Po are more like mobile flea markets. Clothes, rice cookers, hair dryers, old phones, movie DVDs, tapes... everything is there, selling for a little money to subsidize the family.

The clothes he is wearing now were bought by Linghu for him at a stall on Pei Ho Street in Sham Shui Po. Ten yuan for a shirt, twenty yuan for a pair of jeans.

Is it necessary?

Guli Nazha might have asked this question three hundred times, from the beginning of February until now, feeling very incomprehensible why he had to abuse himself like this, eating bitterness when he didn't have to.

Chen Nuo didn't know how to explain it either.

He couldn't say that his path had been crooked from the beginning, and developing to this day, if he didn't do this, he would feel uneasy and not very steady when filming. If there were a reliable director, that would be fine, for example, if he were replaced by Nolan or Wong Kar-wai, he could still feel at ease.

But Pang Ho-cheung...

Can only say that one loves one's own director.

There were two directors in the company, one was Ning Potato from the mainland, and one was Pang Fatty from Hong Kong, both of whom were the type who could write and direct, and both had been known as geniuses in their respective territories in their early years.

But now, because Ning Hao held the titles of the highest-grossing domestic film director and internationally renowned director for *The Message* and *No Man's Land*, he could be said to be infinitely glorious.

And Pang Ho-cheung joined the company around the same time as Ning Hao, but regardless of fame or achievements, they were far apart. Including the support Huanxin had given him over the years, it could be said to be basically non-existent. The two movies he filmed were both invested by himself, which inevitably gave people the feeling that a bowl of water wasn't held level.

Speaking of which, it was all his fault.

Back then, when he dug him over, it was actually mostly out of revenge against Huayi, and he didn't pay much attention to him from the bottom of his heart.

But actually, calming down and watching some of Pang Ho-cheung's movies, this person definitely had talent. Where the upper limit was, it was hard to say, but the lower limit was no less than Ning Potato.

The burial in the previous life might have been mostly because of the decline of the Hong Kong film and television circle itself. There was also a small part of the reason, perhaps because this person's pattern had never been opened. A petty-bourgeois love movie like *Love in a Puff* was originally enough to film one, but he actually filmed a trilogy to make money, which was completely unenterprising and spinning in place. This led to the loss of most of the inspiration in the early stage of his directing career, which was actually quite a pity.

He walked through the alley and walked to the street. A black Toyota Alphard was parked here.

As soon as he arrived, the car door slid open to the side silently and smoothly.

Guli Nazha's smiling face appeared in front of him, "Good morning, Boss."

Living in a public housing estate with a female assistant.

If Chen Nuo heard the rumors circulating privately in the crew now, he would definitely feel very wronged.

He came to live in a pigeon cage for work; dragging Guli Nazha into the water was called plotting something.

"Good morning."

Chen Nuo looked back; early in the morning, as always, there wasn't a ghost on this street.

After getting in the car, Linghu started driving steadily.

Chen Nuo took out a script that had already been turned into a mess from the pocket of the front seat.

The journey from Sham Shui Po to the studio in San Po Kong was about 30 minutes, and he prepared to take this time to review today's scenes.

After all, the filming of the past few days was just an appetizer; starting today, it was the main course.

Amidst the loud singing of the assembly, Chen Nuo opened his eyes suddenly.

The camera was right above him, giving a two-second close-up of his deep double-lidded phoenix eyes. From dazed to focused, then to shock, Chen Nuo's expression changed instantly, and the image on the monitor clearly recorded all of this.

Afterward, he sat up suddenly, looked at the military green quilt covering him, and the sportswear he was wearing, like what Hong Kong high school students wore in physical education class.

Chen Nuo widened his eyes and looked around. The place where he was now was a giant studio sub-shed built by the crew with millions of dollars.

This 500-square-meter space was arranged as a giant dormitory, with four-story bunk beds arranged densely in the warehouse. Some people here were still sleeping, while others climbed out of bed and walked toward the outside of the warehouse following the direction of the singing.

Chen Nuo was stunned for a few seconds, then got out of bed and followed the others toward the front. Walking to the bed at the very edge, he looked at the small door with white light at the warehouse entrance, seeing the men, women, old, and young wearing the same green sportswear walk past one by one and disappear into that door.

Chen Nuo stopped in place and started blinking again.

At this time, an elderly voice came from beside him: "50, 52, 54..."

He turned his head and saw Kenneth Tsang, who had dyed his hair white, wearing the same clothes as him, looking serious, holding up a finger, pointing at the door while whispering.

Chen Nuo's face became a bit softer, and a trace of memory appeared in his eyes. It was as if there was also an elder like "Grandpa" in his circle who was very kind to him, occasionally making small jokes, and even wanting to introduce him to a girlfriend, so he would show such an expression.

Introverted, he hesitated, but still took the initiative to speak: "That... Grandpa."

"Don't talk to me, I'll get confused!" Kenneth Tsang said nervously, "61, 63, 66..."

Chen Nuo's face became even softer, and he asked: "Grandpa, are you counting how many people there are?"

Kenneth Tsang didn't look back, continuing to focus on his task, whispering: "Yes, don't talk to me."

"But..." Chen Nuo opened his mouth again.

"But what? Are you annoying?" Kenneth Tsang seemed a bit impatient.

Chen Nuo pointed to a display screen on the wall, which clearly wrote: Number of participants: 456.

"But it's written over there, a total of 456 people are participating."

Kenneth Tsang stretched his head out from the bed toward the outside, saw the display screen, his face stiffened, and he complained: "Written so high, who can see it?" After saying this, he glanced at Chen Nuo and said: "Silly boy, what does it mean that 456 is written on your collar?"

Chen Nuo said: "This shows that I might be the last one to participate in the game. Grandpa, what's written on your collar is 001; I think you should be the first one to agree to participate in the game."

Kenneth Tsang said in disbelief: "Hey, you say it so truly, you know it all? Then is it possible that it's written randomly?"

Chen Nuo blinked.

At this time, the camera gave a super large close-up of his face.

His eyes widened a bit, and under the lighting of the lighting engineer, they seemed to be glowing, and his whole face was also overflowing with a spirit completely different from the original dullness, as if he had changed into a different person, looking particularly attractive.

He said: "Possible, but, the book says, usually a successful system will follow certain rules to arrange. With such a big battle, making it like this, it's impossible for everyone's number to be arranged randomly. Grandpa, your bed is at the very front, my bed is at the very back, just corresponding to our number digits. Also, I only agreed to participate in the game last night."

"So I think the possibility of using numbers to identify the time each person agreed to participate in the game is definitely much greater than writing randomly."

Kenneth Tsang shouted: "Wow, I asked one sentence and you said so much, silly boy, are you a college student?"

At this time, Chen Nuo's face returned to the previous silly smile: "No, Grandpa, I just finished primary school."

Kenneth Tsang looked him up and down and asked: "Really or fake?"

Chen Nuo said: "Really, Grandpa."

"Silly boy, then tell me, should we go out and see?"

"This sound is calling us to go out and play the game. But..."

Kenneth Tsang really played a bad-tempered old man to the fullest; he was indeed a veteran actor who could play both good and evil. He rolled his eyes and said: "But what? Young people are so indecisive, speak if you have something to say!"

Chen Nuo touched his head embarrassedly, "I'm a little scared."

Kenneth Tsang was stunned, looked at Chen Nuo's appearance, the corner of his mouth twitched, and suddenly shouted fiercely: "Scared of what? How can a man be scared. Silly boy, help me up!"

"Ah, okay Grandpa... Grandpa, what is this tattooed on your hand?"

"You punk, you don't even recognize Guan Gong. When your Grandpa was young... Ouch, be gentle, my leg! Stop, stop for a second, carry me out!"

God closes a door for people, and often opens a window for them. No need to question, this is also the underlying rule of the world's operation.

If someone feels that their life is completely hopeless, there is a 99% chance it's an illusion. Similarly, if a person feels they can do anything, it is also 99% an illusion.

Just like after Caesar conquered the world and returned to Rome, there was a slave who said to him: "Glory, will always wither."

Conversely, can a former cerebral palsy patient really become a genius in some aspect?

You Naihai told Chen Nuo by checking seventeen medical documents that this is not impossible.

Among cerebral palsy patients around the world, 5% of people possess extraordinary talent in certain specific fields, such as music, mathematics, art, or even calculation ability. They often can obtain perception and creativity that transcend ordinary people.

Xie Jiajun was cheated by women, cheated by friends, cheated by the chef he worked with; he had physical disabilities, his fingers would twitch unconsciously, and the way he blinked often seemed strange... but he was actually a genius with high intelligence, strong perception, and good at logical reasoning.

This is the third attribute of Xie Jiajun in the script besides kindness and silliness.

Just like Forrest Gump can run tirelessly, Xie Jiajun can also observe details that others easily ignore and make rigorous inferences.

And this is exactly the creative direction that one of the three screenwriters, You Naihai, is good at.

As a recognized genius in the Hong Kong screenwriting circle, this little brother of Milkyway Image has liked writing intellectual battles since his debut, such as *The Mission*, *Cold War*, *Running Out of Time 1*, and *Running Out of Time 2*, all of which were written very brilliantly, and he even won the Hong Kong Film Award for Best Screenplay for *Running Out of Time*.

Therefore, it is not strange at all for those who know him that he came up with such a protagonist this time.

This setting also made *Eagle Catches Chicken* increasingly different from the original version.

The protagonist Seong Gi-hun in the original *Squid Game* was a fool. He was able to pass the levels and survive to the end, all relying on luck and the help of others. For example, the elderly player 001, in the original version, was his military advisor.

Such a protagonist really couldn't be said to have any charm. ===== CHAPTER 484 =====