Chapter 940: Prey

Director Zhou shouted "Cut!" with a full, resonant voice, and the film set instantly exploded from a tense silence into a clamor.

Lights were clicked off one by one, stagehands bent over to coil cables, the prop master shouted at assistants to move things, and everyone was like a spinning top whipped into motion, busy and fast, wanting to leave this place as soon as possible.

Makeup artist Miao Miao leaned in close to Yang Jing, throwing powder puffs and brushes into her makeup case while asking in a hushed voice: "Jingjing, give me the inside scoop—the director is having a fake birthday today, did he give you hush money? It must be more than what we got, right?"

Yang Jing was stunned, and the script almost slipped from her hand. "A fake birthday?" She furrowed her brows. "No one told me. Lin Feng even earnestly urged me this morning, saying it was the director's big birthday and that I had to be there, and that it didn't matter if I didn't have time to buy a gift."

Miao Miao made a "tsk" sound, realizing she had let something slip, and quickly pulled Yang Jing into a corner. "You've seen that guy named Keli, right? He's a friend of the producer, obsessed with Eastern Kung Fu since he was a kid, and now he's holding billions of US dollars and insisting on dumping money into our production. Lin Feng has his eyes on this sucker and organized the director's birthday in advance, wanting to get a big red envelope out of him for the director. He was afraid we'd leak the news, so he stuffed three hundred yuan into everyone's hands. What, you really didn't get one?"

Yang Jing didn't answer, a cold sneer tugging at the corner of her mouth.

She really hadn't expected that the producer, already pushing sixty, could still come up with such childish nonsense—a birthday that could be celebrated in advance? Who did he take for a three-year-old?

"The producer just wants to squeeze a bit more out of Luo En to improve the food for everyone," Miao Miao added, feeling guilty when she saw Yang Jing's expression.

Yang Jing ignored her, feeling that something was wrong. She turned and ducked into an empty corridor, took out her phone, and dialed Ma Rui.

"Ma Rui, let me tell you, the producer of this crew is a bit shady; he's making the director have an early birthday to fool an American."

Ma Rui's voice on the other end of the line immediately sank: "Yang Jing, this isn't right, absolutely not right. If you can't back out, take all your bodyguards with you."

"Is it that serious?" Yang Jing frowned. "It's just a meal."

"Then tell me, have the director and the producer been asking you out to dinner often before this?"

"They have been quite often... but I've turned them all down," Yang Jing said indifferently.

Ma Rui flared up instantly: "You blockhead! You didn't tell me about such an important thing, what were you thinking?"

Yang Jing was no fool; as she connected everything from beginning to end, a chill suddenly ran down her back, and she understood it all.

Her voice trembled: "I'm sorry... I was too immersed, I didn't think that much at all."

Ma Rui suppressed his anger and continued: "This script went through so many companies and no one would invest in it; it's a piece that builds a monument for the Americans, and it might not even pass censorship, so why did someone suddenly dump money into it? I've read the script, you aren't the most suitable candidate at all, but the crew specifically named you. A producer from Taiwan, funding from the United States—when so many 'coincidences' stack together, that's not a coincidence, it's a setup. If something really happens to you, it's my reputation that gets ruined."

Yang Jing's tears couldn't be controlled and flowed down in a rush. "I'm sorry... I've caused you trouble."

Ma Rui's voice softened, but it remained tense: "The director's birthday, you can't back out, you definitely have to go. This meal might just be a trap set for you. Don't worry, my uncle isn't far from you, I'll send him a message right now."

Yang Jing hung up the phone, the chill on her back creeping up to the nape of her neck, and even her fingertips were icy.

At the same time, inside the Zhouzhuang Shen Mansion, cups were being passed around.

The people at the table qualified to be there were all a bit tipsy today, mainly because He Yuzhu had opened a forty-year-old bottle of Moutai, and even the women were sipping from small cups.

He Yuzhu's phone had long been muted, the screen lighting up and going dark in his pants pocket; he hadn't received a single one of Ma Rui's calls.

Ma Rui was sweating profusely with anxiety, shouting at his assistant: "Call my grandfather, quickly!"

The assistant said: "Why don't you call Shen Wei! Old people like to leave their phones in their rooms."

Ma Rui slapped his forehead: "I'm so anxious I've lost my mind!"

When he got through to Shen Wei's phone, there was no answer there either.

Ma Rui's lips turned white, and the assistant offered another idea: "Call the village."

Ma Rui gritted his teeth and said: "It's over, even if my uncle goes over, it will take three hours! Three hours, and the food will already be cold!"

The assistant stomped his feet in a panic: "Since that's the case, why not just not let Miss Yang go to that gathering?"

Ma Rui leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes: "If she doesn't even show up to the director's birthday banquet, how is she supposed to survive in the circle later? She's the female lead; if she offends everyone, who will use her in the future?"

The assistant suddenly lowered his voice: "I guess... Aunt He Yulu must have the number for the Shen Family's caretaker."

Ma Rui glared at him: "So much nonsense, hurry up and call! I don't need a Staff Officer."

The assistant was scolded until he was covered in sweat, grabbed the phone, and dialed.

Yang Jing returned to the hotel to touch up her makeup, got into her car, and headed straight for the Juxing Hotel.

She brought a car of her own with three bodyguards squeezed inside, and the other two drove a second car, trailing behind like shadows, neither too far nor too close.

The banquet hall at the Juxing Hotel was not large, fitting fifteen people at most, and everyone was already there.

The director, cinematographer, sound engineer, and lighting director—all the heads of the crew were present, and the producer Lin Feng was gesturing and talking to an American, his laughter extremely vulgar.

"Oh! Our great female lead is here!" Lin Feng was the first to stand up, his face full of smiles, patting the empty seat beside him. "Quick, quick, quick, come sit next to the director!"

Yang Jing wore a polite smile on her face, but her heart was as cold as if she were clutching a block of ice.

She knew this was a trap, but she couldn't show a hint of fear on the surface, so she just nodded with composure and walked over gracefully to take her seat.

As soon as the chair was pulled out, she realized she was sandwiched in the middle—the director on her left, and that American, Keli, who had been hanging around the crew lately, on her right.

This man had blonde hair and blue eyes, was dressed in a suit and leather shoes, and was definitely born with a good exterior.

But his gaze had ulterior motives, looking her up and down like a snake sizing up its prey.

Yang Jing's heart skipped a beat.

Ma Rui's judgment was correct—the producer had been running around these past few days just to put this meal together.

She picked up her teacup and smiled gently: "Today is the director's birthday, so I'll wish the director a happy birthday first. However, I have a low tolerance for alcohol and have to film tomorrow, so I won't be drinking today."

Director Zhou waved his hand: "Not drinking won't do, but... a little gesture is acceptable."

Yang Jing smiled lightly: "Then may I drink the wine I brought myself?"

After saying this, she took a bottle of 1980 Lafite out of her bag.

Director Zhou's eyes lit up: "Our Yang Jing is wealthy indeed, this bottle must cost several thousand."

Yang Jing replied with a smile: "I originally intended to give it to the director, but since the director wants me to drink, let's open this bottle."

Upon hearing this, a flash of regret crossed Director Zhou's face, and he quickly changed his tune: "In my opinion, you don't have to drink today; I'll just keep this bottle as a collection."

Lin Feng interrupted with dissatisfaction: "That won't do, you're short on wine, can't Mr. Keli just give you a few cases?"

Keli immediately puffed out his chest, his Chinese mixed with English: "Director Zhou, I have a winery in France, I'll send you a few cases later, pick whatever you like."

Under the table, Yang Jing's fingers blindly typed a message on her phone and sent it to Ma Rui: "The situation is not simple, send the bodyguards over."

Ma Rui finally got through to He Yuzhu's phone. His voice was shaking so much he could barely form a sentence, and he said with a sob: "Uncle... Yang Jing is being plotted against... a producer from Taiwan, and a few Americans... they're already at the dinner table, you must help me..."

He Yuzhu was still smelling of alcohol, but his voice suddenly sank: "Which restaurant?"

Ma Rui's tears were about to fall: "It will take you three hours to drive there..."

He Yuzhu cursed over the phone, "You brat! I'm asking for your address! If your uncle couldn't even save your wife, the He Family would have been picked clean by others long ago!"

Ma Rui spoke the name of the hotel in a hoarse voice.