Chapter 189: The Performance That Must Be Acknowledged

Hengdian, outskirts

Yan Li, clad in black-gold robes, hair disheveled, knelt half-bowed, fingers clawing the ground, veins bulging, face twisted in agony.

Zeng Li, dressed in gauzy robes as Sha Man, rejoiced and shouted to Zhang Zhilin and others.

"His demonic cultivation has malfunctioned—kill him quickly."

Zhang Zhilin as Lu Xiaofeng, Yan Kuan as Ximen Chuixue, and several other martial artists charged forward without hesitation.

"Cut! Change camera angle, bring in close-up, prepare the wire rig."

Director Wang Xinmin called out; Zhang Zhilin began shooting his close-ups one by one.

Basically, each unleashed their ultimate moves: Lu Xiaofeng's Phoenix Dance Through Nine Heavens, Ximen Chuixue's One Sword From the West.

Gong Jiu was already formidable in the original novel, relentlessly hunting Lu Xiaofeng, and as the final major villain of this drama—plus played personally by the boss Yan Li—his status was maximized.

In this drama, Ximen Chuixue isn't the strongest, but he's constantly growing, becoming stronger over time.

Gong Jiu appears only in the final arc, forcing Ximen Chuixue to join the mob attack—he's one of the drama's absolute power ceilings.

Lu Xiaofeng and Ximen Chuixue, the two top fighters, joined by other martial artists introduced in this arc, launched a coordinated assault.

The original script intended to include Hua Manlou and Sikong Zhaixing, pitting the entire main cast against Gong Jiu.

Yan Li felt it was too forced, so he kept only Ximen Chuixue from the original arc as support.

Even as Gong Jiu fought alone against many, he was piled with negative buffs: Sha Man manipulated his psyche with an Oedipal complex, while the demonic cultivation's side effects dragged him down—until he was finally killed.

While others filmed, Yan Li prepared for makeup.

He wore red contact lenses, his eyes bloodshot; his skin painted pale, lifeless; he bit a small blood pack, letting a trickle of blood slowly drip from his corner of the mouth, portraying demonic cultivation gone awry.

He also concealed another blood pack in his mouth, to spit blood intermittently during combat, enhancing the illusion of weakness.

After makeup, they rehearsed the fight choreography.

Gu Long's dramas emphasize atmosphere; prolonged fights are undesirable. Earlier scenes are mostly instant kills or overwhelming crushes; only a few elite duels warrant multiple rounds.

First, the original novel features several rounds of combat, fitting the plot; second, extended fights pad runtime; third, the stunt team needs work.

Lu Xiaofeng constantly pinches swords and knives between two fingers; Ximen Chuixue kills with a single sword draw—Yan Li could've been the martial arts director.

The siege of Gong Jiu is the grand finale, a group battle against overwhelming odds, so it needed to be longer.

The script even had Sha Man explain that Gong Jiu's demonic cultivation had malfunctioned, requiring self-harm to alleviate side effects—so attacking him now was actually helping him; in this state, he was partially immune to damage and his power surged.

But this endurance and burst had limits—self-harm wasn't suicide—so once the hardest phase passed, Gong Jiu weakened, and they could wear him down to death.

It had the feel of an online game boss entering a rage phase—wonder if the screenwriter got inspiration from games.

This fight was hard to perform—and hard to film.

The drama cuts sharply, fast-paced, but in reality, every two moves might require a new shot; choreography had to be repeated multiple times, with extra close-ups added.

Yan Li bore the heaviest burden—he was the one being surrounded, so every actor had to rehearse with him; his shots and movements were the most numerous.

He's played nearly a dozen roles, but this was the most complicated death he's ever portrayed.

Yes, Sun Desheng in "Bright Sword" took a full day to film, but it wasn't this fragmented—shot, pause, shot again.

And in that scene, he was deeply immersed—he lost himself in the role, ignoring distractions, mind fixed only on mounting his horse and charging.

But now, Gong Jiu fell short—filming was too fragmented, emotions didn't sustain, little dialogue or dramatic scenes, just constant fighting.

They started filming at dawn and kept going until midnight; in the drama, too, the characters fought through day and night until they finally wore Gong Jiu down.

Yan Li's ornate black-gold robe was torn to shreds, strands of hair cut off, the white powder on his face smeared into a corpse-like pallor; his mouth and chin were caked in blood, the red contacts replaced with gray-white ones.

Zhang Zhilin and the others were equally battered—some spitting blood, others covered in wounds, one with a broken arm; Ximen Chuixue's pristine white robe had turned into a filthy, tattered "flowered" garment.

But the suffering was only makeup—the real issue was exhaustion.

Filming from daylight to midnight, all high-intensity combat—even with stunt doubles, the actors were nearly collapsed.

Zeng Li, the female actress, couldn't keep up physically, so they had Yan Li punch her "out" early, leaving her lying injured on the side.

Honestly, this state matched the drama's relentless day-night battle—pushing through on sheer willpower, seeing who died first.

But the actors were too tired; their movements were limp—later, stunt doubles and editing would have to carry it.

Yan Li had the most lines, the least rest, used stunt doubles the least—but his energy level was the highest among all actors and crew.

Some had planned: if Yan Li couldn't take it, they'd voice complaints, he'd gracefully concede, and they'd resume filming tomorrow.

But Yan Li grew more energetic with each take, pushing everyone else to match him.

Here was a billionaire boss, filming more and enduring more than any of them—and not a single complaint. Who could dare back down?

Fortunately, Yan Li knew his own limits—he didn't assume the entire crew was as physically indestructible as he was.

He arranged midnight snacks to boost morale, doubled overtime pay, and gave the entire crew half a day off the next day.

Producer Wang Decai was slightly dissatisfied: snacks were fine, they lifted spirits, but overtime pay and a day off—pick one.

"Boss Yan, you're too soft on your people."

Yan Li: "..."

Didn't realize old Wang had a bit of a skinflint streak.

But Yan Li rose from being a lowly extra—he'd run errands for crews in college, knew how hard actors and crew worked, so he was more understanding.

When possible, be human—don't be a beast.

If employees grow alienated, constantly fearing betrayal, even earned money won't bring peace—what's the point?

Yan Li has a system—he doesn't lack opportunities to get rich—and his vision is slightly broader than most; at least he doesn't scheme to steal from his staff's pockets…

…

"Lu… Xiao… Feng…"

Yan Li was stabbed from behind by Ximen Chuixue's sword, then struck point-blank by Lu Xiaofeng's Spirit-Finger—gazing at Zhang Zhilin with bitter resignation, he closed his eyes and died.

Zhang Zhilin exhaled deeply; Yan Kuan staggered as he pulled his sword, his hand trembling.

Not just because the great enemy was gone—but because they could finally stop.

"Cut! Wrap it up!"

Moments ago, everyone was exhausted; now, hearing "wrap it up," they perked up instantly.

Yan Li changed clothes, removed his wig, didn't let the makeup artist remove his makeup—he grabbed makeup remover and a pack of wet wipes and left.

Driver Wu Maowen hadn't stayed on set—he'd been napping, because Yan Li was flying out that morning at six; no need to return to the hotel.

Yan Li dozed in the car, arrived at the airport, and boarded a flight to Jingcheng.

This return to Jingcheng was to attend an Yi'an Organization TV screening.

To find buyers for multiple Yi'an-distributed works, including "Bright Sword" and "New Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio."

Of course, this screening was mostly a publicity stunt—it helped distribution, but most contracts were already settled privately.

The main goal was promotion: to show how popular our dramas were, how eagerly TV stations bid for them, to draw audience and industry attention.

Simultaneously, the large-scale release of multiple dramas showcased Yi'an's powerful distribution capacity, boosted the company's reputation, and attracted more premium projects.

When Yan Li arrived in Jingcheng, it was still morning; he skipped the airplane meal and grabbed breakfast at a stall, then returned to Beiying Village.

Dong Xuan was in class; Yan Li showered and collapsed into bed for a nap.

When he woke in the afternoon, he saw Dong Xuan, apron tied, humming softly as she simmered soup for him in the kitchen.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and grinned: "Miss me, Professor Dong?"

"Yes."

Dong Xuan kissed him; they lingered affectionately—just as Yan Li was figuring out how to strip her apron off without untying it, someone knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

"Me."

Guan Yue's loud voice rang out; Yan Li gritted his teeth: "You didn't tell her I was back?"

Dong Xuan's eyes glistened, she breathed out: "Didn't say it. I saw you come back, pretended to feel unwell at noon, took half a day off—she probably came to check on me."

"Tell her to get lost."

Normally, Yan Li hoped Guan Yue would cling to Dong Xuan—he now wanted her as far away as possible.

"Why the rush? I'm not running away."

Dong Xuan rolled her eyes; Guan Yue came out of kindness—she couldn't shut the door in her face.

She tidied her clothes and opened the door; Guan Yue stepped in, concerned: "What's wrong? Did you go to the hospital…?"

Then she saw Yan Li lounging casually in the living room—and instantly understood.

Normally at this hour, Guan Yue would've claimed she forgot to turn off the gas or left her car keys in the ignition—she'd vanish, never be a third wheel.

But today, seeing Yan Li, she frowned, sneered: "Oh? Isn't this the ex-boyfriend?"

"Damn."

Yan Li suddenly remembered—he hadn't yet cleared the "ex-girlfriend" hurdle with Dong Xuan.

The rightful queen, stepping aside for Fan Xiaopang—Dong Xuan said nothing, but she had thoughts; Guan Yue, her best friend, had stepped forward to champion her cause.

Whether it was genuine solidarity or a well-rehearsed duet—only they two and the intelligence network knew.

Some things, some words—if Dong Xuan herself raised them, it might spiral out of control.

But if she didn't raise them, Yan Li would ignore them entirely—so a friend stepping in to voice Dong Xuan's grievances and sacrifices subtly reminded Yan Li of the stakes, while letting Dong Xuan play the gentle, understanding role.

"..."

So now, Guan Yue's sudden visit—was it genuine concern, or pre-planned?

Ugh, these two women spend all day at school not teaching students, just scheming this nonsense.

Yan Li genuinely worried for the future of Bei Dian's students…

Meanwhile, Guan Yue was already denouncing Yan Li's behavior; Dong Xuan gently persuaded, defending and excusing him.

They'd known each other since freshman year—four years of college, one year as colleagues—five years of inseparable friendship; their bond was deep, their unspoken understanding undeniable.

If not for the intelligence system leaking the info earlier, Yan Li would have been completely fooled by these two.

Still, though he knew the truth, Yan Li's expression remained one of guilty shame, as if scolded by Guan Yue, and deeply moved by Dong Xuan's generous tolerance.

Don't ignore the performance you're supposed to play along with!

Your girlfriend and her best friend went through so much trouble to set up this script—don't call them out and ruin it, making everyone look foolish. Then you'll have to come up with another plan to deal with them.

It's completely unnecessary!

Let the two girlfriends believe they've got you under control, feel their effort wasn't wasted, and be satisfied—then Yan Li's ordeal will be over, and everyone wins.

When a man should be smart, don't pretend to be stupid; when he should be foolish, never pretend to be clever.

After dealing with Guan Yue, Yan Li picked up Dong Xuan and carried her toward the bedroom, indicating he would sincerely "apologize," and make sure Teacher Dong felt his full sincerity.

When Yan Li went to the pre-screening party's pre-event socializing, Dong Xuan was too weak to get out of bed.

While texting Guan Yue to review the events, he couldn't help wondering: "Do you think he figured it out?"

"Probably not."

Guan Yue felt it unlikely—they'd coordinated so well, rehearsed it several times before, and Yan Li's expression hadn't shown any sign of suspicion.

"Maybe he just felt guilty and wanted to make up for you more. Men, after all, apologize by being sweet, spending money, and going all out."

Dong Xuan thought it made sense. Besides, though the bastard had been a bit harsh just now, his tone had still been gentle, his eyes full of tenderness, calling her pet name "Huanhuan" over and over—under the circumstances, she felt like giving him her life.

Unable to help it, her cheeks flushed red, and much of the anger in her heart had already dissipated.

It wasn't entirely Yan Li's fault—if that damn leak hadn't disrupted things, he wouldn't have made her play "ex-girlfriend." Besides, it was only temporary; once the storm passed, they could just drop the "ex."

As for Fan Xiaopang… forget it. Don't scare yourself. Overthinking only makes things messier.

Guan Yue also urged Dong Xuan to lighten up. Even Tong Dawei had swarms of admirers, let alone Yan Li. The key was making sure he knew his limits.

"Lao Guan, you've changed. A few years ago, you'd have been the first to tell me to break up with him."

Dong Xuan sighed. Back when Yan Li was flirting with Huang Shengyi, Guan Yue had firmly advised her to dump him. Now, time had passed, and Guan Yue was telling her to turn a blind eye.

"What's the point of talking? If I told you to break up with him now, would you?"

Dong Xuan: "..."

"Can't answer, can you? Since you won't break up, what's the point of me advising you?"

Guan Yue's voice came through, exasperated: "Besides, why should you break up? When Yan Li was broke, took the bus everywhere, and couldn't even afford a hotel room so he had to piggyback on your meal card—you stuck with him. Now the hard times are over and he's a billionaire—breaking up just lets some other fox loose."

"No way. Absolutely not. If that bastard dares to break up, I'll expose him to the media for cheating and abandoning me."

Dong Xuan pressed her lips together: "You're right. No breakup. If that bastard dares to fall for someone new, I'll buy some poison and drag him down with me."

"Cough, cough."

Yan Li, in the middle of socializing, couldn't help shuddering and politely declined an interview request from a beautiful journalist.

Hmm, Dong Xuan was calmed down enough—but still sensitive. He'd have to work harder when he got back. Before leaving Beijing, he'd erase the "ex-girlfriend" incident…

(End of Chapter)