Chapter 4: The Living Radar and the Beijing Film Academy Beauty, His

The next morning, Yu Yanli woke to his alarm, and as usual, the first thing he did was open the system to check the daily intelligence report.

Daily intelligence updates precisely at midnight each day; monthly reports update at midnight on the 1st of every Gregorian month.

But before, with school, part-time jobs, and rushing to sets, Yu Yanli slept too late every night and often felt sluggish the next day, delaying important tasks.

So besides the initial two months when the system felt fresh and he’d wait eagerly for updates, he later grew accustomed to checking the reports after waking up.

Sometimes he’d even read them while on the toilet, treating them like an electronic newspaper—both entertainment and time-saving.

Maybe due to arriving in Hengdian and suffering from adjustment issues, his habits hadn’t fully settled yet, so he didn’t need to guard the bathroom—he sat on the bed to read.

【Daily Intelligence 1: The screenwriter of “Heroes of Sui and Tang,” Su Xiaoyu, influenced by the producer, felt the original’s romantic plot was too thin, so she added original female characters like Li Rongrong to extend the script, cut costs, and broaden the audience…】

Damn, they wronged the screenwriter—there’s the producer’s hand in this too. Of course, with such a ridiculous script, the producer wouldn’t let the writer write it without approval.

But the screenwriter still deserves blame—when told to add romance, you go and stack up female leads. Did you start out writing porn films?

【Daily Intelligence 2: Hua Ting Night Market on Wansheng South Street, Hengdian: [Ma Laoda Barbecue]—fresh ingredients, solid cooking, enthusiastic service, excellent value (note: fatty kidney and lamb skewers are must-orders)】

Got it—another spot added to the food list.

Yu Yanli, experienced in this, bookmarked the report, then created a new subcategory called 【Hengdian】 under 【Food Map】, and filed it there.

This was one of Yu Yanli’s small clever uses of the intelligence system.

Thanks to the system’s convenience, he’d already discovered over a dozen hidden gem restaurants in Beijing, around the Beijing film base, and other areas.

And this function wasn’t limited to restaurants alone.

Hotels, barbershops, markets, clothing stores, internet cafes, KTVs, singing halls—all aspects of eating, drinking, entertainment, clothing, food, housing, and transportation could be included.

As a result, friends familiar with Yu Yanli nicknamed him 【Living Radar】, meaning he always led them to great places.

Now in Hengdian, with a new map unlocked, Yu Yanli felt like he was guarding a pile of undiscovered treasures, brimming with anticipation.

He’d find time later to visit that barbecue spot in person—if it wasn’t good, he’d remove it from his bookmarks; he couldn’t let his 【Living Radar】 reputation suffer.

【Daily Intelligence 3: Female actor XX is in a romantic relationship with investor XX; female actor XXX had sex with producer XX at Hai Ling Hotel in Beijing and secured her role that way; female actor XX is dating male actor XXX, who is married with children】

Here we go again!

Yu Yanli found the system utterly frustrating—it loved digging up gossip about who was sleeping with whom.

Every time he joined a new set, it’d dump dirt on who was involved with whom.

From investors keeping mistresses, to directors enforcing the casting couch, to extras hooking up after one glance—if the system deemed it intelligence, it spat it out to him.

Today’s Intelligence 3 was just a brief SMS-style report, merely outlining who was linked to whom.

If Yu Yanli paid special attention to a pair, more detailed intelligence might follow.

Like when they met, what conversations they had, what gifts they exchanged, where their first time happened, the room number and exact time, even the positions described in detail.

Honestly, most pornographic novels weren’t as stimulating as the system’s reports.

At first, Yu Yanli found it thrilling, but after seeing too much, he grew indifferent—even slightly annoyed.

For him, unless someone he knew was involved, the intelligence mainly helped him understand the set’s personnel structure and avoid trouble.

As for gossip—he had no appetite for it now; he’d rather focus on memorizing his script.

【Daily Intelligence 4: New store promotion at Hengdian Star Square—grand prize: a Dayang motorcycle; ticket location: …】

After reading this, Yu Yanli dumped it straight into the 【Useless Intelligence】 category.

The intelligence system was powerful, but not omnipotent.

Even though this report gave the ticket location, making it look like a windfall opportunity, winning was one thing—actually claiming the prize was another.

When Yu Yanli first got the system, he’d toyed with the idea of exploiting lottery schemes, but after a few attempts, he understood.

You’ve got a system—so do they!

Some windfalls aren’t meant for you; the waters are deep. A small catch now and then is fine, but expecting to live off it, constantly scraping for gains—ha.

If today’s report had been a scratch-off lottery with a modest prize, Yu Yanli might’ve taken a chance.

But this grand prize from a new store opening? He had zero interest in gambling on the boss’s integrity.

Just arrived in Hengdian—keep a low profile!

【Daily Intelligence 5: Makeup team member Wang Xiu (male) heard the new actor Yu Yanli asked colleagues about him, and became curious about Yu Yanli (note: Wang Xiu’s sexual orientation differs from the norm)】

Shit!

Yu Yanli nearly jumped out of his skin—what he feared most had happened. He’d inquired about Wang Xiu to avoid him, but now he’d drawn attention.

And this damn system—why remind him about Wang Xiu’s orientation? You could’ve labeled gender from the start—what were you doing then?

I said I needed photos, and now you won’t even provide them?!

The intelligence system could be upgraded—he’d known that before.

Originally, it only delivered intelligence; features like bookmarking, searching, and categorizing were added later after Yu Yanli’s suggestions (and complaints).

But the system was extremely capricious—upgrade timing was random, upgrade features were random, and it never notified or explained upgrades afterward. Yu Yanli had to discover them himself—terrible user experience.

But he had nowhere to complain—he just had to endure it.

Even the worst system was better than none, and most of its functions were still useful.

Today’s eight reports—compared to the first five, the remaining three were useless junk; Yu Yanli expertly filed them into the 【Trash】 category.

After reviewing all intelligence related to “Heroes of Sui and Tang,” Yu Yanli went out for breakfast.

He had no scenes today morning; makeup was scheduled for the afternoon. Tomorrow, he might shoot in the afternoon—but regardless, he’d have to stay on set.

That’s how acting goes: preparation and waiting are the main themes, not performing on camera.

Especially for minor supporting roles—two minutes of screen time, a few lines of dialogue, might require two days of waiting. Bad luck, and all that hard work gets cut.

Yu Yanli was in the two-year vocational class at Beijing Film Academy, but due to the program’s nature, he started attending sets on weekends and holidays from the second semester of his freshman year.

After over a year, he’d been on many sets, and with advice from seniors and upperclassmen, he understood the ins and outs of acting on set—he knew exactly what he needed to do now.

Memorize the script. Master the lines.

If time allowed, rehearse the scenes himself, find the character’s state.

After breakfast, feeling stifled in the hotel room, and since the morning wasn’t hot yet, he wandered nearby and finally found a quiet little grove behind a side street.

Feeling the spot was good, he set down his script, stretched his limbs, and began practicing fistwork.

Since his Beijing Film Academy instructor suggested martial arts as a specialty, Yu Yanli had practiced regularly; now that he’d soon film fight scenes, he needed to review thoroughly.

Sharpening the blade just before battle—even if slow, it still shines!

At martial arts school, he mainly trained in Sanda, but he also practiced traditional martial arts stances—more so, in fact.

Because their school often received invitations from nearby counties and cities for cultural performances or events, and sent students to perform.

Sanda didn’t look as impressive as traditional martial arts—people just loved Chinese martial arts; kicking and punching meant nothing to them.

So the school emphasized traditional martial arts more, and students preferred practicing it, since being selected meant going out, better food, and sometimes even a small allowance.

Yu Yanli had thus learned many traditional forms and weapons—far more useful than Sanda for filming ancient costume fight scenes.

Standing with feet together, chest upright, arms moving in sync with steps into a ready stance, he then flowed through a sequence: Child Paying Homage to Buddha, Horse Stance Single Whip, Extended Leg Punch, Great Peng Claw Sweep—exactly the Luohan Quan from Shaolin Fist.

This was the most basic, and also the form he’d practiced most and knew best.

After several rounds of Luohan Quan, he broke into a light sweat and felt energized. He found a small tree and began practicing Sanda techniques against it, occasionally kicking hard, making the tree sway.

The tree: mmp

Just as he was getting into it, Yu Yanli suddenly felt someone watching him. He turned—there stood a long-haired girl in a T-shirt and jeans.

She was quite beautiful: oval face, pointed chin, delicate soft features, gentle and lively eyes, an aura of quiet elegance—a pretty girl who felt pleasant to be around.

If he had to pick a flaw, her skin wasn’t particularly fair.

“What?”

Yu Yanli awkwardly ended his stance, wiped sweat, and the girl, startled he’d noticed her, quickly explained.

“Sorry to disturb you—I just passed by, saw you practicing, got curious, and watched for a while.”

Hmm—her voice was nice too, soft with a hint of sweetness.

With a beauty, one must be forgiving; Yu Yanli waved his hand, signaling it was fine.

The long-haired girl gave another apologetic gesture, then left.

Yu Yanli glanced after her a few times and noticed she hadn’t gone far—she sat on a bench under a tree fifty or sixty meters away, wearing headphones, reading a book—or possibly a script.

After all, combining Hengdian with a beautiful girl meant, if not 100%, at least 70–80% of them were actors.

After a few glances, Yu Yanli turned his gaze away.

She was pretty, but he wasn’t some country bumpkin who’d never seen a beautiful woman.

Let alone—how many universities in China could match Beijing Film Academy’s number of beautiful girls?

In two years at school, Yu Yanli wasn’t just a bookworm—he’d had a “former girlfriend” who was famously the campus beauty of the 2000 cohort…

(End of Chapter)