Chapter 22

As the world’s most powerful film factory, Hollywood perhaps does not film at the speed of those "quick-draw" gunslingers in Hong Kong; but regardless, it would never resort to the bizarre practice of taking several years to shoot a single movie.

Not to mention that filming on a battleship cannot go on indefinitely.

As an active-duty battleship, the *Missouri* has training missions and regular maintenance schedules. No matter the type of military mission, it is not suitable to conduct them while civilians are on board.

However, a significant portion of the entire film takes place on the ship. Aside from some explosion or destruction scenes filmed on sets in a studio, one can imagine how tight the shooting schedule is.

Not only are the main leads busy as can be, but even background actors like Henry might have to film for an entire day.

Sometimes it’s running through a certain corridor, and when the next shot comes, it’s running back from the other side. Other times, they only film shots of footsteps, and sometimes they film the full body.

If someone messes up their positioning and the assistant director in charge of the transition shots calls "NG," then they have to reset and run it again, wasting even more time.

This is still just for background actor shots, where there isn't much demand for the visuals. When the leads appear, if the lighting is off, if it doesn't look good, or if there is even the slightest flaw, it’s all grounds for an NG and a retake.

All of this makes Henry realize that compared to true big-budget productions, those small-time, low-budget projects really don't amount to much.

Fortunately, the chef team led by Old Black provided enough spiritual comfort to Henry, who had never been this busy in his life.

With a Cordon Bleu chef around, Henry couldn't imagine how these Yanks’ way of relaxing was still to go to the bars outside the naval port after work and get themselves drunk.

If they had a headache, they’d down two Ibuprofens. If that didn't stop it, they’d increase the dosage of various leaves and powders, as if having a clear head were an unforgivable sin.

These Yanks completely failed to understand the idea of: feeling bad, grab a bite; worth celebrating, grab a bite; holidays, grab a bite; waking up in the middle of the night, find a way to grab a bite; nothing to do, still grab a bite.

So during this time, the only ones who could really talk to Old Black or Henry were each other.

And Henry also became the only actor besides the main leads to enjoy the privilege of Old Black cooking a special meal.

In Old Black’s words, if he didn't hone his culinary skills and study new dishes, and instead spent every day kneading dough to make donuts or baking pizza, he would sooner or later go to waste in this film production team.

"Then will you take this hellish job again next time, one that any kitchen helper could do? Chef." Henry occupied the kitchen griddle, frying a steak himself, while posing a soul-searching question to Old Black, who was pondering ingredients on the side.

Don't let the fact that it looks like an ordinary burger patty on the griddle fool you; this is a recipe developed by Old Black and Henry after several days of effort. It’s made by mincing several types of high-grade beef, kneading them together, and adding special spices.

It claims to be a top-tier delicacy accessible to commoners, but in reality, commoners can't afford it; it’s only used to supply those wealthy elites. And don't say it isn't true—some rich people who think they are low-key and introverted just love this sort of thing.

Even if you calculate the material costs, it could buy a high-end French meal, but they are happy to decorate a gorgeous interior with a humble exterior. It’s the exact opposite of the nouveau riche mentality that craves showing off wealth.

Old Black, upon hearing Henry’s question, had to take his eyes off the spices. He struggled for a good while before saying, "Motherfucker, I’d probably still take it."

Henry asked in surprise, "Why? I thought you didn't like making this kind of mindless, mass-produced food. Using your culinary skills like a factory machine."

"That mysterious boss of mine simply pays too much," Old Black said, stating a fact. He added, "And what do you think Michelin-certified three-star chefs rely on to make money? That star-rated restaurant? Don't be ridiculous."

"What do they rely on to make money?" Henry asked curiously.

Old Black sneered and said, "They rely on selling recipes, meal kits—the kind of mass-produced stuff you’re talking about. Without relying on these things to subsidize, how many people could keep a losing restaurant open?

"You want restaurant atmosphere, you want service quality—you don't think maintaining those hellish things is cheap, do you? Those chasing Michelin stars are just a bunch of crazy, foolish guys."

Henry had seen such claims in certain gourmet guides and offered no comment. However, a sentence Old Black just said made him curiously ask, "Mysterious boss! You weren't hired by one of the producers?"

He originally wanted to add a prefix like "son-of-a-bitch" before "producer." Considering he was eating their food, Henry kept his mouth in check.

Old Black looked proud. "The clientele I serve doesn't include anyone you can see here. Though, the person who could pull that ship in to be a movie set might be an exception," he said, pointing toward the battleship outside.

"Can you guess which pickled radish-eater it is?" Henry asked casually, in a chatty tone.

Old Black explained, "It’s a pity, my jobs are all arranged through a catering company. They only tell me how much the pay is, where to go, what they want to eat, and that’s it.

"They won't tell me who the boss is or who I’m serving. You know, if these things were known in advance and leaked, there would be a lot of trouble. So I’d rather not know."

"You don't mean you only get to see a group of people wearing hellish Venetian masks while dining, do you?"

"How could that be? Although there are people who play like that, in most cases, I can meet the host of the dinner party. Even if I don't know beforehand, how could I not say hello when we meet? I know quite a few big tycoons."

"Then what’s the situation here...?"

Sighing, Old Black said, "Honestly, being assigned to a film production team like today is truly the first time in history. And it’s long-term, too.

"At first, I thought this was a prank. After all, based on the standard of my usual meals, let alone whether the ingredients are expensive, just being able to source enough quantity to supply everyone is a problem.

"Even if those stars want to eat, they don't have the patience to spend two or three hours on a meal. Everyone’s standard is the same: high-calorie, hunger-fighting food. And it has to be fast, otherwise, if filming is delayed, the producer or director will go crazy."

Regarding Old Black’s assessment, Henry really couldn't offer a counter-argument, because the reality was indeed just like that.

Seeing that the steak was about done, Henry used a fork to move it onto a wire rack to drain the oil.

He didn't prepare a plate for himself, but instead started rummaging through the pile of high-end ingredients marked "Forbidden," completely ignoring whether Old Black felt a pang of heartache.