Chapter 869

Mid-December, Tokyo, Shinkansen station.

Cold wind poured in through the gaps in the ceiling, making people shrink their necks.

The 《Hand of God》 film crew had booked an entire car of the Tohoku Shinkansen, and staff were moving equipment onto the train; crew members in matching dark blue down jackets ran back and forth on the platform like a flock of penguins frozen but still working hard.

As the saying goes, money is hard to earn and excrement is hard to eat.

By this time, the broadcast of 《Hand of God》 had basically reached its end, with ratings stabilizing above 40%, so Old Turtle Kameyama gave the whole crew a big red envelope, making everyone especially enthusiastic.

Uesugi Muneyuki arrived not particularly early; the platform was already crowded, and from afar he saw Mai Xuejie standing there—he didn't need to deliberately look for her, for that woman standing there was impossible to miss, the area around her automatically blurring, becoming the focal point of the entire scene under radiant ten thousand zhang light.

Today Mai Xuejie wore an oat-colored woolen overcoat, her belt loosely tied with a casual knot at the waist, the coat's hem just below the knees, revealing a section of long, slender calves.

Her scarf was light gray, fluffily wrapped around her neck, burying half her face in it.

She wore no hat, a head of slightly brown hair hanging loose, the ends slightly curled, gently fluttering in the cold wind; on her feet were a pair of silver-chain short boots with thin, high heels, the shafts just covering her ankles, the vamp bearing a thin silver chain that made an extremely faint, wind-chime-like sound when she walked.

And those long, beautiful legs wrapped in sheer black silk stockings showed between the coat's hem and the boot tops, neither more nor less, exactly the width of a palm; moreover, the stockings were not flat pure black but bore a moon-eclipse pattern that revealed faint dark traces in the light, with black fabric woven with dense, fine silver lines like the sky when the moon is half-eaten—a deep, indescribable blue or black enclosing a bright hue. Standing there, she was a painting, one that made people want to look twice but felt awkward to stare at openly—so-called dazzling and indescribable, beauty striking straight at the heart.

Seeing him approach, Mai Xuejie slightly lifted her chin, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible, but Uesugi Muneyuki understood it: that meant, I am your greatest nemesis, don't think you can escape me.

He stood before her, still silent, when she spoke first: "Long time no see, junior student."

Mai Xuejie's tone was deliberately light with a hint of provocation; she grabbed his tie, smirking, and said: "During this time I wasn't around, have you been bewitched by any other woman?"

"More or less, more or less, lots of things have happened lately, I haven't had the mind for it." Uesugi Muneyuki couldn't help but complain: "You've seen the recent news too, right?"

"Yes, I still want to congratulate you." Mai Xuejie giggled, patting his dog head in front of everyone: "From now on you can participate in the Sakuradamon selection~ In April, another batch of fresh and delicious female police officers will enter the Metropolitan Police Department… How does Yamada Nanase taste? Have you eaten her yet?"

"No." Uesugi Muneyuki immediately surrendered: "What kind of person do you think I am?"

Mai Xuejie's eyes narrowed—an expression Uesugi Muneyuki knew too well; she saw through everything but didn't expose it. She merely gave a soft "hmph, you're clever," turned and walked toward the car, her coat hem swaying with her steps, the calves wrapped in moon-eclipse-patterned stockings appearing and disappearing in segments above the silver-chain boots, making it impossible to look away.

The heating in the Shinkansen car was turned up high.

Mai Xuejie sat by the window, took off her coat and draped it over the chair back; underneath was a form-fitting black turtleneck sweater, no extra decoration, just plain black, yet it looked good on her.

She patted the seat beside her, glanced at Uesugi Muneyuki, her eyes clearly saying: You sit here.

Uesugi Muneyuki sat down.

The car seats were arranged 3-2, with a few staff members on the other side of the aisle looking down at their phones, nobody glancing this way; further back, the Fuji troupe's leading lady Tei Reiji was being touched up by two makeup artists, holding her script, lips moving, probably memorizing something. Beside her feet lay a large handbag, its mouth open, revealing a section of bright-colored stockings packaging—a Wolford thick black pair, which Uesugi Muneyuki recognized.

It could be foreseen that this Aomori trip would be a fierce battle!

"Mr. Uesugi! Sorry sorry, I'm late!" Just then, someone arrived.

Uesugi Muneyuki withdrew his gaze, and upon seeing the newcomer, his eyes lit up.

Miyawaki Sakura walked over from the car connection, holding two cups of coffee.

Today she wore a short, milk-white down jacket, below which was a dark gray pleated skirt whose hem sat above the knees, revealing legs wrapped in white silk stockings; these stockings were not plain thick white but had a hint of pearl luster, soft and creamy, Uesugi Muneyuki judging them about 60D in thickness, sitting beside Mai Xuejie's patterned black stockings—one black, one white, like a deliberate pairing. On her feet were a pair of round-toed black Martin boots with fur trim at the cuffs, making her calves look slender and straight.

"Sakura! You're here, come over and sit quickly!" Mai Xuejie said with a smile.

"Mai-sama!" Little Sakura was delighted, she handed one cup of coffee to Mai Xuejie, another to Uesugi Muneyuki, then naturally sat beside Uesugi Muneyuki—on the aisle side.

The three sat side by side, Mai Xuejie by the window, Uesugi Muneyuki in the middle, Miyawaki Sakura on the aisle, the three forming a row; after returning to the familiar atmosphere, the corners of their mouths all held a nearly imperceptible arc. Little Sakura chattered away beside them, her knee wrapped in white stockings occasionally brushing his leg, then quickly pulling back, then after a while silently brushing up again, like a small animal testing the waters to get closer. This guy!

Uesugi Muneyuki struggled to shift his attention, his gaze sweeping past the aisle to land a few rows ahead in the car.

Aragaki Yui sat there.

She wore a light gray knit dress with an open-front navy blue cardigan over it, her hair shorter than when last seen on TV, shoulder-length, ends slightly curled inward, now looking down at something—probably the script—expression focused and quiet, forming a strange contrast with the noisy surroundings.

Hoshino Gen sat beside her.

He wore a dark brown jacket, inside a white T-shirt, looking casually dressed but that casualness was carefully calculated. He was speaking with a nearby staff member, voice low, occasionally laughing, his smile warm and proper, leaving no room for criticism.

Hoshino Gen, this guy also came?

It seemed he felt the gaze; Hoshino Gen and Uesugi Muneyuki locked eyes from afar, Uesugi Muneyuki instantly felt the other's gaze carry a hint of scrutiny and alertness, but the moment their eyes met they separated, after which Hoshino Gen politely nodded at Uesugi Muneyuki and shifted his attention. Uesugi Muneyuki lifted his coffee and took a sip, thinking Aragaki Yui.

Five years ago, she was a national-level, peak, untouchable existence.

Having won the Television Academy Award, her endorsements spanned cosmetics to cars to beer to finance—every category was covered.

How could such her possibly cameo in a monthly nine drama already into its second season? Even if 《Hand of God》 had absurdly high ratings, it was impossible, for she was Aragaki Yui, the kind who doesn't need to ride anyone's heat—she herself is the heat.

But that was five years ago. Now she is in her thirties. Her advertising contracts have dropped from fourteen a year at peak to seven, and media exposure has visibly declined.

Especially after that shameful but useful drama, several of Aragaki Yui's dramas weren't very successful; 《Code Blue 3》 was indeed popular, but she wasn't the lead; afterward, that meaningless ping-pong film 《Love Revolving》 had almost everyone watching just for her looks, Japanese people don't like ping-pong, considering it a degraded version of tennis and a monkey version (which it actually is), then dramas like 《We Can't Become Beasts》 also successively flopped.

Though still a first-rate actress, the "big shot" position GAKKI no longer fits her.

And when 《Hand of God》 sent out invitations at this time, LesPros weren't fools—they knew Aragaki Yui needed topics, needed a work that would let young audiences rediscover her.

So-called "the king does not see the king" merely means when both are at their peak they can't stand each other, only when past their prime do they sit down to talk cooperation.

Just like Kimura Takuya and Fukuyama Masaharu at their peaks hardly ever appeared together on variety shows from different frames.

《Hand of God》, this super-large production, now the entire entertainment industry's attitude is "if you can ride the trend, ride it; if you ride it, you profit."

Thinking this, Uesugi Muneyuki laughed and shook his head.

He recalled the Japanese entertainment scene of the 80s and 90s, when TV programs truly didn't care about money: a drama would spend hundreds of millions of yen on sets, film it, then tear it down; a variety show would use helicopter aerial shots just for an opening sequence; a music program's dance design would be more lavish than a concert's, then after singing they'd switch to another group, those sets used only once. Some productions knew from the start they couldn't recoup costs, but TV didn't care, sponsors didn't care, because back then the bubble economy hadn't burst—money placed there was just paper, burn it and it's burned. 《Heaven and Earth》 could be filmed in Australia, the Battle of Kawanakajima could have thousands of white people wearing samurai armor fighting.

《Shadow Warrior》 spent money like water, finally recouping costs only after selling videotapes for decades.

That golden age, now thinking about it, seems like a myth.

But bubbles always burst.

In the mid-to-late 90s economic downturn, TV began cutting budgets, advertisers started pinching R0l, producers began wondering "can this show break even?" To some extent, 2000 still had many hit dramas because many projects had been greenlit in the 90s alone, and Japanese people are especially stubborn—once a project is approved, they won't cancel it unless absolutely unavoidable.

Now TV drama ratings: if it's in the twenties it's considered a hit, if it drops to the teens it's decent, if it falls to ten it's passing.

Many dramas, when aired, have single-digit ratings (like 《We Can't Become Beasts》), yet producers still laugh at press conferences saying "we'll try hard," trying hard what? Just trying not to get the next season cut.

Entertainment industry pills! Japanese pills!

Therefore, 《Hand of God》, which broadcasts to now with average ratings stabilizing around forty percent, in this era is a myth, a monster, a miracle that makes all TV, all producers, all advertisers red-eyed to the point of bleeding.

LesPros aren't fools. They know Aragaki Yui needs exposure, needs topics, needs a work that lets young audiences rediscover her. 《Hand of God》 has topics, has heat, has Japan's top production team and the most terrifying ratings foundation.

Doing a cameo episode, no loss.

He hesitated whether to go over and say hello.

He is the original prototype and special appearance of this drama, while others are just guest appearances, so saying hello is basic courtesy.

However, he recalled the gaze of Hoshino Gen just now.

Stay away from her, you Sakuradamon Lewd Devil!

Damn! Uesugi Muneyuki instantly had a "well" symbol pop up on his head.

Am I really that perverted?

Damn it, could it be that I'm the kind of pervert who can't walk when seeing a beautiful woman, whose mind is filled with lustful thoughts when seeing a pretty girl, and who thinks about Princess Connect all day?

Damn it, this world is too harsh on me! I treat everyone gently, yet they call me the "Sakuradamon Lewd Devil"! This is unfair.

Then he glanced to the left and saw Mai Xuejie flipping through a magazine, the collar of her sweater slightly open, revealing a section of her collarbone.

On the right, Xiao Yinghua was leaning against the chairback with her eyes closed, pretending to sleep, her knee wrapped in white silk lightly rubbing against him, this time not bouncing away; in the distance, Tei Reiji was touching up her makeup, with a corner of the Wolford packaging bag peeking out from her bag; even farther away, Asuka and Mai Xuejie's agent Hamada Rikka sat together, eagerly looking out the window at the scenery.

Well, it really is!