Chapter 20
Note: The draft for this chapter accidentally got published earlier this week. It was full of autocorrect errors and random stuff that should have been taken out post-editing. Sorry if you were confused. I've fixed it up now, feel free to re-read.
The next day, on the set of Encounter with the Dragon.
Wen Xingze felt that something unusual was happening in the crew, something he wasn’t aware of, starting from the morning.
The crew provided breakfast, and Chi Yan helped him get a portion. Since Wen Xingze was busy urgently reviewing the script and had no time to drink soy milk, Chi Yan casually opened the soy milk for him, allowing Wen Xingze to bite the straw.
The entire crew fell suddenly silent.
During a scene, they had to redo it because Wen Xingze’s sword-holding movement was incorrect. Chi Yan adjusted his wrist posture by holding the script, and suddenly, dozens of focused and inquisitive eyes turned toward them.
Before shooting the second scene, Wen Xingze’s hair ornament was disheveled. Chi Yan casually fixed the jade clasp that held his hair in place.
Xu Qianqian in the rest area covered her nose again.
Wen Xingze: “???” “Is the crew haunted?” Wen Xingze couldn’t help but ask Zhu Bo.
Zhu Bo: “…Don’t worry about it; they’re just being superstitious.”
At the director’s position, Chi Yan reviewed the playback and called out, “Wen Xingze, come here.”
Wen Xingze noticed a pattern: whenever he chatted with Zhu Bo or Xu Qianqian, Chi Yan would inevitably call him within three minutes, like a high school teacher catching students in puppy love.
Nevertheless, Wen Xingze obediently went over.
“For this line, pause for two seconds in the middle,” Chi Yan said after discussing a few points. Seeing that Wen Xingze seemed to have something to ask, he glanced at him and said, “What’s your question?”
From the director’s position, Chi Yan had the best view of the entire set, capturing every detail.
Wen Xingze listened carefully and indeed heard unusual sounds coming from various corners of the crew. He asked, “Teacher Chi, did you invite a master for protection when we started filming yesterday?” The atmosphere feels heavy.
Chi Yan replied, “We did.”
Pausing, he explained, “We did an online ritual using an app to burn incense and chanting the Great Compassion Mantra three times.”
Wen Xingze thought it was quite convenient. “Next time, let’s do an offline ritual instead.”
Chi Yan nodded.
With five minutes left in the break, Zhu Bo was waiting for Wen Xingze to return and play games.
“Teacher Chi?” Wen Xingze called out.
Chi Yan responded, “Let me ask you.”
Wen Xingze listened attentively.
“Who,” Chi Yan paused, “is your favorite actor?”
“You,” Wen Xingze replied.
Chi Yan fell silent.
Wen Xingze: “?”
After a while, Chi Yan finally spoke again, asking, “Do you like… the roles I play?”
Wen Xingze: “I do.” Were these two questions different?
Chi Yan said, “Say them together.”
“?” Wen Xingze was puzzled. He touched his nose. “I like the roles you play?”
Chi Yan’s gaze deepened. “Add the word ‘really.’”
Wen Xingze: “Ah?”
After pondering for a while, Wen Xingze was still confused. “I really like the roles you play well?”
Chi Yan: “…” He took a deep breath. “Read the first character on page 23 of the script and the fifth word in the line below it. Read them together — sincerely.”
Wen Xingze: “Can I look at the script?”
Is this a surprise spot check by the Chinese teacher for recitation?
Chi Yan leaned back in the director’s chair, his expression indifferent, and gestured casually for Wen Xingze to proceed.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a crow flew in and perched on Wen Xingze’s wrist. The crow had shiny black eyes that flickered with intelligence.
Wen Xingze felt a sense of familiarity. Upon closer inspection, it resembled the crow that had stood on his shoulder during the blood clan filter shoot. He remembered it had shed many feathers back then, and now, sure enough, the crow had a slightly bald spot on its head.
Wen Xingze flipped through the script and said, “When read together, it says, ‘I really like’…”
Suddenly.
Just before Wen Xingze finished the entire sentence, right in front of both of them, the crow bit down on that page of the script and chewed.
Then it gulped and tilted its head back to swallow.
Wen Xingze: “?”
Chi Yan: “…?”
The crow looked at Chi Yan and made a triumphant sound, “Caw, caw, caw—”
Chi Yan remained expressionless.
After a moment of silence, he suddenly picked up the crow and walked toward the assistant in charge of meals.
Coldly, Chi Yan said, “Add an extra meal for lunch.”
The once haughty crow fell silent.
It sensed the unmistakable intent to kill!
“Teacher Chi, calm down!” Wen Xingze hurriedly tugged at Chi Yan’s sleeve from behind. “I know this crow, it’s already bald. It’s a middle-aged, greasy uncle crow. Definitely not tasty.”
The crow’s demeanor instantly wilted further. It pecked at its own wings, staring at Wen Xingze in disbelief. “Caw, caw, huh?”
How could it launch you attack a crow's body?
Because whenever the blood clan appeared, there were always a lot of black feathers, creating a more magnificent and impressive appearance. This looks bald now for Wen Xingze?!
“…”
In the end, Chi Yan released the crow, but he seemed somewhat displeased.
However, the crow didn’t dare to provoke Chi Yan further. It shrank, trembling, on Wen Xingze’s shoulder.
The newly arrived crow successfully captured the attention of the entire crew. The reason? It was a crow that had successfully defied Director Chi.
You could say it was a crow hero.
During lunchtime, the crow was still there when the boxed meals were distributed. The crew and actors gathered around Wen Xingze, marveling.
“How about giving it a name?” Xu Qianqian suggested. “Saint Seiya?” (Note: I don't understand the reference, I haven't seen it lol, but probably because of the wings?)
Zhu Bo burst into laughter.
The next moment.
Everyone turned their gaze to behind Wen Xingze. Their smiles immediately faded, replaced by a chorus of coughs.
Wen Xingze thought for a moment. “How about ‘Emergency Rations’?”
He decided on this matter.
Crow: “Caw?”
Wen Xingze pondered for a moment. “Keda Crow? Ugly Little Crow? Beijing Roast Crow?”
Just then, Chi Yan happened to pass by behind Wen Xingze. He held a can of cola above Wen Xingze’s head and casually said, “Emergency Rations.”
The crow blinked its eyes and tilted its head. “Gah?”
Wen Xingze felt the weight and reached up to touch his own head, encountering Chi Yan’s fingers and the can of cola. He immediately straightened up, frozen in place, inwardly lamenting his fate.
“…Not bad. Let’s call you ‘Emergency Rations,’” Wen Xingze decisively decided.
The crow squawked in confusion, “Gah???”
Chi Yan raised an eyebrow and finally released his grip, taking the cola back and placing it in Wen Xingze’s hand.
“Wuwu,” Xu Qianqian exclaimed, holding her lunch box. “It’s so delicious.”
Zhu Bo and Wen Xingze exchanged puzzled glances. “Huh?”
Xu Qianqian gestured with her hand. “It’s because Chi Yan put the cola on A'ze’s head! The height difference is so cute! It reminds me of high school, when the campus heartthrob would tease the person they liked…”
Zhu Bo and Wen Xingze, both straightforward guys, were still confused. “Huh???”
“I understand,” the production assistant nodded from the side.
Wen Xingze, baffled, pulled open the tab on the cola can. So, they were shipping him and Chi Yan? What was there to ship?
Perhaps because everyone wasn’t very familiar with Chi Yan, and Wen Xingze had the luck of being taught acting by him for seven days, they assumed they were closer than they actually were. Hence, the mistaken “couple vibes.”
Today, there were no night scenes. At six in the evening, they were filming the final scene of the day, starring Wen Xingze and Zhu Bo.
However, things took an unexpected turn.
It all started when Chi Yan was explaining the scene to Wen Xingze. The dozing Emergency Rations suddenly woke up, flapped its wings, and flew onto Wen Xingze’s shoulder.
Perhaps due to just waking up, the crow forgot about Chi Yan’s terrifying aura. It blinked its small eyes and tried to look cute.
Despite being a bald-headed crow, Wen Xingze didn’t find it adorable, but he did feel sorry for it. He reached out and patted its bald head. “Good bird.”
The emergency rations, feeling triumphant, glanced at Chi Yan and smugly flapped its wings. If it could speak, it would definitely say, “Whatever, whatever.”
Wen Xingze: “…”
Chi Yan: “…”
In the next moment, the entire crew felt a sudden chill!
Coincidentally, it was already dusk, and the sky darkened rapidly. The wind howled, and mysterious rustling sounds came from the forest, as if a storm was approaching.
The emergency rations fluffed up its feathers, no longer daring to stick to Wen Xingze. It cautiously sidestepped away.
Help! The murderous intent was even stronger than before! This time, it might really end up as crow soup!
Was this human truly a human? Emergency Rations nearly cried. As a bloodline familiar, it couldn’t possibly contend with this person.
The entire crew shivered in fear.
People involved in the arts tend to be a bit more superstitious than ordinary folks, especially when they find themselves deep in the mountains and forests.
“Goodness, what if it’s really haunted?” Zhu Bo’s skin crawled, and he huddled close to the emergency rations, almost on the verge of tears. “I knew we shouldn’t have done that online ritual.”
Only Chi Yan remained stoic.
Sitting in his original spot, Chi Yan held the script board, glancing at Wen Xingze. His expression seemed subtly displeased.
Wen Xingze had more courage and wasn’t easily scared, but…
Delaying the shoot like this wasn’t a solution. Wen Xingze looked at Chi Yan and suddenly had a brilliant idea — an action that would leave everyone baffled.
Under the gaze of the other actors and hundreds of crew members, Wen Xingze reached out and touched Chi Yan’s head:
“Good boy.”
He used a gesture similar to how he’d pet the crow.
“…”
The wind ceased
Chi Yan fell silent.
The entire crew fell silent.
The live broadcast channel, perpetually crowded, now had twenty million viewers.
After a brief pause:
Jealousy twisted the hearts of Muse Nation.
[CluelessBigGuy: ??? Just a moment ago, I was gloating.]
[MarriedToHisMajestyTeam: Ugh, this infuriates me.]
[audyug: Argh, so annoying!!]
[NotWhite11: Argh!!! I want His Majesty to pat my head too! Suggest making a soup with Chi Yan and the crow!!!]
________________________
Blood Clan Capital, Cliff Castle.
On the eternal night planet, the wind whispered, and dim blue lanterns hung in the air.
Lilith’s black feather fan shattered into powder in her hand. She stood up, and the maids immediately stepped forward to help arrange her hair and adjust her gown. Finally, the butler draped a dark robe over her shoulders.
Lilith walked toward the door. The Roman column, crushed by Os last night and still lying outside the hall, blocked her way. Wearing ten-centimeter heels, she stepped on the column again, as if it were the neck of a neighboring monarch.
“Who using the Soul Casket to visit today?” Lilith asked the butler, her brows cold, her eyes turning the deep red hue that only surfaced when a bloodline vampire was truly enraged.
The butler, dressed in British-style uniform, bowed. “It’s Prince Soren.”
Lilith furrowed her brow.
The order of visits was usually determined by fights. Last week, Lan had won, so he went first. According to the original sequence, Lilith was supposed to go tomorrow.
However, it wasn’t limited to one soul per visit. But Lilith couldn’t wait.
The Soul Casket was one of the new sacred artifacts of the bloodline, and each prince held its key. Without much thought, Lilith made her decision.
At the interface on Bloodline Capital, the Soul Casket appeared as a door. Passing through it allowed souls to reach the other side.
When Lilith arrived, the other twelve princes were already there, and Lan had even beaten her to it.
Os greeted her, “Hey, going to the Emperor’s side too?”
Lilith: “… Emperor’s side?”
What an unexpected coincidence.
“…”
________________________
On the set of Encounter with the Dragon, it was unexpected that Chi Yan’s hair was surprisingly soft. This was the only thought running through the mind of the perpetrator, Wen Xingze.
Chi Yan remained silent, and the entire crew fell into a hushed silence. Even Emergency Rations trembled as it flapped its wings and flew up a tree.
Then, time seemed to freeze.
After about half a minute, the assistant director, under the intense gaze of everyone, approached with the script in hand. “Why are you all standing there like statues? It’s not dark yet — let’s start shooting! Move, lighting and photography teams, get ready.”
At first, nobody moved. Seeing that Chi Yan didn’t object, they began to shift cautiously. The lighting technician adjusted the lights with bated breath, the photographer set up the camera position stealthily, and the actors whispered their lines with care.
Meanwhile, Chi Yan sat in the director’s chair, seemingly paused like someone hit the pause button.
From Wen Xingze’s perspective, he couldn’t see Chi Yan’s expression clearly. Chi Yan’s brows were furrowed, and the play of light and shadow deepened the mystery. Thankfully, he didn’t appear angry.
Wen Xingze ventured, “Chi Yan?”
Suddenly, Chi Yan reached out and grasped Wen Xingze’s wrist, prompting him to lower his head. Their eyes locked at close proximity.
Wen Xingze raised an eyebrow. “?”
Chi Yan’s narrowed gaze held a secret. Finally, he said, “Nothing.” With that, he released Wen Xingze’s hand.
The evening approached.
The final scene went smoothly without any more “ghostly” interruptions — just two takes. However, when filming wrapped up, everyone hesitated to leave. Despite their numbers, returning to the halfway-up-the-mountain inn required traversing a long stretch of mountain road.
Moreover, the eerie wind that had blown earlier had even startled the ominous ravens. Clearly, something wasn’t right.
“This is like the classic beginning of a horror film,” muttered the assistant director, rubbing his arms. “A film crew trapped in the wilderness, dwindling one by one — it’s nerve-wracking.”
The others exchanged glances. What was wrong with this assistant director?!
His words had even the initially fearless ones trembling in their legs.
The cautious cinematographer suggested, “Chi Yan, maybe we should invite a master to perform an offline ritual now?”
Chi Yan replied, “There’s no need.”
The assistant director turned to Wen Xingze for help. They knew Chi Yan was capable of online rituals, but he genuinely didn’t believe in ghosts or fear them.
Throughout the day and a half, everyone had noticed that Wen Xingze was the only one who could strike up a conversation with Chi Yan. He had even patted Chi Yan’s head in public without any repercussions — no wonder fans shipped them.
Wen Xingze also felt that performing a ritual was unnecessary. After all, he understood this was a magical world; even games could become parallel universes. If ghosts existed, they would have encountered them long ago.
So, in the world of this book, there were no ghosts.
But their fear was understandable. After all, they were in the wild mountains, and nighttime was inherently unsettling. Plus, they had conducted an online ghost-expelling ritual during yesterday’s shoot—a rather dubious approach, to say the least.
Everyone looked at Wen Xingze with pity, hoping he could persuade Director Chi to consider booking an online master for a ritual. The deadline for reservations was 6:30 PM.
Unexpectedly, after a moment of contemplation, Wen Xingze pulled a suona out of his bag. “I think I can give it a try.”
Chi Yan raised an eyebrow. “?”
The crew members exchanged confused glances. Why was Wen Xingze carrying a suona on set?
Wen Xingze adjusted his hair ornament and explained, “I used to do part-time work playing the suona during village celebrations. The process is still fresh in my memory.”
A few seconds later, Chi Yan nodded and surprisingly agreed.
…An eerie silence followed.
Although Wen Xingze had previously performed fire-breathing on set, it was visually impressive. But this sudden switch to playing the suona was quite a contrast. Who would have thought that an artist would take up suona playing?
Wen Xingze unwrapped a disposable disinfectant wipe and cleaned the mouthpiece of the brass instrument with practiced ease.
In the recently filmed scene, Heng Zhi had changed into a dark Daoist robe with a jade hairpin securing his hair. As twilight descended, the dim lighting added an otherworldly quality to his light golden pupils. He embodied both the righteous and the wicked — a beautiful antagonist with a touch of tsundere.
No wonder they said Wen Xingze was highly adaptable.
The entire crew watched in astonishment as the fair-faced young man began to play the suona…
Surprisingly, he played quite well.
Wen Xingze’s extensive experience in real battles had honed his skills. His breath control was steady, transitions between notes were smooth, and he even mimicked the calls of birds in flight.
However, Wen Xingze wasn’t genuinely expelling evil spirits; he was merely easing everyone’s fear. Initially, he started with traditional tunes like “Lift the Bridal Sedan Chair” and “Six Words Open the Door.” Later, he switched to popular songs like “Song of the Heroes” and “Endless Love.”
The suona’s sound was unique — some even called it rogue-like. It exuded festivity! There was a saying that if someone heard this instrument while lying in a coffin, their soul would dance all the way to the afterlife.
The stark contrast between Wen Xingze’s appearance and the rogue-like instrument initially amused everyone. But after three seconds, people began to sway their heads and involuntarily tap their legs.
“Haha, this mesmerizing melody is addictive. We’re getting brainwashed.”
“I’m convinced — I’m immune to all evil now.”
“So festive! Tonight, I’m the groom!”
“I’ll definitely hire someone to play the suona at my funeral.”
As the tune concluded, everyone still wanted more.
Wen Xingze put down the suona and took a breath. When he looked up, he saw people sitting everywhere on the hill.
Up front were Zhu Bo, Xu Qianqian, and other cast and crew members, sitting in a circle on small stools. The reserve food (a term for someone who might be sacrificed in a horror movie) hung upside down on the railing. A bit farther away were the lighting technicians, prop team, and makeup artists. Even farther, some entertainment reporters clung to the entrance of the set or perched in trees, peering in.
And then there were thirteen unmistakably non-human familiar figures — boys in formal attire floated in the air, Soren held a long staff, and Lilith stood gracefully in her long dress. These were the vampire princes who had originally said they would come to “serve the emperor.”
The entire hillside, whether human or not, stared at him.
Wen Xingze: “…”
Audience: “That’s it?”
Wen Xingze: “Yeah?”
The audience looked disappointed. After a moment, the lighting technician handed out glow sticks to everyone.
Soon, the entire hilltop was waving glow sticks. “Next song! Next song! Next song!”
Wen Xingze: “???”
Was he here to film or hold a concert?
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Thank You!!!! I can't wait for the next update!!! :)
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