May, on set at Cuiping Mountain.

The setting sun refused to cool down, and combined with the slow progress of the shoot, it left the entire crew feeling physically and mentally scorched. The director gulped down a mouthful of Malva Nut Tea and shouted through a megaphone, "All departments, listen up! Actors and stunt doubles, to your positions. Let's pull ourselves together and try to get this in one take! Slate, get ready!"

The assistant director's sun hat was soaked through with sweat. Upon hearing the order, he cleared his throat with some effort, "Sound!"

"Rolling."

"Camera!"

"Rolling."

"The Rising Tides of the Azure Sea, Episode Thirteen, Scene Five, Take One. Action!"

With a sharp clap of the slate, the continuity supervisor quickly exited the frame. A dozen or so masked assassins in black ancient-style clothing leaped in from the roof and windows. Wielding sabers and swords, their eyes glinting menacingly, they surrounded the wretchedly fleeing male lead.

The rustle of fabric sounded from behind them. The assassins at the door parted to form a path, and the camera focused on a man in black, who walked in slowly with the setting sun at his back. The notorious Protector of the Demon Sect came to a suave halt, intermittently tapping the forged steel handle of his fan against his palm. He asked with a half-smile, "Still running?"

The male lead, grimy from being pursued, drew his longsword with a clang and roared ferociously, "Shameless villain, you've gone too far! I'll take your life!"

The director frowned behind the monitor but didn't yell "cut," letting the actors continue. The two groups of people descended into a chaotic melee.

The Rising Tides of the Azure Sea was lauded as the year's most anticipated historical wuxia epic, having cast the nationally renowned pop idol Zhong Guanhua as the male lead, along with two popular young actresses as the female leads. On the first day of shooting, multiple media outlets were there to report, and fans were constantly visiting the set. However, after over ten days of filming, the entire crew, from the director to the set assistants, would feel their vision go dark as a conditioned reflex whenever that idol actor with "explosive acting skills" was mentioned.

The director's initial reason for choosing Zhong Guanhua was, "His acting can be passable, but his fanbase must be huge." In this day and age, everyone knew that "little fresh meat" idols didn't have much acting ability and that ratings relied entirely on beauty filters.

But he hadn't expected this one's acting to be so far beyond just "passable." He was usually stone-faced, and when it came to scenes of great joy or sorrow, there was no transition—he'd go straight to a ferocious expression. He could only remember three and a half lines of dialogue at a time and was especially fond of using a stunt double.

The morning's schedule had been all dialogue scenes, but the evening included a fight scene that required the actual actor to be on camera. The moment Zhong Guanhua heard he had to do it himself, his face fell. The director couldn't get angry at his cash cow, so he could only try to pacify the other actors. In the scene just now, Zhong Guanhua's facial expression had been a bit distorted, but the director had turned a blind eye and let it pass.

Zhong Guanhua had been messing up takes all day, and his recent request to the director to use a double had just been denied, so he was in a foul mood. The heat was making everyone restless, and he was distracted during the scene, not following the choreography taught by the martial arts director.

As he swung his longsword, hacking left and right, his form broke, leaving him wide open and directly exposing his vitals to his opponent. The Demon Sect Protector acting opposite him already had the tip of his sword at Zhong Guanhua's neck—if it went any further, the show would have come to a premature end. Seeing the danger, the actor immediately twisted his wrist, put force into his core, and flipped himself in mid-air. The blade grazed the exposed skin of Zhong Guanhua's neck and came down hard on his shoulder.

Fortunately, the sword hadn't been sharpened and was blocked by two layers of clothing, otherwise that blow could have sliced off half his shoulder.

The entire crew was stunned by the Demon Sect Protector's impromptu move, which was worthy of a wuxia epic. Even the director was taken aback. Zhong Guanhua, his shoulder aching, was both humiliated and enraged. With no outlet for his anger, he saw the supporting actor stumble upon landing and, without a second thought, swung the sword in his hand down at the man's head.

"Stop! Both of you, stop!"

A roar erupted from behind the monitor, but it was too late. The supporting actor, caught completely off guard, took the full force of the blow. A welt the width of two fingers instantly swelled on one side of his face, a small cut opened up behind his ear, and his nose was bloodied. Blood mixed with sweat, quickly staining the crossed collar of his costume red.

"Where did you get hit?" The crew members, snapping out of their shock, swarmed around the supporting actor. "Is your eye okay? Let go, don't press the wound, let me see... Oh my god, you're bleeding! Quick, get some tissues! What the hell happened!"

Xie Guan was seeing stars from the blow. He was helped to a seat on the sidelines by a crowd of people and sat there, tilting his head back dazedly as they wiped the blood from his face. He only snapped out of it with a hiss of breath when they touched a particularly painful spot. "Thank you, thank you, I'm fine, I can do it myself," he said quickly.

"Don't move, tilt your head up," a set assistant said, skillfully placing an ice pack on his face and handing him some tissues. "Pinch your nose yourself, stop the bleeding."

Xie Guan held his head in a difficult, tilted position and peered through a gap in the crowd. He saw Zhong Guanhua standing alone in the center of the set, sword in hand, his expression a mixture of seventy percent embarrassment and thirty percent rage. His assistant ran up to offer him water, but he angrily swatted the bottle away. "Get lost!"

At that moment, no one paid him any mind. Even Zhou Xiaoqi, the female lead, came over to check on Xie Guan, handing him some wet wipes. "That's some nasty swelling," she said. "You should go to the hospital."

"Thank you, Teacher Zhou..." Xie Guan hurriedly tried to stand up, but Zhou Xiaoqi pressed him back down by his shoulder. "Don't be so formal. Just call me Sister."

The director finally squeezed through the crowd. "Whoa, how did you get hurt this badly... Alright, let's call it a day. You, hurry and see a doctor; you don't want it getting infected in this heat. Xiao Qi!"

The production coordinator poked his head out. "Yes!"

"See how many scenes he has left and push them back a couple of days. We'll film other people's parts first so he can let his face heal." The director then turned to Xie Guan, a smile in his eyes. "That recovery move you did just now was brilliant. Have you studied martial arts before?"

Xie Guan had been on set for over ten days, but since the Demon Sect Protector was just a cannon fodder role with few scenes, he had barely spoken to the director. The director probably didn't even remember his name. This sudden attention made him a little nervous. "I haven't had formal training," he said. "Just, on previous sets I've worked on, there were instructors who taught me a little."

Hearing this, the director thought to himself that this quiet, unassuming kid must have played an important role before. How else would he have received such detailed instruction? He pressed further, "What kind of role was it?"

Xie Guan mumbled, "An extra."

“...”

Zhou Xiaoqi burst out laughing, and the director laughed as well. "There are no small roles, only small actors. You did very well. Alright, go on, or the hospital will close. The crew will cover your medical expenses... Do you have an assistant with you? If not, I'll get someone to drive you down the mountain."

Xie Guan quickly said it wasn't necessary, but Zhou Xiaoqi insisted, "Let my assistant take you. In this heat, getting heatstroke is no laughing matter."

Zhou Xiaoqi's status was comparable to Zhong Guanhua's, so since she had offered, Xie Guan couldn't very well refuse. He thanked the director and the others, then left the set with Zhou Xiaoqi's assistant.

The director squinted at his retreating figure for a moment, then thoughtfully called the coordinator over. "That kid just now, which company is he with? How many more scenes does he have?"

The coordinator silently glanced over at Zhong Guanhua, who was resting in the distance, then opened her phone's contact list. "You mean Xie Guan? He's an artist from Xinghui Entertainment. I heard he was signed pretty early on. His talent isn't bad, but unfortunately, he's never become popular. I looked into it before he joined the cast; this Protector role is likely the biggest part he's landed all year."

Zhong Guanhua had offended quite a few crew members, and the coordinator had long found him disagreeable. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," and just like that, she considered Xie Guan an ally. Since the director had happened to ask, the coordinator decided to go with the flow and give him a little boost.

"In Xinghui Entertainment's heyday, every show they made was a hit, and every actor they promoted shot to fame. Even their new signees received top-tier resources for their cohort. It's a shame they later shifted to artist management; you can see they're going downhill now." The director stood up, brushing off his pant legs. "That kid... Xie Guan, was it? Xie Guan actually has some acting chops. They're letting good talent like that go to waste."

The coordinator smiled. "Gold will always shine if given a chance; his talent can't be buried forever... This scene today will have to be pushed back. We still have two of Zhou Xiaoqi's scenes tonight."

The director nodded, put on his sun hat, and headed back toward the main set. After a few steps, he turned back. "Everyone, keep your mouths shut. No one is to breathe a word of what happened today to outsiders. The publicity would be bad."

His voice was loud, so not only the coordinator but also the other staff and the actors, including Zhong Guanhua and Zhou Xiaoqi, heard him clearly. An awkward silence hung in the air for a few seconds, until the coordinator announced that the afternoon's shooting was wrapped. Only then did everyone begin packing up as if nothing had happened, preparing to move to the next location.

Zhong Guanhua returned to the hotel that day with a thunderous expression, practically fuming like a human-shaped pile of coal.

The hotel booked for the crew was in the city proper. Xie Guan didn't want to trouble Zhou Xiaoqi's assistant any more than necessary, since the assistant had to return to the mountain to rejoin the main crew after dropping him off. So, he asked to be dropped off at a bus stop at the foot of the mountain, planning to take a public bus back. He wasn't famous anyway, so there was no fear of being recognized.

The moment Xie Guan boarded the bus, all the other passengers stared at him like he was a wild animal that had wandered out of the mountains. Startled, he thought for a second he had somehow become famous overnight. But when he caught his reflection in the window, he realized his battered face made him look like he'd just been involved in some sort of public disturbance. He had no choice but to spend the whole ride covering one side of his face as if he had a toothache. As soon as the bus entered the city, he sheepishly got off, planning to buy a hat from a small roadside shop to hide his face.

The buildings in this area were all short, squat, old-fashioned bungalows from more than a decade ago—narrow and dilapidated. Many had closure notices posted, looking as if they were slated for demolition. Xie Guan bought a baseball cap and a mask, covering up his injuries inside the shop. Just as he was pushing the door open to leave, a low-key black Phaeton pulled up to the curb.

Xie Guan's step faltered.

The driver walked around the front of the car and opened the rear passenger door with a posture straight out of a television drama, respectfully helping a man in a sharp suit out of the vehicle.

The culturally illiterate Xie Guan, who couldn't tell English letters from Pinyin, tutted to himself. "The money to hire a chauffeur is enough to buy a whole other car. Is this guy nuts?"

The man getting out of the car noticed someone looking at him. He followed the gaze and his eyes met Xie Guan's.

Xie Guan had been out in the world since graduating high school. He couldn't recognize car brands, but reading people had become second nature. The instant their eyes met, his heart trembled. The man's gaze was unspeakably cold; he was clearly accustomed to looking down on others from a position of authority, and even his most casual glance carried a faint, imposing air.

This kind of person, who naturally commanded an aura that could make one's knees weak with a single glance, had to be either rich or powerful—and was definitely not to be provoked. Xie Guan immediately looked away, not daring to meet his gaze again, and turned to walk in the opposite direction.

He had only taken one step when a toy airplane shot out of the hat shop with a whoosh. It zipped past the back of Xie Guan's head, the tiny vortex in its wake nearly knocking him over. The plane, seemingly out of control, dipped and soared in a circle before suddenly hurtling with the force of a thunderbolt straight toward the man's face.

If that hit home, the guy would have to wear the same gear as Xie Guan for a week just to go outside.

It all happened too fast. The culprit, the shopkeeper, the driver, and the gawking bystanders were all frozen in shock. The impending victim himself, whether too stunned to move or simply too proud to dodge, remained rooted to the spot, seemingly daring it, "Hit me if you've got the guts."

Xie Guan had worked on many action movie sets as an extra, a stunt double, and a handyman—he'd done it all. He had a bit of a talent for it; his movements were nimble, and sometimes martial arts directors would have him stand in to test choreography. Over time, he'd been honed into a decent-enough amateur stuntman. While his reaction speed wasn't on par with a professional martial arts actor's, it was more than enough to impress an ordinary person.

None of the bystanders saw how he moved. There was just a flash of a dark shape, and suddenly Xie Guan was standing in front of the man, the toy airplane crashing into his outstretched palm.

A potential tragedy of a broken plane and a broken face was thus prevented. Pinching the still-whirring propeller between two fingers as casually as if holding a struggling sparrow, Xie Guan walked back to the shop entrance. He poked his head inside and said to the little boy who'd caused the trouble, "Caught your plane for you. Be more careful next time so you don't hurt anyone." With that, he released his fingers, letting the plane fly back inside, and pulled the glass door shut.

By the time he finished speaking, the man was standing in front of him. He was several centimeters taller than Xie Guan and immaculate from head to toe, every inch of him radiating an "I'm expensive" aura. His good looks were certainly worthy of being saved, but as handsome as he was, his eyes were too cold. That single trait overshadowed the rest of his refined features, leaving only a severe, frigid sternness.

Xie Guan was already intimidated by him, and having him this close made the hair on his arms stand up. He took a stiff step back and suddenly heard the man say in a low voice, "Thank you."

Xie Guan reflexively broke into a fake smile, the motion tugging at his injured cheek. Only then did he remember his mask; the man couldn't see it anyway. So instead, he tipped the brim of his cap in acknowledgment. Without saying a word or waiting for a response, he turned and walked away in the other direction.

The man behind him said nothing, watching his figure disappear around the corner.

"Mr. Huo?" the driver reminded him softly.

Huo Mingjun lowered his gaze, collected his thoughts, and turned his attention back to the shops along the street slated for demolition. The driver followed closely at his heels, offering brief introductions from time to time.

The fleeting sense of familiarity was too faint to dwell on. It skipped across the surface of his mind like a dragonfly on water and vanished without a trace in the blink of an eye.