Wansheng Film and Television

Zhang Laifu was hired. They had even brought out the contract! Zhang Laifu flipped open the contract, heading straight for the compensation clause. "A hundred and sixty a day, right?" "That's just the daily attendance wage," Lao Song said, turning the contract to page nineteen. "Your monthly pay also includes a base salary and performance bonuses. Since today is your first day on the job, you'll receive the full base salary for this month and half the performance bonus. After deducting social security and the housing fund, you're looking at a little over twenty thousand." "Paid monthly?" Zhang Laifu had never encountered a film crew like this before. Extras were always paid on a daily basis. "We're a legitimate organization. Of course we pay monthly!" Lao Song began packing his things, sweeping all the paperwork on the desk into his bag. "Twenty thousand? Plus social security and the housing fund?" Zhang Laifu still couldn't wrap his head around it. In his mind, he was calculating how many chickens twenty thousand yuan could buy. Twenty thousand was simply too large a number; a hundred and sixty felt far more familiar and down-to-earth! Lao Song held the registration form and asked Zhang Laifu, "The bank card number on here is real, right?" "It's real," Zhang Laifu replied after checking it over carefully. "Um, you don't need to wire that hundred and sixty to the card, you can just—" "Lao Zheng, transfer the money to his account." "Right away," Lao Zheng answered. He made a call to accounting, and moments later, Zhang Laifu's phone chimed. Salary income: 21,832 yuan deposited. They actually paid it? Zhang Laifu looked down at his phone, then up at Lao Song. Something wasn't right here. Zhang Laifu hadn't studied acting. He had never even played a role with speaking lines. Even if someone really wanted to offer him a full-time job, wouldn't they at least wait until he graduated? Even if they waived the probation period, there was no way it would be twenty thousand a month! "Where is your company located?" Lao Zheng replied, "Not far from here." "Not far?" Zhang Laifu was deeply skeptical. "It is in the country, right?" "Don't worry, we brought a car. We'll be there in no time." Lao Zheng took down the banner and cut the power. It looked like this temporary office was about to be abandoned. Zhang Laifu coughed twice. "I'm a little overwhelmed. I'm going downstairs to buy a bottle of water." Lao Song handed him a bottle of water. "Calm yourself down first. If there are no issues, sign the contract." Zhang Laifu twisted the cap open but didn't drink. Setting the bottle on the table, he carefully thumbed through the contract in his hands. Lao Song glanced at his watch. "You can read the details on the road. Right now, what you need to do is get into working mode as quickly as possible. Come with me to the set." "To the set right now?" Zhang Laifu asked. Lao Song nodded. "Didn't I tell you already? We're short-handed on set." Zhang Laifu tucked the contract into his jacket, then looked up, addressing Lao Song and Lao Zheng with a solemn expression: "I've reviewed the contract, and there are no major issues. Lao Song, Lao Zheng, you two have worked hard these past couple of days. Go pack your things. We're short on hands on set, so be ready to start work tonight." "Uh..." Lao Zheng stared at Zhang Laifu, utterly baffled. "What did you just say?" Zhang Laifu furrowed his brow and looked Lao Zheng up and down. "Which part did you not understand? I just said we start work tonight. Do you have a problem with that?" With that, Zhang Laifu stormed off in a huff. Lao Zheng was left standing in a daze. He turned to Lao Song and asked, "Second Master, the way this guy talks sounds a bit like the Chief's style. Could he have been sent by the Chief..." Lao Song was still busy packing. He pointed impatiently toward the door. "Chief, my foot! He's trying to make a run for it! Catch him, quick!" Lao Zheng wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but Lao Song didn't like overly smart people anyway. Zhang Laifu dashed down the stairwell, when a singing voice suddenly drifted into his ears: "Hiss—cold! A chill wind piercing the sweltering summer—" Lao Zheng sauntered up alongside Zhang Laifu, singing as he walked. He was singing? No, it didn't sound like an ordinary song. It felt like he had heard it somewhere before. He sang so beautifully. Zhang Laifu felt as though he had never heard a melody so enchanting in his entire life. The tune seemed to burrow straight into his ears, hooking his cochlea. He didn't have time to listen to music right now; he had to get out of this place! No, his legs wouldn't move properly! It wasn't just his cochlea that was hooked—it was his legs as well. When Lao Zheng moved faster, Zhang Laifu sped up; when Lao Zheng stopped, Zhang Laifu halted right along with him. What kind of technique was this? Psychological suggestion? Zhang Laifu fought desperately for control of his legs. Lao Song strolled over and looked at him with a chuckle. "Sounds good, doesn't it? Want to keep listening? Never heard anything like it before, have you?" People were at their most honest when terrified, and Lao Song dearly wanted to see fear in Zhang Laifu's face. Zhang Laifu remained calm—at least on the surface. "I've heard a few clips online. I think it's called pingtan." Lao Song was surprised by his composure. "You're fairly knowledgeable. Can you understand it?" Zhang Laifu shook his head. "I don't understand the lyrics." Lao Song urged, "It doesn't matter if you can't understand. But as an outstanding actor, even if you can't understand, you must look like you do. You have to get into character!" "Right, I'll be in character very soon." Zhang Laifu had to face reality: he was currently under Lao Zheng's control. Even while talking to Lao Song just now, his legs had still been moving in lockstep with Lao Zheng. This man possessed a bizarre ability. Slipping away from under his nose would be no easy feat. Where did their abilities come from? Some sort of high-tech device? What did they want with him? Was there really any need to waste such an advanced tool on a guy like him? It certainly wasn't for money; kidnappers hunting for wealth wouldn't target a penniless student. Maybe they wanted his life? But he had no grudges with them. Could they be harvesting organs? The three walked out of the prefab building and approached a commercial minivan. The driver, Lao Yu, opened the door. Zhang Laifu stepped forward as if to board, then suddenly turned around. "I left my ID on the desk. Forgot to grab it." He planned to use fetching his documents as an excuse to bolt, but when he looked back, the prefab building of Wansheng Film and Television was gone. Such a massive, two-story prefab building—how had it vanished into thin air? He wanted to walk back to where the building had stood to take a closer look, but Lao Zheng began to sing again: "Yilin is fair—draped in shimmering jade green—" Zhang Laifu truly didn't understand pingtan, not a single word of it. Yet Lao Zheng sang so exquisitely, every tone and cadence flowing as if plucked from the strings of a pipa, that Zhang Laifu's feet froze once more, and the vigilance in his chest began to erode. Where was the pipa coming from? Lao Zheng wasn't playing an instrument, yet an ethereal pipa accompaniment softly backed his voice! No, don't drop your guard! Don't let Lao Zheng distract you! Where the hell did that building go? "Right here!" Lao Song pulled the ID from his bag and handed it to Zhang Laifu. It was a cloth bag, its grayish-white fabric bearing an uncanny resemblance to the exterior panels of the prefab building. "I saw you leave your papers on the desk earlier. You've got to break this scatterbrained habit of yours. Our set is enormous; if you lose your ID out there, it won't be easy to find." Splash— Lao Song looked down and inspected the minivan. "Where's that water leaking from?" Lao Yu glanced at Lao Song. "Your bag! Your bag is leaking!" Lao Song lifted it, only to find water gushing from the grayish-white cloth bag. He pulled out a bottle of water and found it had no cap. "Laifu, didn't I give you this water? This careless habit of yours will get you into serious trouble someday. Look what you've done to my bag." Zhang Laifu knew that serious trouble had already arrived. That bottle of water had indeed been handed to him by Lao Song. Zhang hadn't drunk from it; he had unscrewed the cap and left it sitting on the table. He remembered with crystal clarity that Lao Song had never put that open bottle into his bag—and no sane person would ever drop an uncapped bottle of water into a bag in the first place. So where had this water come from? Lao Song took out an apple, chiding him between bites. "You're not an extra anymore; you're a full-time employee of Wansheng Film and Television. You must maintain the foundational qualities of an outstanding actor at all times. Do you know what those qualities are?" Zhang Laifu thought for a moment. The extras' guild had mentioned actor qualities before: "Arrive on set on time, never be late!" Lao Song shook his head repeatedly. "That's basic work discipline, not professional quality. To be an outstanding actor, the most fundamental requirement is to get into character. From this moment on, your mind must revolve around the performance." Zhang Laifu looked first at the amiable Lao Song, then at the kindly Lao Zheng, and finally at the stern-faced driver, Lao Yu. He then surveyed the desolate, wild expanse around them. He pulled out his phone. "I really never imagined that a mere background extra like me would get the chance to become a full-time employee at Wansheng Film and Television. I'm just so thrilled! Could we take a group photo together?" Lao Song shook his head. "Why take a photo now? Wait until the film wraps." "Can I take a selfie, then?" "What's there to photograph in a place like this? Let's get moving." Lao Song forbade it, but Zhang Laifu insisted on taking pictures. He woke his phone screen and checked the status bar. No signal. It had been full bars when he received the salary transfer just moments ago—how was there nothing here? They must have a signal jammer. Zhang Laifu opened the camera app and snapped a few photos. He needed to capture the license plate and include these men in the shot; this was critical rescue intelligence. Lao Song and Lao Zheng had both gotten into the minivan. Only Lao Yu lingered by the vehicle, but he deliberately turned away from Zhang Laifu's lens. Not a single photo managed to catch Lao Yu's face. Zhang Laifu finished taking photos, then suddenly shouted, "Something's wrong with your exhaust pipe! Did someone stuff something in there?" "Who did it?!" Lao Yu killed the engine at once and went to inspect the exhaust. Zhang Laifu noticed that Lao Yu was extremely vigilant, paranoid about being ambushed. After checking the pipe and finding nothing amiss, Lao Yu looked up, only to see that Zhang Laifu had already sprinted off into the distance. "That little bastard!" Lao Yu jumped up to give chase, but saw that Lao Song was already hot on his heels. Lao Yu turned to Lao Zheng. "Is this guy an idiot or not?" Lao Zheng found it hard to judge as well. "I think he is, but then sometimes he doesn't seem like one." Lao Yu genuinely couldn't understand why they had to search out someone like this. "In an outside province this vast, aren't there plenty of fools? Why did the Second Master insist on coming all the way out here to find one?" Lao Zheng shook his head. "An ordinary fool won't do. It has to be a fool who doesn't look like a fool. Second Master said there are plenty of such fools in the film studio city." "Wasn't that just an excuse to hoodwink the Chief?" Lao Zheng waved his hands dismissively. "That's no trick; it's the truth. We must have a fool who doesn't look like a fool to open the bowl for the Chief." Lao Yu scowled. "The kid knows enough to run away. He's definitely not a fool!" Lao Zheng disagreed. "When you butcher a pig, the pig knows to run, too. Does that mean the pig isn't dumb? It all depends on how deep his stupidity runs." Lao Yu cracked his knuckles and rolled his wrists. "Have you ever slaughtered a pig? You've got to tie it up tight before you make the cut. Why don't we just hogtie this punk, haul him back, and be done with it?" "Don't be so hasty. Wait until we're on the train." Before long, Lao Song returned, escorting Zhang Laifu while showering him with praise: "Laifu, your performance just now was so smooth, so natural! It truly showed the caliber of a professional actor." Zhang Laifu smiled with naive modesty. "I was quite nervous. In front of seniors like you, the pressure is immense. My performance just now was mainly meant to capture a sense of urgency and impending crisis during an emergency!" The pressure really was immense. He never imagined that Lao Song, a middle-aged man, could run far faster than him. Not only was he fast, but the moment Lao Song barely touched him, Zhang Laifu felt as though his feet had landed on soft cotton, instantly sapping his ability to run. With Lao Song present, escaping would be exceedingly difficult. "Both seniors are really deep in character," Zhang Laifu smiled toward Lao Yu and Lao Zheng. Lao Yu said nothing. Lao Zheng opened the minivan door. "Yes, we're all in character. Hurry up and get in." Once inside, Lao Zheng and the driver sat in front, while Zhang Laifu and Lao Song took the back. As the minivan started moving, Zhang Laifu checked his phone—still no signal. Lao Song tapped on the screen of Zhang Laifu's phone. "Laifu, you're on the clock now. Put the phone away and mind work discipline. We're rushing to the next shoot, and the cameras roll the minute we arrive on set. Put on your costume first." Lao Song produced a greenish-blue, side-buttoned long gown and a white felt hat, passing them to Zhang Laifu. Zhang Laifu took off his jacket and slipped into the gown. After more than a year as an extra, he was well-practiced at changing outfits; no matter the time or place, he could swap clothes in an instant. Besides, he had no choice—Lao Song and Lao Zheng were staring right at him. With the long gown, the felt hat, and a pair of round-frame sunglasses, Zhang Laifu looked like a merchant from a century ago. Lao Song praised, "Fine feathers make fine birds. Put on the outfit, and rotten wood turns straight into gold!" Zhang Laifu looked at Lao Song. "Isn't 'turning rotten wood into gold' a bit of an unfitting compliment?" "How is it unfitting?" Lao Yu chimed in. "Our Second Master is a literate, educated man!" Zhang Laifu glanced left and right. "Who's Second Master?" Lao Song explained, "Once filming begins, we must replace our real identities with our roles. My character in this production is the Second Master, and the character is established as an educated man." "And which 'Master' am I in the cast?" Zhang Laifu asked. Lao Yu figured there was no longer any need to hide it now that things had come this far. "You're a yangzi." Zhang Laifu still didn't understand. "What's a yangzi?" Lao Song felt the play had to go on. "Yangzi is the character's nickname, just like Lao Yu's is Divining Yu, and Lao Zheng's is Pipa Zheng. In a little while, you'll also meet Lao Liang—his nickname is Devoted Liang. If you hear everyone addressing each other by their nicknames, don't make a fuss; it's all required by the script." Lao Yu rubbed the steering wheel with one hand. "Divining Yu really is my nickname. I'm skilled at reckoning and divining fortunes." Lao Zheng chuckled. "They call me Pipa Zheng simply because I love singing pingtan, and pingtan requires pipa accompaniment." Zhang Laifu smiled as well. "Do they call me Yangzi because I know how to plant rice seedlings?" Lao Song nodded vigorously. "Precisely! You're meant for planting seedlings. When we're shooting, we'll call you Yangzi; when the director calls cut, we'll call you Laifu." Lao Song and Lao Zheng changed their clothes as well. Even Lao Yu took advantage of a red light to swap into his costume. All three wore long gowns and felt hats, though the cuts varied slightly, with Lao Song's material and craftsmanship being considerably finer. Once dressed, Lao Song scrutinized Zhang Laifu's hair with some dissatisfaction. "Your hair needs a proper trim to match the period of the script." Zhang Laifu made sure to ask, "I don't have to shave it, do I? Trimming the sideburns costs an extra ten yuan, and shaving it completely bald costs forty. There are set rules for that." Gnawing on his apple, Lao Song said, "You must rid yourself of these bad habits from your extra days. You're a full-time employee now, and whatever you do must adhere to the rules and regulations. You must overcome difficulties on the job proactively. If the production's requirements affect your personal appearance, the company will compensate you accordingly through your performance bonus." "What kinds of rules are there?" Zhang Laifu asked. "I can't just explain the rules offhand. Once we arrive at the company, you will undergo systematic training." Zhang Laifu eyed the apple in Lao Song's hand. While apples were hardly rare, this one's fragrance was exceptionally enticing. "Where did you buy that apple?" Before Lao Song could answer, Lao Yu spoke up: "Our provisions steward gave them to us. Every single fruit carries the flesh-and-blood affection of our provisions steward!" Zhang Laifu had never heard the term. "What's a provisions steward?" "A provisions steward is in charge of money and provisions—" Lao Song cut in, taking over: "Provisions Steward is a nickname we gave him. He's a mid-level manager at our company, the head of logistics." Finishing the first apple, Lao Song pulled out another. Zhang Laifu came to a sudden realization. "This head of logistics must be a woman, right? She gave you so many apples; you two must have quite a deep relationship." Lao Zheng, sitting in the front passenger seat, turned his head to look at Lao Song. Through the rearview mirror, Lao Yu stared at Lao Song as well. Lao Song looked at the apple and pursed his lips. "Actually... it's just camaraderie between colleagues, all for the sake of the craft..." Lao Song passed the apple to Zhang Laifu. "Laifu, you have good instincts. There's real drama in your mind." *** The minivan departed the film studio city and drove out into the distant suburbs, eventually pulling up outside an office tower. Zhang Laifu followed Lao Song out of the car. The building was twenty to thirty stories tall. From its grand appearance, it certainly looked like a legitimate corporation. Pipa Zheng's pingtan ballad continued to murmur in his ears, and Zhang Laifu was conscious that his guard was steadily wearing thin. "Such a handsome building—I've got to snap a picture!" Zhang Laifu took his phone out again. Lao Song didn't stop him. He had to photograph this building. Just like the license plate, it was vital rescue intelligence. After taking over a dozen pictures in succession, Lao Yu hurried him along: "That's enough, time to go! A whole group of people is waiting for you!" Zhang Laifu put away his phone and asked Lao Yu, "How many floors does this building have?" Lao Yu glanced up. "Thirty-one." Counting that fast? Isn't he just guessing blindly? Lao Yu was clearly unfamiliar with this building. Zhang Laifu had counted just now: the tower had thirty-two floors. Behind them, Lao Zheng counted carefully and agreed, "It really is thirty-one." Zhang Laifu remained silent. It seemed none of them were familiar with this place. So why had they brought him here? As they reached the entrance, Lao Song instructed, "Laifu, it's your first day and you don't have an employee badge yet. When we pass through the turnstile, stick close behind me." "Okay!" Zhang Laifu looked up at the office tower once more, feeling as though it had somehow gotten shorter. Behind him, Lao Yu urged, "What are you gawking at? We're a legitimate business. Hurry up and follow Second Master." At the entrance, Lao Song tapped a card and passed through the first turnstile. Before the barrier could swing shut, Lao Yu shoved Zhang Laifu from behind, ushering him through right behind Lao Song. Ahead lay a cavernous hall, far more spacious than any office building lobby Zhang Laifu had ever seen. Furthermore, the architectural style bore no resemblance to an office building. The floor was paved with square stone flagstones, flanked by stout stone pillars. The ceiling vaulted high above like the dome of a Western cathedral, and stained glass windows set high into the walls cast down dim, dusky rays of light. What kind of place was this? He felt as though he had seen something like it before, yet it was unfamiliar. People bustled to and fro across the ground-floor hall. Some wore Western business suits, some Zhongshan suits, others long robes, and still others short jackets with frog closures. A person in uniform hurried past. Zhang Laifu started forward to ask a few questions, but a dozen people blocked his path, bowing in unison to Lao Song. Lao Song looked at Zhang Laifu. "These are all actors, your seniors in the company. You must learn from them. Once on set, everyone addresses each other by their character names. This is Lao Yan, this is Lao Zhao, this is Lao Gu, this is Lao Qiao, this is Lao Liang, and these two are..." There were two unfamiliar faces in the crowd. Liang Yixin stepped forward immediately to introduce them: "This is Xiao Han, and this is Xiao Meng. They are two newly recruited actors." Lao Yu glared at Lao Liang. "Why did you go recruiting actors? Didn't we agree beforehand that this was our job? You didn't need to meddle!" Lao Liang chuckled. "I was worried you wouldn't make it in time, so I recruited these two from another studio. Don't worry, it's not from the same film base; there won't be any trouble..." Lao Song waved his hand. "No matter. It was all for the company's sake. These two newcomers look quite decent to me." Xiao Han was a man in his late twenties, sharply dressed in a suit, handsome and refined, exuding the poise of a professional actor. He treated Lao Song with immense deference, bowing continuously as he shook hands. "General Manager Song, my name is Han Yucheng. It's truly an honor to meet you today." Zhang Laifu piped up from the side, "No need to be so polite. You can just call him Lao Song." Lao Zheng glared at Zhang Laifu. "Mind your manners in the workplace." Zhang Laifu quickly corrected himself, "In the workplace, you must call him Second Master. And I'm Yangzi." Song Yongchang gave a dry laugh. "He's talking about his character..." Hearing Zhang Laifu call himself Yangzi, the crowd erupted in praise. "Second Master is amazing! The lad looks presentable enough, but he really is a fool." "Second Master's eye is never wrong! Second Master is an educated man!" Zhang Laifu said to Han Yucheng, "I told you my name is Yangzi. Did you hear me?" Did this Han fellow know his place? Han Yucheng paid Zhang Laifu no heed, continuing to speak with Lao Song: "General Manager Song, I've just returned from abroad. During my studies, I majored in acting, though I also dipped my toes into directing and screenwriting. I returned this time primarily to hone my craft under the industry leaders at home. In my future work, if I ever fall short..." Han Yucheng was long-winded, rambling on and clinging to Lao Song relentlessly. Xiao Meng was a very pretty young woman, roughly the same age as Zhang Laifu. "Hello, General Manager Song. My name is Meng Xuanxuan. This is my first time acting." As she spoke, Meng Xuanxuan blushed from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. She gently held Lao Song's hand, lingering for a long moment, reluctant to let go. She was treating Lao Song as her financial benefactor. Lao Song recognized what was on the girl's mind, smiling without a word. Zhang Laifu couldn't bear to watch any longer. He shot Meng Xuanxuan a glare. "Don't be like this. Our Second Master already has someone in his heart." Meng Xuanxuan feigned ignorance. "Who?" "Our provisions steward! Do you know what a provisions steward is? In charge of provisions and money! Our provisions steward has apples..." Lao Song shoved an apple into Zhang Laifu's mouth and instructed Lao Yu and Lao Zheng: "Go get the passes for the new recruits." The two headed off together, though Lao Yu still hadn't fully grasped Lao Song's phrasing. "What kind of passes?" Lao Zheng laughed. "Buying tickets, of course." "If it's buying tickets, just say buying tickets! Why make it so convoluted?" "So they don't catch on. We can't have them getting suspicious." "And that Lao Liang loves showing off! Did this have anything to do with him? He just had to go and drag in two more fools!" "Having two more fools gives us extra insurance. What if something goes wrong on the road?" "If you don't want anything to go wrong, you should do what I said: tie them up, gag their mouths, shove each into a burlap sack, and carry them straight up the mountain." Lao Zheng laughed. "You try boarding a train with three burlap sacks on your back—think they'll let you on?" "Then you can sing your tunes and make them follow along." "Sing the whole way? You want to work me to death?" "Then have our Second Master use his tricks..." Lao Zheng shook his head with a grin. "Look at you getting impatient again. The ticket collectors at the station aren't easily fooled. If you tamper with things, they'll spot it right away. Wait until we're on the train." The two bought the tickets and returned. The group of a dozen people crossed the hall and reached a corridor lined with over a dozen elevators on each side. Zhang Laifu was stunned. "Why are there so many elevators?" Neither Xiao Han nor Xiao Meng wanted to engage with Zhang Laifu. The man spoke incoherently, lacked all filter, and made a fuss over seeing an elevator. How such an idiot had gotten onto the crew was beyond them. Lao Song patiently explained to Zhang Laifu, "Our company is an industry leader, filming dozens of productions at any given time. Naturally, we need more elevators to keep all the crews operating smoothly." The elevator doors opened, and Lao Song handed Zhang Laifu a ticket. "Hold onto your ticket. It's for the elevator operator." What era are we in that there are still elevator operators? "What is this ticket for, then?" "Haven't you heard of a work ticket? You need a work ticket to enter the set. We're a legitimate company." Lao Song handed his ticket to the elevator operator, who used a punch tool to clip a notch into it. Zhang Laifu looked down at the ticket in his hand. The blue cardboard was covered in dense lines of text. He only managed to make out the four largest digits: 1168. Before he could read any further, Lao Yu urged from behind, "Hurry up and hand it over! What are you dawdling for?" Zhang Laifu handed the ticket to the operator, who punched a notch into it. Just as the operator moved to return it, Lao Song snatched it away. Xiao Han's and Xiao Meng's tickets were collected as well. The elevator operator called out, "All for 1168, right?" Some answered, some remained silent, but nobody disagreed. The operator punched the digits 1168 into a touchscreen. With a shudder, the elevator began to ascend. The office tower was only about thirty stories tall; Zhang Laifu couldn't fathom what 1168 meant. He asked, "Are we going to the thousand-somethingth floor?" Han Yucheng didn't even want to spare him a glance. The guy was an utter simpleton—how could any building possibly have over a thousand floors? Lao Song chuckled as well. "What building could have over a thousand floors? 1168 is our crew's code. Our set is on an assigned floor." Ding! The elevator doors slid open. The operator announced, "Arrived at 1168!" Outside the elevator lay a long, narrow hallway lined on both sides with doors set tightly together. Zhang Laifu asked, "This is our set?" Lao Song nodded. "We'll head to the set first. Filming starts shortly, so you must get into character as soon as possible." Checking the numbers on their tickets, everyone began looking for their assigned rooms. Lao Yan and Lao Qiao led Han Yucheng into Room 16; Lao Song, Lao Yu, and Lao Zheng took Zhang Laifu into Room 17; while Lao Zhao and Lao Liang brought Meng Xuanxuan into Room 18. Room 17 had a remarkably familiar layout: two 1.2-meter-wide twin beds, a desk, a wardrobe, a coat rack, and items like teacups and a kettle. It looked just like a twin room in a hotel, except there were no windows, and at the far end of the room stood a green-painted wooden door. Lao Zheng and Lao Yu claimed both beds in the outer room. Lao Song pushed open the green door and led Zhang Laifu into the inner room. It turned out to be a suite. The inner room also had two beds, but it was noticeably more spacious. The beds were 1.5 meters wide, flanked by nightstands. There were paintings on the walls, a bookshelf in the corner, and two floor-to-ceiling windows. Zhang Laifu walked over and pushed open a window. The view outside was breathtaking: verdant mountains drifted in and out of view amid rolling mists and clouds, accompanied by a gentle drizzle that created a dreamy, misty panorama. He looked down beneath the window. Veiled by the thick mist, the ground was temporarily out of sight. Attempting to gauge the height from this, Zhang Laifu began pondering whether he could jump from the window. "Laifu, be careful. Don't fall from this height," Lao Song remarked casually as he unpacked his luggage. Whoosh! A shadow darted past. Zhang Laifu jerked his head up, feeling as though something had just flown by. Lao Song sat down on the bed beside the window and pointed to the one near the door. "Laifu, stop staring. Shooting starts in a minute. You sleep in that bed." Zhang Laifu turned around. "Didn't we come here to act? Why are we sleeping in a hotel?" Lao Song said with earnest gravity, "Laifu, if you want to achieve great things in your acting career, you must cast aside the bad habits of an extra. You need to know your place and correct your attitude. Is sleeping not acting? Can't one get into character while sleeping? Look at the state these seniors are in—can you find a single trace of artificiality in their performance? You're playing an ordinary hotel guest right now, so you must immerse yourself seamlessly into character just like your seniors!" As he spoke, Lao Song opened the green door. Lao Zheng and Lao Yu were already fast asleep in the outer room. Zhang Laifu climbed into bed as well, pulled the quilt over himself, and assumed a sleeping posture. Under the covers, he pulled out his phone and checked it once more—still no signal. Chug-whoosh! "What's that sound?" Zhang Laifu looked back and noticed the scenery outside the window was moving. Lying in bed, Lao Song waved an impatient hand. "There's no sound. It's just coming from other sets. Hurry up and get into character." Zhang Laifu slipped out of bed and took a step forward. At first, his legs felt heavy, nearly impossible to lift. With great effort he took two steps, only to feel his body suddenly turn light as a feather, devoid of strength. He took three steps forward, only to slide back two. The room seemed to be tilting. Exerting tremendous effort, he reached the window and poked his head outside. Chug-whoosh! Chug-whoosh! The mist around them had grown even thicker than before. The distant scenery was slowly retreating. Turning his head to look up and down at where the floors above and below should have been, Zhang Laifu stood dumbfounded. "This floor... has flown away..."