He plays Feng Yuxiu, and his girlfriend is a fairy-like beauty.

I was in a seat on the side of the front row in the premiere theater.

Ye Mo heard two investors in the back row speaking in hushed tones.

"Did you notice that 'you have to pay more' comment just now? The whole audience burst into laughter."

The speaker was a man in his forties, with his suit sleeves rolled up to his wrists and an unlit cigarette between his fingers. His tone carried the shrewdness typical of an investor. "This film didn't spend much money on marketing, but this scene is sure to be a hit. The lines are so damn memorable; you can remember them in just three words."

The person next to him chimed in, "Director Lu, this actor is quite good."

Lu Yang sat next to him, his lips twitching downwards, but he couldn't hide the smugness of "I know better than anyone else".

He leaned back in his chair, deliberately keeping his tone flat: "He added this part."

"He added it?"

"Yes, the original script had Ding Xiu directly rejecting Zhao Jingzhong, a standard revenge story. After Ye Mo filmed three takes, he told me, 'Director Lu, I don't think Ding Xiu will directly refuse. He's a wanderer who makes a living by killing. Money is more important than face. But he also doesn't want to leave his junior brother, and he also wants to buy time for the later episodes, so he won't refuse. He'll use money to save face.' He made up the phrase 'I need more money' on the spot."

The investors were silent for two seconds.

"How much was the pay?"

Not many.

"I've struck gold." He tucked the unlit cigarette behind his ear, lowering his voice even further. "What's this guy's name? Ye Mo? What's next?"

"I just took on the male lead role for Liu Weiqiang," Lu Yang said.

"Liu Weiqiang—damn it." The investor leaned back in his chair, his eyes still glued to the screen. "That's none of our business."

Ye Mo looked away, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Nie Yuan, who was next to him, turned his head as if to say something, but Ye Mo raised his index finger to his lips.

The movie continued, the light from the screen illuminating everyone's faces.

The next few scenes were relatively uneventful.

The romantic scenes between Shen Lian and Zhou Miaotong were beautifully filmed.

But as the pace slowed down, several audience members in the back rows started looking down at their phones.

Nie Yuan's action scenes held up the show, but he himself knew that the highlight of the night was not him.

The explosive moment lies with Ding Xiu.

Every time Ye Mo appeared on screen, the audience's expressions lit up.

He squatted in the corner in his tattered cotton robe, a stalk of unlit grass dangling from his mouth, and not a single line of his dialogue was serious.

The scene where he was arguing with Jin Yichuan was so packed with dialogue that the comments section couldn't keep up.

"Someone like you doesn't deserve to be my junior brother."

"Then you shouldn't ask me for money."

"Money is money, and junior brother is junior brother—these are two separate matters."

Laughter erupted one after another.

Then we moved on to the back.

The lights on the screen dimmed.

The narrow alley, the cobblestone path, the night as dark as ink.

A half-open wooden door, with an old sign hanging at the entrance that reads "Zhang's Medical Clinic".

A faint medicinal fragrance wafted in the air.

Ding Xiu strolled in from the alley entrance.

The pace is slower than ever.

The straw in his hand was gone, replaced by a foxtail grass, which he held in his mouth and swayed up and down.

He pushed open the door of the clinic, and the hinges creaked open with a dull thud.

An oil lamp was lit in the main room. The wick flickered, and the yellow light shone across his face.

He glanced at the corner of the room—the old doctor was slumped in his chair, head drooping, breathing evenly, with an overturned medicine bowl beside him.

The drug was a small dose, enough to keep you asleep for three hours.

Ding Xiu bent down, gently pulled the bowl from between the doctor's fingers, and placed it back on the table.

Its movements were as light as a cat's.

Then he turned to the inner room.

Liu Sishi, who plays Zhang Yan, leans against a bamboo couch, wearing a plain silk dress, with her long hair draped over her shoulders, and her breathing shallow and even.

The light from the lamp oil shone on her face, casting the shadow of her eyelashes onto her cheekbones.

Ding Xiu stood at the door, glanced at her, and without hesitation or pause, bent down and picked her up.

With one hand supporting his knee and the other supporting his back, his movements were as practiced as if he had carried a hundred people.

He looked down at the girl in his arms, and his lips twitched—not in a smile, but in confirmation.

They confirmed she was still alive and that the dosage was just right.

The wind blew the curtain.

In the courtyard, moonlight shone on the broken porcelain shards.

When Jin Yichuan rushed into the courtyard, the knife was already out.

The blade gleamed a cold white in the moonlight.

He saw Ding Xiu standing at the entrance of the clinic, holding Zhang Yan in his arms, supporting her back with one hand and clutching the foxtail grass in the other.

Jin Yichuan's hand trembled on the hilt of the knife.

"Let her go."

Ding Xiu didn't release it.

He leaned against the door frame, looked down at Zhang Yan in his arms, and then looked up at Jin Yichuan.

His eyes were languid, his voice was languid, as if he were commenting on a dish—

"You have good taste, kid."

He tilted his head slightly, and the corners of his mouth slowly curled up into an unserious arc.

He lowered his voice, as if sharing a private joke with his junior.

"That girl—"

Ye Mo held his breath in the third row of the premiere theater.

He designed the pause, adding an extra half beat during the live recording.

"Very moisturizing~"

Two words.

The entire cinema was in an uproar.

It wasn't laughter that exploded—it was screams.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

"Who wrote these lines?!"

"Holy crap, holy crap, I'm getting goosebumps!"

"Absolutely amazing! Absolutely amazing! Absolutely amazing!"

Several girls in the back row had already grabbed each other's wrists.

One of the girls, wearing a baseball cap, buried her face in her best friend's shoulder, her hands still trembling.

Several invited film critics whispered among themselves.

A bald, middle-aged man turned to a new page in his notebook and began scribbling rapidly on it.

The staff standing in the corridor all turned their heads to look at the screen.

A young female stagehand opened her mouth wide in an "O" shape, and the walkie-talkie in her hand fell to the ground, the cord getting caught on her wrist, but she didn't feel it.

Ye Mo sat in the third row, watching Ding Xiu holding Zhang Yan against the door frame on the screen. In that instant, he knew in his heart: Ding Xiu would become famous.

Then the lights came on a little brighter.

The scene on the screen switched to the next one—but the people in the front row were still reacting.

Wang Qianyuan righted the overturned coffee cup and found that there was no coffee left at the bottom. He turned around and patted Ye Mo's knee: "Those two words you just said—I'm telling you, your popularity is about to explode. After today, Ding Xiu will no longer be 'the character played by the actor of Feng Yuxiu,' Ding Xiu will just be Ding Xiu."

Nie Yuan placed the empty popcorn bucket at his feet and clapped his hands.

His tone carried a sincere yet complex emotion: "I was on the side when that scene was being filmed, and I felt at the time that this scene would become a hit, but actually sitting in the theater and hearing hundreds of theaters across the country explode at the same time—that feeling was so fucking weird. You are the only person I've ever seen who can turn a witty remark into a classic."

Li Dongxue didn't say anything, but he gently punched Ye Mo on the shoulder.

At the same time, in the front row.

Liu Sishi sat in the first row, near the aisle.

The screen light shone on her face as she stared at the screen, her lips pursed.

The tips of her ears were red, and then that red spread from her earlobes to the base of her neck, like ink spreading on rice paper.

She unconsciously pulled her long hair forward to cover her neck.

A bottle of water was handed to her, and she took it but didn't open it. Instead, she pressed the cold bottle against her face while her eyes were still fixed on the screen.

Magic City.

In the IMAX theater of a cinema in Xujiahui, Yang Mi, wearing a mask, sat in the back corner.

She originally wanted to go to the Yanjing premiere theater to support Liu Sishi, but she couldn't make it due to company commitments.

On screen, Ding Xiu, holding Zhang Yan, leans against the doorframe and says, "Very moisturizing."

Her assistant next to her was laughing so hard she was leaning on her shoulder, while several audience members in the back row were still screaming.

Yang Mi's lips curled up slightly beneath her mask as she picked up her phone and sent two messages.

The first message was for Liu Sishi: "I'm in Shanghai, and I watched it for you. You acted well, but you were overacted."

The second point was also for Liu Sishi—"Now you know why I think highly of him."

After sending the message, she put her phone back in her pocket and leaned back in her chair, lost in thought.

If Liu Sishi were in the premiere theater, she would definitely blush.

The more she thought about it, the funnier it became. She picked up her phone to add another message, but then decided against it.

See a movie.

Soon, the premiere was held at Yanjing Cinema.

The lights came on.

Before the end credits had even finished rolling, applause had already erupted.

The audience in the back rows stood up, the hands of several film critics in the front rows clapped haphazardly, and several media personnel began to dictate their comments into their recorders.

The host went on stage, picked up the microphone, and said, "Distinguished guests, friends from the media, please wait a moment—the director and main creators will soon come on stage to interact with everyone."

He spoke politely, but no one was listening to his script anymore.

In the corridor.

Nie Yuan conjured up another cup of coffee from somewhere, took a sip, and said, "Your schedule will probably be booked until next year—"

Wang Qianyuan quickly chimed in, "Not just next year, but as soon as 'Infernal Affairs' is finished filming, you'd better find a team. You can't handle it all by yourself, and you hardly ever reply to group messages anymore, right?"

Just as Ye Mo was about to speak, Nie Yuan interrupted again: "By the way, does anyone know when Infernal Affairs will start filming? The media will definitely be swarming him—Liu Weiqiang is the male lead in the new movie. Once that title gets out, he can forget about leaving through the back door today."

Li Dongxue remained a man of few words, draped his coat over his wrist, and interjected, "There's a host coming up, you go up."

Ye Mo's phone vibrated.

He glanced down at Liu Sishi's WeChat message and sent a thumbs-up emoji.

He looked up at the front row, where Liu Sishi was talking to the guest next to her and wasn't looking in his direction.

Ye Mo almost couldn't help but laugh.

He flipped his phone over and placed it face down on his knee.

The host on stage was looking this way, raising the microphone slightly: "Next, please welcome the film's lead actor—"

......

(My liver's too tired, bros, time for bed!)