GRMFBS CH84

Ji Lele went to complain to Xia Yuexian!

Well, it wasn’t really “complaining” — more like venting and acting cute, telling Boss Xia that he’d discovered a promising newcomer, only to be completely rebuffed.

Ji Lele said angrily:
“He just spits words out three at a time, like that’s all he can say!”

“I asked him if he was interested, and he said ‘not interested.’ I asked why he came to be an extra if he wasn’t interested, and he said, ‘to accompany a friend.’”

Xia Yuexian: “And his friend?”

Ji Lele: “Even more infuriating!”

“I thought his friend also had good screen presence, so I asked if he wanted more scenes.”

“You guess what he said?”

“He said, if he gets more scenes, that means more work for him — and asked me, does that come with extra pay?”

Other people were desperate enough to pay directors themselves for more screen time!

Xia Yuexian burst into laughter and asked Ji Lele what the names of these two promising students were.

Ji Lele’s whole intention was exactly this — he wasn’t a professional talent scout. If he saw someone promising, he’d tell the boss, and then it was up to professionals to make contact or however the company wanted to handle it.

When Xia Yuexian saw the names, she went, Oh! The Chongming Demon King’s kid and his friend!

No need to ask further. If Zhan Yan wanted to enter showbiz, he would have told his dad long ago. Him joining as an extra was clearly just for fun.

“All right, I understand.” Xia Yuexian comforted Ji Lele a few more words, telling him not to get upset with these kids.

Not that Ji Lele was truly upset.

A bunch of pure, silly college kids — impossible to really hold a grudge against them. They actually worked very seriously too. Ever since these students joined, the set might have become noisier, but it was also livelier, making one feel oddly nostalgic.

The next couple of days, the crew started running busy fire-safety checks, and the college students tagged along to help and mess around.

“Why the sudden fire inspections?”
“No idea.”

After two days, actor Xie Dongshu arrived, and Zhan Yan suddenly realized the reason.

Xie Dongshu was a man in his thirties — handsome, with fair skin, red lips and white teeth, and a pair of peach-blossom eyes. When he smiled, it was gentle and affectionate.

Gu Jiancheng noticed Zhan Yan staring at Xie Dongshu and, unhappy, poked him: “I think he’s just average. Not as good-looking as me.”

Zhan Yan couldn’t help laughing at that bite of jealousy: “Look — he’s the reason for the excitement!”

When Gu Jiancheng turned to study him more carefully this time, he sensed that Xie Dongshu’s aura wasn’t quite right. But he wasn’t a demon, nor a ghost… A superpowered human?

Zhan Yan shared the gossip: “Xie Dongshu is nicknamed the ‘Fire God.’ He has a special trait — wherever he goes, things catch fire.”

Gu Jiancheng guessed it: “So his powers are unstable?”

Zhan Yan continued spilling the tea.

In the entertainment industry, Xie Dongshu was about second- or third-tier. Good looks, decent acting, hardworking. But whether it was fate or something about him, wherever he went, little fires would break out. Nothing catastrophic, but very strange.

On one variety show, the pot in the kitchen suddenly caught fire; when he went for a publicity event, the stage sound system suddenly started smoking. But if he was at a fireworks show, there was never a problem — the fireworks were gorgeous in the sky, and the ground remained perfectly safe. Probably because there was already fire around.

Gradually, Xie Dongshu’s fame spread in the strangest way.

While they were gossiping, Ji Lele had already arrived with the crew. The stagehands carried a metal basin filled with odds and ends.

“Of course no one wants problems on their set, so his acting career has been really bumpy and tragic,” Zhan Yan whispered to Gu Jiancheng. “I heard a master once said his life was destined with fire, and gave a solution: just light a fire near him.”

Ji Lele fished out a candle from the basin and asked Xie Dongshu to light it.

Xie Dongshu gave a helpless smile.

He lit the candle, Ji Lele placed it in a candlestick, then into a glass jar, then set the jar into the metal basin.

The crew filled the basin with water. With the candle sealed inside, even if it tipped over it would go out immediately.

Foolproof! Absolutely no way to start a fire!

Bao Qingshan’s expression turned strange.

Zhan Yan nudged him: “What do you think?”

Bao Qingshan muttered under his breath: “Feels to me like… it’ll still catch fire…”

Oh… so all this prevention probably wouldn’t work.

To prevent accidents, Ji Lele even snuffed out the incense and candles he’d been burning.

Zhan Yan had heard about Xie Dongshu’s destructive aura before, but back then he didn’t have the gossip system. Afterward, he never thought to dig up those old rumors again.

But unexpectedly, the very next day, a fire really broke out.

A small case in the props department caught fire. Nothing else was touched — perfectly in line with Xie Dongshu’s “small fires only” pattern.

But Ji Lele was furious. The item that burned had been a unique, irreplaceable prop he’d brought from home, something very hard to find.

As a director obsessed with the aesthetics of his visuals, Ji Lele always had a clear design in mind for his sets, carefully controlling every detail.

This script required a special prop — something horrifying, yet beautiful, something with an artistic atmosphere. He thought the props department hadn’t designed it right, so he’d brought one himself from home. Who would’ve thought it’d be burned to ashes!

The props crew was drenched in sweat, apologizing profusely. Xie Dongshu came with a bitter smile to offer his apologies too.

On one hand, it wasn’t fair to blame him at all — he didn’t directly start the fire. On the other hand, his “Fire God” reputation was well-known, and the fire had broken out the very day after he arrived.

From afar, Zhan Yan spotted the charred, cracked object and felt it looked awfully familiar.

He went closer, and — ah! Wasn’t this his sister’s work?

Because he wasn’t quite sure from a distance, he opened his gossip system. Sure enough, the burnt sculpture came from his sister’s workshop.

So Director Ji’s tastes were that special, huh!

All this time, his sister had complained, “You just don’t understand my art.” And now, Zhan Yan finally saw that someone really did appreciate it!

The props head timidly asked if they could repair it — clean, glue, repaint.

Ji Lele snapped: “If I could just use a reproduction, why would I have brought the original?”

The props head went silent, looking pitiful.

Zhan Yan piped up: “Director, do you need the exact same piece, or something similar by the same artist would do?”

Ji Lele answered coldly: “I want that aesthetic of horrifying beauty!”

The set was in chaos. A stagehand tried to shoo Zhan Yan away, worried he’d anger the director further: “Why are you meddling?! Get out!”

Zhan Yan said: “Wait, I know who made this sculpture. How about I find some similar works for you to see?”

Ji Lele’s eyes gleamed: “Hold on! You said you know who made this?”

This sculpture had come into his hands by chance. With no marking or signature, he’d looked a long time but never found the artist.

Zhan Yan: “Hold on, I’ll fetch my phone.”

He texted his sister, Zhan Suiru: “Sis, you got photos of your art pieces? Send me some.”

Zhan Suiru was very surprised: “Why do you want photos?”

Hadn’t Yanyan always thought her stuff was ugly?

Zhan Yan: “I met a big client who appreciated your work!”
“I’m sending you business!”

Zhan Suiru: “Hang on.”

She was at the black market at the time, but luckily Qi Ye was at her studio, so she asked him to take pictures and send them over.

After all, Zhan Suiru didn’t keep photos of those hideous things herself — why would she want them?

When Zhan Yan received the pictures and showed them to Ji Lele, the director was overjoyed and immediately asked for the artist’s contact information.

Zhan Yan, still baffled, asked, “What exactly about them do you think is beautiful?”

When Ji Lele learned Zhan Yan was the brother of the artist he admired so much, his attitude softened eightfold. “You think the sculptures look ugly, don’t you?”

Zhan Yan nodded. In fact, not just him — their whole family thought they were ugly. He sneaked a glance around. Yep, even the props crew all looked like they thought the sculptures were hideous.

Ji Lele explained, passion in his voice: “That’s only because you haven’t found the right frame of appreciation.”

“Pretty things are common. Unless it’s something like Michelangelo’s David — beauty so overwhelming you feel crushed by it in person — most beauty is ordinary. Common beauty only has common influence. You admire it, and then you forget it.”

“But these sculptures — they’re different! They have a rare quality.”

He raised the charred sculpture and explained: “Let me give you an example. People think death is terrifying, grotesque, because we are alive and we instinctively fear death. Yet why are there so many artworks about death that still feel powerful, even beautiful?”

“Because death is the counterpart of life! With death, life itself becomes precious and beautiful. From there arises the beauty of death.”

Then he guided Zhan Yan further: “Imagine if I created something like… flesh growing inside a machine. The image is eerie, grotesque, yes, but it also contains power — the power of life being born from the inanimate!”

“These works hold exactly that kind of power!”

Zhan Yan followed along, carefully studying the sculpture in Ji’s hand.

“Well? Do you feel it?” Ji Lele gazed at him with the eager look of someone hoping to find a confidant who shared his artistic vision.

Zhan Yan honestly shook his head. “No.”

He still thought it was ugly.

Ji Lele felt immensely disappointed, losing interest in explaining further. Rubbing his hands with anticipation instead, he asked, “Do you think your sister… does commissions?”

Zhan Yan: “I don’t know, you should ask her.”

So Ji Lele bought a piece from Zhan Suiru that was similar in size and style, to replace what was lost, and then asked if she would take custom orders.

Zhan Yan, although he couldn’t feel any of the beauty and force Ji Lele described, passed along every word to his sister anyway.

Even if he didn’t get it, surely his sister would be happy to know there was someone who admired her work so deeply.

Indeed, when Zhan Suiru got home, she said to her puppet butler: “Xiao Ran, one of your works has found a buyer!”

All those sculptures in her studio had actually been made by the puppet butler. After struggling through the apocalypse and returning, she just wanted to slack off, not find busywork for herself.

The studio was only a cover; the black market business was what really made the money.

The puppet butler said humbly, “That is due to your excellent teaching.”

Zhan Suiru glanced again at those painful-to-the-eyes pictures.

No! I never taught you that!

Zhan Suiru cautiously broached: “They want a custom order. How about you make one?”

The puppet butler immediately refused: “I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s not appropriate? I think it’s great!”

No matter how she persuaded, the puppet butler wouldn’t agree.

So Zhan Suiru had no choice but to pull rank: “I order you to make one!”

The puppet butler gave her a blank look and replied: “As you command.”

Zhan Suiru finally let out a small sigh of relief.

The puppet butler was one of a kind. She would never be able to create another with such awareness. His intelligence had originated from Yang Ran’s ability core.

But he did not have actual life. What he displayed was more like artificial intelligence.

Zhan Suiru had always hoped the puppet butler would do things of his own initiative — if not props, then sculptures or something similar. But for years, the butler’s craftsmanship was unwavering: unchangingly ugly.

Yet Ji Lele’s glowing praise gave her a faint, unspeakable flicker of expectation.

Sending the puppet butler off to work, Zhan Suiru then opened up her banking app and transferred money to her little brother!