GRMFBS CH84

Ji Lele was lodging a complaint with Xia Yuexuan!

Well, calling it a complaint was an overstatement—he was really just venting and currying favor, telling Boss Xia that he’d spotted some prime talent only to be utterly stonewalled.

Ji Lele: “The guy speaks in three-word bursts!”

“I asked if he was interested, he said not interested. Asked why he came to be an extra if he wasn’t interested, he said accompanying a friend.”

Xia Yuexuan: “What about his friend?”

Ji Lele: “His friend is even more infuriating!”

“I saw that his friend was quite photogenic too, so I asked if he wanted more scenes.”

“Guess what he said?”

“He said extra scenes meant extra work, and asked if I was going to pay extra!”

Anyone else would be practically shoving money at the director just to get an extra slice of camera time!

Xia Yuexuan burst out laughing, then asked Ji Lele what the two promising prospects were called.

Venting to her had been Ji Lele’s aim from the start. He wasn’t a professional talent scout; once he found someone promising, he reported it up to the boss. Whether to send professionals to make contact or handle it some other way was entirely at the boss’s discretion.

Xia Yuexuan glanced at the names. Yo! The Chongming Demon King’s kid and his friend!

No need to ask further, then. If Zhan Yan had any intention of entering the entertainment industry, he’d have told his father long ago. He was only doing background extra work for fun.

“All right, got it,” Xia Yuexuan said, soothing Ji Lele with a couple more words, telling him not to hold a grudge against kids.

Ji Lele hadn’t genuinely taken offense anyway.

A bunch of bright, innocently naive college students—there was no point in holding anything against them. Besides, they worked quite diligently. Since squeezing that crew of university students in, the set had turned a bit noisy, but it had also gained plenty of vibrant energy, making one oddly nostalgic.

Over the past couple of days, the crew had busied themselves screening for potential fire hazards, and the university kids tagged along to help and watch the commotion.

“Why the sudden fire safety inspections?”

“No idea.”

Two days later, Xie Dongshu joined the production crew, and the truth dawned on Zhan Yan.

Xie Dongshu was an actor in his early thirties. With handsome, clean-cut features, red lips, and white teeth, plus a pair of peach blossom eyes, he looked exceptionally gentle and tender whenever he smiled.

Seeing Zhan Yan staring at Xie Dongshu, Gu Jiancheng poked him in displeasure: “I think he looks pretty average. Not as good-looking as me.”

Zhan Yan was amused by Gu Jiancheng’s sudden bout of jealousy: “Look at him closely—there’s good gossip!”

Gu Jiancheng turned to look. Examining him carefully this time, he sensed that the aura around Xie Dongshu was a bit off. Yet he wasn’t a demon, nor was he a ghost. A supernatural user?

Zhan Yan served up the gossip: “Xie Dongshu has a moniker: the ‘Fire God.’ He has a unique trait: wherever he goes, a fire breaks out.”

Gu Jiancheng began to speculate: An esper with unstable powers?

Zhan Yan continued to lay out the full spread of gossip for him.

In the entertainment industry, Xie Dongshu could roughly be counted as second- or third-tier. He had decent looks, solid acting skills, and worked hard. Yet whether it was a matter of destiny or something else, wherever he passed through, a small fire would inevitably flare up. Never anything catastrophic, but bizarre without fail.

When he appeared on a lifestyle variety show, a pot in the kitchen would spontaneously ignite; when he attended a promotional gig, the on-site sound system would suddenly billow smoke. Yet when he attended fireworks shows, nothing ever went wrong—the fireworks burst brilliantly, and the ground stayed entirely peaceful. Perhaps it was because fire was already present.

Gradually, Xie Dongshu’s reputation spread through rather unorthodox channels.

Right in the middle of their gossip session, Ji Lele walked over with a set runner. The runner carried an iron basin filled with a jumble of miscellaneous odds and ends.

“Nobody wants trouble on their set, so Xie Dongshu’s acting path has been quite bumpy—tragic, really,” Zhan Yan whispered into Gu Jiancheng’s ear. “Later on, supposedly he consulted a master, who said he carried fire in his destiny. The master offered a solution: just light a small flame near him whenever he’s around.”

Ji Lele fished a candle out of the iron basin and handed it to Xie Dongshu to light.

Xie Dongshu offered a helpless smile.

He lit the candle, and Ji Lele secured it into a candlestick, placed the candlestick inside a glass bottle, and nestled the glass bottle into the iron basin.

The runner hauled the basin off to the side and filled it to the brim with water using a kettle. The candle burned safely isolated inside the glass bottle; even if it tipped over, the water would douse it instantly.

Completely foolproof—not a chance in the world it could start a blaze!

Bao Qingshan’s expression turned somewhat peculiar.

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

Lowering his voice, Bao Qingshan muttered to them, “I still feel like a fire’s gonna start…”

Oh… Guess this round of precautions won’t do the trick then.

To guard against fire, Ji Lele had even snuffed out all the incense and candles normally kept for crew blessings.

Zhan Yan had heard about Xie Dongshu’s notorious track record before, but back then he hadn’t possessed the Gossip System. Once he got the system, it never crossed his mind to exhume all past rumors just to binge them again.

The crew was kept quite busy, and Zhan Yan hadn’t found the time to consult his Gossip System to see what was really going on with this “Fire God.”

Unexpectedly, the very next day, that fire flared up.

What caught fire was a single small trunk in the props department. Everything else was untouched, fitting Xie Dongshu’s “strictly minor fires” rule to a tee.

Ji Lele, however, was fuming. The item burned was an essential prop he had personally brought from his own home! One of a kind—virtually impossible to replace!

Ji Lele was a director obsessed with visual aesthetics. He always kept a precise mental blueprint of every scene’s staging, with an uncompromising eye for detail. Once he settled on a set design, no one was permitted to tamper with it.

This script called for an essential prop: it needed to be terrifying, yet aesthetic, possessing an aura of high art. Convinced the props team’s designs all lacked the right punch, Ji Lele had hunted down a piece from his private collection and brought it in—only for it to go up in flames!

Sweating profusely, the props crew apologized profusely, and Xie Dongshu, hearing the news, came over with a bitter smile to apologize as well.

Taking a step back, you couldn’t say he was entirely innocent given his infamous reputation—a fire broke out on day two of his arrival. Yet you couldn’t say it was his fault either; from beginning to end, the source of the fire had nothing to do with him physically.

From a distance, Zhan Yan spotted the charred, cracked object, finding it more familiar the longer he stared.

He wandered over to take a closer look. Whoa! Isn’t this my sister’s work?

Because there was still some distance between them and he didn’t dare be too certain, he pulled up the Gossip System for a quick check. The scorched sculpture indeed hailed from his sister’s studio!

Director Ji certainly possessed a unique aesthetic!

His sister had always claimed everyone simply failed to understand her art; Zhan Yan was finally witnessing a live connoisseur!

The props master was still hovering nearby, asking if it could be salvaged—scrubbed clean, glued back together, and repainted.

Ji Lele snapped irritably, “If a knockoff would do, why on earth would I bring the original here in the first place?”

The props master fell silent, looking pitiful.

Zhan Yan piped up to ask, “Director, do you need an identical prop, or will another similar piece by the same artist work?”

Ji Lele answered coldly, “I need that exact flavor of horrific beauty!”

The set was in complete chaos. The runner hadn’t paid attention when Zhan Yan slipped past; having bonded with Zhan Yan over the past couple of days, he was terrified the kid would draw the director’s wrath, and hurried over to pull him away: “What are you making trouble for?! Hurry, go, go!”

Zhan Yan said, “Sure thing, but I know who made this sculpture. Want me to look for something similar so you can take a look?”

Ji Lele’s eyes lit up instantly: “Wait! You say you know who made it?”

He had acquired the sculpture purely by accident. It bore no maker’s mark, and he had no clue whose work it was. Later on, he had searched for ages to no avail.

Zhan Yan said, “Hang on a second, I’ll grab my phone.”

He opened WeChat and messaged his sister: Zhan Yan: [Sis, your art pieces—do you have photos? Send me a few.]

Zhan Suiru was astonished to receive her brother’s WeChat message:

Zhan Suiru: [What do you want photos for?]

Didn’t Yan Yan always find those things hideous?

Zhan Yan: [Ran into a major patron who appreciates your art!]

Zhan Yan: [Drumming up business for you!]

Zhan Suiru: [Give me a moment.]

Zhan Suiru was currently at the black market, but luckily Qi Ye happened to be at her studio, so she asked Qi Ye to snap a few photos on the spot.

Zhan Suiru had zero photos on her phone—why would she keep pictures of such eyesores?

When Zhan Yan received the photos, he showed them to Ji Lele.

Overjoyed, Ji Lele asked Zhan Yan for contact information.

Zhan Yan was deeply curious: “Where exactly do you see beauty in these?”

Upon discovering Zhan Yan was the brother of the artist he so deeply admired, Ji Lele’s attitude improved eightfold: “You find these sculptures ugly, don’t you?”

Zhan Yan nodded. Not just him; their entire family thought they were grotesque. Zhan Yan glanced around discreetly—just as he thought, the props crew clearly found them hideous as well.

Ji Lele said, “That’s because you aren’t viewing them from the right angle!”

Was it really that difficult to find pretty things in the world? Unless an artwork possessed the kind of oppressive, visceral power of Michelangelo’s David in person, ordinary beauty was everywhere. Common beauty only commanded common influence: people looked at it, praised it, and promptly forgot all about it.

These sculptures, however, were different! They possessed a rare, extraordinary trait.

Holding the scorched sculpture, Ji Lele explained the trait to Zhan Yan: “Let me use an analogy. People find death terrifying and ugly because we are alive; we instinctively fear death. But why are there so many works of art centered around death that still strike people as beautiful and potent?

“Because death and life correspond to one another! Only against death does life appear precious and magnificent. The beauty of death is born right there.”

Ji Lele coaxed him along patiently: “Imagine, just imagine I make something—say, flesh and blood sprouting from cold machinery. Picture that scene in your mind. Doesn’t it strike you as eerie, horrifying, ugly? Yet it carries a distinct power—the power of life bursting forth from inanimate death!

“These works carry that exact power within them!”

Following Ji Lele’s guidance, Zhan Yan scrutinized the sculpture in the director’s hands.

“Well? Can you feel it?” Ji Lele gazed at him with the hopeful, yearning look of someone seeking a kindred spirit.

Zhan Yan shook his head honestly: “Nope.”

He still found it hideous.

Deeply disappointed, Ji Lele lost all enthusiasm for sharing artistic philosophy. Rubbing his hands together, he asked, “Could your sister… do a custom piece?”

Zhan Yan: “No idea, you’ll have to ask her.”

Ji Lele first bought a piece from Zhan Suiru of similar size and style to plug the immediate gap on set, then inquired whether she accepted custom commissions.

Though Zhan Yan hadn’t sensed a shred of the beauty or power Ji Lele had waxed poetic about, he committed the speech to memory and passed it on to his sister.

Even if he couldn’t appreciate it himself, his sister would surely be happy to know someone held her creations in such high esteem, right?

Zhan Suiru summoned the puppet butler: “Xiao Ran, your work has found a buyer!”

Every piece in Zhan Suiru’s art studio was actually crafted by her puppet butler. Having crawled her way back from the apocalypse with great difficulty, her only goal was to lounge around like a salted fish; she had no interest in inventing tedious chores for herself.

In any case, her art studio was merely a cover; the operations that truly brought in cash were her dealings in the black market.

The puppet butler: “It is solely because of your excellent teachings, Master.”

Zhan Suiru glanced at those eye-searing photos again…

No! I never taught you that!

Zhan Suiru reasoned with him gently: “The client wants a custom commission. Could you make one?”

The puppet butler flatly refused: “I do not believe that would be appropriate.”

“What isn’t appropriate about it? I think it’s splendid!”

No matter how she coaxed him, the puppet butler refused to budge.

Zhan Suiru stopped playing nice: “I command you to make one!”

The puppet butler looked at her with a deadpan expression: “As you command.”

Zhan Suiru exhaled softly.

The puppet butler was truly one of a kind. She could never construct a second puppet possessing this level of intellect. The puppet butler’s sentience originated from Yang Ran’s ability core.

Yet he possessed no true life. The sentience he currently displayed was closer to artificial intelligence.

Zhan Suiru had always hoped the puppet butler could create something of his own volition. If making props was out of the question, random sculptures would do. Yet the puppet butler’s craft remained consistently, stubbornly hideous over the years.

Even so, Ji Lele’s critiques had stirred a subtle, unspoken anticipation in Zhan Suiru’s heart.

Shooing the puppet butler off to work, Zhan Suiru opened her transfer app and sent her little brother some cash!