Hey! The Criminal Assistance System Can Even Be Used Like This? 173

The two of them considered this, feeling a chill. At the same time, they lamented how much safer things had become in recent years. Even if there were murders or other serious crimes, the advanced surveillance network could quickly locate and arrest the perpetrators. This case, however, was so thorny, it took everyone by surprise.

Soon, they arrived at the scene and began checking for any overlooked clues. Someone had already gone to investigate the murder weapon; whether they could find information on its sale remained to be seen. The Criminal Investigation Detachment worked like a net, searching every possible lead. Meanwhile, Xu Zhizhi had begun filming the scene of the Taotie’s murder. This was the best scenario for her simulated performance; genuine emotion drove her portrayal of the killer.

The actor they found was very overweight, so Xu Zhizhi’s main concern was to avoid accidentally injuring him. Another challenge was the actor’s lack of acting experience; it was incredibly difficult to find such a large actor in the entertainment industry. This resulted in numerous retakes, with Xu Zhizhi repeatedly waiting for the actor to display the right emotions.

Xu Hua, the director, was extremely irritable, constantly berating the actor. His words were harsh, and the actor felt wronged. The actor was a local extra, paid little for playing a villain, and at one point even threatened to quit.

Xu Zhizhi sat in a chair, watching Xu Hua helplessly. “Let’s take a break,” she said. “Haste makes waste.” Seeing the two locked in a tense standoff, and the overweight actor near breaking point, she decisively suggested a break.

Both looked to Xu Zhizhi. The overweight actor, a kind-natured man, found a place to sit beside her, watching Xu Hua. Xu Hua’s anger flared, but upon meeting Xu Zhizhi’s gaze, he couldn’t speak. He muttered, “Ten minutes, then we’ll continue filming.” He knew his temper was volatile but couldn’t help but feel the actor was disobedient. “How hard could it be? How hard is it to portray pain?” he thought, frustrated.

Watching Xu Hua pace angrily around the set, Xu Zhizhi suddenly suggested, “How about this, Director, you demonstrate for the actor.” This wasn’t unusual; many directors would demonstrate scenes to help actors understand. Many directors themselves possess decent acting skills, having a good grasp of performance. This suggestion wasn’t meant to make things difficult for anyone; it was simply the director showing the actor how to react and express the emotions.

“Good,” Xu Hua readily agreed. The crew gathered around, and Xu Zhizhi stood up. The cameraman specially turned on the camera to capture some behind-the-scenes footage for later publicity. Xu Hua wasn’t incompetent; Xu Zhizhi scoffed at his temper but never denied his talent.

He sat down at a computer desk, pretending to eat. Xu Zhizhi approached him. Then, without hesitation, she used the nylon-coated cord of a pair of earphones to tightly wrap it around his neck. It only appeared tight; in reality, the actor only felt slight discomfort. Xu Zhizhi carefully avoided creating any marks to prevent continuity issues during later filming. She had mastered the pressure, making it look tight without actually using much force.

Xu Hua tried to grab the cord, to pull it away, but to no avail. His eyes widened, his face flushed red, and he struggled, rocking in his chair. A “heh heh heh” sound escaped his throat. After a long struggle, he finally stopped breathing. His body went limp, and he fell to the ground.

Many on the set nodded, the overweight actor wide-eyed, finally understanding how to act. After falling, Xu Hua stood up. His expression was arrogant, his obnoxious controlling nature reappearing. Xu Zhizhi found it irritating, wondering how he could be so professionally dedicated yet have such a terrible temper. “Is it because of talent?” she wondered.

Ten minutes passed quickly, and the overweight actor stepped onto the set. He had a memorable name, Wang Xingxing, twenty-three years old, but appeared naive. And he actually was; after graduating two years ago, he hadn’t worked, supposedly because his family was well-off and didn’t want him to suffer at work. He felt he couldn’t keep sponging off his parents and, hearing about the job, thought his size might be useful, and immediately applied.

Xu Hua offered six hundred yuan a day, for seven days. It seemed like a lot, but to meet Xu Hua’s expectations, it was relatively low pay. For example, Xu Hua’s verbal abuse was relentless, making the actor feel the humiliation wasn’t worth the meager wages. If Xu Zhizhi hadn’t intervened, they might have already parted ways on bad terms.

Now that tempers had cooled, they continued filming as if nothing had happened. Xu Zhizhi intentionally used less force this time. Wang Xingxing was dedicated, and after three retakes, finally completed the scene successfully. He fell to the ground; the makeup artist created the effect of bulging eyes, and the camera focused on the shot.

With a cry of “Cut!”, cheers erupted from the set. Wang Xingxing stood up, a satisfied smile on his face. Xu Zhizhi thought his features were quite handsome, only obscured by his weight.

Wang Xingxing gave Xu Zhizhi a grateful smile, then took a break while the scene of the crime scene, staged by Xu Zhizhi, was filmed. However, not much was shown here; mostly background shots and obscure glimpses. Bloody and violent scenes are difficult to get past censorship, so this part of the filming was intentionally kept vague and ambiguous.

For Xu Zhizhi, this wasn’t difficult. It was almost a one-take scene, being a solo performance. The “almost” was due to Xu Hua’s strange temper; he felt an angle was wrong and asked for a retake. During filming, Xu Zhizhi followed the director’s instructions, so she didn’t mind the retake.

After finishing, Wang Xingxing looked at Xu Zhizhi with shining eyes; he thought she was even more amazing than the stars in television and movies. Xu Zhizhi found it quite peculiar; Wang Xingxing’s naive, almost foolish admiration was strangely pleasing.

The crew began cleaning the set to prepare for filming other scenes in the room – the events leading up to the Taotie case. The “Judge” needed a reason to kill him; otherwise, why would she share the murder on the forum without explanation? If there wasn’t a reason, she shouldn’t be called the “Judge.”

The reason was simple: Taotie wasn’t just an overweight foodie; he was a despicable, parasitic ingrate. He sponged off his parents for ten years after graduation, never working, and bullied them into supporting him. When his parents faced difficulties, he ignored them. Even when his father had a heart attack and lay on the floor begging for help, he unhesitatingly stepped over him to grab a piece of bread. Then, he ate it indifferently, stepped over his father again, and slammed the door shut. His mother was devastated and, after bravely handling her husband’s funeral, jumped into a river and died. Taotie remained unmoved. He continued his life, numb and cold.

He argued with netizens online, angrily blaming his parents for giving birth to him yet not providing him with a life of luxury. He felt he hadn’t asked to be born, so he didn’t owe them any filial piety or care. Even in death, they deserved it, he believed. It was deliberate indifference. He wrote chillingly that with his parents dead, he could inherit everything. He could enjoy himself; he would enjoy himself.

His statements drew the attention of the “Judge.” If his parents were alive, he wouldn’t have died. With his parents gone, he had no chance of rescue, only death awaited him.

“God, Taotie is the purest offering I give you…” A low, ethereal voice appeared, the opening narration of this case segment.

This storyline was expected to take seven days of filming. Currently, they were shooting daily life scenes, laying the groundwork. One case would comprise about three episodes, interspersed with smaller cases, the Criminal Investigation Detachment’s situation, and miscellaneous events from the past.

Xu Zhizhi remained seated, watching the filming. She didn’t want the director to drive the actor away, as this would require reshoots and waste time. Xu Hua, seeing Xu Zhizhi playing on her phone, twitched. He had the unsettling feeling that Xu Zhizhi was the real director of the crew.

Xu Zhizhi ignored him. She did her work. It wasn’t her problem that Xu Hua had a bad temper! The rest of the crew watched with a mixture of amusement and schadenfreude. They were used to enduring Xu Hua’s temper. Now, finally, Xu Hua was rendered helpless by Xu Zhizhi. It was hilarious, the entire crew watching Xu Hua’s misfortune. It became a daily source of amusement.

Wang Xingxing, thinking Xu Zhizhi was leaving, felt a pang of anxiety. He knew only Xu Zhizhi could control the “Xu Hua Demon King.” Now that she was staying, he felt much calmer.

Acting is a troublesome yet serious profession. Wang Xingxing wiped his sweat and continued pretending to play a video game. Fortunately, for a gamer, this wasn’t difficult; they could simply film the operation directly without needing post-production editing or a body double.

Xu Zhizhi didn’t watch, playing on her phone. People’s moods are strange; something that annoyed them yesterday might suddenly pique their interest today. Candy Crush, indeed, was her stress reliever. After two levels, Xu Hua’s sharp tongue reappeared. Xu Zhizhi sat next to him, staring.

“What are you staring at?” Xu Hua asked uncomfortably.

Xu Zhizhi said, “You know staring is uncomfortable. The actor passed the scene twice already – that’s good enough. To keep berating him is just excessive. Even a tool isn’t used this way.”

Xu Zhizhi helped Wang Xingxing partly out of fairness; partly because Xu Hua’s bullying nature would inevitably lead to his downfall someday. And when that happened, it might even affect her.

Xu Hua’s face turned ashen, his expression one of extreme frustration. He really regretted being so rude to Xu Zhizhi. She was indeed formidable, and more importantly, her work was impeccable; he couldn’t fault her in any way.

Finally, he patiently taught Wang Xingxing. The afternoon finally ended, and filming wrapped up.

Xu Zhizhi and Feng Jie packed up and headed back to the hotel. As they were leaving the set, Wang Xingxing ran after them. “Zhizhi jie, wait!”

“What is it?” Xu Zhizhi, finding Wang Xingxing quite interesting, stopped to ask.

Wang Xingxing stopped a meter away from Xu Zhizhi, smiling. “Nothing, just thank you, Zhizhi jie. You’re just as good as everyone says online.”

“You’re welcome. Keep up the good work,” Xu Zhizhi, being a little older, accepted the “jie” (older sister) title and encouraged him to continue working hard.

Wang Xingxing nodded happily and watched Xu Zhizhi walk away. He checked the time, his expression changing slightly, quickly hailed a cab and left. He kept checking the time, finally arriving home just before a certain time. He rushed to the bathroom, wiping the sweat from his face, and stood under the air conditioning to cool off.

Before he had been cooling off for long, the villa’s main door opened.

“Brother, you’re back,” the chubby young man quickly smiled, going to greet his brother in the living room.

The newcomer was a man of 1.8 meters tall, with a well-built physique, wearing black-rimmed glasses, and handsome, delicate features. He took off his shoes, put on comfortable slippers, and placed his briefcase on the shoe rack. “Hmm, did you eat well at home?”

“I ate well. I went out for a walk, as exercise,” Wang Xingxing knew he couldn’t hide his outing from his brother, and directly admitted it.

The man glanced at his brother. “Hmm, I’ll make dinner. Go play in your room.”

“Okay, Brother, make dinner quickly; I’m a bit hungry!” Wang Xingxing said with a smile.

A tender smile appeared on the man’s face; his gaze fell upon the red marks on Wang Xingxing’s neck. “Okay, go play.”

Wang Xingxing quickly shuffled upstairs, making a “thump thump thump” sound with his slippers. The man looked up at his brother going into his room, then went to the downstairs bathroom. Looking at the casually placed towels, he paused, then turned and left.

The man worked quickly, swiftly preparing three dishes and a soup. Then, gently going upstairs, he called his brother down for dinner.

Wang Xingxing quickly shut down his computer and came downstairs, sitting obediently at the dinner table.

“Xingxing, you’re very obedient today; you turned off your computer as soon as I asked,” the man sat down, somewhat puzzled.

Wang Xingxing’s expression was a little unnatural. “Ah… just… I thought you were working hard, and I wanted to appreciate your efforts. I was being too unreasonable before.”

“That’s good,” pausing, the man said slowly.

Wang Xingxing secretly breathed a sigh of relief, picked up his bowl, and began to eat quickly. He didn’t dare mention his job. They’d had an unpleasant argument before about him working; his brother thought the work outside was too hard and that the family didn’t need the money, wanting him to stay home and play. But he felt his brother was also working hard; with their parents gone, he wanted to share the burden. Bringing this up made his brother upset. They had been in a cold war for several days. Wang Xingxing’s personality was soft, so he compromised.

Once was twice, twice was thrice; Wang Xingxing stayed home for two or three years. So, he hadn’t told his brother about the job, even the temporary one. Wang Xingxing planned to surprise his brother, buying him a gift with his wages. To let his brother know he was a grown man now, that he could share the family’s burden. To give each other more freedom, to do what they wanted. Even to let his brother travel and relax after years of stress.

Thinking about his plan, he smiled naively. The man, watching his smiling brother, didn’t expose him, only lowered his head and ate his dinner.

Xu Zhizhi, after washing up, decided to read the novel she’d been reading before going out. Clicking in, she saw a message notification. She subconsciously clicked and saw several large red envelopes. The timestamps were different, but they were all substantial amounts. She looked closely and saw that they came from the author whose novel had abruptly ended yesterday. She hadn’t tipped them again, so why were they sending her red envelopes?

She clicked into the author’s work and then the comments section. She saw long messages, with a phone number attached at the end. It was a WeChat number, begging Xu Zhizhi to add them. Xu Zhizhi scrolled up and looked at the author’s replies. The more she read, the tighter her brow furrowed. The author’s analysis of a case laid out almost all the information. Finally, they pleaded with Xu Zhizhi to add them on WeChat. Xu Zhizhi found the case familiar.

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*Criminal Investigation Notes* is a randomly chosen title and has no connection to any works within Jinjiang Literature City. This is hereby stated!

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