Hey! The Criminal Assistance System Can Even Be Used Like This? 28

Carrying out Qin Su’s task, Xu Zhizhi and Lin Yu rejoined the film crew, the instructions firmly ingrained in her mind. A large-scale production was vastly different from Bai Sheng’s makeshift crew; a dedicated bus picked them up for the flight to the border city of Nan City.

That evening, they checked into a hotel – a three-star one, nonetheless. Every main cast member, director, producer, and assistant director had their own room. The *Qiman* (Deception) film crew had booked out this relatively small hotel until filming wrapped. Xu Zhizhi’s scenes were only slightly fewer than the lead actors’, and her room was exceptionally nice. Lin Yu and the other assistants were housed on different floors, a generous arrangement lasting until the end of filming.

After gaining popularity, the company’s attitude toward Xu Zhizhi underwent a significant change. Everything from transportation to other necessities was fully provided, highlighting the stark difference between being a rising star and an unknown. Yun Ziwei was no longer a marginal figure in the company; she gradually gained more influence.

The domestic skincare brand couldn’t offer a huge sum, but their efficiency was commendable. The online promotional video was quickly edited and produced. Xu Zhizhi reposted it on her Weibo account that same day; mainly because she felt obligated, since their skincare products were genuinely good.

Unexpectedly, Xu Zhizhi’s influence was significant. The brand’s online store completely sold out on the day of her repost. The products were affordable and effective, and some die-hard fans promoted them in Xu Zhizhi’s comment section, bringing this hidden gem to everyone’s attention. For most netizens, the price was just a day’s allowance. The motto was “You won’t regret buying it, and you won’t be cheated – just order and try it!”

Xu Zhizhi and the skincare brand even briefly trended on the hot search list. Not only did the domestic brand platform receive a life-saving influx of traffic, but Xu Zhizhi’s low-cost promotional video also significantly improved her public image. While initially surprised, Xu Zhizhi had now become completely calm about it. However, as Yun Ziwei put it, this served as an example for other brands, demonstrating Xu Zhizhi’s ability to drive sales.

This was all extra income. For Xu Zhizhi, acting in films and television dramas remained her main profession. Working undercover, however, was unpaid!

After receiving a notification in her V-Chat group, Xu Zhizhi headed to a small meeting room for the script reading session. The scripts, marked with lines, were laid out. Everyone sat around a conference table – all the main actors. The director sat at the head of the table. Xu Zhizhi, while having a decent amount of screen time, had the lowest ranking and sat at the far end.

Self-introductions followed. The leads were veteran actors in the film industry – Lu Yilin and Wu Shiyun, both winners of prestigious film awards. Others included Lin Zheng, the oldest actor, and Yue Nian, a middle-aged actor; both were established talents. Xu Zhizhi was the least experienced, with the least seniority and the youngest among them.

To avoid standing out, Xu Zhizhi had dyed her hair black and straightened it beforehand, fitting the character of Du Yu’yan. The film would be shot with no makeup, so all the actors entered without any. The entertainment industry was the most appearance-obsessed circle, because any flaws would be magnified infinitely under the camera lens. Xu Zhizhi noticed that almost everyone looked even better in person than on screen, including the male actors, except for the older ones.

The script reading was tedious. After introductions, they read lines, working on their emotions to achieve the perfect effect. Xu Zhizhi gave her all to keep pace with the other actors’ rhythm and emotional delivery. When it finished, she only felt exhausted; she hadn’t noticed anything else.

Several hours flew by. After dinner, they continued. The script reading finally ended at six o’clock in the afternoon. Xu Zhizhi didn’t notice anything amiss with the director or anyone else present as she left the meeting room.

Just as she thought the day was over, she was stopped by someone at the very back of the group. She remembered him as a producer. The producer was essentially the representative of the investors, so she stopped.

“Hello, Mr. Zhang,” Xu Zhizhi only recalled his surname and used that to address him. The man, wearing a black jacket and with unremarkable features, forced a friendly smile. “I heard that Miss Xu has excellent drawing skills. The film will have some close-up shots requiring detail, and I was hoping you could draw something for us. If it works out, I’ll pay you extra.”

The request seemed reasonable, even promising extra pay – a windfall. Xu Zhizhi glanced at Director Zhou, who had stopped, to see his reaction.

“It’s possible. If it can be used in the actual shoot, and we don’t need a stand-in, that would be best,” Zhou Yu hesitated, before turning back to say.

Xu Zhizhi considered it and nodded. “I can try. But my hand might be a bit rusty; I haven’t done this in a while. I don’t know if I can meet your requirements.”

The producer nodded, and they headed to a fenced-off area next to the hotel. The main plot would be filmed within this dilapidated factory and nearby buildings. The rest would be outdoor scenes – gunfights and rainforest settings. This city perfectly matched the script’s setting.

Inside the old factory, areas beyond the camera’s reach were piled high with equipment. Camera tracks were installed on the ground, with long-reach camera arms already set up; each one worth over a million. The painting station, the designated shooting location, was a liver-colored table strewn with painting tools, all looking aged.

Xu Zhizhi approached and found that the brushes were highly professional, showing signs of prior use. There was an easel nearby for placing the counterfeit money images. Although Xu Zhizhi had drawn US dollars in a live stream in half an hour, actually producing a convincing counterfeit requires at least one to two weeks of work, even with dedicated daily practice. This is due to the need to perfectly reproduce every line, detail, moiré pattern, and aspect of both the front and back of the banknote. This requires extensive time, high intensity, and professional drawing techniques.

Ordinary art students cannot achieve this, needing extremely strong imitation skills. Most importantly, it’s illegal, and few would risk it. These factors combined made it one of the three core techniques of making counterfeit currency.

“Give it a try. We’ll film it, and then the whole crew can discuss whether it’s usable,” the producer said with a strained smile, gesturing for Xu Zhizhi to begin.

Xu Zhizhi turned around and noticed a person with filming equipment already recording. She nodded, laid out her paper, and said, “Let’s begin.”

Her slender, fair hands picked up a brush, and she sat down, beginning to draw with the precision of a human printer. Zhou Yu, a thoughtful and meticulous director, pulled out a high-resolution scan of a US dollar bill on his phone, one that could be zoomed in and out to clearly show every detail. Xu Zhizhi smiled, took the phone, zoomed in on a corner, and the sharp tip of the brush touched the paper.

Soon, a corner of the bill began to take shape, appearing as if scanned and replicated. Everyone’s gaze was fixated on Xu Zhizhi, their eyes intense. Just as the cameraman, director, and producer thought she would continue, she put down her brush, turned, and looked at the three with an innocent gaze. “How’s my drawing?”

The producer finally came to his senses, his gaze lingering on the drawing for two seconds before settling on Xu Zhizhi.

“It’s good, very good. Much more refined than the live stream video,” the producer said in astonishment, picking up the drawn corner and comparing it carefully.

Xu Zhizhi nodded. “Mainly because I needed to achieve the effect quickly then. But for the film, we need to be more precise to ensure the visual effect in high-definition shots.”

Director Zhou also nodded in approval, praising Xu Zhizhi’s skill.

“It’s so accurate! The effect will definitely be great. We don’t need the artist we contacted anymore,” Zhou Yu said with genuine satisfaction, though without a smile.

The cameraman stared in astonishment, wondering how Xu Zhizhi could achieve such a high level of similarity without any mechanical aids. Xu Zhizhi met their gazes, then lowered her eyes to hide her suspicion, a modest smile on her face. “My hand is a little rusty; I haven’t drawn these things in a long time. After entering the entertainment industry, I thought I’d never need them again.”

“Good. You’ve basically passed. I’ll have someone else take a look, and you can expect two paychecks!” The producer picked up the drawing, folded it naturally, and put it inside his jacket pocket.

Xu Zhizhi’s eyes flickered slightly, but she maintained her innocent expression, pretending not to notice. Then they sent Xu Zhizhi back. Director Zhou watched the video again on the way, discussing the camera angles with the cameraman. When he saw Xu Zhizhi looking at him, he gave her a kind, grandfatherly smile. The cameraman also complimented Xu Zhizhi.

When they got out of the car, Lin Yu was waiting at the hotel entrance, looking worried. After sending the producer and director inside, Xu Zhizhi turned to Lin Yu. “What’s up?”

“Zhizhi, did you see the news? Yun Jie said she saw it on a marketing account and even paid to get the information. Zhizhi went to the police station in Jiang City? Given what has happened to you, an actress ending up in a police station…” Lin Yu couldn’t imagine the public backlash if the news broke.

Xu Zhizhi’s heart skipped a beat. She had only just begun to suspect something; if she was attacked from both sides, she would definitely be in trouble.

She quickly asked, “Did they delete it? Completely deleted?”

Seeing Xu Zhizhi’s nervousness, Lin Yu’s heart sank.

“Zhizhi, you didn’t actually do anything, did you?” Lin Yu was getting anxious. “If it’s not a matter of principle, tell Yun Jie as soon as possible. We still have a chance!”

The entertainment industry has zero tolerance for ethical violations. She was afraid that if anything came out later, Xu Zhizhi would face huge compensation claims because of future endorsements. If it damaged the brand image, she could be sued. Most importantly, Xu Zhizhi’s career would be ruined.

Xu Zhizhi sighed, put her hand on Lin Yu’s shoulder, and said, “Don’t worry. Trust my character, and remember what I’ve done.”

Lin Yu was so flustered that she had forgotten what Xu Zhizhi had told her before. Only when Xu Zhizhi calmed her down did she start to recall everything. Too much had happened in the last few days; she had been so busy that only now, in a moment of calm, did she remember Xu Zhizhi’s outing that day.

“Ah! I was so careless…” Lin Yu frowned, slapped her forehead, and looked distressed.

Xu Zhizhi patted her, offered a few words of comfort, then found a quiet corner in a coffee shop and sat down with Lin Yu. She took out her phone and called Qin Su. She needed to deal with this; those photos absolutely couldn’t appear online. She would be in serious trouble if they did.

Xu Zhizhi briefly explained the situation, asking Qin Su to contact the marketing accounts and tell them to stop spreading the news. Even if Yun Ziwei contacted them and paid, she didn’t trust those unscrupulous people not to use different accounts. She needed to prevent this from happening; otherwise, she would be defenseless.

Qin Su agreed, but asked if anything had happened. Xu Zhizhi briefly described the events, but it was all speculation without any evidence; she couldn’t do anything but investigate privately. Qin Su said he understood, and they ended the call.

Xu Zhizhi finished a latte and a small cake to calm her nerves before returning to the hotel. She avoided calling from the hotel or her room, fearing surveillance devices, especially given that this was a criminal organization.

Just as Xu Zhizhi finished eating and was about to go back, Bai Sheng called. They hadn’t seen each other since he left the crew. They had both avoided discussing the crew to protect Bai Sheng’s feelings. Xu Zhizhi also had avoided Bai Sheng to avoid causing him further pain. She hadn’t expected Bai Sheng to call so soon.

Bai Sheng chatted briefly about Xu Zhizhi’s current role, then brought up He Wen’s parents. The elderly couple were heartbroken but relieved that Bai Sheng hadn’t been deceived by Chen Xu and that justice had been served for their daughter. He returned He Wen’s house and half of her assets.

“The elderly couple didn’t accept any of it. I thought you might have some ideas, some way to help,” Bai Sheng said, unable to find anyone else to talk to. He didn’t want to burden Qin Su with this.

Xu Zhizhi held the phone, silent for a moment before replying, “Let the elderly couple get through this period first, Director Bai. Don’t rush.” Bai Sheng was a responsible person; he would always return what he owed and provide care no matter how long it took. This was perhaps the first time they spoke calmly; before, it had always been arguments and accusations.

“Mm, thank you. I have two pieces of good news for you. The drama itself has no issues; the review should be fine. They may have considered my status as a victim and my cooperation.” Bai Sheng’s tone changed.

Before the crew disbanded, everyone’s spirits were low, and no one mentioned this. Now, Bai Sheng was calling everyone individually to share the news, including Fu Nian and Xu Yunlai, before announcing it in the group chat.

Xu Zhizhi’s eyes lit up; that was great news. Another good news?

“What’s the other good news?” Xu Zhizhi asked.

“The drama is in talks with the country’s largest streaming platform, and we might sign a Class A exclusive broadcasting contract.” Bai Sheng’s lips curled into a smile.

Xu Zhizhi’s eyes widened in shock. “Really!”

“Really, we’re in negotiations,” Bai Sheng said with a smile.

Xu Zhizhi gasped; this was a massive stroke of luck! In this world, unlike her previous life, scripts and broadcasting contracts were graded. Scripts were graded from C to S, with *Qiman* being a Class A script. Each script corresponded to an investment range: C-level was 1 to 10 million, B-level was 10 to 50 million, A-level was 50 million to 100 million, and S-level was 100 million plus, with no upper limit. The corresponding broadcasting contract levels were similar, with A-level being 50 million to 100 million!

*Black Crow*’s investment was slightly above C-level; selling it for A-level was incredibly lucrative. It was like winning the lottery.

Seeing Xu Zhizhi’s astonishment, Bai Sheng continued, “You also deserve a lot of credit; your popularity brought it to everyone’s attention.”

“No, the drama itself is excellent…” Xu Zhizhi hurriedly denied the praise.

Bai Sheng didn’t say anything more. He knew that with someone else, the film wouldn’t have been finished, and even if it had, it wouldn’t have achieved this success. Xu Zhizhi’s captivating performance was the key reason for its popularity.

They chatted for a while longer before Bai Sheng hung up to inform the others. Xu Zhizhi also breathed a sigh of relief and shared the news with Lin Yu. Then Xu Zhizhi returned to the hotel. Along the way, she ran into the lead actress, greeted her respectfully, and the actress, who was friendly and approachable, smiled back and left with her assistant.

Back in her room, Xu Zhizhi checked for cameras and listening devices before washing up and going to bed. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the hotel; it was simply that the film crew was too complex. She hoped everything would remain simple. Lin Yu came in, put on makeup, and changed into more formal clothes. Large productions always had opening ceremonies and photo shoots. Director Zhou was impatient, scheduling everything tightly, one after another. Xu Zhizhi suspected he didn’t want to bother with these things and so rushed through them.

Xu Zhizhi was unremarkable in the main cast. She followed Lin Zheng, the oldest actor, to pay respects. The old man, full of life, playfully smiled at Xu Zhizhi and gave her a fruit candy after the ceremony. Lu Yilin and the others were used to it and quietly asked for one too. Wu Shiyun was eagerly looking forward to it, as her agent had been making her avoid sugar for a long time. She was craving it and reached for the candy the fastest.

Lin Zheng treated them like children, giving each of them a candy from his pocket. Only Yue Nian didn’t get one; his blood sugar was high. The candies quickly helped the group bond.

Xu Zhizhi peeled one and ate it. It was lychee-flavored, subtly sweet, and the sweetness filled her mouth.

“Delicious!” Xu Zhizhi whispered to Mr. Lin Zheng.

The old man smiled and whispered, “My granddaughter bought them. Children like this kind of candy.”

The opening ceremony was streamlined and quickly completed. Afterwards, everyone went to the studio for their makeup and costume photos. Director Zhou wanted to build camaraderie among the cast, scheduling everyone’s makeup together. Xu Zhizhi, being the youngest, sat to the side, chatting with her senior colleagues.

Somehow, Xu Zhizhi felt Director Zhou had chosen actors with steady personalities and few ulterior motives. Birds of a feather flock together. The group quickly started chatting happily. Xu Zhizhi heard some gossip, but nothing too harmful. Truly explosive secrets weren’t shared.

Wu Shiyun’s look was fresh and suitable for a pure love story heroine. Lu Yilin’s was more melancholic; his hair was slightly permed, and he wore glasses. Everyone else underwent a transformation. Xu Zhizhi became a character in black, white, and gray, with messy hair and a gloomy, aggressive demeanor.

The styling was complete. Everyone looked like their characters. Director Zhou looked at them impassively, nodding to signal the start of filming. There weren’t many expressions required; the focus was on expressing the characters.

Xu Zhizhi immersed herself in playing Du Yu’yan, a character with a sharp yet vulnerable nature, a complete paradox. As she took her promotional photos, a gaze locked onto her. Xu Zhizhi, acutely sensitive to malicious intent, reacted instinctively; her body froze, facing the gaze. The gloomy aggression in her eyes intensified, her gaze captivating and pulling people into her emotional vortex.

[+10 Malice Value]

[+8 Malice Value]

Xu Zhizhi identified the source of the gaze, then seemingly without noticing, looked away. It was a man with shoulder-length hair, a black shirt, and black jeans. He wore a string of colorful prayer beads, and his unbuttoned shirt revealed pale skin and a long green jade necklace. His aura screamed “not a good person”. After confirming this, Xu Zhizhi stopped observing him to avoid being noticed.

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