A real killer playing a villain; the guy surnamed Zhen in Detective, run!

Shudian East Suburb Logistics and Warehousing Center.

The November wind, carrying diesel exhaust fumes, swept across the freight yard. Trucks reversing blared their buzzers, and tires kicked up mud droplets half a person high as they rolled over the gravel.

Lu Yuan carried two boxes of frozen seafood on his shoulder, each weighing a little over forty pounds. Ice water seeping from the bottom of the styrofoam boxes trickled down the back of his neck, soaking through his gray T-shirt, which was washed until the collar was rolled up.

His breathing rate has remained unchanged since he started work.

A middle-aged worker nearby had been watching him for half an hour. The young man had thin arms and legs and a pale face; he didn't look like the type to do heavy work. But then he shouldered an 80-pound box, walked in a straight line, went from the carriage to the warehouse and back in twenty meters, his pace steady and his expression unchanged.

"Young man, were you in the army?" The old man tore open the cap of his mineral water bottle and took a sip.

"No." Lu Yuan stacked the boxes on the shelf, brushed the ice off his gloves, and said, "He's naturally strong."

The old master scoffed, not believing it.

In a waste cardboard box in the corner of the warehouse, Lao Liu was lying on top of Lu Yuan's neatly folded windbreaker, his hind legs splinted up, his front paws pressing down on a discounted dried fish, his mouth full of crumbs.

Lu Yuan glanced at his phone.

At 9:40, after two and a half hours of moving, I'm paid by the piece, and I've earned 80 yuan so far. Two more trips and I'll make 150 yuan. After deducting 120 yuan for Lao Liu's dressing change the day after tomorrow, I'll have 30 yuan left, more than enough for three days of instant noodles.

If the truck had left half an hour later, perhaps we could have made one more trip and squeezed out the budget for a duck leg rice dish.

There is hope. Life is getting by.

As he was making his calculations, a black Maybach and a dark gray Buick minivan drove into the logistics park gate.

The chassis is low and the shock absorption is good; the car barely moves when going over speed bumps. The left rear wheel rim of the car in front was splattered with asphalt particles from the highway.

Lu Yuan withdrew his gaze and continued moving the boxes. It had nothing to do with him.

The Maybach was parked at the entrance to the freight yard. The door opened.

Su Qinghan stepped out of the car in high heels and a high-end black trench coat, her steps unwavering.

Following closely behind was Chen Tong, the investment decision-maker, impeccably dressed in a suit. He wore gold-rimmed glasses. The quality of their attire created a stark contrast to their surroundings, setting them apart from the rest of the group.

Chen Tong's first reaction upon stepping onto the ground was to pull up her trouser legs two centimeters, then tiptoe around a puddle of unidentified liquid, hissing as she did so.

"Qinghan, are you serious?"

"Someone who does manual labor in a place like this is supposed to be carrying a 200 million yuan worth of plates."

Su Qinghan didn't respond to that. Her gaze was already fixed on the figure jumping out of the truck bed thirty meters away.

With broad shoulders and a sharp waistline, his spine shows no compensatory scoliosis when carrying boxes, and his core strength control is far more precise than that of ordinary manual laborers.

Lu Yuan put the last box of seafood on the shelf, took off his work gloves, and reached into the cardboard box to reach for the thermos. Lao Liu rolled over, almost knocking the thermos to the ground.

"Lu Yuan".

He turned around.

"I am Su Qinghan, the director."

Lu Yuan knew that name. She was the one sitting behind the monitor on the day they filmed "Who's the Murderer." The youngest Best Director at the Golden Rooster Awards, a recognized genius and madwoman in the industry.

"Hello, Director Su." He stood up and dusted off his pants.

Su Qinghan took a bound document from her assistant and handed it over.

A4 paper cover, bold Song typeface: "Black Gold".

"Second male lead. Three-month shooting schedule. 800,000 RMB after tax, plus room and board provided by the production crew."

The diesel generators in the freight yard were still roaring. Chen Tong sneered from behind, arms crossed, waiting to see the extra's flattered and incoherent expression.

Lu Yuan took the script.

It opened, then closed again.

His gaze lingered on Su Qinghan's face for about two seconds. Then it shifted to the sixth brother in his arms, who was munching on dried fish.

Lu Yuan's mental calculator was worn out. 800,000. He worked as an extra at Hengdian World Studios, earning 200 yuan a day, and a full year without a break would bring in 73,000 yuan.

Eight hundred thousand is equivalent to him not eating or drinking for almost eleven years. It covers Lao Liu's medical expenses, cat food, rent, and a new phone with a non-shattering screen.

He quickly took off his work gloves and wiped the sweat from his palms on his trouser leg.

"Boss, when do we start filming? Do I need to bring any luggage? I don't have much stuff, I can pack quickly."

The speed at which her attitude shifted was so smooth that even Su Qinghan blinked.

The carefree, Buddhist-like youth who had seen through the illusions of the world has transformed into a money-grubber with gleaming eyes and his hands already reaching into his pockets for his ID card.

He even took half a step forward and lowered his voice: "Director Su, can we discuss an advance payment? Ten percent will do, my cat needs surgery."

Chen Tong laughed in exasperation.

He snatched the script from Lu Yuan's hand, took a step back, and looked at something absurd through his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

"Su Qinghan, take a look. This is the person you found." He rolled up the script and pointed it at Lu Yuan. "The villainous second male lead in 'Black Gold,' Shen Yibai. A top private equity fund manager, the mastermind behind a game of power in the capital world. You want him to play this role?"

Chen Tong turned to Lu Yuan: "Do you know what a hedge fund is? Do you know what a short-selling mechanism is? Do you know the basic logic of derivative pricing models?"

Lu Yuan opened his mouth.

"Don't answer, I'll answer for you. I don't know." Chen Tong waved her hand.

You might be able to play a reckless, ruthless brute, the kind of low-level character who can intimidate people with a glare. But Shen Yibai isn't that kind of person. He's the kind of guy who wears a 30,000 yuan suit, drinks 2,000 yuan worth of red wine, and destroys a listed company with a single sentence at a board meeting. You don't have that kind of quality at all!"

The sixth brother yawned inside the cardboard box.

Lu Yuan remained silent.

Chen Tong slammed the script onto the shelf next to him.

"Alright. I'll give you a chance, as a way of making Director Su's long journey all this way." He loosened his tie and stepped back three meters.

"I'll audition right here. No props, no co-star, no lighting. If you can make me," he pointed to his chest, "feel even a little bit of Shen Yibai's pressure, I'll sign on the spot for 800,000."

He spread his hands.

"If you can't perform, take your daily wage and go back to moving boxes."

Several movers nearby had stopped what they were doing to watch the commotion. The older worker, munching on a steamed bun, glanced at the man in the suit, then at Lu Yuan, muttering, "A movie set?"

Lu Yuan stood still.

The thermos was still clutched in my hand. I shook the goji berry water twice.

He looked down at the rim of the cup.

Eight hundred thousand.

Then he placed the thermos on the cardboard box, very gently, and made sure it was secure.

He raised his eyes.

--wrong.

Everyone present simultaneously sensed that something was wrong.

This change came without any warning. His back adjusted to an extremely slight angle, so small that a camera might not even be able to capture it, and his entire center of gravity shifted completely. His posture became relaxed.