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

In the makeshift medical room, Scarface lay on a cot.

The gauze on the inside of my thigh was wrapped six times, the edges stained a deep yellow with iodine, and the center was still seeping red outwards. The seven-centimeter steel nail had penetrated quite deeply, piercing through the muscle layer, but thankfully it hadn't damaged the femoral artery.

lucky.

Or rather, luck has been arranged by someone else.

All Scarface knows now is pain. The pain runs from his groin all the way to his heel, like someone is piercing his flesh with a red-hot wire.

Lin Yue squatted by the bed, taking notes on the accident report. Two stagehands handed him water and tissues, while on-site medical staff administered additional painkillers to the wound.

"What happened? Weren't you assigned to the second row? How did you end up at the feet of the second male lead?"

Lin Yue asked twice, but Scarface kept his eyes closed and didn't answer.

His mind worked quickly. Just now, he rolled out, the steel nail fell into his palm, less than twenty centimeters from the target's instep, and then a steel cable that appeared out of nowhere slashed across him, throwing him to a stop.

The nail was driven into his own flesh.

coincidence?

Or was that kid doing it on purpose?

But that's not important. What's important is—the crew got blood on the set.

He knew the rules of the film and television industry like the back of his hand. If a bloody accident happened on set, regardless of who was at fault, the production company's first reaction was to keep quiet. If it blows up and makes the news, investors will withdraw their funding, the project will be canceled, and everyone present will starve.

The cards he held in his hand were bigger than he had imagined.

Scarface's eyes darted around under his eyelids.

The metal door was pushed open, and Jiang Yan walked in.

He pulled a transparent plastic bag out of his pocket and slapped it onto the metal bedside table.

The nail lay quietly inside the bag.

Do you recognize this?

Scarface's eyeball popped out from under his eyelid and landed on the steel nail.

There was a brief, sharp contraction in the facial muscles; the left masseter muscle and the right orbicularis oculi muscle twitched simultaneously.

Jiang Yan saw it all.

"I've checked the materials list in the prop room, and this model isn't there." She pulled over a folding chair and sat down, her knees almost touching the edge of the bed. "Both ends are sanded, with grinding marks. This thing didn't fall off by accident; someone deliberately modified it."

She tapped the evidence bag with her finger.

"You have strap marks on the inside of your cuff. On your left arm, four centimeters above the wrist crease. It's from a sports strap, wrapped three times."

The scarred man's pupils shrank by one size.

"I hid it in my sleeve and brought it onto the set, and of all times, it got into trouble near the second male lead." Jiang Yan paused for two seconds. "Who sent you?"

The room quieted down. The air conditioner's outdoor unit hummed overhead, causing the corrugated iron roof to vibrate and hum.

Scarface bit down on his back teeth and then started howling.

"I don't know what steel nails!" He yanked back the sheet, revealing his thigh wrapped in bandages. "That guy surnamed Lu kicked the steel wire right under my foot! I was just doing my positioning, and he kicked the wire and tripped me! My leg is ruined! Ruined, you understand?!"

He shouted and pounded his fists on the bed. The iron frame of the cot rattled loudly as he was hit.

"I'm going to call the police! I'm going to post this online! I want everyone to know that this film crew doesn't value the lives of extras!"

Scarface's voice was a natural gift. With the added reverberation from the tin shack, even the lighting technicians passing by stopped and peered inside.

"Pay up! 100,000 for medical expenses! 100,000 for lost wages! 100,000 for emotional distress!"

He counted on his fingers, getting more and more excited as he did so.

"If you lose even one point, I'll lie here and not leave! I'll lie here until you wrap up filming!"

Lin Yue's face turned pale instantly.

The lead actor was just scalded, and now an extra's thigh has been pierced. Two bloody incidents in one day—if word gets out, the reputation of "Black Gold" will be doomed before it even gets released.

On the investors' side...

She dared not think.

Scarface observed everyone's reactions. The more panicked the crew became, the more confident he felt.

He's an expert at this kind of shrewd, unscrupulous tactic. He believes in being the loudest and the most shameless.

Just then, the door opened.

Lu Yuan stood at the door, his face showing standard concern and guilt, like a lowly worker who had gotten into trouble and was unsure whether he should be scolded.

"Brother!" He rushed to the bedside, his voice trembling, "How's your leg? I've been worried sick outside for ages!"

Scarface's eyes lit up; the easy target had arrived.

He endured the burning pain in his legs, propped himself up halfway, and poked Lu Yuan's nose with his finger.

"You! It was you! You kicked that wire! You've ruined my leg!"

Spit sprayed onto Lu Yuan's face.

Lu Yuan took a step back and shrugged his shoulders.

"Brother, I really didn't mean to. I was just doing it by accident while positioning myself."

"An accident? You fucking pay for my leg! Pay up! Three hundred thousand! You're not leaving until you get that!"

Scarface grabbed Lu Yuan's sleeve.

Lu Yuan was pulled forward, staggered a couple of steps, and almost spilled the thermos he was protecting with one hand. He kept saying sorry.

Lin Yue stood to the side, opening her mouth twice, but couldn't find a way to speak. A bald man covered in blood was roaring, and a tall, thin man was bowing and apologizing. She found the scene too gruesome to bear.

This kid had just made a name for himself with his acting skills, and now he's got this kind of trouble. He probably can't even scrape together 300,000 yuan from his bank account.

Jiang Yan retreated to the corner of the wall, crossing her arms.

She was looking at Lu Yuan.

"Come on," she thought to herself. "Let's see how you plan to collect it."

"Big brother, big brother, calm down..."

Lu Yuan shook off Scarface's hand, took another half step closer to the bed, and leaned down slightly, as if to take a closer look at the leg wrapped in gauze.

The distance between his face and the scar was reduced to less than 20 centimeters.

At this distance, the people next to him couldn't see it, but Scarface could.

Lu Yuan's expression changed.

The movement of his eyeballs stopped. His pupils were fixed on a single focal point, observing the position and relationship of every bone and muscle in his face.

The course of the carotid artery, the thickness of the temporal bone, and the gap between the medial wall of the eye socket and the greater wing of the sphenoid bone.

Scarface's smile froze on his lips.

He remembered.

On the film set, there was that steel cable.

The moment he charged forward with the steel nail, everything went out of control, so fast that his sensory system was barely involved. By the time the whole process was over, he was already lying on the ground.

Now, the same person's face is hanging in front of him.

Lu Yuan spoke, his voice very soft.

"Brother, did I really touch that steel wire?"

The voice was polite, but Scarface heard a different meaning.

If I had deviated by two centimeters when I touched the wire, that nail would now be in your femoral artery.

Scarface's pupils dilated to their maximum extent within a fraction of a second. His sympathetic nervous system sent out the highest-level escape command.

My heart rate spiked to 170.

Blood pressure spikes, peripheral blood vessels constrict, and fingers feel cold.

When adrenaline reaches the bladder sphincter, the smooth muscle tissue that was originally under voluntary control chooses to surrender.

A warm sensation spread from his groin.

The smell followed.