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

Su Qinghan stared at the panoramic view of the crater on the monitor screen for a few seconds. It was two meters deep, with mud and water at the bottom. Falling into it wouldn't be fatal, but it would definitely be a sight to behold.

Old Jin chimed in from the side, "Director Su, the ground is slippery around the edge, be careful not to push too hard. If you really shove—"

"I'll control it," Zhao Xiujie replied quickly. "Just a light push to the chest, then use the momentum to back off to the edge. As long as the visual effect is achieved, that's fine."

Su Qinghan took the storyboard sketch, made a couple of changes, and drew a frame around the edge.

"Maintain a safe distance of 30 centimeters. If you cross this line, call 'cut' immediately."

"No problem." Zhao Xiujie nodded.

His gaze passed over Su Qinghan's shoulder. At the other end of the field, Lu Yuan was squatting on the ground, picking up a twig and drawing grids in the mud.

I drew a tic-tac-toe game.

Holding a thermos in his left hand and a tree branch in his right, he climbed down by himself.

Zhao Xiujie's teeth clenched together. He looked away.

......

The high-pressure water sprinkler truck is in place.

"Attention all departments—rain effect activated!"

Water jets gushed down from two directions simultaneously, crashing onto the gravel and loess, creating a knee-high spray. Within thirty seconds, the entire area had transformed into a muddy swamp.

Lu Yuan took off his raincoat and handed it to the stage manager. The black coat, soaked by the artificial rain, clung to his body, outlining the lines of his shoulders and back. His wet hair hung down his forehead, and water droplets dripped down his jawline.

Zhao Xiujie stood opposite him, the two of them staring at each other across the muddy ground twelve meters apart.

"log--"

"Scene 18, Shot 1, A—Action!"

Hit the board.

Zhao Xiujie moved, leaning his upper body forward, shifting his center of gravity forward, and lunging forward.

"Shen Yibai—"

The lines were squeezed out through clenched teeth.

Zhao Xiujie's eyes were red with anger.

I was run over three times and embarrassed myself three times. It's been building up for too long, and today it all came rushing out.

He pressed closer and closer. With each step, he left deep footprints in the mud, splashing mud and water to both sides.

Lu Yuan retreated, and Shen Yibai, facing an out-of-control opponent, chose to retreat and observe, his body language conveying a calm arrogance.

Zhao Xiujie didn't give him a chance to stop.

The stride length is increasing. The pace of the retreat is becoming more and more rapid.

Lu Yuan's heel landed on the soft edge of the pit. Loose soil and pebbles tumbled down from the edge, splashing into the murky water two meters below with a dull thud.

Ten centimeters, the distance between the heel and the outermost edge of the steep slope is less than ten centimeters.

Behind the monitor, Su Qinghan placed her hand on the loudspeaker.

The script is: Chu Tianxing grabs Shen Yibai's collar and pretends to push him away.

Zhao Xiujie slapped Lu Yuan's chest with both palms at the same time, pressing his ten fingers down, and then pushed off the ground with his heels.

The weight of 160 pounds, plus the momentum of the three-step sprint, all pressed down on the heel of the hand to propel it forward.

Old Jin sprang up from the mat: "Wait! Watch out!"

Su Qinghan raised the megaphone to her mouth and opened her lips.

That's too late.

Lu Yuan's upper body leaned backward.

The angle had passed forty-five degrees. Fifty degrees. Rain streamed down his upturned face, soaking his collar. The mud beneath his feet slid towards the deep pit, and gravel tumbled down with a clatter.

Zhao Xiujie's lips twitched slightly.

Two female stagehands screamed. The cameraman's hands trembled, and the lens shook violently for a single frame.

A two-meter-deep, stinking puddle. Below are rotten mud, broken bricks, and soaked wooden planks; a fall could result in a broken bone or even a steel bar piercing the body.

However, the body, which had tilted at 55 degrees, came to a stop.

Lu Yuan's heel cut into the mud, through the gravel and loose soil, and hooked onto a bare, load-bearing concrete block below, locking his left foot in place.

At the same moment.

Lu Yuan's right hand, which had been flying backward, reached out. His five fingers spread open, then closed, and hooked onto Zhao Xiujie's forearm, which was still pressed against his chest and hadn't had time to retract.

It's locked shut.

Zhao Xiujie's sinister smile froze halfway.

He felt his forearm being clamped by a vise. Then, a twisting force came up from Lu Yuan's waist and abdomen.

Using his left heel as a pivot, Lu Yuan's lumbar and spinal muscles exerted their full power in a fraction of a second. His upper body leaned back and turned to the left, splashing rainwater in an arc.

Zhao Xiujie's push missed its mark.

His hands remained in a pushing posture, but the point of contact had disappeared. Lu Yuan's body vanished from directly in front of his force, shifting to the side.

Then, the hand that was holding his forearm moved forward slightly.

Zhao Xiujie's forward push struck empty air, the point of force disappeared, and the momentum of the forward rush, combined with Lu Yuan's pull, caused the two forces to overlap and point towards the deep pit.

He let out a short, sharp cry.

The body is airborne.

He leaned past Lu Yuan's shrunk shoulder, head down, feet up, completely out of control.

*smack*

The mud was blasted into a three-meter-high column of black water. Turbid water, pieces of wood, plastic sheeting, and decaying leaves rose into the air with the water column, then fell back down.

The high-pressure water gun was still spraying water.

Artificial rain fell on everyone, but no one moved.

Su Qinghan held the megaphone to her mouth, her wrist hovering. Lao Jin half-squatted on the mat, one foot still in the air. The director of photography's hand remained pressed against the lens. The lighting technician, production assistant, extras, and makeup assistant—everyone's expression was frozen in the same frame.

The sound of splashing water and Zhao Xiujie's screams came from the pit.

Zhao Xiujie crashed onto a section of half-buried scrap concrete, landing on his right side first. His ribs were shattered, at least two, judging from the arc of his body's spasms.

The grayish-green water gathered up, reaching his waist. Rotten wood, plastic sheeting, and industrial foam were all plastered on his body.

The megaphone in Su Qinghan's hand fell to the ground.

"Help! Help! Stop the rain! Someone turn off the water guns!"

The scene erupted, with more than a dozen people huddled together at the edge of the pit. Old Zhou, the site manager, was the first to rush to the edge of the pit. The moment his right foot stepped on it, the mud collapsed, and he slid sideways for more than a meter, landing on his buttocks.

Old Jin followed behind, but after digging a couple of steps with his bare hands, he slipped and his knees hit the gravel. He grinned as he crawled back.

The pit walls, softened by water, collapsed wherever you stepped on them.

Lu Yuan stood at the edge of the pit, terrified. Utterly authentic, impeccable terror.

"Teacher Zhao! Teacher Zhao, don't move!"

His voice trembled uncontrollably.

He slid down the muddy slope in a half-squatting position, with waist-deep mud and water pooling around his waist.

Zhao Xiujie was half-turned, wedged between scrap steel bars, his right hand bracing against a wooden plank, his left hand clutching his ribs, his face deathly pale. The water had already reached his chest. The remaining pressure from the water gun was still dripping down, drop by drop, hitting his head.

Lu Yuan waded across, stumbling and pulling, sometimes digging, sometimes pulling.

When Zhao Xiujie saw him approaching, his pupils contracted in fear.

As he moved his body backward, a sharp, electric-like pain shot through his right rib, pinning him to the spot.