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

Su Qinghan looked at him, her mouth opened slightly, but didn't close.

Lu Yuan had already opened the proposal. "When exactly will the recording take place?"

Just three seconds ago, he was an unyielding, Buddhist-like master, but now his eyes are practically glued to the paper. The smoothness of this change of expression is something Su Qinghan, who has directed films for so many years, has never seen in any actor.

Su Qinghan took a deep breath and opened the proposal.

"Let's look at the contract first."

The two sat side by side on the worn sofa, the business plan spread out on their laps. Su Qinghan's fingers traced down the rights and obligations clauses from the first page, her brows furrowing more and more as she did so.

Camera allocation: The lowest level given according to the "new guest" standard.

The disclaimer clauses are even more outrageous. High-altitude traps, underwater tunnels, electric shock triggers—a long list of physically dangerous elements—are all marked in bold with "Guests assume all risks."

Su Qinghan was about to lose her temper when she glanced at the person next to her.

Lu Yuan didn't even read the main text. His finger went straight to the last three pages—the appendix, detailed logistical support guidelines.

"Should the notification fee be paid through a public or private account? Is it tax-exempt?"

Su Qinghan stopped.

"The payment period is written as T+30, can it be changed to T+3? T+5 at most, I won't do anything beyond five days." Lu Yuan tapped his index finger on the terms and conditions. "Also, how many meals a day does the crew provide? Are the boxed meals single or double portions?"

"..."

"Can we bring Lao Liu (the cat) to the set? Does the recording studio have air conditioning? Can we reimburse the cat food?"

Su Qinghan closed the proposal and blinked for two seconds.

"You wait here." She opened her laptop. "I'll video chat with them."

The video call was connected.

In the meeting room of the Escape Room program team, Yan Ji sat upright with three core executives.

The screen first showed Su Qinghan's cool and refined profile, then the camera tilted slightly to the right—

Lu Yuan leaned back on the sofa, a thermos cup resting on his lap, and waved at the camera.

"Hello, Mr. Yan."

Yan Ji nodded and was about to exchange pleasantries.

"Mr. Yan, can I ask you something?" Lu Yuan leaned forward. "Will there be chicken legs for lunch on the day of filming?"

Yan Ji's mouth was open, and the words of greeting were stuck in his throat.

The planning team leader next to him thought he had misheard.

"drumstick?"

"A big chicken leg," Lu Yuan gestured. "Not one of those fried chicken nuggets, but a whole one, with the bone in. Preferably with a savory sauce."

The four people in the meeting room looked at each other in bewilderment.

They had been on high alert for an hour, bracing themselves for the cold, indifferent character on screen who could make a three-time Golden Horse Award-winning actor gasp for breath with just a glance. Instead, they were greeted by someone discussing chicken leg sizes in a video conference.

Yan Ji's brain clearly underwent a dramatic cognitive restructuring.

Su Qinghan turned the computer screen towards herself and used her shoulder to block Lu Yuan from view.

"I've read the proposal. I have a few questions."

Her tone left no room for negotiation from the very first word.

"Article 7, camera angle allocation: are we giving the lowest tier of screen time to newcomers? Lu Yuan's current online buzz is three times that of all the regular MCs combined. Do you think this screen time ratio is reasonable?"

Yan Jigang was about to explain.

"Articles 12 to 15, disclaimers. High-altitude traps, underwater tunnels, electric shock triggers—is your production team filming a variety show or engaging in extreme torture?" Su Qinghan tapped the screen three times.

"Delete all of these. There must be no physical structures on the recording set that exceed the safety threshold. I need to review your safety standards in advance."

Sweat beaded on Yan Ji's forehead.

"Director Su, these are necessary for the sake of the program—"

"The appearance fee," Su Qinghan interrupted him, "is a six-figure sum a sincere offer or just a trial price?"

"This number is already the highest among our newest guests—"

"Add 20%."

There was a three-second silence.

The finance director next to Yan Ji almost broke his pen.

Su Qinghan didn't give them any time to adjust.

"Lu Yuan is currently the most talked-about figure across the entire internet. If your special episode didn't have him, I can predict the ratings would drop by at least 40%. Can't you do the math?"

Yan Ji clenched and unclenched his fists under the table.

He glanced at the expressions on the faces of the people around him, and gritted his teeth.

"add."

Su Qinghan didn't stop.

"Supplementary agreement: The lounge must have a private bathroom, and the boxed meals must be of two types, with the standard specifications set by business standards."

Yan Ji nodded.

"Two additional cans of imported black caviar cat food are provided daily."

Yan Ji paused for a moment while nodding.

"Cat food?"

"Yes. Write it into the contract."

On the other side of the screen, Yan Ji looked at Su Qinghan's face.

This renowned, aloof, and arrogant female director, who had just dominated their entire executive team with her overwhelming business logic and negotiation aura, is now demanding, without flinching, that the brand and quantity of cat food be included in the formal contract.

Yan Ji had lived for thirty-eight years, and this was the first time he had ever seen someone talk about cat food with the air of discussing arms.

"Fine," he surrendered. "Write it all down."

After the video call ended, Lu Yuan leaned back on the sofa, and a notification popped up from his mobile banking app.

The zeros following the numbers in the prepayment figure were neatly arranged.

He scooped up the sixth cat, who was dozing on the top shelf of the cat tree, and lifted it above his head.

"Sixth brother, your dad's going to be on a variety show."

Old Liu's four legs dangled down, his head tilted to one side, his expression as clear and foolish as ever.

Lu Yuan took out his phone, opened the local seafood wholesale market's mini-program, and swiped his thumb back and forth on the wholesale price of salmon, muttering to himself as he calculated the price per kilogram.

Su Qinghan sat next to him, looking at his pathetic appearance, and rolled her eyes.

The laptop in my hand was not closed.

She had already saved the 3D security drawings of the venue, which the production team had just sent her, to a separate encrypted drive. The floor plan was marked with the coordinates, trigger conditions, and physical parameters of each mechanism.

She began to mentally rehearse the route for the day's recording.

The width of each passageway, the opening and closing direction of each door, and every node that could potentially cause an accident.

The shadows of the plane tree leaves outside the window swayed on the floor.

The sixth cat broke free from Lu Yuan's grasp, jumped back to the cat tree, and lay on the hammock licking its paws.

Lu Yuan was still calculating the salmon.

Su Qinghan was still calculating the safety factor.

Each person should calculate their own.

......

Next door, Jiang Yan's fingers were stiff when she took off her monitoring headphones.

Seventeen minutes ago, Su Qinghan's cool voice came through the earphones, explaining to Lu Yuan word by word the venue setup of the "Escape Room" special episode—high-altitude mechanisms, enclosed spaces, and electric shock triggering devices.

Lu Yuan's response was: "Was the chicken leg braised in soy sauce or red-braised?"

Next came the announcement fee. A six-figure sum.

Then came the commotion of that damn cat jumping down from the tree and knocking over the goji berry cup.

Jiang Yan put the earphones back on the table, and the interrogation scenes of the dismemberment case replayed in her mind. The young man in the reflective vest, with just a few words, dismantled a high-IQ serial killer with a thirty-year-old psychological fortress into scrap metal.

Now we need to put this person into a sealed space filled with extreme environmental stimuli.

Any scene that is entertainment for an ordinary person is, for Lu Yuan—a trigger.

Jiang Yan opened her laptop and logged into the municipal bureau's intranet.

The fire safety and security filing list for the special episode of "Escape Room" has been released.

Scene list: Abandoned mental hospital - Horror hospital - Gas chamber - Torture dungeon.

Each name is followed by detailed environmental parameters. The minimum area of ​​the enclosed space is four square meters, the minimum illuminance is 0.2 lux, and some areas are equipped with sudden sound and light stimulation devices with a peak noise level of 105 decibels.

Jiang Yan scrolled to the bottom of the filing form, where the safety assessment section read "Passed".

This assessment was based on the psychological tolerance threshold of ordinary variety show guests.

Lu Yuan is not an ordinary person.

She closed the page, opened the report template, and typed eight characters in the title: "Application for Special Security Consultant to Join the Team".

"Given that this episode involves high-risk physical structures and extreme psychological stimulation scenarios, in order to ensure the personal safety of guests and staff, I request to lead a team to the set up as a safety consultant."

send.

Jiang Yan closed her laptop and rubbed her temples.

I heard the squeaking sound of Lao Liu flipping over on the cat tree next door.