Chapter 285: I'm A Local
The day after Super 8 hit theaters, nearly every major newspaper across the country ran some kind of coverage on the film.
And the tone?
Surprisingly positive.
Most focused on the film's groundbreaking technology—especially the 3D visuals.
A handful gave light-hearted introductions to the actors and the design of the Ultramen themselves, offering some educational fluff for curious readers.
But over on the internet?
All anyone was talking about… was "Tyrannosaurus—bleep—".
Mainstream media outlets, of course, collectively chose to pretend it didn't exist.
Even though everyone knew exactly what had been said, the word had been censored, so technically, it couldn't be published.
It was one of those weird unspoken rules:
Even if the censorship "censored absolutely nothing," as long as the regulation box was checked, everyone could pretend it never happened.
"Onii-sama!! What the hell did you do?! Onii-sama!!"
Sakura exploded into the room, full fury unlocked, and promptly tackled her brother with a picture-perfect crucifix hold.
Forget the language barrier—Sakura didn't need to understand Chinese to figure out what was going on.
Plenty of international media had covered that moment.
After all, the Super 8 premiere wasn't exclusive to local press.
Shinji Matou, world-famous director, had gone viral. Again.
And not in the way he wanted.
"I surrender! I surrender!"
Shinji, now flat on the floor with Sakura strangling his soul through his windpipe, pounded the floor in mock surrender.
"You stupid brother!! What kind of idiot says something like that in an interview?! You've dragged the Matou name through the mud!"
She loosened the choke slightly, but her scolding continued.
"'Bulls aren't the strongest?' So you had to compare them to tigers and lions? Seriously?!"
She jabbed her finger hard into his forehead with every word.
"Do you even know what a tiger or a lion's... ahem... anatomy looks like?!"
"I haven't seen their, uh, parts..."
Shinji coughed awkwardly.
"But I have seen the real thing. And come on—Taiga and Arturia are way scarier than any bull."
Sakura narrowed her eyes and sneered.
"Oh yeah? Try saying that cute little joke to their faces. I bet Fuji-nee would stab you a hundred times with her naginata, and Arturia would use Excalibur to light you up like a New Year's firework."
"Haha, well, not the worst way to go. I'd become one with the light, at least."
CRACK
The moment he finished the joke, Sakura twisted his neck a little too far—eliciting a very real and very painful pop.
"OW—okay, okay! You've got no chill at all!"
Rubbing his neck with an exaggerated pout, Shinji whined.
If only he could win a physical fight, he'd show her exactly why he was the "Onii-sama" around here...
But alas. The dream remained just that.
Sakura, still exuding dark aura like a JRPG boss, smiled with ominous sweetness.
"By the way... my dear Onii-sama..."
She leaned in.
"That part at the end... when you said 'Tyrannosaurus—bleep—'... you weren't talking about me, were you?"
"Of course not~"
Shinji quickly averted his gaze.
"I was talking about Tiamat. You know, Mother of Monsters. The second Beast of humanity. Totally unrelated to you."
—Not that she'd buy it, but hey, it was technically true.
If he were trying to make a Servant analogy, sure—Kijyo Kōyō might've looked more the part.
But she was just a humble ★4 dinosaur. No way she could compete with ★5 royalty like King Arturia.
Not that rarity equals strength, but from how Type-Moon treated their cast?
Yeah. Kōyō wasn't winning that contest.
That left one obvious answer:
Tiamat—designed with hints of dinosaur elements, overwhelming presence, and a core concept rooted in Sakura's own final form.
So yeah. Shinji had absolutely been thinking of her when he said it.
But he'd never admit it to Sakura.
If she found out, he wouldn't just get a sore neck—he'd be lucky to survive the week.
All that said, even though "Tyrannosaurus—bleep—" blew up the internet, Shinji's popularity didn't actually drop.
If anything, it got a little boost.
Many moviegoers actually found Matou Shinji's now-infamous "Why not tigers or lions?" comment to be kind of... endearing.
They thought:
"Eh? This foreign director's kinda cute, isn't he?"
The reason for such a forgiving attitude was simple—Shinji was seen as a foreigner.
And for foreigners, not knowing the nuances of Chinese idioms or culture?
Totally understandable!
Just like that, Shinji's public image in the eyes of the local fandom took a surprisingly warm turn.
Of course, it helped that Type-Moon's local PR team was hard at work behind the scenes, guiding the narrative through hired online influencers and sock-puppet accounts.
But the point was—mission accomplished.
Sure, Shinji could've deflected with a perfect volley of vague soundbites like some kind of Stephen Chow press conference, giving everyone a runaround with style.
But that had its own risks.
What if someone clipped it out of context later on?
What if it became blackmail bait years down the line?
No—this "charming but clueless foreigner" persona was far safer and much more effective.
It pulled down barriers between him and the local fans, making him feel accessible and… real.
After all, Shinji wasn't just visiting.
He was right here in the heart of Shanghai, and he had a packed schedule filled with Type-Moon promotional events, local media appearances, and a handful of behind-the-scenes business negotiations.
In short, he had to be visible.
And so, during his days in Shanghai, Shinji Matou became a true time-management god:
Gourmet tours, festival events, business meetings—he did it all.
And crushed every single one.
His foodie escapades led him through every corner of the city, revisiting places from his past life and reliving some of his favorite meals pre-reincarnation.
Festival-wise, thanks to the Tyrannosaurus—bleep— meme still blazing through the internet, he was now dubbed:
"The most adorable film director in Shanghai"
—which might've had something to do with his boyish good looks and perpetual youthfulness.
(I mean, technically speaking, he is still a teenager.)
In this era of "three views bowing to facial features," unless he got caught in an irredeemable scandal, Shinji's fresh-faced charm would always beat out the wrinkled gravitas of older, gruffer directors.
As for the business side of things?
That was going well too.
He hadn't agreed to shoot a co-production film in China—much to the disappointment of local partners—but he had sweetened the deal by confirming that his next Spy Among Spies film would feature scenes set in China.
This was a gesture of goodwill, pure and simple.
Especially considering that Diarmuid, the star of the movie, still couldn't physically leave Fuyuki City due to system limitations.
In other words, any scenes "set in China" would have to be shot on indoor sets in Japan, dressed to look like real Chinese locations.
"Let's just hope the old man finishes his research soon,"
Shinji sighed to himself.
Once the technology to let Servants leave Fuyuki was finally cracked, shooting on location in China wouldn't just be possible—it'd be desirable.
It'd lower production costs, increase realism, and open up a whole new market.
A true win-win-win.
But right now?
They are still stuck building fake Great Walls in warehouses,
He could already feel how that technical limitation was beginning to bottleneck Type-Moon's global ambitions.
But it wasn't something he could fix alone.
Still, his trip wasn't without other accomplishments.
Aside from locking in the China-set Spy Among Spies 2, he also closed two major tech partnerships with big-name local directors.
One of them?
The vice chairman of the festival jury—Director Feng.
The other?
A legendary Hong Kong filmmaker known affectionately as Old Master Tsui.
It wasn't strange that they'd approach him.
Both directors had a track record of embracing new tech for commercial films.
And with Super 8 proving just how potent glasses-free 3D could be at the box office, it would've been strange if they hadn't come knocking.
Naturally, Shinji wasn't about to turn them down.
Connections matter. And so does trust.
And right now, he was racking up plenty of both.
Let's not even mention how this was the perfect chance to test out magic-augmented 3D tech with a normal human film crew, just being able to use this project to officially set up a Type-Moon technical team here in China was already making Shinji feel like he'd hit the jackpot.
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A few days later — Lin'an, by West Lake — Tower Beyond Tower restaurant
In the quiet, elegant lobby of the famed lakeside restaurant, waitress Qin Yang was diligently polishing a spotless dining table, her gaze occasionally drifting toward a certain private room down the hallway.
Inside sat a blue-haired boy and a purple-haired girl, sipping tea calmly while exchanging quiet words.
Despite their clearly Asian features, the subtle lines of their faces, along with the language Qin Yang had caught them speaking earlier while passing by, told her all she needed to know:
Japanese tourists.
In recent years, Lin'an had developed rapidly, with the tourism industry becoming one of the city's top priorities.
Especially after the West Lake Scenic Area became free to the public, the number of tourists—domestic and international—had exploded.
As one of the most popular restaurants in Lin'an, and located right on the lakeside, Tower Beyond Tower never lacked for foreign guests.
Qin Yang had worked here long enough to get used to them.
She still remembered how, two years ago, she was so nervous talking to her first foreign customer that she could barely get a word out.
Now? She saw foreigners the same way she saw the shut-in gamer guy from next door.
Well, there was one key difference.
Foreign tourists ordered like absolute madlads.
Whether it was in the name of "experiencing authentic Chinese cuisine" or simply curiosity, they'd always go for the most expensive signature dishes.
Not that the food was bad, exactly, but the price-to-flavor ratio was definitely questionable.
Take something like Longjing Shrimp.
Sure, it had a delicate taste and elegant plating, but compared to good old stir-fried shrimp? Was it really worth double the price?
From a server's perspective though, the more overpriced stuff they ordered, the better.
The restaurant didn't offer dish-by-dish commission, but high monthly sales translated to higher performance metrics, which meant more bonus pay in her pocket.
Spotting the blue-haired youth put down his menu and glance around, Qin Yang immediately took her chance and stepped into the room with a polite smile.
"Sir, would you like to order now?" she asked, switching smoothly to English.
She was a bit tense.
Westerners? No problem. Her English was solid when it came to food terms.
But if this Japanese guest didn't understand English and only spoke Japanese?
That'd be a real headache.
Fortunately, the young man blinked for a moment and then nodded.
Phew. Crisis averted.
Relieved, Qin Yang smiled wider and launched into her well-practiced spiel:
"Would you like to try some of our local Lin'an specialties? I'd recommend the West Lake Vinegar Fish, Longjing Shrimp, Beggar's Chicken, and—"
"No need,"
The boy interrupted her calmly, and to Qin's absolute shock—in fluent, crisp Lin'an dialect:
"I'm a local."
His tone was flat, but the meaning was unmistakable:
I don't need any overpriced tourist food, thank you very much.
<+>
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