One week before filming, the cast and crew crammed into a noisy hotpot joint down a narrow alley.
Steam rose from the bubbling red broth, plates of thin-sliced lamb and greens vanishing as soon as they hit the table. The mood was light, almost giddy.
Zhao Lei raised a plastic cup of cheap beer.
"To Summer Again. Small budget, big heart. And to leads who actually give a damn."
Everyone cheered.
Bai Ling'er, squeezed in next to Ye Chen, clinked her soda against his tea. "To surviving the first read-through without forgetting lines."
He smiled. "We'll manage."
The evening passed in easy laughter—bad jokes from the supporting cast, complaints about rented equipment, shared excitement.
Bai Ling'er passed him chili oil without being asked. Ye Chen let himself relax, the warmth of the group soaking in.
It felt good. Real.
The next morning, his phone rang at eight.
Zhao Lei's voice was strained. "Ye Chen. Office. Now."
Ye Chen arrived to find the director pacing the tiny production room, coffee cold on the table.
Zhao closed the door. "Investor Li just pulled thirty percent of his funding. Two hundred thousand gone. We lose the campus locations, maybe delay the whole shoot."
Ye Chen's stomach dropped. "Why?"
Zhao hesitated. "I've heard rumors about you. The blacklist from Wang Hai's circle after Palace of Intrigue. Li's one of their regular investors. He didn't say it outright, but the timing…" He exhaled. "This is targeted. At you."
Ye Chen stared at the floor. The betrayal from that set rushed back—Wang Ming's smirk, Liu Xiaoxiao's cold words.
Zhao sat heavily. "I like you, kid. You're good. But if this sinks us before we start…"
"I get it." Ye Chen's voice came out rougher than he intended. He stood, jaw tight. "Give me two days. I'll try to fix this. If I can't… I'll step down. Won't drag the project down with me."
Zhao looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Two days. Don't do anything stupid."
Ye Chen left without another word.
Back in his room, the system panel flickered.
[Threat detected: Targeted sabotage via funding withdrawal.]
[Crisis Intuition: Source linked to Wang Ming social circle.]
A few taps on his phone, and he found it—Wang Ming boasting in a semi-private industry WeChat group, voice messages laughing about "burying that nobody Ye Chen's trash drama."
That evening, the rooftop bar in the city center glowed with string lights and overpriced drinks.
Mid-tier producers mingled with idols and second-generation investors. Wang Ming held court near the VIP section, arm around Liu Xiaoxiao's waist. She wore a tight red dress, laughing at everything he said.
Ye Chen walked in wearing the borrowed jacket, expression stone.
Wang Ming spotted him first. His grin widened into something ugly. "Well, well. The delivery boy crashes the party."
He raised his voice so the circle could hear. "Come to beg for scraps again?"
Liu Xiaoxiao turned, eyes narrowing. "Ye Chen? Seriously? You're embarrassing yourself."
The group chuckled. Phones angled.
Ye Chen stopped a few steps away. "I came to return something you left lying around."
He pulled out his phone, volume maxed, and hit play.
Wang Ming's own voice boomed: "Told Li to pull the funding. Watch that loser's little web drama die before it even—"
Liu Xiaoxiao went pale. Wang Ming lunged. "Turn it off!"
Ye Chen sidestepped, letting the clip finish. The nearby crowd had gone quiet.
"Real classy," Ye Chen said, loud enough for everyone close to hear. "Using family money to sabotage a tiny indie project because your ego got bruised. That the level the Wang family operates at now?"
Wang Ming's face flushed dark red. "You think you can threaten me? You're nothing!"
Liu Xiaoxiao stepped forward, voice venomous. "You're just jealous. Bitter because no one wants you. Pathetic clinging to some no-name drama—"
Ye Chen's eyes turned cold. He looked straight at her.
"Keep talking, Xiaoxiao. Push me further, and I'll leak exactly how you climbed into his bed to get that female third role. Screenshots, timestamps, the works. Female artists get judged harder than men in this industry, right? Your career ends faster than his."
The rooftop seemed to still.
Liu Xiaoxiao's mouth opened, then closed. Fear flickered behind the anger.
Wang Ming snarled. "You wouldn't dare."
"Try me." Ye Chen's voice was low, steady. "I've got nothing left to lose. You two do."
A producer nearby muttered, "This is getting ugly…"
Someone else: "If that recording gets out…"
Wang Ming glanced around, saw the shifting eyes, the phones now openly recording him.
His bravado cracked.
Security arrived seconds later—called by a frantic gesture. Two men in suits took Ye Chen's arms.
"Throw him out," Wang Ming snapped, trying to sound in control.
Ye Chen didn't resist. As they pulled him toward the elevator, he looked back once.
"Two days," he said quietly. "Clock's ticking."
The next morning, Zhao Lei called at nine.
"Li wired the money back. Full amount. Said he had a 'change of heart.'" Zhao's voice shook with disbelief. "Whatever you did last night… it worked."
Ye Chen closed his eyes, exhaustion and relief mixing. "Good."
At the costume warehouse later, the crew buzzed with new energy. Locations confirmed, schedule intact.
Bai Ling'er found him adjusting a prop watch, oblivious to the drama.
"Everything okay?" she asked. "You look tired."
He managed a small smile. "Just didn't sleep much. But we're good. Filming starts tomorrow as planned.
She beamed. "Then let's make it something amazing."
The system chimed softly as the group gathered for final prep photos.
[Ding! Successful defense of valued project and allies. Mid-level industry face-slap achieved.]
[Reward: 8,000 Fame Points, Crisis Intuition (Permanent), Temporary Influence Boost ×1.]
Ye Chen let the notification fade.
He looked at the small, determined team around him—Zhao Lei clapping to get attention, Bai Ling'er laughing at something the makeup artist said.
Tomorrow they started shooting.
And whatever shadows lingered, they'd face them in the light.