Cat 166: Filming

Chapter 166: Filming

[Want To Be Human] Livestream:

“Hahahahahaha, I love this trick from the system! The female lead, damn, this is killing me!” Gift basket.

“Holy crap, the system is really something. Are we allowed to watch this? The kitten landed the female lead role—does that mean he’ll have scenes with his owner? Ahhh, I want to see scenes between the owner and the kitten.”

“I can’t stop laughing, I never expected things could be played this way, only the system would think of it.”

“Director Jiang, please let me see a scene where the kitten licks his owner’s chin—hugging around the neck is still possible above the neck, but what’s intimate in cat form, just do it for me!”

“I wonder, if the kitten is playing the female lead, how’s he going to look for clues?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Director Jiang must have his eye on the kitten. I’m guessing he might be one of Teacher Qu’s personalities—not sure if he’s the main or the alter—but he sniffed out our kitten’s uniqueness just like a dog, so he picked him as the female lead.”

“Has anyone seen the Mingya High 2.0 instance? Don’t tell me it’s all been thrown off by the kitten again?”

“Isn’t it clear enough? Which player has ever gotten the female lead? Hahahahahaha, plot style has shifted! Honestly, it fits the female lead’s role. The kitten looks terrified of the supernatural, and the female lead is supposed to be afraid of ghosts and always clinging to the male lead—otherwise, they can’t make it out alive by the end.”

Yan Jiyun never expected to present himself to his teammates and the other players in such a way.

He was shoved in front of the film crew by Director Jiang: “This is my newly hired female lead. The makeup artist will do his makeup in a bit.”

Yan Jiyun hugged himself defensively: “I’m a man, I’m not cross-dressing!”

Director Jiang: “I know you’re a man. I didn’t say you had to cross-dress.”

Qi Feng had already been called back for the shoot and was staring at Yan Jiyun with great interest, as if pondering where he’d come from.

Lan Mo, acting as assistant, had also hurried back to keep an eye on the on-site NPCs, with Shi Yan and He Yuanle also returning.

Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi were chatting happily, relieved to see Yan Jiyun safe and sound; the two of them were the happiest of all.

Sure enough, Yan Jiyun was the most mysterious player—everyone else had boarded the vehicle, but only he had vanished to who knows where.

Yan Jiyun boldly shot Director Jiang a look: “Then why am I the female lead?”

Director Jiang said quietly, “Fine, want me to call the police?”

Yan Jiyun: “…” Having the police take him away would mean instant disqualification from the game.

Director Jiang really knew exactly how to handle the players.

Qi Feng, as male lead, asked, “So, how are we shooting this?”

A good question—straight to the heart of the matter.

Qu Wanchao also crossed his arms, somewhat dissatisfied: “Director, you change the script without notifying us?”

Director Jiang: “The script hasn’t changed. We’re just making it a double male lead.”

[Want To Be Human] Livestream:

“I get it, brotherhood~ yoooooooo~”

“I get it, brotherhood~ yoooooooo~”

“I get it, brotherhood~ yoooooooo~”

“Damn, Teacher Qu really knows his stuff—I have to call him the most playful NPC in history! I’m dying here, everyone guess if Teacher Qu and the kitten will have scenes together?”

“Apart from Si Hao, don’t male leads one, two, and three all have scenes with the kitten?”

“I suddenly want to see the script. System, publicize the script please! Will there be all sorts of dramatic showdowns? Hahahahahaha!”

“I’m dying of laughter. This livestream brings me ridiculous amounts of joy, hahahahaha!”

“Quick, quick, let me see how the next scene is shot!”

Yan Jiyun had never imagined he’d stand in front of a camera one day.

The makeup artist and costume designer ran him through the process before shoving him in front of the lens.

The fragments Su Xiran shot before didn’t need reshooting—Director Jiang truly lived up to his reputation, being not just a genius director but a renowned scriptwriter as well. On-set, he improvised a new identity for Yan Jiyun and seamlessly cast him as the new “female” lead.

Hearing the director explain his role, Yan Jiyun silently cursed him to hell for his “female” lead idea.

Director Jiang: “You followed them in secret. Only after Qi Feng noticed you did you join the group. The following plot is unchanged—just the way you enter is a bit different.”

Yan Jiyun asked, “How do I make my entrance?”

Director Jiang handed him a hastily scribbled script page: “Here’s your cue.”

Yan Jiyun quickly scanned it. He was somewhat satisfied—yet not entirely.

“When I come down the stairs, why can’t I land in a cool pose? Why do I have to trip and fall, and have Qi Feng catch me?”

Who would want to see this scene? It’s entirely unconvincing, isn’t it?

Director Jiang: “I’m the director. You perform it the way I say.”

Yan Jiyun: “But Qu Wanchao was just discussing the script with you, and you changed it for him.”

Director Jiang: “Reporter Yan, police.”

Yan Jiyun coughed: “Fine, we’ll do it your way.”

After all, he was quite used to being hugged by Qi Feng; it was only the logic he objected to.

It struck him suddenly—why was he being so silly as to argue with Director Jiang? He was an NPC; he didn’t even discuss the plot’s reasonableness with the players. Maybe Yan Jiyun was muddled from a cold.

The other players merely thought Yan Jiyun was bold to argue directly with an NPC.

But Director Jiang never treated Yan Jiyun as a player anyway. As an NPC, he usually stuck to his own script, improvising only when off-script.

Director Jiang: “Come here, let me guide you through your lines.”

As Director Jiang stepped forward, Qi Feng gently pulled Yan Jiyun to his side: “Director, let me run lines with him.”

Director Jiang saw no issue: “Alright, I’ll give you five minutes to rehearse your lines and blocking.”

Yan Jiyun and Qi Feng moved to the side to rehearse, though Yan Jiyun only had to read the lines once to memorize them completely. He realized Qi Feng was just helping him out of a tight spot.

Once they’d moved to the corner, Qi Feng glanced curiously at Yan Jiyun, who, with his babyish face, looked more like a high schooler than any of them.

Qi Feng whispered, “Did you come straight from the elementary school instance to the high school one?”

Yan Jiyun hadn’t expected him to guess so accurately, but he had no reason to conceal it. “Yeah—how did you tell?”

Qi Feng: “You still look like a high school student.”

Yan Jiyun touched his face. If his looks hadn’t stayed the same, the psycho director probably wouldn’t have targeted him.

Director Jiang, perhaps sensing someone’s resentful thoughts towards him, turned to stare at the two.

Qi Feng stepped aside to shield them from Director Jiang’s view. “What do you think of this instance?”

Yan Jiyun replied, “You have more information than I do. I just woke up and was spotted by Director Jiang, who then assigned me the female lead role.”

He deliberately set his “appearance” time apart from “Caramel’s,” knowing no one would check and he could say whatever he wished.

It made perfect sense: the original female lead had just jumped from the roof, he appeared right after, and Director Jiang grabbed him. It looked like the arrangement of Teacher Qu.

Qi Feng didn’t comment further. After all, waking in different locations at different times was possible in these instances.

Their conversation looked like a rehearsal, but it was really an exchange of information.

Qi Feng briefly updated him on the current situation. Yan Jiyun already knew most of this, but listening to Qi Feng explain everything so clearly, he almost felt guilty—nearly blurting out that he was “Caramel” himself.

Five minutes passed quickly. Yan Jiyun offered his thoughts: “Is it possible we can find clues within the script? Maybe the pace of the filming reflects our mission progress?”

Qi Feng nodded; he hadn’t considered that before. The script and the dungeon storyline overlapped closely—maybe the script mirrored what happened behind the scenes with Teacher Qu.

“Let’s follow Director Jiang’s arrangements for filming and see if it triggers new scenarios.”

To them, the female lead’s jump was no longer a new event; the system hadn’t even bothered with a task notification.

Having finished their discussion, they returned to their positions to film.

This was Yan Jiyun’s first appearance in the film “Mingya High School.”

He filled in for the original female lead, Su Xiran, but the movie now had two male leads rather than a male and female; double male-lead films existed in the real world as well.

His entrance was lively. Director Jiang wanted him to make an easy, cheerful appearance by sliding down the stair railing, showing up in front of Qi Feng and the others—but losing his grip, he crashed straight into Qi Feng’s arms.

Yan Jiyun was used to this sort of thing. He sat on the railing and slid down effortlessly, even striking a cool pose as he crashed into Qi Feng, who caught him smoothly.

Director Jiang had no real criticism of their pose, but something felt off: “One more take. Qi Feng, don’t catch him immediately—take two steps back, only then should you roll together.”

With his hand still braced against Qi Feng’s chest, Yan Jiyun muttered, “Director Jiang is a stickler for detail.”

Qi Feng discreetly took a step back, putting a little space between them. When they were kids, this meant nothing, but now, with Yan Jiyun pressed so close, Qi Feng felt weirdly hot in the face, his heart pounding oddly.

This Yan Jiyun was not even eighteen—far too young.

He merely replied, “He is, a bit.”

Under Director Jiang’s “tyranny,” the two did another take. Even with Qi Feng stepping back, he still caught Yan Jiyun securely under the same tacit understanding.

Now atop Qi Feng, Yan Jiyun and he locked eyes for three seconds before Qi Feng, right on cue, snapped, “Get off.”

Yan Jiyun instantly leaped back. “Think I want to? If it wasn’t for something horrifying chasing me, would I have crashed into you?”

Yan Jiyun’s first acting effort went off smoothly, delivering his lines naturally and in one seamless go.

The following scenes all proceeded without a hitch.

After several night shoots, it was already two in the morning. Even though Yan Jiyun had rested, as a teenager he was beginning to feel sleepy.

Next was a key scene with the male number two.

According to the original script, everyone confronted a ghostly woman in white—some were petrified, some ran around in panic, some hid under the desks. In the script, the female ghost really existed—she killed people.

The male and female leads didn’t hide together, giving the male number two an opportunity. Though he appeared aloof, he truly loved the female lead—it was genuine affection.

Meeting the male number two for the first time, Yan Jiyun had to focus.

Qu Wanchao was clearly dissatisfied with the newcomer brought in to save the day, his gaze full of appraisal and disdain.

Yan Jiyun wasn’t afraid of him, rolling his eyes in response.

Qu Wanchao: “…” Quite some personality.

Their scene had them huddled together under a school desk, hiding from the ghost’s pursuit.

Director Jiang: “Action!”

Cramped in the small space, the camera right in their faces to capture their terrified expressions at the sight of the ghost.

Fear came naturally to Yan Jiyun—he simply played himself, genuinely afraid of anything supernatural.

The lights dimmed; a female ghost was coming!

Qu Wanchao’s character matched his own personality—a little proud, a bit contrary.

He spoke his lines easily, his sharp jawline angled toward Yan Jiyun: “What’s there to be afraid of?”

Yan Jiyun’s eyes fell on the actress playing the ghost, whose pale face grinned menacingly at them.

She floated, presumably by wire, and looked so real Yan Jiyun couldn’t help but shiver—it was as if she truly was some weightless apparition.

Unconsciously, Yan Jiyun edged closer to Qu Wanchao, forcing his lines out: “W-why shouldn’t I be scared?”

Inwardly, Qu Wanchao was annoyed, but continued his lines: “It’s all an illusion. Trust science.”

The atmosphere around them grew ever colder. The ghost’s white skirt brushed past, and suddenly, everyone else had vanished.

Director Jiang cleared the set so fast? Weren’t Qi Feng and the rest close by? Where did they go?

A chill crept over Yan Jiyun. Only he and Qu Wanchao remained.

He no longer needed to worry about acting.

[Player has entered Main Quest 4: The Ghost Lady’s Attack.]

[Task Details: Survive the attack of Mingya High’s female ghost for five minutes; survival constitutes completion of the task.]

[Hint: Do not stay in the same spot for more than 30 seconds~]

Staring at the white skirt before him, Yan Jiyun muttered, “To hell with science; there’s a real ghost here.”

Qu Wanchao, sensing something was wrong but too proud to admit defeat, replied: “Impossible, you’re just scaring yourself.”

As he tried to crawl out and investigate, Yan Jiyun yanked him back just in time.

Qu Wanchao was about to protest when, suddenly, a head with disheveled black hair and a livid face was right at their desk—barely an arm’s length away.

Qu Wanchao fell backward, face drained of color.

God, oh god, that’s terrifying—help!

He wasn’t alone—Yan Jiyun was scared stiff too. But instead of freezing like Qu Wanchao, he swung a furious punch at the gray face; terrified or not, he was going to hit first!

The ghost seemed startled by his sudden blow, drifting a bit further away.

Both Yan Jiyun and Qu Wanchao were ghostly pale and dared not climb from under the desk; the white skirt was circling them—utterly terrifying.

Yan Jiyun’s hand still trembled. Why did this instance have such things? This was anything but scientific!

It took a long moment for Qu Wanchao to recover: “Shit! Was that really a ghost? Aren’t we filming? Isn’t she an actress?”

He still refused to accept what he’d just witnessed.

Yan Jiyun didn’t bother arguing: “Go check if the director and the others are still here yourself.”

He was now certain that he and the others had been completely separated, thrust into a mission space.

The ghost, regaining her composure, drifted back toward them.

Yan Jiyun, calculating the reminder’s timing, noted they were close to 30 seconds.

He wasn’t sure if Qu Wanchao was truly Teacher Qu’s core personality, but now the two of them were tied together, meaning he’d have to protect him—increasing the difficulty.

His solo mission spaces never had “reminders”; this time’s must have been provided to guide him in protecting Qu Wanchao. Normally, a level-5 instance would only get harder, not offer newbie tips—unless it served another purpose.

With only Qu Wanchao as company, and likely someone he had to protect, Yan Jiyun calmed his nerves. “Teacher Qu, we need to get out.”

So much back and forth later, he still had to address Qu Wanchao as Teacher, following industry custom.

Could Qu Wanchao be Teacher Qu’s main personality? But his annoying character hardly fit.

It seemed that the one protected by the system was always the main personality. Yan Jiyun kept his suspicions focused on Teacher Qu.

No system messages clarified it, but most likely Qu Wanchao was tied to the main personality, and therefore central to the main quest.

The ghost still hovered nearby. Yan Jiyun crawled out from under the desk first, and Qu Wanchao followed. That earlier punch must have had some intimidating effect, although Qu Wanchao would never admit he relied on Yan Jiyun.

Steadily, they scooted back toward the door.

Racing each other and elbowing side by side, both were desperate not to be left behind. Yan Jiyun didn’t want to be rearguard any more than Qu Wanchao did.

They fought their way to the door!

But as they tried to open it, they discovered it wouldn’t budge.

Yan Jiyun started to worry at the ghost’s silence—both he and Qu Wanchao looked up at once.

“Ahhhh!”

“Shit, shit!”

They both screamed.

The ghost braced herself against the door, face twisted in a bloodthirsty grin, her long fingernails poised at their necks.

Yan Jiyun’s knees went weak; Qu Wanchao fared no better, but together they staggered to their feet.

Qu Wanchao picked up a chair and threw it at the ghost; she retreated.

Yan Jiyun, seeing this worked, did the same.

Except this only enraged her. The ghost lunged at Qu Wanchao, those long, sharp nails aiming straight for his eyes.

She was going to gouge out his eyeballs.

Yan Jiyun shoved Qu Wanchao aside just in time, the ghost’s black nails slicing across Yan Jiyun’s left shoulder, leaving a blackened groove.

The ghost gave a sinister, twitching smile of satisfaction.

Yan Jiyun pressed his wounded shoulder, his clothes torn, the ghost’s nails having cut into his skin. “Jeez, what if her nails have bacteria?”

Qu Wanchao, caught off guard by the rescue, sat up and said, “Don’t touch the wound—what if it really does get infected?”

Yan Jiyun worried out loud, “It really might be infected, right?”

Qu Wanchao: “Maybe—possibly. Ghosts probably don’t bathe anyway.”

Their conversation drifted off as Yan Jiyun tore his uniform shirt to bind his shoulder, hoping at least to stanch the bleeding. He prayed there weren’t germs in the ghost’s nails—he was a very clean black cat.

Yan Jiyun: “I’m kind of scared of getting infected. What do I do?”

Qu Wanchao: “Then get out and go for an injection.”

Annoyed at being ignored, the ghost launched another round of attacks.

This time both Yan Jiyun and Qu Wanchao were ready. With their earlier fear lessened, things went smoother.

Except now the ghost simply vanished before their eyes.

Qu Wanchao glanced around: “Where’d she go?”

Yan Jiyun: “No idea.”

But then he noticed a faint shadow drifting outside the window, and pointed. “Is there a shadow out there?”

The two backed together.

Qu Wanchao, following his finger, peered out. “Seems like there’s a white shape.”

Yan Jiyun: “More than one?”

Qu Wanchao: “So the school legends are real after all.”

Yan Jiyun took the opportunity to probe: “You never studied at this school?”

Qu Wanchao hesitated. “How did you know I used to go here? It’s not on my Baidu profile.”

Yan Jiyun: “I heard it somewhere. Why isn’t it online?”

Qu Wanchao: “Mingya High used to be the most coveted school, but at some point, every year a senior girl would jump off the roof. Over time, the number of students dwindled—not just the students, even the teachers all resigned one by one. Eventually, the school fell apart and was abandoned.”

Yan Jiyun: “How many years did that go on for?”

Before he could answer, the ceiling fan in the classroom suddenly spun wildly.

Its fittings had decayed with age; now it hung right over them, threatening to come loose and lop off their heads at any moment.

[Time left for “The Ghost Lady’s Attack” mission: 3 minutes 30 seconds.]

These minutes were crawling by—three and a half to go!

How on earth were they supposed to survive this relentless ghost?

Yan Jiyun and Qu Wanchao kept retreating.

Just then, the white shadow outside the window floated close to the classroom. Her form grew clearer and clearer until even her features were visible.

Yan Jiyun and Qu Wanchao nearly shrank into a ball.

Qu Wanchao: “What do we do?”

Yan Jiyun: “What else? Run!”

They dashed for the back door, but it, too, was locked.

Meanwhile the white shadow passed through the window and appeared in the center of the classroom, standing right under the wobbling ceiling fan.

Ghost #2, her face tinged greenish, stared at them with empty eyes.

With shaking hands, Yan Jiyun got a clear look—she looked exactly like Qu Wanchao!

At that moment, Qu Wanchao himself collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.

Yan Jiyun: “……” Coward.