June 23rd.
The tenth day of filming 'Rurouni Kenshin'.
Since the airing schedule was set for late July, Shi Peihua's shooting plan wasn't especially rushed.
Over the past few days, while the crew focused on filming other scenes, Gu Qingyuan had been repeatedly reading through the full script of 'Rurouni Kenshin'.
Originally, she thought the story was just a short web drama centered on patriotism, with romance as a side plot.
But after reading the script, her view changed completely.
Yes, there was patriotism—but even more prominent was the entangled love and hate between Yukishiro Tomoe and Himura Kenshin.
If you really boiled down the essence of the 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal' arc, it was actually quite simple:
A woman, whose fiancé was killed, falls in love with the man who killed him.
But when your lead characters are as compelling as Himura Kenshin and Yukishiro Tomoe, a simple story like that becomes captivating on a whole new level.
And above all, it was the ending of this story that left the deepest mark.
Gu Qingyuan still remembered the feeling she had after reading the script for Episode 4.
Like her heart had been hollowed out—painful, with a thousand words stuck in her throat that couldn't come out.
She felt unsettled the entire day.
That night, she even dreamed of the characters.
The next day, when she arrived on set and saw Su Yan, an indescribable emotional heaviness welled up in her chest.
What on earth is going on in that guy's head?
Of course, while waiting for her own scenes to begin, Gu Qingyuan found that this small-budget web drama still had plenty more surprises in store.
Shi Peihua's directing skills, for one, were beyond question. Though she had offended TV station execs in the past and never gained much recognition, by the third day of shooting, the whole crew had witnessed her capabilities firsthand.
From top to bottom, her planning, her management of crew and cast, lighting, and camera coordination—Gu Qingyuan couldn't find a single flaw.
As for Shinozaki Ikumi, the producer who was about the same age as Gu Qingyuan, even if she wasn't that experienced, she still kept everything running smoothly.
But the most shocking of all—
Without question, it was Su Yan.
Forgive her for calling screenwriter Su Yan a freak.
It wasn't just her—probably everyone on the crew had the same thought.
To start, 'Rurouni Kenshin' had an enormous number of fight scenes.
A significant chunk of the budget had gone into hiring martial arts stunt performers specifically for the combat scenes.
On Day 1 of filming, the very first scene shot was of Kenshin launching a surprise attack in the dead of night on a high-ranking Kyoto official.
It was a dramatic one-against-many sword fight—where Kenshin kills several guards, including Yukishiro Tomoe's fiancé, Kiyosato.
Before filming began, Su Yan studied the storyboard and choreographed fight notes in silence for a long while.
Then he turned to the stunt team and said:
"Let's skip the choreography. Attack me with your fastest and flashiest moves."
"We'll improvise from there."
At first, everyone thought Su Yan was just showing off. Even Shi Peihua frowned.
Who do you think you are?
Even in choreographed fight scenes, stunt actors often get hurt.
If you're improvising and someone doesn't pull their punches properly—how are you supposed to film anything?
But Su Yan insisted. And with producer Shinozaki Ikumi curiously excited and agreeing, Shi Peihua had no choice but to let it happen—though she warned the stunt team to be extra careful. She didn't care about retakes, but injuries were a big no.
When Shi Peihua finally shouted "Action!", Gu Qingyuan witnessed something incredible—
A real-life martial arts performance that could only be called art.
Su Yan launched himself forward with a single kick, accelerating instantly. His black hair streamed behind him under the moonlight, his costume flaring in the wind.
With one sword swing, the nearest actor clutched his gut, a fake blood pack bursting and soaking his costume. He collapsed instantly, playing dead with perfect timing.
The moment Su Yan made his move, every stunt actor's expression changed.
They immediately realized—this screenwriter was the real deal.
No more hesitation. They all attacked at once, launching into a true group fight.
But Su Yan's speed, agility, and explosive power were insane—he moved like a human-sized cat.
None of the professional stunt actors could keep up with him. They couldn't even touch him.
He wielded his blunt-edged prop sword at impossible angles, striking at their chests, legs, and throats.
When their weapons clashed with Su Yan's sword, the shock in their hands nearly made them drop their blades.
It wasn't just brutal.
Even with their limited martial arts training, they could tell—Su Yan's sword style was self-contained and refined. And he was holding back.
Every attack stopped just short of doing real damage, refined to look good on camera.
Because this was a film, not a real duel.
The whole thing was over in just ten seconds.
Shi Peihua—who was infamous on set for criticizing everyone—stood frozen, mouth open, speechless.
How do you even begin to critique this?
Did she even have the qualifications to?
No wires. No harnesses. Just pure martial arts.
Su Yan had jumped and flipped across the alley, even leaping onto 2–3 meter high rooftops like it was nothing—barely breaking a sweat.
What kind of physical ability was that?
And in the end, Su Yan still wasn't satisfied with the take. The extras were too stiff at first, so they shot it two more times.
Two more performances of martial arts artistry.
Afterward, the hired stunt actors were left dazed, doubting their own skills.
From that day on, Shi Peihua said nothing when it came to fight scenes.
She just let Su Yan handle it however he liked.
And so, today—
A full moon night. The crew had prepped rain machines to simulate a downpour.
They had just finished filming the scene where Yukishiro Tomoe drinks alone in a Kyoto tavern—lonely, melancholic.
Next up: the rain-soaked battle between Kenshin and a masked man wielding chains.
In the original 'Rurouni Kenshin' manga, anyone who could survive more than a single strike from Kenshin was considered a master.
This masked chain-wielder not only held his own for a time—he even slightly suppressed 15-year-old, bloodthirsty Kenshin during their fight.
Still, in the 'Trust & Betrayal' arc, he never even gets a name.
But choreographing such a long, complex fight required pre-planned moves. Otherwise, no one could keep up with Su Yan's speed.
Everyone stood on the sidelines watching Su Yan and the highly-paid stunt actor who'd been brought in specifically for this.
This actor's pay alone exceeded what both Su Yan and Gu Qingyuan earned as the leads—
And he was only shooting two scenes.
This one, and another snowy ambush scene in Episode 4.
After a full night of filming—
They were on the eighth take already.
The fight was fully choreographed, but Su Yan's speed was still too fast—
Even prepped, the stunt actor could barely react in time.
"Su Yan, have you ever thought about giving up screenwriting to become an action star?" the stunt actor asked, panting after their eighth bout, eyes lit with admiration.
"With your skill, you could become the top martial arts star in Xia Nation. I only do stunt work because I'm too ugly for real roles. That's always been my regret. But you—your reflexes, moves, and physique are all better than mine. And most importantly… you're handsome."
"Not interested," Su Yan replied.
He'd gotten more comfortable using the swordsmanship skill from the system while filming these scenes.
Though it was always a little frustrating to have to hold back at the last moment.
The guy's suggestion was interesting, sure—
But the system only rewarded him for earning emotional value through work from his past life. So being an action star might sound cool, but compared to the value the system offered, it wasn't worth it.
"A shame," the man said, shaking his head.
The rain machines roared to life again, water streaming down, slightly obscuring Su Yan's vision.
He gripped his sword tightly. As Shi Peihua shouted "Action!" from behind the camera—
The ninth fight scene began.
The stunt actor had been training since childhood. Maybe he hadn't learned lethal techniques, but his strength and speed were well above average—enough to barely keep up with Su Yan's restrained pace.
They started with standard back-and-forth strikes—nothing too forceful, but the choreography was so clean and beautiful, the crew didn't dare breathe too loudly, afraid to ruin the scene.
Then the battle intensified.
The masked man stood atop the roof, spinning his chain like a lasso before flinging it at Su Yan.
Su Yan let himself get caught.
The stunt actor followed the sequence, lunging down from the rooftop.
Kenshin's eyes narrowed. A flicker of killing intent flashed across his face.
The entire sequence happened in two seconds.
CLANG!
A lightning flash lit up the scene, casting the duel in an eerie glow.
Su Yan twisted his wrist, shifting the sword's angle. Even though his body was bound, he broke free just enough to slash lightly across his opponent's body.
From head to toe, his blade gently traced across the stunt actor's frame.
Blood-red liquid—triggered by props—spilled from above.
With a bit of post-production and editing, it would look like the man had been cleanly sliced in half.
As Su Yan's sword swung down, rain mixed with blood formed an arc across the air.
The camera slowly panned—
And there, in the distance, stood a woman in pure white, holding an oil-paper umbrella, her expression calm and unshaken. She was breathtaking—so beautiful it made people forget to breathe.
But her face, clothes, even her umbrella, were all stained with the blood flung from Kenshin's blade.
Her pale, stunning face—now marked by red.
Rain is pouring from the heavens.
She and the man locked eyes.
The entire scene looked like a painting.
No one on set could look away.
Shi Peihua's face was serious, eyes locked on the monitor.
Gu Qingyuan, playing Yukishiro Tomoe, stood for several seconds before slowly speaking her first line—the one she says upon meeting Kenshin for the first time.