Half a minute later—
The long take wrapped without a single mistake.
"Cut!"
Shi Peihua's voice rang out.
The cold look on Su Yan's face vanished, replaced with a smile.
"Are you okay?" he asked, handing Gu Qingyuan a towel passed to him by an assistant to wipe the fake blood off her face.
"Thanks," Gu Qingyuan replied, accepting the towel, though her fingers trembled slightly.
"What's wrong? It was a rain scene, sure, but in June it shouldn't be that cold," Su Yan said. He himself was drenched but still felt hot.
"It's not just that... Your expression earlier kind of scared me," Gu Qingyuan said after a short pause.
"Oh... yeah, the fake blood all over my face probably looked a bit intense." Su Yan casually wiped at his cheek.
"There'll be more fight scenes like this in Episodes 1 and 4—especially Episode 4. You'll be covered in fake blood, too."
"No, I don't mean that. What scared me was your acting," Gu Qingyuan said seriously. "The way you looked at me after the fight scene… I knew it was just a performance, but I still felt like I was in danger."
"It was like I was really staring into the eyes of a monster who's killed countless people."
Su Yan paused.
The swordsmanship skill granted by the system—Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu—included not only training footage, but also actual combat memories.
Maybe those "memories" weren't real, but the emotions embedded in the fights definitely were.
So during action scenes, Su Yan would naturally fall into that emotional state. His posture, aura—everything changed.
More and more, he embodied the essence of the original Himura Kenshin from the anime.
He'd already heard it from the stunt performers before—
No one liked locking eyes with him during fights. It made their hearts race for the wrong reasons.
It made sense that someone like Gu Qingyuan—who probably hadn't even seen real-life fistfights growing up—would be startled.
"...Sorry. I'll try to hold it back next time," Su Yan said sincerely.
"No, no! Don't apologize," Gu Qingyuan said quickly, waving her hands. "You acted great. If anyone should be sorry, it's me. I need to work harder on getting into character. The script's Yukishiro Tomoe wouldn't be trembling in fear like that. It's my fault."
"Don't worry about me. It's just acting."
Shinozaki Ikumi, who'd been listening from nearby, quickly stepped in and draped a coat over Gu Qingyuan's shoulders.
Though she'd had the oil-paper umbrella, her clothes were also damp, and her hair had gotten wet.
"Come on, time to shower before you catch a cold," she said cheerfully, pulling Gu Qingyuan toward the dressing room. Before leaving, she turned and waved at Su Yan.
"You too—go change before you freeze! See you tomorrow!"
"See you tomorrow," Gu Qingyuan echoed.
"See you," Su Yan replied with a smile. Once they were gone, he didn't waste time either—it was getting late, and he needed rest too.
With a flick, Su Yan whipped his prop sword to shake off all the fake blood and water. Not a single drop remained.
Then, with a smooth motion, he flung the sword into the air. The blade spun midair, and he simultaneously drew the sheath from his waist—
The spinning sword landed cleanly, point down, into the scabbard.
A nearby stunt actor who hadn't left yet twitched at the sight.
That move was so clean and flashy… Why is this guy wasting his time as a screenwriter again?
In the 'Rurouni Kenshin' crew, Shi Peihua was mainly responsible for scenes involving Kenshin and Tomoe. Scenes with minor or background characters were handed off to the assistant directors.
But as always, film budgets never underrun—only overrun.
Even with extreme cost-cutting, the production funds were running thin.
Luckily, Shinozaki Ikumi had anticipated this.
Before filming began, she had already approached companies for product placement deals.
For instance, Kenshin's sword, Tomoe's kimono, and some of the bows and crossbows in the show—these were all tied to real-life manufacturers subtly promoted within the show.
The ad revenue wasn't huge, but as the saying goes, even a mosquito's leg is still meat. Every bit added up.
As they began filming Episode 2, the drama between Tomoe and Kenshin took center stage.
Thanks to the system, Su Yan had access to Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu, which helped him capture Kenshin's cold but sharp presence. As a result, Shi Peihua yelled at him far less than others.
After all, Kenshin's hardest scenes were the action sequences—and in that, Su Yan was flawless.
But with more emotional scenes, the demands on Gu Qingyuan's acting increased significantly.
Yukishiro Tomoe wasn't just a cold-faced beauty.
On one hand, she wanted to avenge her fiancé's death at the hands of Himura Kenshin.
On the other hand, she was slowly drawn to the young swordsman's gentleness and protectiveness.
She was a spy, caught between revenge and forbidden love.
These contradictions had to be conveyed through subtle emotional cues—often just eye movements in close-up shots.
As a result, Gu Qingyuan was frequently berated by Shi Peihua on set.
There were several times when her eyes welled up from being scolded, but she always held it in.
She spent her nights alone, rehearsing for the next day's scenes deep into the night.
Still, the progress was visible to everyone.
Even Su Yan, when acting opposite her, would sometimes lose himself and forget she was Gu Qingyuan—she was Yukishiro Tomoe.
And so, time marched toward the end of June.
"Action star?"
Over in the 'Pure Breeze' crew—which had been filming for a month now—Kiyota Sanji, Tu Heng, the director, and the rest of the cast had all heard whispers about odd happenings in other productions around the Hudu film base.
There was talk of a low-budget drama crew with a genius martial arts performer so talented that even veteran stunt professionals praised him.
Despite the many crews on site, the film industry was a small world—news traveled fast.
Of course, to Kiyota Sanji, none of this mattered.
His show was a youthful campus romance. No fight scenes. No need for action stars.
But the moment he heard that this so-called martial arts prodigy was from Sakura TV, he raised an eyebrow.
"'Rurouni Kenshin' crew. The screenwriter is also the male lead. Su Yan."
Sanji burst into laughter when he heard the name.
"The so-called genius action actor? Him?"
"What's so funny?" Tu Heng asked. He was in his early 30s, square-jawed, tall, and serious-looking.
"Su Yan? That guy used to run out of breath climbing five floors. Who's spreading this crap about him being a martial arts genius?" Sanji chuckled.
"And now I hear 'Rurouni Kenshin' is so broke the screenwriter had to act as the lead? Wow, I underestimated Su Yan."
The surrounding cast members laughed along with him, including the show's fourth female lead, Feng Nannan, who spoke up to show off.
"If I remember correctly, my classmate is actually playing the female lead in that crew."
"Oh? How's that?" Sanji asked, intrigued.
"She auditioned for our role of Miyu Suyoshi but didn't make it. Was about to go home to take over the family grape farm. Then, at the last minute, she got picked up by the 'Rurouni Kenshin' team to be their female lead."
Miyu Suyoshi was 'Pure Breeze's' third female role.
Everyone instantly understood.
A girl ready to quit acting and farm grapes gets hired as the lead?
A rookie screenwriter ditches his job to play the male lead?
And the producer of the drama was none other than Shinozaki Ikumi, infamous for her massive flop earlier this year, 'Sakura Island Love Song'.
Kiyota Sanji couldn't take it anymore.
"Talk about top-tier talent gathering in one place."
"Alright, let's not waste time on them."
At that moment, the 'Pure Breeze' director, Okabe Sosuke, stepped in.
"Starting tomorrow, SakuraNet will go all-out in promoting 'Pure Breeze' before its premiere. It might be a web series, but we all know this show was made for TV broadcast quality."
"The production team has clear instructions—not just from Sakura TV and its platform, but also from ZhongxiaNet under Zhongxia TV, HongsongNet under Hudu TV, and RaccoonNet as well."
"The goal is simple—'Pure Breeze' must be the number one web drama next season in both paid views and word-of-mouth."
While TV broadcasts still dominated the Xia Nation's market, online dramas were quickly gaining in paying users and public attention.
Deputy Director Akasaka Yoshitoki had justified the studio's multimillion yuan investment and massive promotional push with that trend.
But if they still couldn't reach the top despite all that?
Heads would roll.
"In other words..." Okabe Sosuke looked at everyone.
"Based on past numbers, 'Pure Breeze' will need an average of at least 3 million paid views per episode to lock in that #1 spot."
Xia's streaming platforms were still developing. Unlike Su Yan's past life, where platforms like iQIYI, Tencent, and Youku had matured, Xia's web dramas weren't breaking records just yet.
But Xia's paywall culture ran deep.
Three million paid views might not sound like much—but they were real, paid views. No freeloaders. All VIP users spend actual money.
So for the 'Pure Breeze' crew, that benchmark was no joke.
Most decent web dramas with 4–5 million yuan in investment barely got 1–2 million paid views per episode. Even if they performed well, the total paid sales across 11–12 episodes might reach 10–20 million yuan.
Split profits between the platform and producers, plus ad placements and overseas licensing, and the TV stations would make some money—
But not much.
And if it flopped like 'Sakura Island Love Song'?
The studio could lose 2–3 million yuan.
Tu Heng's face darkened. So did the director's.
Everyone understood—
Guys like Kiyota Sanji might have connections to get projects funded easily…
But if the show failed?
The rest of the team would be the ones to take the fall.
"Don't worry," Sanji said, laughing, trying to ease the tension.
"I've already checked out next quarter's web drama lineup across all four platforms. No serious competition. Three million average views? That's just our baseline. Four or even five million isn't out of reach."
"In short, we've already locked in the #1 spot."