Xu Pingqiu looked at Jiang Yue, the admiration in his eyes completely undisguised.
If one were to ask what it meant for an actor to have control over their lines, it was by no means just about having a loud voice or perfect pronunciation. Rather, it was the ability to use tone, rhythm, and pauses to turn the cold, lifeless words on the script into a blade that could sway the emotions of others.
What Zhang Yu had just portrayed was a moralizing preacher standing on high ground. His presence was indeed powerful.
But once Jiang Yue responded with those “soft and weak” lines, the character of Lin Zhaonan suddenly seemed like a hotheaded greenhorn who only knew how to yell.
Instead, it was the dead-drunk Chu Yan who looked like the one who truly understood the chessboard of the capital.
Jiang Yue had not even looked at Zhang Yu directly. Yet, through the back-and-forth of the lines, the core of the scene was already firmly grasped in his hands.
Sitting across from him, Zhang Yu's palms were covered in sweat. He couldn't follow up.
His next action in the script was to storm off in anger. But he knew very well in his heart that if he acted it out just like that, not only would he fail to uphold Lin Zhaonan's integrity, but he would also look like a clown dismissed by Chu Yan with just a few words.
This was incredibly frustrating. Clearly, he was the aggressor. Yet, as the battle went on, he was the one about to be disarmed.
“Good.”
Xu Pingqiu tapped the table, breaking the silence.
“Let's stop here for this scene.”
“The feeling is spot on.”
He looked at Zhang Yu, his words not harsh, yet direct.
“Lin Zhaonan is a player in the game.”
“Chu Yan is the observer of the game.”
“Zhang Yu, your emotions just now were still too superficial. Go back and think about it some more.”
Zhang Yu's face flushed hot, and he replied in a low voice, “Understood, Director Xu.”
When he looked at Jiang Yue again, his gaze had changed. The initial contempt was gone, replaced by a trace of wariness that he was unwilling to admit even to himself.
This kid definitely had something wrong with him. No. He was bizarre.
The table read continued until six in the evening. When it ended, Jiang Yue closed his script, greeted the seniors around him, slung his backpack over his shoulders, and left the conference room.
Just as he walked out of the hotel lobby doors, he took out his phone. Because just moments ago, the system notification sounds in his mind had begun ringing almost continuously.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Light blue light screens flashed one after another before Jiang Yue's eyes.
【Spectator amazement detected, Prestige points +5】
【Spectator curiosity detected, Prestige points +10】
【Spectator fear detected, Prestige points +15】
...
The numbers skipped too quickly. Line after line, they blurred into afterimages.
In just two short minutes, the current Prestige points on Jiang Yue's status panel surged from less than a thousand all the way to three thousand. And they were still rising.
Jiang Yue stood at the entrance of the hotel lobby, stopping in his tracks. He didn't celebrate immediately.
Something was wrong.
There were only a few dozen people at the table read. Even if Xu Pingqiu appreciated him, it was impossible to generate such a waterfall of emotional feedback.
This was clearly not coming from inside the cast and crew.
Jiang Yue unlocked his phone. Pinned at the top of his WeChat, Li Cheng had sent five consecutive voice messages.
He tapped the first one. Li Cheng's voice, barely able to contain his excitement, burst from the speaker.
“Jiang Yue! Penguin Video has set the date. It's the May Day holiday slot!”
“The trailer was just released across the entire web. Help repost it.”
“You can take a look first. The response is amazing!”
Jiang Yue understood. 《Manhunt》's release date had been set.
At the same time.
Penguin Video Headquarters.
Operations Department, B-Tier Project Group.
Xiao Wang, an intern, stared intently at the backend data, his breath catching slightly.
《Manhunt》. A low-budget B-Tier mystery-detective web drama.
Under normal procedures, releasing a trailer and running a round of standard promotions should have resulted in steady, average data. To put it bluntly, it would have been perfectly normal for it to fly completely under the radar.
But now, the comment interaction curve in the backend was skyrocketing. In less than half an hour, the volume of interactions had already surpassed many A-Tier projects.
“Supervisor!”
Xiao Wang suddenly turned around.
“Quick, look at this!”
Hearing this, Operations Supervisor Zhao Yang walked over and glanced at the screen. His eyebrows shot up instantly.
He didn't rush to check the view count. Instead, he clicked directly into the comment section.
The trailer was nearly two minutes long. For the first minute and a half, it was filled with the bloody and oppressive atmosphere of the case.
The male lead, played by Lin Ze, was pushed almost to the point of suffocation by the serial murders. Fog, pursuits, and the weeping of the victims' families.
The shots cut quickly, building a thick sense of suspense.
But around the one-minute-and-thirty-second mark, the rhythm suddenly broke. The background music vanished.
The screen cut to a rooftop. Lin Ze held a gun, his eyes bloodshot, his voice practically hoarse.
And standing before him was a young man wearing a trench coat.
The camera didn't show his full face at first. It only gave a close-up profile.
The young man raised a slender finger and gently pushed away the dark gun barrel. His movement was very light, yet it was ridiculously arrogant.
In the next second, the camera captured his face head-on. It was indeed Shen Xu, played by Jiang Yue.
Jiang Yue wore gold-rimmed glasses, with only a faint smile on his face. Cold, crazed, and carrying a lofty contempt.
“Shoot.”
The word fell. The screen abruptly cut.
Inside a bookstore. He exuded a scholarly aura, gently handing over a bottle of mineral water. Clean, easygoing, and completely harmless.
In the next second, the police officer turned and left.
The rag in his hand paused on the counter, a vintage pocket watch was slowly opened, and the warmth in his eyes turned cold, inch by inch.
The screen went black. The title of the drama appeared.
Zhao Yang stared at the screen, his eyes lighting up.
“Who is this actor?”
“I've never seen him before.”
Xiao Wang tapped rapidly on his keyboard.
“Found him. His name is Jiang Yue.”
“He's not a signed artist. He seems to be an amateur.”
“I heard Director Li Cheng brought him in at the last minute to save the shoot.”
At this point, Xiao Wang swallowed hard.
“Supervisor, the comment section is already blowing up.”
Zhao Yang looked down. The top hot comments had completely drifted off-topic.
“Holy crap, who is that actor at the end? I want this man's entire life story in three minutes!”
“That was so intense! That line, ‘Shoot,’ absolutely sent me.”
“Lin Ze's acting is as solid as ever, but this villain actually held his own? His presence didn't lose out at all!”
“The contrast is insane! Gentle one second, a total psycho the next. Who could possibly resist this?”
“Just for this face and that gaze, I am definitely watching this drama.”
“Wait, is this guy really an amateur? An amateur looking like this? How is the domestic entertainment industry still sleeping on him?”
As Zhao Yang read through them, he could no longer hold back his grin.
Mystery and detective dramas had a very fixed audience. So to break out of that niche, relying solely on the cases wasn't enough.
There had to be something that could make passersby stop, click in, and then easily share it.
Now, 《Manhunt》 had it.
“A B-Tier drama's budget, with an A-Tier drama's level of discussion.”
Zhao Yang patted Xiao Wang on the shoulder. He made a decision immediately.
“Xiao Wang, get in touch with the promotion and distribution team right away.”
“Upgrade 《Manhunt》's recommendation slot from the 'Suspense Theater' to the homepage feed.”
“And draft a plan.”
“Release a set of high-definition solo posters of this actor tomorrow.”
Xiao Wang's spirits lifted.
“Understood!”
On the other side.
In Hengcheng, inside the hotel room booked by the crew of 《The Grand Game》.
Jiang Yue sat at his desk, finishing the entire trailer. He had to admit as well that the post-production editing skills of the crew were indeed top-notch.
For instance, when filming the rooftop scene, it was shot in a studio with artificial rain. Director Li had mentioned that special effects would be added in post-production to create the tense atmosphere of a rainy night, and they had even taken close-ups of water droplets on the clothes.
He had initially worried it might look fake, but the final product turned out quite well.
Just piecing these few shots together immediately amplified the sense of danger from the character "Ghost" several times over. Calm, dangerous, and highly deceptive.
Especially with the rooftop and bookstore scenes placed back-to-back, the contrast became starkly prominent.
Let alone the audience, even Jiang Yue himself felt that Shen Xu was somewhat of a psycho after watching it.
Rate on N.U.
