The Scum Gong Refuses the Crematorium [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 12

With a goal, a direction, funding, and the help of an idol, Guo Hang’s inspiration flowed like a spring. Working alongside a screenwriter they had hired, he managed to write over a dozen interesting bar stories in just one night.

After reviewing them, both Sheng Yan and James felt they were quite good: “Film it based on this.”

No matter how brilliant a story is on paper, its true quality depends on the final filmed result. And as the saying goes, “you don’t know until you try”—the start of filming was a rude awakening.

Guo Hang had initially thought that since he had solved all the major problems, filming a micro-movie with episodes only a few minutes long wouldn’t be difficult. But as soon as the cameras started rolling, problems came knocking one after another.

Technical issues with cinematography were to be expected; everyone was new and needed time to sync. However, even though the actors they hired weren’t lacking in skill, they simply couldn’t capture the specific “feeling” he was looking for.

Two days into filming, not a single shot had been approved. To make matters worse, Guo Hang had gotten into a massive argument with the lead actor.

Sheng Yan didn’t understand the technicalities of filmmaking. As an investor, his presence on set was so commanding that it was impossible to ignore him. Following his principle of not causing trouble, he stayed away from the set as much as possible, only dropping by occasionally to check in.

Today, Sheng Yan was out for a walk with 666. Passing by Guo Hang’s bar, he decided to step in and check on their progress. The moment he entered, he noticed the atmosphere was heavy.

Cradling the cat, he walked over and randomly asked someone, “What happened?”

Seeing the big boss, the person whispered an explanation: “Brother Zhou is quitting. He’s brought a lawyer to terminate his contract. Director Guo is throwing a fit.”

“Brother Zhou” was the lead actor Guo Hang had found, Zhou Yan. He wasn’t particularly famous but had played supporting roles in a couple of small web series. His acting was solid and his image was good. Guo Hang had binged shows for days and insisted that he was the only one for the job. To sign him, Sheng Yan had sent people to talk to him several times before he finally agreed to do a micro-movie.

The day he signed, Guo Hang had been ecstatic. Now that he was quitting out of the blue, one could imagine how furious Guo Hang was.

“Understood.”

After getting the full story, Sheng Yan acknowledged it and walked toward the negotiation table with 666. He tossed the cat onto Guo Hang, who was currently a volcano on the verge of eruption, to soothe his uncontrollable rage.

Since Sheng Yan stopped keeping a “stand-in,” he had pampered 666 to no end, taking the cat everywhere. No matter how angry Guo Hang was, he wouldn’t dare take it out on 666. He pulled the cat into his arms and gently rubbed its fur.

Admittedly, touching something so fluffy and soft softened his angry heart by thirty percent. Furthermore, 666 was very well-behaved; recognizing Guo Hang, it even nuzzled his palm. Guo Hang’s rising temper vanished instantly.

“Tell me, what’s going on?” Seeing that Guo Hang was no longer in a confrontational stance, Sheng Yan sat on the sofa and looked directly at the lead actor, Zhou Yan.

Upon seeing Sheng Yan, Zhou Yan’s hostility toward Guo Hang evaporated. Before coming here, he had done a background check on the man. This big boss was no ordinary person; he couldn’t afford to offend him. In fact, it was precisely because of Sheng Yan’s background that he had agreed to do the micro-movie in the first place.

But now…

Zhou Yan was straightforward, telling Sheng Yan directly: “President Sheng, Director Guo and I have conflicting visions. I’m afraid I can’t continue with this role.”

One couldn’t blame Zhou Yan. Over the past few days, he had acted according to the script, but no matter what he did, Guo Hang said the feeling was “wrong.” To match the vibe Guo Hang wanted, Zhou Yan had gone without eating or sleeping, trying over a dozen different acting styles, but Guo Hang still wasn’t satisfied.

Zhou Yan was at his wit’s end. He had exhausted his bag of tricks and truly couldn’t think of any other way to play it. Seeing Guo Hang grow more irritable by the day and looking at him with increasing distaste, Zhou Yan felt it was better to bring it up himself rather than wait for Guo Hang to get tired of him. It was better for everyone.

Sheng Yan nodded, then looked at Guo Hang: “And you? What are your thoughts?”

Though his anger was dampened by 666, Guo Hang was still frustrated. He muttered, “He just can’t act out the feeling I want.”

Sheng Yan nodded and looked back at Zhou Yan: “I’ll sign it for you.”

With that, Sheng Yan picked up the pen from the table, pulled the termination agreement over, found the signature line for “Party A” on the last page, and scrawled his name with two quick strokes.

Seeing the termination finalized, Zhou Yan breathed a sigh of relief. He picked up the contract and bowed to Sheng Yan: “Thank you, President Sheng.” He then looked at Guo Hang, who clearly hadn’t fully processed what happened, and added: “And thank you, Director Guo, for your guidance during this time. I won’t disturb you further.”

With that, he left with his lawyer.

It wasn’t until the man had left the bar that Guo Hang snapped out of it, looking at Sheng Yan in disbelief: “You just let him leave like that?”

Sheng Yan glanced at him: “Otherwise?”

Guo Hang held back his frustration: “But now that he’s gone, we don’t have a lead actor.”

Sheng Yan unhurriedly removed his gloves, picked up a tangerine from the table, and began to peel it slowly. “Didn’t you say he couldn’t act out the feeling you wanted?”

Guo Hang choked on his words: “He can’t currently, but maybe with more time to sync, the feeling would have come?”

The main issue was that if the lead left, they’d have to find a new one, and who knew how much time that would take? What if the next person was just like Zhou Yan and absolutely couldn’t capture the vibe? Guo Hang was starting to doubt if his own standards were too high. Zhou Yan was actually quite good—serious and responsible. Perhaps he was being too nitpicky.

“There’s no need.” Sheng Yan fed himself a segment of the tangerine. It wasn’t to his taste, so he stuffed the rest of it into Guo Hang’s hand. “Your protagonist should be like this tangerine. No matter how good or sweet it is, if it doesn’t fit your taste, you shouldn’t force yourself.”

Did he, Sheng Yan, lack money? If he simply wanted to invest in a movie, he could find any director or actor in the country. He chose Guo Hang because the man had a heart that chased a dream.

“Remember, a micro-movie is just your starting point.” Sheng Yan stood up and walked toward the camera position. “Your finish line is filming a Chinese blockbuster that belongs to us and shocks the world. You only need to be yourself; you don’t need to cater to others.”

Guo Hang, holding the tangerine peeled by Sheng Yan, felt a jolt run through him. An indescribable sense of heroic pride surged in his heart. He couldn’t put his gratitude into words; the only thing he could do was put his heart into filming the movie—not to fail himself, and not to fail Sheng Yan.

He tossed the tangerine into the trash can, cradled 666, and quickly caught up with Sheng Yan’s pace.

“Tell me, where exactly did it feel wrong?”

Sheng Yan stood at the camera station and had Guo Hang play the videos they had shot over the past few days, reviewing them clip by clip.

“The feeling is just off,” Guo Hang pointed to Zhou Yan’s movements in the video. “No matter how he acts, I don’t feel like he’s a waiter who has worked in a bar for a long time.”

Guo Hang’s micro-movie followed a theme of a bar waiter witnessing various stories happening every day, making the waiter’s role exceptionally vital. As a layman, Sheng Yan couldn’t tell if the acting was technically wrong; he simply asked Guo Hang: “Then what kind of waiter do you think fits your requirements?”

“Just…” Guo Hang couldn’t put it into words either.

Sheng Yan’s gaze swept across the bar. Although the Drunken Dream Bar was currently being used as a filming set, he hadn’t dismissed the service staff. Keeping them around to help clean up or do odd jobs was better than having the film crew do everything. Plus, since they filmed mostly during the day and the bar still operated at night, the staff were necessary.

At that moment, two waiters were cleaning the bar.

Sheng Yan raised his chin toward them: “Are you trying to say the waiter you want is like that?”

Guo Hang followed Sheng Yan’s finger. After watching for a while, he nodded at Sheng Yan: “Yes, yes, yes! That’s the feeling I want—authenticity!”

Guo Hang had run this bar for five years and dealt with these waiters every day. In his mind, the image of a “bar waiter” was very specific. If someone hadn’t actually worked in a bar for a long time, they really couldn’t capture that vibe.

Sheng Yan thought this was an easy fix: “Why don’t you just pick one of the waiters from your bar?”

Guo Hang immediately disagreed: “They have no popularity, no acting skills, not even the basic temperament of an actor. How could that work?”

It wasn’t that Guo Hang was being elitist; unless someone is born with it, a regular person’s presence rarely compares to a celebrity. And those who work as bar waiters usually don’t have exceptional looks or “star quality,” otherwise they wouldn’t be working there.

Sheng Yan didn’t care about any of that: “All those things can be cultivated. Isn’t the most important thing right now finding the lead who best fits your movie?”

Guo Hang was silenced: “That’s true.”

Sheng Yan observed the bar for a while longer. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure cleaning the bar counter. He looked the person up and down.

He said to Guo Hang: “I think this person is quite good. He has the image and the presence; he just lacks a bit of confidence and courage.”

Guo Hang looked over: “You mean Xiao Meng? He’s indeed good-looking, but unfortunately, he’s had a hard life.”

Sheng Yan was curious: “Oh?”

“Born in the countryside, he has a disabled father, a mother with cancer, and three younger siblings to support. He works like a spinning top every day to earn money, wishing he were a printing press.”

Sheng Yan didn’t think much of it after hearing the story: “Isn’t this perfect? Give him a chance to change his fate. Isn’t being a star easier than working several odd jobs a day?”

Guo Hang frowned: “But the places he works are quite shady. I’ve heard his reputation isn’t very good.” Even a boss like Guo Hang had heard the rumors, so one could imagine the gossip surrounding his private life.

Sheng Yan said indifferently: “You said yourself it’s just ‘hearing’ things. Why not call him over and ask?”

Guo Hang felt Sheng Yan was a bit naive—who would tell the truth about such things? But seeing Sheng Yan’s persistence, he called the man over: “Xiao Meng, come here for a second.”

“Okay.” Xiao Meng, who was wiping the counter, didn’t know why the boss wanted him, but he put down his work and walked over nervously.

While Guo Hang was wondering how to phrase the question, Sheng Yan spoke directly: “They say you often do ‘shady things’ to earn money. Is that true?”

Guo Hang was stunned. That’s way too direct!

Xiao Meng—Meng Nanqiao—turned bright red. He was shaking with anger as he glared at them: “Who… who said that?”

Sheng Yan remained calm: “Just heard it.”

Meng Nanqiao’s expression softened slightly as he said righteously: “No. They’re talking nonsense. That never happened.”

Sheng Yan: “So you haven’t done any of those messy things, right?”

Meng Nanqiao nodded: “Right.”

“Good,” Sheng Yan continued. “I’m giving you a chance to follow me now. Are you willing?”

Meng Nanqiao’s eyes widened. He asked, “Like Song Liguang?”

Sheng Yan nodded: “Yes.”

Meng Nanqiao hadn’t just started working at Guo Hang’s bar; he had been here for four or five years. He had heard plenty about Sheng Yan and Song Liguang. To be honest, he envied Song Liguang. Just because of a face, he was chosen by Sheng Yan and reached the pinnacle of life, gaining both fame and fortune.

But now, such an opportunity had fallen on him.

Meng Nanqiao bit his lip and refused: “I’m sorry.”

Though his current life was exhausting and bitter, the money earned through his own hands made him feel secure. He didn’t have to worry about a “pie falling from the sky” being taken back one day. Gaining and then losing is far more terrifying than never having had at all.

Sheng Yan tempted him again: “Have you thought it through?”

After a moment of hesitation, Meng Nanqiao nodded firmly: “I have. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Good.” Sheng Yan satisfiedly picked up a contract from the camera stand behind him and handed it to Meng Nanqiao. “In view of your excellent performance just now, we have decided to hire you for the lead role in the Drunken Dream Jianghu crew. Are you willing to take this chance?”

Meng Nanqiao froze completely.

He thought that by ungratefully refusing the boss’s friend and investor, he wouldn’t be able to stay at this bar much longer. He never expected such a turnaround. Looking at the contract, he remembered many things.

When he first started working at the bar, the customers were very “unclean,” often getting handsy with the waiters. Even as a man, he couldn’t escape being patted or touched occasionally. But he had no choice; the commissions on drinks were very high. If he lost this job, he didn’t know where else he could find such high pay. For the sake of money, he figured as long as nothing major happened, he’d just let the touching go.

Everything was fine until one day, Sheng Yan brought Song Liguang to the bar for a drink. It so happened they encountered such a customer, and Sheng Yan saw it. At first, Meng Nanqiao didn’t feel too humiliated—it was just earning a living.

But when he went to the restroom to wash his hands, Sheng Yan had said to him: “You have hands and feet; why not earn money with dignity?”

At that moment, he felt utterly humiliated. If possible, who wouldn’t want to stand in the sun looking glamorous? But some people are born into a “cheap” life; he didn’t have Song Liguang’s luck where a face could change a life. He could only do his best to earn every penny that was so hard to come by.

He knew about Drunken Dream Jianghu. He didn’t know if it would be a hit, but he knew it carried his boss’s dreams. The whole crew was very dedicated, and President Sheng’s investment was very generous. They had even brought in a super famous director. If he took this contract, it might be the major turning point of his life.

But what if it amounted to nothing in the end—?

Meng Nanqiao grabbed the contract without hesitation and signed his name quickly, as if afraid they would take it back: “I’m willing.”

No matter the outcome, could his fate be any worse than it was now?

Seeing how decisively he signed, Sheng Yan nodded: “A wise decision.”

He continued: “Starting tomorrow, I will hire professional acting teachers, etiquette teachers, and academic teachers for you. From now on, you must serve the crew wholeheartedly and improve your acting skills quickly. You don’t need to worry about anything else, understand?”

“I understand.” Meng Nanqiao’s breath hitched. This was a life he hadn’t dared to even dream of before, and now he had it so easily? It felt like a dream.

“Alright, take the day off today,” Sheng Yan said with a wave of his hand. “Go handle your affairs.”

After Meng Nanqiao left in a daze, Guo Hang looked at Sheng Yan: “Just signed him like that? We didn’t even investigate. What if he lied?”

Sheng Yan looked at the three incredibly ugly characters of Meng Nanqiao’s signature on the contract and shook his head: “There’s no need. If he can refuse even me, do you think he can’t refuse the ‘messy things’ outside?”

Guo Hang looked at Sheng Yan’s exquisite face that screamed “I have money” and nodded in agreement: “That’s true.”

Who could refuse Sheng Yan?

But then another thought occurred to him.

Didn’t Lu Mingyue refuse him back then?!