C141

Qian Yinian was on his way to work, carrying a briefcase. While crossing the street, he noticed an elderly woman in a floral blouse with graying hair, walking slowly with a cane in one hand and a cloth bag in the other.

Suddenly, the black cloth bag slipped from her hand and fell to the ground. The old lady tried to bend down to pick it up, but her back wasn’t as flexible as it used to be.

Qian Yinian quickly stepped forward, picked up the bag, patted the dust off, and said, “Grandma, here you go.”

The old lady smiled kindly. “Such a good boy. Thank you.”

Qian Yinian, a little shy, replied, “You’re welcome, Grandma. Please walk slowly.”

Up ahead, a little boy was holding a girl’s hand as they crossed the street, both wearing red scarves around their necks. The boy reminded her, “There are a lot of people on the road—hold my hand tight.”

Qian Yinian instinctively moved aside to make room for them and continued walking.

Just then, a young woman in office attire hurried past, clutching a cup of coffee. In her rush, she bumped into someone, and the coffee splashed—right onto Qian Yinian’s leather shoes.

The woman acted as if nothing had happened and was about to walk away.

“You—uh, excuse me…” Qian Yinian called after her.

The woman turned, coffee cup in hand, and looked at him with an arrogant expression. “What is it?”

He pressed his lips together. “…Nothing.”

She glanced briefly at the coffee stains on his shoes, then turned and walked off without another word.

Qian Yinian looked down at his shoes—brand new, barely two days old—and sighed.

After crossing the street, he took out a tissue, crouched down, and started wiping off the coffee stains.

As he crouched, his phone slipped out of his pocket. Someone hurrying to work accidentally kicked it, and the phone flew straight into a manhole.

Qian Yinian stared at the manhole, then at the stranger who had already disappeared, and could only squat down and try to lift the heavy cover himself. It hadn’t been moved in ages, and it took all his strength to pry it open.

He glanced at his hands—once clean, now dirty and covered in marks from the metal cover.

He didn’t have time to worry about that. He bent down and reached into the manhole to retrieve his phone.

People walking by saw him half-crouched, reaching into the drain, and whispered, “Is that guy crazy or what?”

Qian Yinian felt awkward and mumbled, “My phone fell in…”

When he finally pulled it out, it was caked with mud, a few leaves stuck to it—and it even smelled a bit.

Pinching it carefully between his fingers, he took out some tissues from his briefcase and wiped it off, muttering, “Good thing there wasn’t any water down there, or this phone would’ve been toast.”

The phone was saved, but his clothes were a mess. His black suit jacket was smeared with dirt, and his pants were filthy from kneeling on the ground.

He tried wiping them clean with tissues, but it only made it worse. Eventually, he gave up, took off the jacket, slung it over his arm, brushed off his briefcase, and decided he’d just have to go like this.

Because of the delay, he was almost late for work now—he needed to hurry.

Just then, his phone rang. It was Team Leader Zhu from his company.

“Hello, Leader Zhu… What? You want me to go to Zhu Ji Breakfast Shop and buy breakfast? But if I stop for breakfast, I’ll be late! What if the boss sees me—? …Okay, okay, I got it.”

Qian Yinian hung up the phone, looking slightly gloomy.

“Cut! Perfect, that’s a wrap,” Qian Mi called out loudly, clearly satisfied. Then he shouted to the crew, “Shi Fei did an excellent job! Everyone, take a two-minute break and get ready for the next shot. Costume team, bring Shi Fei a fresh suit.”

Shi Fei exhaled softly, stepping out of Qian Yinian’s mindset, and headed to the dressing room.

The costume team had already hung a new suit on the rack. Shi Fei quickly changed into it and came back out.

Taking advantage of the short break, Xu Zeming hurried over to hand him some water. Shi Fei took a couple of sips and said, “I’m good.”

The makeup artist came up to touch up his makeup and smooth out a few wrinkles on his clothes.

The prop team had sent the dirty briefcase to be dry-cleaned, and when Shi Fei returned to the set, they handed him a new one to use.

Though Qian Mi was known to be stingy, he never cut corners on filming costs. He paid close attention to details like these.

Once the costumes and props were ready, Shi Fei and the extras prepared for the next take.

Because the show was about endless reincarnation, many scenes had to be filmed repeatedly to capture the protagonist’s reactions after each “rebirth.” This crosswalk scene was one of them.

So, once again, they shot the crossing scene.

Shi Fei, now dressed in a clean, neat suit, looked completely different from the bright, energetic version in the previous take. This time, Qian Yinian’s face was full of uncertainty—as if he were trapped in a dream, dazed and confused by everything around him.

As he crossed the street again, he saw the same elderly woman drop her cloth bag. Qian Yinian picked it up for her once more, listening to her familiar voice thanking him.

Looking puzzled, he asked, “Grandma, you look so familiar… Have we met before?”

That kind of line would sound cheesy if said to a young woman, but the old lady only smiled kindly. “I’m old, dear. I can’t quite remember. Maybe we’ve met, maybe not.”

Qian Yinian stood up, still dazed, and then noticed the two schoolchildren holding hands as they crossed the street, followed by the same young woman rushing past with a coffee in her hand.

Since Qian Yinian was still in a daze, he once again failed to avoid the coffee splashing onto his shoes.

The woman left just as coldly as before. Qian Yinian stared at the coffee stains on his shoes, lost in thought.

By the time he snapped out of it, she was already gone—lost in the crowd.

After crossing the street, Qian Yinian, now wiser from experience, took his phone out of his pocket before crouching to wipe his shoes, just in case it fell again into the drain.

But after he stood up and took only two steps, someone from behind bumped into him. His phone flew out of his hand and landed by the roadside drain again.

The person who hit him was a man in a suit, about 1.8 meters tall, rushing off to work and apparently unaware he’d run into someone.

With a serious expression, Qian Yinian sighed and muttered, “Of course, it’s heavy again,” as he pried open the manhole cover once more.

When he finally retrieved his phone, his clothes were dirty again. This time, he didn’t even bother cleaning up—he just wiped the mud off the phone, slung his jacket over his arm, and straightened up.

Then his phone rang again—it was still Team Leader Zhu.

Qian Yinian answered, “Leader Zhu…”

“Cut, perfect!” Qian Mi called out, clearly pleased. Shi Fei’s performance had once again exceeded expectations — though it was the same scene repeated, he managed to convey two completely different emotional states, each distinct and layered.

Shi Fei was performing far better than Qian Mi had imagined. All the shots scheduled for the afternoon had been completed in a single take each. Originally, Qian Mi thought they’d be filming into the night, but now it seemed they might actually wrap up early.

Right after, Shi Fei headed back to the changing room once again — every “rebirth” meant another dirty suit, and another clean one needed.

Then filming resumed.

Each “rebirth” came with new circumstances, and with each reset, Qian Yinian’s mindset gradually shifted.

At first, he thought it was all just a dream. But later, when he realized he had actually been killed and reborn, the fear of not knowing when death would come next — and the helplessness of waking up every day to face yet another murder — all of it was portrayed with precision and depth.

The character’s personality transformation was also clear — from being the kind of person who wouldn’t even speak up after being bumped on the street, or who never dared refuse unreasonable work demands, to someone who could finally stand up to his supervisor, Zhu.

The entire afternoon was spent on this one “crossing the street” sequence, with over thirty versions filmed. Shi Fei changed into more than thirty different suits — practically cycling through all the ones Gu Yueze had prepared for him. Thankfully, the previously soiled ones had already been cleaned and returned, ready to be used again.

By the end, Shi Fei was starting to feel nauseous.

Spending an entire day shooting variations of the same scene was exhausting — even with emotional differences each time, it was mentally draining. It felt like copying the same English word all afternoon — no matter how many colors or fonts you use, by the end, just seeing the word makes you sick.

Qian Mi clapped his hands. “Come on, Shi Fei, let’s knock out one last take. I’ll treat you to chicken legs tonight!”

Shi Fei: “…” Please, keep your chicken legs. But he still got back into position — work was work.

Once again, the crosswalk scene began.

This time, Qian Yinian’s “foresight” ability kicked in — when the old lady’s cloth bag slipped from her hand, he caught it in advance. His face lit up with a bright smile.

“Grandma, here you go,” he said cheerfully.

The old lady took the bag, smiling. “Such a good boy, thank you.”

Qian Yinian grinned. “Grandma, you’re so beautiful. You must’ve been a real beauty when you were young.”

The old lady burst out laughing. “You little flatterer! But yes, I did have quite a few admirers back in the day.”

Qian Yinian gave her a playful wink and walked away.

Then came the woman with the coffee, rushing to work. This time, Qian Yinian stepped aside just in time, avoiding the spill. But the man behind him wasn’t so lucky — the coffee splashed all over his expensive shoes.

A sharp smack and shouting followed:

“You little brat! You ruined my shoes and still act all smug? Didn’t your parents teach you any manners? Guess I’ll have to teach you myself — for your future husband’s sake!”

A small crowd quickly gathered to watch the drama unfold.

Meanwhile, Qian Yinian strolled calmly across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting at the opposite curb.

Then, spotting the same man in a black suit — the one who had bumped into him in a previous loop — he casually extended one foot.

The man tripped hard, stumbling to the ground before he even knew what had happened.

Qian Yinian walked away leisurely, the faintest smirk curling at his lips. The man, still dazed, had no idea who had tripped him.

A little while later Qian Yinian’s phone rang again. He lazily picked it up and pressed answer, and immediately barked, “You pig—if you want breakfast, buy it yourself. Wanting me to pay you a few bucks for breakfast every day—what an honor, huh? Your nerve is so thick they should use it to make bulletproof vests for the state. And don’t shout at me like that—when I was a kid a dog bit me, so I’m scared. Now get lost.”

That last line he spat with extra force; after cursing the person out he felt invigorated and hung up.

…

Because of Shi Fei’s good performance, Qian Mi kept his promise and gave him an extra chicken drumstick at dinner.

Shi Fei looked at his lunchbox — two vegetable dishes and one meat dish — while everyone else’s meat was chili chicken. Only Shi Fei had an extra drumstick. Usually the lead actors’ food was served separately and a bit better than the extras’. In the Infinite Death crew everyone ate the same food, so Shi Fei didn’t mind — he wasn’t picky — but seeing him with his own private drumstick made a lot of people stare enviously.

Qian Mi, carrying his own box, took the chance to encourage everyone: “See that? Shi Fei gave a great performance this afternoon — most takes were one-takes. Don’t be afraid of hardship and fatigue. If you all cooperate like that, I’ll give you drumsticks too.”

Shi Fei: “…” Yeah right — these days people are bribed with cash red envelopes, not drumsticks.

Surprisingly, a few people echoed him.

Xu Zeming fetched a small folding stool and sat with the others without any special treatment. Shi Fei was the most popular person on set — a rising star — and many wanted to speak to him but didn’t dare, afraid of looking like they were trying to ride his coattails. So a sort of empty buffer zone formed around him.

He liked the quiet — but it didn’t last long. People soon swarmed him.

Shi Fei saw Qian Mi, Cao An, and Qu Cai sitting in a cluster around him and felt uneasy. “What are you all circling me for?” he asked.

Cao An poked at his food and sighed. “Ugh, these days working on the script has me losing hair. I’m not getting enough nutrients. One drumstick would really help.”

Qian Mi flipped his one-time-dyed green hair and said, “Right? I’ve been running filming all day and then have to continue tonight. Without some nutrition, how can I pull an all-nighter?”

Qu Cai was blunt. He stared at Shi Fei’s drumstick and asked, “Shi Fei, can I bite your drumstick once?”

Shi Fei was speechless. He didn’t know what to say to these three, so he simply picked up the drumstick and dropped it into Cao An’s bowl, saying, “I’m not eating it. Split it yourselves.”

It was just one drumstick, but the scene quickly turned ridiculous. The director, the screenwriter, and the logistics-cum-finance guy — three bigwigs — competed for that single drumstick on the spot with no dignity.

Cao An grabbed it first and licked it, declaring, “I licked it already — this drumstick is mine… shit—”

Before he could finish, Qian Mi snatched it, took a bite, and said, “So good.”

Cao An protested, “You gotta be kidding me — you’re taking the one I licked! Aren’t you afraid my spit is toxic? Don’t eat it all, let me try some.”

Qu Cai pushed up his glasses and said calmly, “You two should at least try to maintain your image. There are so many other actors here — have some self-respect. It’s just a drumstick, is it really worth this?”

He had barely finished speaking when he turned his head and saw Cao An shove the remaining drumstick into his mouth. When it came back out, only a bare bone was left.

Cao An wiped his mouth. “Delicious.”

Qian Mi added, “Yeah, but that drumstick was kind of small.”

The previously refined-looking Qu Cai instantly lost his composure. “You two beasts! Didn’t even think to leave me a bite? You’re worse than animals! I’m cutting ties with both of you!”

Cao An turned to Qian Mi and asked, “Who’s he? You know him?”

Qian Mi said as he scooped rice into his mouth, “Never met him.”

Qu Cai jabbed his chopsticks into his rice, then suddenly pointed off to the side. “Hey, look, there’s a cow flying in the sky!”

Qian Mi sneered. “Childish. You’ve been using that trick since kindergarten. Aren’t you tired of it?”

Cao An kept eating. “Do you really think we’re stupid enough to fall for that again?”

Then Qu Cai suddenly pointed behind them and said, “Huh? Why does that guy’s lunchbox have braised pork in it?”

Both of them immediately turned around, curious. “Where? Who’s got braised pork?”

Shi Fei, sitting nearby, saw the whole thing — in the brief moment Qian Mi and Cao An turned their heads, Qu Cai lightning-fast snatched all the diced chicken pieces from both their plates.

His speed was like that of someone who’d practiced the move a thousand times.

And to prevent revenge, he stuffed all of it into his mouth at once, not even caring if there were bones that might choke him.

A ruthless man, indeed.

Soon, another chaotic “battle” broke out among the three of them.

Xu Zeming, sitting nearby, leaned over and whispered to Shi Fei, “Shi Fei, maybe you should move away from them — I’m worried their stupidity might rub off on you.”

Shi Fei immediately nodded, stood up, and Xu Zeming quickly dragged his small stool about three meters away so they could watch the “w-ar” from a safe distance.

Over on the other side, Wang Yuanzhi was calmly eating his food while reading his script — his scenes were scheduled for later that evening, and he was using the break to review his lines one last time.

That actually surprised Shi Fei a little.