They filmed Liang Yan and Zhou Suiyu’s scene first, mainly covering: Ming Yan, upon learning Cheng Yanyun planned to rescue the young beggar gang alone, worried something might go wrong for her, so he feigned drunkenness at a banquet and left early. He ended up cornered at the door by Zhou Suiyu; anxious, Ming Yan simply knocked her out and dumped her in the woodshed.
Before filming began, Liang Yan had found a bottle of liquor from somewhere; he leaned against something with one hand in his pocket, unhurriedly drinking from the bottle. Occasionally some liquor dampened the corner of his lips, which he wiped away casually before blowing out a light breath—sending the disheveled strands of hair on his forehead scattering in the wind, revealing his dark eyes.
This scene drew a chorus of muffled shrieks from the women nearby.
Qiao Qi glanced over, somewhat unwilling to admit that Liang Yan’s aura really was captivating; her heart soured for a good while as she silently pulled out her phone and, with a coldly indifferent expression, sent Li’ang a message.
7: The big treasure is gone. 7: No reason needed. 7: 886.
The other party was likely busy and didn’t reply.
Qiao Qi didn’t wait around either.
Meanwhile, several cameras were also filming the young beggars’ and Lin Chu’s scenes.
Qiao Qi really didn’t want to look at Liang Yan right now, and had even less interest in Zhou Suiyu, so she went straight to check on Maiya.
Maiya had apparently already gotten familiar with that group of children before filming; her little face dirtied up, she wasn’t the least bit reserved in the “prison” set, even looking around curiously with wide, interested eyes.
Qiao Qi couldn’t resist pulling out her phone to take photos and short videos of her, and noticed a parent nearby doing the same thing—Qiao Qi felt a complicated pang in her heart.
So this was what it felt like… to show off your kid online?
She pressed her lips together and, feeling conflicted, took several more photos before reluctantly putting her phone back in her pocket.
Maiya spotted her, gripping the prison railing with her little hand and craning her neck to wave hello. Qiao Qi smiled and waved back. Lin Chu, seeing this nearby, bent down and said something to Maiya, who bared a mouthful of white teeth and chatted with him, beaming.
But the director didn’t give them much time to chat; within a few minutes he came over to explain blocking. The children nodded along, half-understanding, while Lin Chu—the sole adult among them—joked helplessly nearby, “Feels like I’m the mountain king here or something.”
The director, standing comfortably to the side offering advice, patted his arm and told him to do his best.
Filming went smoothly enough, no major mishaps. By the time this part wrapped, Liang Yan and Zhou Suiyu’s scene had finished too.
Next came the important part.
Qiao Qi straightened her clothes and, without waiting for the director to call her over, walked over on her own.
Liang Yan had just finished a “struggle” scene with Zhou Suiyu, his collar torn open, exposing his long, pale neck with a scratch mark left by Zhou Suiyu’s nails.
It was this very scratch that would distract Cheng Yanyun at the critical moment of the rescue, and make her realize clearly what she felt for Ming Yan.
Qiao Qi glanced over and blurted out, “Young Master Ming’s nightlife sounds quite eventful.”
Hearing this, Liang Yan lowered his eyes, his gaze circling around his own collarbone, then, very cooperatively, brushed his fingertip lightly across the scratch mark, lifting his eyelids to give Qiao Qi a meaningful look.
He said, “Not nightlife—my nightlife is spending it here with you.”
That line wasn’t in the script.
Qiao Qi frowned, but Liang Yan, without any particular reaction, turned his head away. Maiya, spotting him, stood on tiptoe and waved, calling him Prince.
Not just calling out—she brought the other kids along to call out with her.
Liang Yan himself didn’t so much as blush, taking it entirely as his due, even happily posing for a group photo with the children, in great spirits.
Among them, Maiya secured the center spot—Liang Yan’s lap.
Watching this gave Qiao Qi a headache; she simply looked away.
Until filming officially began.
……
Night fell, and all of Shanghai grew quiet. High overhead, a narrow crescent moon cast a faint, ghostly light, its sharp outline piercing through dark clouds; occasionally a dog somewhere let out a wolf-like howl.
The deep alley, silent.
Gradually, the sound of high heels drifted over from the distance.
—Clack, clack, clack.
Each step like a needle pressed to the tip of someone’s heart.
The young soldier guarding outside the prison felt a chill creep up his spine at the sound, cold prickling across his scalp.
He craned his neck to peer into the distant darkness, and gradually made out a slender, graceful silhouette.
The woman wore red high heels and a deep green qipao that wrapped around her figure. She didn’t so much as glance sideways, a faint smile hanging perpetually at the corners of her lips.
Looking closely, one could catch, in those tea-colored eyes, an unmistakable air of certainty and quiet confidence.
She drew closer and closer, until she stopped right in front of the soldier, and said with a smile, “I’m here to see your Deputy Officer Shi.”
The soldier looked this ghostly, seductive woman up and down; he even wondered if she might be the leading lady from some theater a few hundred years ago, come now under the cover of the moonlight to drain the living of their vitality.
But the moon overhead wasn’t even full.
Still uneasy, the soldier asked, “Who are you?”
Cheng Yanyun made no attempt to hide it. “Cheng Yanyun.”
Cheng Yanyun’s name carried considerable weight in Shanghai these days—in this chaotic age, the Baile Gate was perhaps the only place left where one could relax body and mind.
If something really were to happen down the line, the Baile Gate would be exactly the kind of place the old saying warned of: the singing girls know nothing of a fallen nation, still singing Backyard Flowers across the river.
“Here to see Deputy Officer Shi?” Though Cheng Yanyun’s name carried weight, not everyone had actually met her, especially this young soldier, who had neither the money nor the leisure to frequent such places. But since she’d stated her name so boldly, it did carry some weight. The soldier hesitated, then finally said, “Then wait here, I’ll go ask Deputy Officer Shi.”
The moment the soldier turned to leave, a tall, upright figure emerged from around the corner of the neighboring alley—it was Ming Yan.
Ming Yan’s expression was extremely dark; he strode over to Cheng Yanyun and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back the way she’d come. “Are you insane?! Do you know how many people could get dragged down with you if this fails?!”
Cheng Yanyun pulled her hand back sharply and said coldly, “Not a single one.”
Ming Yan lowered his voice. “Cheng Yanyun!”
“Young Master Ming!” Cheng Yanyun’s voice wasn’t loud, but her tone carried unusual certainty. She gently rubbed her wrist, reddened from his grip, and lifted her eyes to meet Ming Yan’s.
This young master—she didn’t know when exactly he’d wormed his way into her heart.
Clearly he was spoiled, arrogant, improper, even bordering on dissolute.
She, Cheng Yanyun, had seen every kind of man there was; she’d long since figured out one truth: every man on this earth was the same, born with flaws, born to be ruled by their base instincts.
But now she finally understood too, what it meant to be helpless against one’s own feelings. What it meant for emotion to arrive like a flood. What it meant that women were, so often, creatures of feeling.
Only, unfortunately, she wasn’t an ordinary woman.
She was a woman meant to carry this era on her shoulders.
So she smiled softly, just as she had the very first time she met the young master, eyes full of warmth even as her bearing remained cool and distant.
She said to him: “Since when did my affairs need your interference?”
“Is the Ming family falling on hard times?”
Ming Yan was provoked into laughing, but he had no intention of wasting more words with her; he pointed at her nose and said, “I’m not wasting my breath on you right now—just wait till we get back and see how I deal with you!”
Cheng Yanyun froze.
This… wasn’t right.
She’d spoken so harshly to him—shouldn’t this young master, raised amid a chorus of adoration since childhood, have stormed off in a huff by now?
“What are you staring at! Move aside!” Ming Yan grabbed her arm and shoved her roughly to the side. “I’ll go rescue them!”
Cheng Yanyun panicked, grabbing hold of his arm. “You can’t go!”
Ming Yan laughed, even finding the leisure to be improper with her. “What, only you get to be the hero, and I’m not allowed to play one too?”
Cheng Yanyun frowned anxiously. “Ming Yan!” She said, “Listen to me, I’ve already planned this out today—Shi Yanzhuang won’t suspect me!”
“Mm, using your feminine wiles, is that it.” Ming Yan sneered.
Cheng Yanyun lifted her leg and kicked him without any courtesy at all.
Ming Yan clicked his tongue. “Miss Yanyun, listen up—you go in and distract Officer Shi Fool, I’ll go rescue everyone.”
Cheng Yanyun didn’t catch it. “Shi—Shi what?”
The corner of Ming Yan’s mouth curled up. “Not important. Just remember to protect yourself, or else—”
Cheng Yanyun raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll get very angry.”
……
“Is the explosive amount confirmed or not, kids stop playing around! Those are dangerous items, understand?! Officer Shi! Officer Shi! Watch these little prisoners of yours!” the assistant director shouted at the top of his lungs on set.
Qiao Qi waited nearby while they set up, since next up was Cheng Yanyun and Ming Yan working together to rescue the young prisoners and blow up the prison in the process.
Shi Yanzhuang, not knowing that Cheng Yanyun and Ming Yan had already secretly colluded, would think Cheng Yanyun had simply come to bring him a gift—so at the critical moment, he’d shield Cheng Yanyun in his arms first, taking the blast wound to his own back.
During this sequence, the young prisoners’ escape routes were also carefully choreographed.
Qiao Qi, worried about Maiya, sat patiently beside her explaining how to stay safe, telling her it would be best to stay close to Liang Yan the whole time.
Maiya lifted her grubby little face. “Who’s Liang Yan?”
Qiao Qi found it hard to say, finally managing after a pause: “The Prince.”
“Oh oh oh, okay, the Prince already told me! He said he’ll carry me!” Maiya said brightly.
Qiao Qi paused, glancing over at Liang Yan touching up his makeup in the distance—he seemed to be teasing someone again, lips curved up, quite eye-catching.
Sensing something, he seemed to notice; Qiao Qi calmly looked away and squeezed Maiya’s little hand with an “Mm.”
Maiya, remembering what she’d just seen, couldn’t help burrowing into Qiao Qi’s arms and asking, “Seventh Princess, will you end up with the Prince?”
Qiao Qi: “……?”
“Who?”
“The Prince… oh, that’s Liang Yan!”
“Why would I end up with him?” Qiao Qi asked, genuinely curious.
Maiya was stumped by this, her little face scrunching up for a long moment before she finally said, “Because princes and princesses are supposed to end up together! And he just said, if you don’t behave, he’ll get very angry!”
Qiao Qi: “……Sweetheart, that was just acting.”
“Doesn’t he get angry even when acting?”
“Acting means it’s not real,” Qiao Qi said. “He won’t be angry.”
“Is that so?” Maiya clearly still couldn’t wrap her head around it—the difference between real and pretend was hard for a child to grasp.
Just then Liang Yan finished his touch-up and sauntered over. Seeing Maiya staring at him with eyes full of curiosity, Qiao Qi immediately felt a sense of foreboding.
Her first instinct was to take Maiya away, but Liang Yan moved faster—
His long legs crossed the distance, and he came over to Maiya’s side, bending down with a smile. “Hello there.”
Maiya laughed and hugged his leg. “Prince Brother, you won’t get angry at Seventh Princess, right!”
Liang Yan froze, his gaze shifting to Qiao Qi’s face. Qiao Qi, a bit at a loss, gave him a look urging him to answer properly.
Then she watched as Young Master Liang knelt on one knee, wrapped an arm around Maiya, and said with utmost sincerity, “That depends on whether Seventh Princess behaves.”
Qiao Qi: “……”
Sure enough, the next moment Qiao Qi watched Maiya turn to look at her, expression very serious, “Seventh Princess! You have to behave! The Prince is doing it for your own good!”
Qiao Qi: “……”
Oh.
So this was what it felt like to have someone close to you turn traitor?
Thanks. Duly noted.
Author’s Note: Liang Yan: Thanks. That felt good.