Chapter 85: The Painter Seeks the Killer, the Wrap Party, Times Have Changed

Criminal investigation drama?

Lin Xing felt a spark of interest as he received the script titled “Portraits of the Hunt” and began to read.

The story revolved around a composite sketch artist and a police captain working together to track down criminals. At present, Lin Xing only had five episodes in hand, but those five episodes already contained two cases.

It was an episodic drama—a common structure for crime investigation series. However, Lin Xing felt this script stood out, at least because it didn’t fall into the clichés of so many modern crime shows that devolved into romance, relying on the protagonist’s infatuation with the female lead to drive the plot.

He couldn’t help but think back to the crime dramas from twenty years ago, even just ten years ago—how different they had been.

The first two cases in these five episodes were strikingly realistic. One was about the “nude loan and plastic surgery case,” a topic that had appeared in “Sweeping the Black Tide.” The other dealt with “school bullying,” an issue that had become all too prevalent in recent years, with young bullies becoming ever more brazen.

Now Lin Xing understood why Sister Dao had asked him to look over the script first.

First, this was a web drama. To be fair, Lin Xing’s previous works—“Just Waiting for You” and “Sweeping the Black Tide”—were both television series, and though his roles varied in prominence, they were proper dramas.

But “Portraits of the Hunt” was a web series, set to air exclusively on Penguin Video.

Secondly, this web drama featured a dual-male-lead format—one specializing in sketching, the other in pursuing criminals. For Sister Dao, the script’s novelty was interesting, but she wasn’t in a rush; her goal was to find Lin Xing a leading role in a television series.

So she’d had Xiao Nan send the script to Lin Xing first, to see if he was interested.

Interested? After reading, Lin Xing was more than interested—he thought the script was genuinely exceptional, and, most importantly, the role of the sketch artist seemed tailor-made for him.

He had just wrapped up playing a villain in “Sweeping the Black Tide”—the character Zhou Bo felt so distant from himself that he chose to lean into the character’s darkness in his performance.

But this sketch artist was different. If the script maintained its quality, Lin Xing truly wanted to take the part.

“Sister Dao, yes, I’ve finished reading. Can I ask how many episodes there are in total?” Lin Xing called Sister Dao, “And how many cases are there in total?”

Sister Dao laughed, half exasperated: “They just handed over the script, I haven’t even asked that yet. I’ll call them now.”

“No need, Sister Dao, just give me their contact information,” Lin Xing replied directly. “I’ll talk to them myself.”

“Huh?” Sister Dao was a little surprised. “Xing, you’re really taken with this script?”

“It depends on the quality of the later episodes, but based on the first five, this script is solid. I need to negotiate with them,” Lin Xing said with a smile. “Besides, we might not be their first choice, so I should fight for it myself.”

“If we agree, they won’t choose anyone else,” Sister Dao said confidently. “It’s just a web series, and our participation would elevate it.”

“Alright, just send me their contact info. I want to discuss things with the creative team. After I attend the wrap party, I’ll return to the capital and meet them in person,” Lin Xing said.

He felt that even though “Portraits of the Hunt” was a web drama, if it could maintain its current quality, it would be far from mediocre. He needed to communicate with the creative team.

After all, too many shows started strong and then devolved into melodrama after ten episodes, racing toward a disappointing ending.

“Portraits of the Hunt” was co-invested by Jinfeng Films and Penguin Video. The project lead was Jinfeng’s vice president, Ma Wen, who was currently in a meeting with the scriptwriters and director.

“Director Liu, you’re in charge of preparing the crew. We need to get everything set up quickly and move forward.”

“Casting must fit the characters. The cast determines the ceiling for the show, so better to have none than the wrong one.”

“For the two leads, Zhou Wei will play the police captain, but the casting net for the other lead needs to be cast wider.”

“Old Wang, you and the writers need to keep working on the script—make sure it’s fully polished before shooting.”

…

Ma Wen went over the next steps with the creative team.

He was brimming with confidence about this script, especially since he’d been friends with screenwriter Wang Yi for years and had known since three years ago that Wang was working on this story.

Now, after three years, the script was finally complete. Ma Wen immediately convinced the company to invest, then invited Liu Zhou—a director known for crime dramas—to direct.

Because Penguin Video had rated the project A+, Ma Wen hoped to invite the currently popular Lin Xing to boost the show’s profile.

But it had been three days since the script was sent, and there was still no response from Lin Xing’s side. It was likely a polite rejection.

“Ma, the crew preparations are nearly done, but what about Lin Xing?” Director Liu Zhou asked.

“No reply yet. But I take that as a silent rejection,” Ma Wen said with a shake of his head. “Lin Xing’s popularity has skyrocketed these past months. If we’d gotten to him a few months ago, maybe, but now, I doubt he’d be interested in a small-budget production like ours.”

It was true. When an actor was unknown, the crew wouldn’t consider them, but once they became popular, the crew could hardly afford them.

“I have faith in my script. If Lin Xing’s unavailable, let’s look elsewhere,” Wang Yi said.

They had always planned to cast a wide net anyway.

“Alright, I—” Ma Wen’s phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the unfamiliar number and frowned. “Excuse me, let me take this.”

“Hello, who’s this?”

Ma Wen answered the call in the meeting room, ready to hang up if it wasn’t important.

“Hello, Mr. Ma, this is Lin Xing. Is this a good time to talk?”

As soon as Sister Dao sent him the number, Lin Xing dialed.

“Haha, Teacher Lin! Of course, it’s a good time. Please, go ahead,” Ma Wen replied, laughing.

Lin Xing got straight to the point: “Mr. Ma, I just read the script for ‘Portraits of the Hunt’ and I really like it. But since I only have the first five episodes, I wanted to ask—are the later episodes not finished yet?”

“No, the script is already complete. It’s twenty episodes in total,” Ma Wen replied.

“Twenty?” Lin Xing was a bit surprised at the length, but continued, “Since the script is done, could I read the whole thing? To be honest, I just saw it today, but I’m very interested and want to see how it develops.”

“No problem,” Ma Wen agreed without hesitation. “I’ll send you the full script, along with the character bios written by the screenwriter. Take a look, and we can talk after.”

“Great, let’s add each other on WeChat. You can send me the script there,” Lin Xing said. “I’ll be back in the capital tomorrow—can we meet then to discuss things in detail?”

“Absolutely! I’ll add you now—is this the right phone number?” Ma Wen asked.

“Yes, this one,” Lin Xing confirmed.

“Alright, I’ll add you. We’ll chat on WeChat in a minute,” Ma Wen said, then hung up and quickly added Lin Xing.

Lin Xing accepted immediately.

Ma Wen then had his assistant send Lin Xing the entire script of “Portraits of the Hunt,” along with Wang Yi’s character bios.

In this industry, many actors were not allowed to see the full script—some only got a single page when joining a production.

Sometimes, crews would deliberately withhold scripts, knowing the first few episodes were good but the rest were trash, or they’d make endless changes.

Such things were common.

But Ma Wen wasn’t worried. “Portraits of the Hunt” had a rock-solid script, and Lin Xing clearly recognized that as well.

With Lin Xing on board, even if the show only rated an A, it would at least get some marketing buzz.

“Is there hope?” Director Liu Zhou asked, frowning. “Will Lin Xing take the part?”

“Looks promising. He wants to read the whole script before he decides, and he’ll meet us to talk when he’s back in the capital tomorrow,” Ma Wen said with a smile. “I didn’t expect Lin Xing to be so proactive. He seems to genuinely like the script.”

“Lin Xing actually reads scripts?” another screenwriter said skeptically. “I remember when he first started acting, he didn’t know what he was doing.”

“Old Li, that was a decade ago,” Liu Dan said, laughing. “I had lunch with someone the other day who mentioned Lin Xing; they said he’s starting to show real acting chops.”

“Really?” Old Li was dubious. He’d seen too many actors hyped up as talented, dedicated, polite, only for it to be all an act.

He remembered another production where a supposedly “down-to-earth” actor turned out to be a complete diva.

“What Liu said is true. For example, who shot the short film for ‘Emperor Shadow Watches’ starring Lin Xing? That was the same director who worked with him on ‘Just Waiting for You’ in the B unit…” Ma Wen nodded. “That’s why I invited Lin Xing—his reputation is good right now.”

“We’ll see for ourselves tomorrow,” Old Li said thoughtfully.

“If Lin Xing is really interested, we can make some concessions. Old Wang, think about the script—if he wants to add romance, we’ll let him. As long as he agrees to join,” Ma Wen said.

“But…” Wang Yi wanted to protest, but eventually said, “Alright.”

…

At this time, Lin Xing was quickly skimming through the remaining fifteen episodes of “Portraits of the Hunt.”

Excellent.

The quality hadn’t dropped off; the pacing remained strong, which was rare.

“Looks like I’ll need to have a good talk with Ma Wen and the others tomorrow,” Lin Xing thought, calling Sister Dao again. “I’m taking ‘Portraits of the Hunt.’ Get ready. When I’m back in the capital tomorrow, come with me to meet the creative team. Some things need to be settled before we sign.”

Sister Dao nodded. “Alright, I’ll handle it.”

After a few more words, Lin Xing hung up.

At 2:35 p.m., Lin Xing arrived at the set of “Sweeping the Black Tide.”

“Hello, Director Zhu,” he greeted Zhu Ming, then said hello to Ren Yi, Wang Fei, Song Wen, and the others in turn.

This time, things were different from their first “script reading.” Back then, the cast had been somewhat distant with Lin Xing.

Now, not only did they respond warmly, but they even teased him a little.

Recognition.

For veterans like Ren Yi and Wang Fei, they didn’t see Lin Xing’s acting as exceptional, but they respected his dedication to his craft.

As they say—sometimes your peers make you look better by comparison.

Just look at Feng Wei’s son, Feng Qing—a self-proclaimed acting prodigy who looked down on “idol actors,” yet on set didn’t even measure up to some of the so-called idols.

Speaking of which, Feng Qing was here.

Having a good mother and father certainly helped.

Feng Wei, Situ Hui, and Feng Qing—family of three—were chatting with Director Zhu.

Situ Hui was clearly very socially adept; she had previously apologized profusely to keep Feng Qing’s scenes from being cut, and managed to repair the relationship.

Today, on the wrap day for “Sweeping the Black Tide,” she brought her son along—to make her presence felt and to further cement ties with Director Zhu.

It had to be said—Feng Qing hadn’t inherited either his father’s acting talent or his mother’s social intelligence. The kid wasn’t a lost cause, but he was clueless.

“Xing, when did you get here?” Situ Hui brought Feng Qing over to Lin Xing. “I wanted to have dinner with you last time, but you’d already wrapped and left.”

“Hui, I just arrived,” Lin Xing replied cheerfully.

“We’ll chat at the wrap party later,” Situ Hui said, turning to her son. “Learn from Xing.”

“Alright, Mom, you’ve said that a hundred times,” Feng Qing grumbled. “Annoying.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. You two talk,” she said, then pulled Lin Xing aside to whisper, “Xing, please try to persuade Qing. I got him a role in a new show, but he’s refusing to take it…”

Lin Xing was taken aback. “Hui, if he won’t listen to you, how could I persuade him?”

“He’s stubborn, and it’s my fault for spoiling him. He gained some experience on this show, so I thought he should try an idol series to win over fans, but he looks down on that—wants to be a ‘serious actor’…”

Situ Hui sighed. “It’s also my fault, and his father’s—we often talk about the industry in front of him, so now he deeply despises idol actors…”

Lin Xing was speechless. He’d originally thought Feng Qing was just clueless, but now he realized he was both clueless and thought others were beneath him.

Well, hopefully he’d survive when “Sweeping the Black Tide” aired.

After a few more words, Situ Hui left Lin Xing with Feng Qing.

“My mom wants you to talk me into taking that idol drama, right?” Feng Qing asked.

Lin Xing nodded. “Yes.”

“What do you think?” Feng Qing pressed.

Lin Xing shook his head. “I don’t know anything about the show, or your own goals, so I have no opinion.”

“Lame,” Feng Qing muttered. “Fake.”

Lin Xing just chuckled.

Fortunately, Bai Yan started calling everyone over for photos.

“Alright, everyone, come over for pictures!” Bai Yan called through a megaphone.

On wrap day, all the actors would return for a group photo to celebrate. There would also be a wrap party at the hotel that evening.

Photos were taken—of the whole cast, of Ren Yi, Wang Fei, Song Wen together, of Lin Xing with Ren Yi. It was a lively affair.

That evening at 6 p.m., the hotel lobby was decorated with a banner: “Celebrating the Successful Wrap of ‘Sweeping the Black Tide’.”

When “Just Waiting for You” wrapped, Lin Xing hadn’t even been invited to the party; not every supporting actor is.

But “Sweeping the Black Tide” was different. According to Bai Yan, every actor had been invited this time. Even Feng Qing had been invited.

The photography, lighting, makeup, production, sound departments—almost everyone was there.

That was what set Zhu Ming apart from other directors.

He still upheld the traditions of filmmaking from two decades ago.

He never staged behind-the-scenes footage—there was plenty of real content, no need for fakery.

He could be a tyrant on set, yelling at actors and staff when things went wrong, but it was never personal.

The crew was the crew; life was life.

Now that filming was done, Zhu Ming transformed back into his pre-filming self, summarizing their experience on stage.

“This time it took us just forty-five days from start to finish—a record for us, but that’s because we prepared thoroughly in advance.”

“I want to thank everyone, the entire crew, the actors, for overcoming so many challenges, thank you…”

“A toast to our wrap. Tonight, let’s drink our fill!”

Though filming took only forty-five days, as Zhu Ming said, the preparations had started months before—scripts polished, actors brought in early, some of them even sent to experience real life.

All told, half a year of preparation.

Because of that, the shoot went smoothly. More importantly, the “Sweeping the Black Tide” crew had no divas, no troublemakers.

Feng Qing’s issues were just a minor episode.

“Xing, you’ve done well,” Ren Yi said to Lin Xing. “Honestly, at the script reading, I was unimpressed—I thought you were just another pretty face. But you really applied yourself, asked for advice, and your acting improved.”

“Thank you, Yi,” Lin Xing said sincerely. “I’ve been studying these past years, but theory is one thing; actually acting is another. This drink’s for you.”

“Haha, cheers!” Ren Yi toasted.

The rest of the evening was spent mingling and toasting.

Lin Xing also toasted Director Zhu, thanking him for his guidance.

Zhu Ming really did offer guidance—far more than some others.

After several rounds, Lin Xing was a bit tipsy. Not only did he toast others, but people came to toast him.

Jiang Li came over. “Mr. Lin, a toast to you—thank you for your support.”

“You’re Jiang Li, right?” Lin Xing smiled. “You did well—keep it up.”

“Thank you, thank you, Mr. Lin.” Jiang Li was delighted that Lin Xing remembered his name, and after their toast, he left Lin Xing to mingle.

“Xiao Lin, let’s have another drink.”

Feng Wei approached Lin Xing. “I hope we get to work together again. I’ve heard from the others about your work ethic on set. It’s a pity we didn’t have any scenes together.”

Feng Wei’s character was on a different storyline, so he and Lin Xing had never met on set. He’d only heard about his son’s issues from his wife.

“It is a pity, but I’m sure we’ll have the chance in the future,” Lin Xing replied. “A toast to you, Wei.”

After their drink, Feng Wei said, “Xiao Lin, well, never mind. When we’re back in the capital, I’ll call you, Ren, and Kong for a get-together.”

“I’ll be there when you call,” Lin Xing said.

Feng Wei sighed inwardly.

Comparisons are odious. If only his own son had half of Lin Xing’s ability.

Unexpectedly, Fu Shu also came over to toast Lin Xing.

Fu Shu had only a cameo this time. In Zhu Ming’s last production, he’d been outperformed by the veterans, but he returned nonetheless.

Like Feng Wei, his character was in the inspector storyline, so he and Lin Xing had no scenes together.

“How did it feel being in this crew?” Fu Shu asked, smiling. “Was it stressful?”

Lin Xing nodded. “It was.”

“Well, I hope you can handle what comes next. You’ve got guts, but the real test comes when ‘Sweeping the Black Tide’ airs…” Fu Shu said, speaking from experience. “You’d best stay off the internet then.”

Lin Xing was momentarily confused, then understood. “Thank you, Teacher Fu. I’ll make sure to do that.”

“Good luck.” Fu Shu patted him on the shoulder and left.

Fu Shu wasn’t convinced by all the talk of Lin Xing’s good performance—he knew too well how ruthless these old-timers could be.

When he shot “The Road to Power,” veterans like Cai Ying, Lei Yunfei, and Liu Bo praised his dedication. But once filming began, he was ridiculed mercilessly.

After that, Fu Shu realized he’d been too self-absorbed. He’d been a TV star, so everyone just flattered him.

He’d gotten complacent.

In recent years, Fu Shu had tried to re-examine himself. He’d been oily and narcissistic before, but he was trying to change.

He felt Lin Xing was the next version of himself—except Fu Shu was a trained professional. He believed he was still dozens of levels above Lin Xing.

That’s why he rarely crossed paths with Lin Xing. At the wrap party, he gave Lin Xing a heads-up—better to be prepared than to break down under criticism.

Lin Xing was grateful for the advice and reminded himself not to get cocky.

What if the audience didn’t respond well?

The rest of the party was spent eating, drinking, and relaxing after an intense shooting schedule.

After tonight, the “Sweeping the Black Tide” crew would disband.

Tomorrow, post-production would begin.

For Lin Xing, this was his first quality drama in ten years. He’d had roles before, but they’d mostly been in subpar productions that didn’t require real acting.

His part in “Just Waiting for You” was a last-minute addition—he joined late and filmed only a few days.

But “Sweeping the Black Tide” was different.

He’d auditioned, won the part, participated in script readings, the opening ceremony, and finally, the wrap. He was one of the male leads, and his character had plenty of highlight scenes.

He was truly a main player.

“I really can’t wait for ‘Sweeping the Black Tide’ to air,” Lin Xing thought.

…

The next day, the official “Sweeping the Black Tide” Weibo account posted a nine-image collage, with the hashtag #SweepingTheBlackTideWrap.

All the leads posted under the hashtag, bidding farewell to the project.

Lin Xing wrote: “#SweepingTheBlackTideWrap# In the end, good and evil reap what they sow. No reason justifies wrongdoing. Today I say goodbye to Zhou Bo, and I hope to meet everyone again soon.”

Attached was a wrap photo of himself holding the celebratory picture.

“Whoa, Du Fei, is that you?”

“Du Fei, you look even better now.”

“Honestly, Du Fei looks so handsome, especially with those sunglasses.”

Lin Xing’s fans commented immediately.

After all, Du Fei’s popularity had seemed to be fading, but then the October 1st sales of “Fashion Men’s Style” had shocked the industry, showing that Du Fei’s appeal remained.

Then came the “Emperor Shadow Watches” campaign, shot in the same CEO style as Du Fei in “Just Waiting for You,” bringing fans back to that character.

Even Chu Chen and Li Jingjing were dragged in for comparison again.

As the month ended, people thought things would finally quiet down.

But with the wrap of “Sweeping the Black Tide,” Lin Xing’s new photo brought the Du Fei fever right back.

It was all a bit absurd.

For a supporting role to spark discussion from August to October was almost unheard of in the industry.

What was even stranger was that Lin Xing never tried to cash in on the Du Fei popularity.

He’d only given an interview to “Fashion Men’s Style,” where he credited the director and screenwriter for the character’s success, saying he was just lucky to have benefited from their creation.

To audiences and outsiders, the difference might not be obvious, but insiders saw Lin Xing as a rare breath of fresh air.

Most people, when a role blew up, would milk it for all it was worth, but Lin Xing did the opposite—he even tried to cool things down.

People wondered: was he a fool, or was he aiming for something bigger?

Whether he was truly remarkable or just naive would be revealed when “Sweeping the Black Tide” aired.

At least for now, no one expected Lin Xing to deliver a standout performance in the show.

Today, while fans found his wrap photo handsome, others speculated: “Isn’t Lin Xing playing a villain?”

A villain?

Perhaps the genteel, refined type—polite on the surface but ruthless beneath.

As the saying goes: It’s not the villains who look evil you have to fear, but those who are handsome.

With that, the discussion grew.

Some film bloggers, including “Old Wang Watches Movies,” a major influencer with tens of millions of followers, commented: “Are people expecting too much from Lin Xing? Mark my words, he’ll get steamrolled by the veterans in ‘Sweeping the Black Tide’ just like Fu Shu did.”

Many agreed.

Compared to the other actors’ wrap posts and photos, only Lin Xing’s was generating such heated debate.

The PR teams knew where the traffic was.

For “Sweeping the Black Tide,” this kind of buzz was exactly what they wanted.

At the same time, Ma Wen said to Wang Yi, “See? That’s Lin Xing’s current traffic. We should be willing to compromise.”

“Alright, I get it,” Wang Yi sighed.

As adults, they couldn’t have it all.

“That’s right. When we meet with Lin Xing, we should try to accommodate all his requests,” Ma Wen said with a smile. “Don’t worry—the script as a whole won’t change, but if Lin Xing wants to add something, we’ll let him.”

Meanwhile, Lin Xing had just returned to the capital.

On the journey, he posted the wrap photo for “Sweeping the Black Tide,” but paid no attention to the online debates.

Before a show airs, audience skepticism is normal.

No need to overthink it.

“Xing, I’ve scheduled the meeting for 2 p.m.,” Sister Dao said when she saw him. “Are you set on your decision?”

End of chapter.