OSM Chapter 21: But where had he gone? The community supermarket wasn’t open 24/7.

Some people have a knack for making things sound far too serious.

This left He Zhiqiu unsure how to respond, let alone try to engage politely in return.

Li Yuze seemed quite energized, likely because he had slept too much during the day and was now fully awake at night, like a night owl.

Since it wasn’t He Zhiqiu’s place to force him to go to bed, he thought for a moment before handing over his script. “Help me take a look at this.”

When it came to acting, Li Yuze had helped He Zhiqiu a lot back in high school. During casting, it was Li Yuze who acted alongside him and even introduced him to a teacher who taught him some basic acting skills.

But He Zhiqiu had missed that opportunity, wasting not only his own time but also Li Yuze’s.

Now, years later, they found themselves sitting together again because of acting, though the feeling this time was entirely different.

Li Yuze glanced casually at the script before handing it back. “Which scene are you trying out?”

He Zhiqiu pointed it out. “This one.”

It was the final scene before the minor antagonist fully descended into darkness—a moment where he assassinated the general who had once been his benefactor.

The plot unraveled from the general’s death, sparking a series of political upheavals in court.

Though the character’s screen time wasn’t extensive, a few of his scenes were particularly memorable. He wasn’t purely evil for the sake of being evil; his tragic past had shaped him into a tragic figure.

But as the saying goes, “Pitiable people must have something detestable about them.” In his desperate climb out of the abyss, he inevitably harmed countless innocent people.

From the antagonist’s perspective, his actions were driven by survival. But from the perspective of those innocent bystanders, he unquestionably deserved condemnation.

The character’s inherent contradictions persisted throughout the story. Midway, the screenwriter even gave him a chance to retain his humanity.

However, to propel the narrative forward, he ultimately chose to become a complete villain.

In that pivotal moment, his entire worldview shifted. Everything he had reluctantly endured earlier in the story now seemed laughable to him.

The part He Zhiqiu struggled with most was capturing the character’s emotional shift after assassinating the general.

He and Li Yuze rehearsed the scene several times in the living room but couldn’t quite get the right feeling.

“I think you should shed a few tears here,” Li Yuze suggested, flipping to the next page of the script.

They stood facing each other. He Zhiqiu, standing a bit farther away, walked closer to see which part Li Yuze was referring to. “Where exactly?”

Li Yuze said, “After your sword pierced the general’s body.”

He Zhiqiu asked, “Is it because he feels guilty for assassinating the general?”

Li Yuze shook his head. “Do you think a character who has reached this point would still feel guilt?”

He Zhiqiu argued, “But the general meant something different to him. The general saved him. If he killed the general, he must still feel guilty.”

“That’s how you see it, not how he does.”

Li Yuze said seriously, “You’ve always been projecting your perspective onto him, instead of thinking from his point of view.”

He Zhiqiu asked, “Then how does he feel?”

Li Yuze replied, “If he’s already killed him, why feel guilty? This character needs to be decisive and ruthless to show his final bit of allure.”

He Zhiqiu didn’t understand. “Then why shed tears?”

“The tears aren’t for the general, they’re for his past self. It’s a farewell and a rebirth,” Li Yuze explained. “The general’s kindness and control over him were undoubtedly his greatest shackles. Once he removes that shackle, think about his emotions—what kind of reaction should he have?”

He Zhiqiu stared at the script for a while, then suddenly looked up, excitement lighting up his face. “Ecstatic?”

“Exactly. So you need to smile as you cry,” Li Yuze said approvingly. “Remorse or guilt should never appear in this character because the moment he decided to kill the general, he had already become a true villain.”

At that moment, they were standing quite close. Li Yuze lowered his beautiful eyes, staring unblinkingly at him. “What other scenes do you need to rehearse?”

He Zhiqiu met his gaze for a few seconds before hurriedly looking away. “None.” His ears turned slightly red, and he discreetly stepped back half a pace to put some distance between them.

Li Yuze glanced at him but didn’t say anything. He placed the script on the sofa and checked the time.

It was already 3 am.

Yawning, he told He Zhiqiu, “I’m going to bed,” and turned to head upstairs.

Before he could disappear into his room, He Zhiqiu quickly said, “Thank you.”

Li Yuze didn’t look back. With a soft chuckle, he said, “I helped you so much, and all I get is a simple ‘thank you’? Isn’t that a bit insincere?”

The next morning, He Zhiqiu went straight to his audition.

Xu Sui was with him and asked in the car, “How’s your preparation?”

He Zhiqiu said, “Pretty good. I’m 80% confident.”

“Whoa,” Xu Sui said, surprised. “That high?”

He Zhiqiu smiled. “I had a great teacher who gave me some guidance.”

“Which teacher? Teacher Chen or Teacher Li?” Xu Sui naturally assumed it was one of their company’s acting coaches, Teacher. Chen or Teacher Li.

He Zhiqiu didn’t hide it. Smiling with his eyes, he said, “It was Teacher Li.”

Meanwhile, the so-called “Teacher Li” was still in bed.

His phone had been ringing nonstop for the past half hour.

Li Yuze opened his eyes but didn’t answer. Instead, he got out of bed, washed his face, and picked up his toothbrush. As he brushed his teeth, he walked out of the bathroom.

The phone rang again after a brief pause. Li Yuze still didn’t pick up. Instead, he grabbed a small photo frame from his nightstand, toothbrush still in his mouth.

Inside the frame was an old photograph, the colors faded with time.

Gao Kui had seen this photo before—it was a picture of Li Yuze and He Zhiqiu together.

All these years, Li Yuze had kept it close, always within reach.

But now, he tapped the photo twice with his finger and, through a mouthful of toothpaste foam, muttered a string of muffled “thank you”.

Afterward, he placed the frame back in its spot, returned to the bathroom to rinse his mouth, and finally answered the phone.

The caller was Meng Lin. After a few seconds of hesitation, he cautiously asked, “Did I wake you up, ge?”

Li Yuze replied, “Obviously. How about I call you nonstop for half an hour and see how you like it?”

Meng Lin nervously tried to defend himself. “Well, if you’d just picked up sooner, it wouldn’t have been a problem, right?”

Li Yuze, “What do you want?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Meng Lin quickly backpedaled, then shifted topics. “By the way, ge, we’ve been on break for nearly two weeks. When are we starting work again?”

“We’ll see,” Li Yuze said casually, heading downstairs to make coffee, still wearing his slippers.

“‘We’ll see’? Ge, don’t leave it up to chance.” Meng Lin hesitated. “Qiong-jie said there’s a new script for you. How about coming by the office?”

Li Yuze gave a noncommittal hum of agreement. He had just pulled out a bag of coffee beans when he noticed a thermal pot sitting on the counter. Its warming light was still on.

Curious, he opened it and found it filled with fragrant fish congee. The freezer compartment of the fridge also held half a fresh fish.

He froze for a moment. Without waiting for Meng Lin to finish talking, he hung up and opened the electronic door lock app.

The app showed a record of all door activity, down to the minute and second.

At 3:30 AM, the door had been opened once.

At 4:30 AM, it had been opened again.

Only two people lived here, and it was obvious that He Zhiqiu had gone out to buy the thermal pot and fish during the early hours.

But where had he gone? The community supermarket wasn’t open 24/7.

Li Yuze stared at the long-unseen fish congee for a while, then ladled himself a bowl. Muttering to himself, he said, “Fine.”

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have tapped your photo so hard earlier.”