480: Chapter 480 Are the hands warm or cold?

At 6:00 AM, a sliver of gray-white light leaked through the gap in the studio curtains.

Lin Que opened his eyes, lay on the folding bed for two seconds, then flipped over and sat up.

The room lights were still off, the dim glow of the computer standby screen spread across the corner of the desk; the silver-gray briefcase stood quietly in the very center of the desktop.

He went to wash his face first.

Cold water splashed on his face, suppressing the lingering sleepiness.

The young man in the mirror had very bright eyes, and his expression had already withdrawn from the fatigue of last night.

Returning to the desk, he pulled out the chair and sat down, pressing the metal buckle of the briefcase.

With a light click of the spring, the lid opened.

The system self-check indicator lights turned on in sequence, the cold white light lining up in the dimness.

Lin Que skipped the unnecessary modules and went directly to the configuration interface for the audio output and voice-changing channel.

The parameters adjusted yesterday were still saved, and he confirmed them item by item.

Voice-changing channel, dual backup, normal.

One-way black screen, normal.

Latency compensation, normal.

He pulled the microphone closer and pressed the sound test key.

"Zhao Li is not here to scare people; he is here to deliver them."

The moment the sound flowed out of the speaker, the air in the studio changed.

Low, dry, sharp.

The ending sound was clean, with no discernible age, and not a hint of literary affectation.

It was the voice of a creator who had sat behind a monitor for many years, calmly telling you where something was wrong.

Lin Que listened and nodded.

It could be used.

He tested another sentence.

"The dead are not props. Every person who pushes open the convenience store door, treat them as a living person first when writing."

He paused this time, running the sentence through his mind twice, confirming that both the emotion and the enunciation were pressed exactly where he wanted them, before deleting the test file.

The gentle and compassionate coat of "Jian Shen" was completely taken off today.

What "Dream Weaver" wanted was a different face.

Lin Que opened his encrypted email and pulled up the email from Director Guo Changhe again.

The one at the very top had an eye-catching title.

[Emergency: Temporary changes to the script reading]

Lin Que's fingers tapped twice on the desktop.

In his seven-year screenwriting career in his past life, he had seen too much of this crap where capital forced people into a production.

Inserting actors, inserting roles, inserting script opinions, inserting all sorts of self-righteous "suggestions".

Every single time, it was under the banner of "sincerity" and "learning".

In the end, it was the work that was ruined.

He didn't rush to reply to the email; he first opened a new document.

"soul ferry" script reading, attendee list.

Director: Director Guo Changhe.

Screenwriters: Two.

Producer: One.

Core actors: Four.

Chen Chengrui was not on the list.

Lin Que stared at this list for a few seconds, created a new email, and sent it to Director Guo Changhe.

[Director Guo, three points.

First, collect everyone's phones before entry and store them together; no one is allowed to take them back until the script reading ends.

Second, turn off all video and audio recording equipment on site, including mobile phones, tablets, and cameras.

Third, Chen Chengrui only has the right to observe, not the right to speak.

If he opens his mouth to interfere with the process during the script reading, you signal me directly, and I will cut the connection.

If these three points cannot be done, the script reading is canceled.]

Sent.

In less than two minutes, Director Guo replied.

[Understood! Everything will be done as you say. I will watch it myself.]

Lin Que looked at this reply, and the corners of his lips moved slightly.

Director Guo Changhe was a director who could withstand the pressure of capital to kick out traffic stars, and could immediately adjust the casting direction toward the theater circle after a phone call from him; he was a director who truly wanted to do a good job with the show.

Such a person was worth helping.

As for Chen Chengrui.

Lin Que closed the email and leaned his chair back.

This time, he would completely resolve this trouble hidden in the dark.

He reopened the script document for the script reading.

"soul ferry", Episode 1, Scene 1.

Convenience store.

Late at night.

Zhao Li pushes the door and enters.

The cursor was blinking at the beginning of the first scene.

Lin Que read line by line, his eyes slowly sinking.

A ferryman running a convenience store, specifically guiding those wandering souls between the living and the dead who could not let go of their obsessions.

He did not scare people; he delivered them.

He helped them finish their final journey, let go of what they should let go of, and go where they should go.

The soul of this show was not in the ghosts, but in the people.

But the script was dead, and the actors were alive.

The biggest challenge for today's script reading was not the lines, but getting this group of actors to truly touch that invisible line between "human and ghost".

Lin Que closed the document and glanced at the time.

Seven-twenty.

He cooked a bowl of noodles for himself and finished eating.

Then he sat back at the desk and recalibrated the Brain-Computer Interface System one more time.

At eight-forty, he sent the final confirmation to Director Guo Changhe.

[Director Guo, is the venue ready?]

[It's ready; the phones and all electronic devices are locked in the metal cabinet in the next room, and I have the keys.]

[What about the recording?]

[All off. I had the producer check it three times personally.]

[Has Chen Chengrui arrived?]

[Just arrived. He brought an agent and an assistant. I have already made the rules clear to him.]

Lin Que looked at this message and replied with two words.

[Start.]

Eight-fifty-five.

Lin Que's screen was split into two.

The left side was the real-time view of the conference room, and the right side was the status panel of the Brain-Computer Interface System.

In the conference room, a long table was arranged in a U-shape.

Director Guo Changhe sat in the main seat, with screenwriters and the producer on his left and right, and further out were the four core actors.

A large screen was set up in front of the table, currently still black.

Lin Que's gaze swept over the four actors.

The actor playing "Zhao Li" was named Yu Yi.

In his early thirties, from the theater circle, his face was not outstanding, but his bone structure was clean, and there was something in his eyes.

This was someone Director Guo Changhe had dug out from the theater circle while withstanding pressure from investors.

Lin Que had watched a few of his stage recordings and approved.

Yu Yi was sitting straight at the moment, gripping the script tightly in his hands.

It was clear that he was nervous.

The door to the conference room was pushed open.

Chen Chengrui walked in.

Sunglasses, black trench coat, leather shoes polished until they shone.

He didn't look at anyone, walked straight to the folding chair at the outermost edge of the U-shaped table, sat down with a thud, and crossed his legs.

"Director Guo, I'm just here to listen." He lifted his chin.

"Just pretend I don't exist."

His tone was light, but his posture was clearly that of someone here to watch a show.

The agent and assistant stood on his left and right, looking just like two gateposts.

Director Guo Changhe's expression was not very good, but he didn't say anything, just glanced in the direction of the big screen.

Nine o'clock sharp.

Lin Que pressed the connect key.

The big screen in the conference room lit up.

Pure black background.

In the very center, three white characters.

Dream Weaver.

No avatar, no animation, nothing extra.

Just three characters, quietly floating on the black background.

Immediately after, sound came from the speakers.

Low, cold, crisp.

"Director Guo, is everyone here?"

The spines of everyone in the conference room tightened.

Director Guo Changhe stood up immediately:

"Everyone is here."

Lin Que's gaze swept across the screen on the right, and finally stopped on that folding chair.

Chen Chengrui was still crossing his legs; hearing this voice, he tilted his chin toward the screen, a faint, careless smile on the corner of his mouth.

Lin Que spoke.

"Director Guo, the person in the back row."

His voice was unhurried.

"Is he on the list I signed?"

The conference room went quiet.

Director Guo Changhe's Adam's apple moved:

"...No, he isn't."

The agent behind Chen Chengrui stood up straight immediately, pulled a gold-embossed invitation out of his briefcase, and held it up in his hand:

"Mr. Dream Weaver, you have misunderstood; Mr. Chen is here upon the formal invitation of the production side—"

"I asked Director Guo."

Lin Que's voice was not loud, but it cut that sentence off at the root.

"I didn't ask you."

The agent's hand holding the invitation froze in mid-air.

No one spoke in the conference room. That gold-embossed paper shone a bit awkwardly under the lights.

Lin Que continued, his tone flat without a single ripple.

"Since he is not on the list—"

Before he could finish, Chen Chengrui moved.

He raised his hand to take off his sunglasses, put them on the table, leaned forward, and spoke before Lin Que.

"Mr. Dream Weaver."

He had a smile piled on his face, a smile that carried a condescension he himself didn't notice.

"I am here today with great sincerity to learn.

I like this show, and I like the production team.

I'll just sit here quietly and be a student, and I will definitely not interfere with your process, okay?"

After he finished speaking, he leaned back against the chair.

In his calculations, these words had already provided the steps.

Sincerity had been displayed, his posture had been lowered, and the weight of capital had also been implicitly applied.

The other party was just a web novel writer; no matter how aloof, he had to give this face.

The gazes of several people in the conference room quietly swept back and forth between the screen and Chen Chengrui.

Lin Que laughed.

That laugh came out of the speaker, so cold one could hear the sibilance.

"Mr. Chen, regarding the role of 'Zhao Li',

I have already given a clear conclusion based on the needs of character development.

Any considerations that deviate from the creation itself will not be included in the scope of today's discussion."

The smile on Chen Chengrui's face froze.

"You said you wanted to learn." Lin Que's voice did not raise; instead, it became slower.

"Since you are here, then please follow the rules here.

During the script reading, observe only, do not interfere."

Dead silence.

Even the sound of breathing could be heard in the conference room.

Chen Chengrui's face flushed red first, then faded to white, and the muscles in his cheeks twitched.

His hand gripping the sunglasses tightened, and his knuckles made a very slight sound.

The agent behind him looked green; he leaned over and whispered something urgently into his ear.

Everyone thought he was going to explode.

Lin Que didn't look at him either.

His gaze had already moved away and fallen back onto the spread-out script.

Three seconds passed.

Chen Chengrui let go.

He leaned back against the chair again, not saying a word.

His face was still white, but that urge to explode was swallowed down by him.

It wasn't that he was afraid of this web novel writer.

It was that the capital behind the "soul ferry" project was something people were fighting over, and the company behind him was just one of them.

A character who could veto anything and make Director Guo Changhe follow him wholeheartedly had control that was by no means as simple as it appeared on the surface.

More importantly, he saw the potential of this IP.

Not the role, but the market that the whole story could leverage.

Falling out and being completely kicked out was the biggest loss.

He had to swallow this.

Lin Que no longer gave him any attention.

"Director Guo."

"Start."

"Okay."

There was a bit more serious weight in Lin Que's voice.

"Open the script. Episode 1, Scene 1."

There was a rustle of page-turning.

Seven or eight people in the conference room looked down almost simultaneously and turned to the first page.

Yu Yi opened the script, his gaze falling on the first line of lines.

That was Zhao Li's first line.

He stared at it for two seconds, his chest heaved, he took a deep breath, and prepared to speak.

He had acted in many plays.

On the theater stage, from a bit player to a lead, how to deliver every word, where every pause should fall,

he had his own set of methods. This was his livelihood.

But this show was different.

This was the first supernatural subject in the country that was made seriously, and the person sitting on the other side of the screen was the one who wrote the whole story.

He didn't want to mess it up.

Lin Que saw Yu Yi's micro-expressions clearly through the BCI's eye-tracking module.

Eyelashes trembling slightly, Adam's apple rolling up and down once, the thumb of his left hand holding the script unconsciously rubbing the edge of the paper.

Nervous, serious, wanting to perform well.

Lin Que nodded in his heart.

He was someone who could be taught.

Just as Yu Yi opened his lips and the first word was about to come out.

"Wait a moment."

Lin Que called a halt.

Yu Yi's lips stopped in a half-open position, stunned.

The whole conference room was stunned.

Director Guo Changhe looked up at the screen, doubt in his eyes.

The two screenwriters looked at each other.

A web novel author, not nitpicking lines or talking about delivery at a script reading, what was he stopping for?

Chen Chengrui in the back row frowned.

A web novel author, not playing by the rules at a script reading.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharply locked on the screen.

Interesting.

He wanted to see what kind of real skill this "Dream Weaver" who dared to shut him out really had.

Lin Que ignored everyone's reaction.

His voice flowed out of the speakers, calm, slow, but carrying a weight that could not be ignored.

"Yu Yi."

"Teacher Dream Weaver."

Yu Yi sat up straight subconsciously.

"I'll ask you a question first."

Lin Que paused for a beat.

"The moment Zhao Li pushes the door to the convenience store, his hand."

"Is it warm, or cold?"

...