234: Chapter 234 Hellish "Disfiguring" Transformation

The role of the male lead, Cheng Yong, was thus finalized in Su Zhe's makeup test, which was comparable to a "soul swap"—it was both incredibly surreal and set in stone.

Looking at the "Su Zhe" who stood with a hunched back and was filled with the gritty, worldly air of the common people, Sister Liu completely shut her mouth.

She knew that once this man made up his mind to do something, not even ten bulls could pull him back.

"Fine, you're the boss, you call the shots."

Sister Liu sighed and turned the script to the next page: "The male lead is set, so next are a few core supporting roles. Who do you intend to cast for the role of Lv Shoui?"

Su Zhe wiped the fake stubble off his face with makeup remover and said calmly: "Let Zhang Song do it. The cowardice of a lowly, grassroots character and the desperate craving to live that he carries are perfect for playing Lv Shoui."

Sister Liu nodded; she had one hundred percent confidence in Zhang Song's acting skills.

"Then… what about Yellow Hair?" Sister Liu's finger stopped on the character name "Peng Hao" in the script.

Yellow Hair.

In the entire film *i am not a medicine god*, he is the soul character with the fewest lines and the most silence, yet he is the most heart-wrenching and the one most capable of triggering the audience's tear ducts.

He is a country boy in his early twenties suffering from leukemia.

Because he didn't want to be a burden to his family, he ran away from home and fled to the city to work the dirtiest and most exhausting jobs at a slaughterhouse.

He is like a stray dog.

Dirty, fierce, and taciturn, yet deep down, he exudes a sense of the purest kindness and loyalty.

"This role is too hard to cast." Sister Liu frowned as she analyzed: "It requires the actor to be extremely thin, and their eyes must have that wildness of someone backed into a corner. Today's young actors are all well-fed and plump, and they've never suffered any hardships. Who could portray that dying, stray-dog temperament?"

Su Zhe wiped his face clean and threw the towel onto the table.

"No need to look."

The corners of Su Zhe's mouth curled into a smile that made even Sister Liu shiver.

His gaze drifted eerily through the glass door of the office.

He stared fixedly at the "Melancholy Cult Leader"—Yin Hua—who was in the hall outside, holding a small mirror and admiring his own magnificent beauty while wearing a facial mask.

"I've already scouted the candidate."

Following Su Zhe's gaze, Sister Liu saw the target.

Her eyes nearly popped out: "Who? Yin Hua? Su Zhe, have you lost your mind!"

Sister Liu waved her hands anxiously: "Don't you know what kind of person Yin Hua is? He's the vainest peacock in our studio!

After *goodbye mr. loser*, he finally managed to get popular relying on 'Yuan Hua,' and now he posts selfies on Weibo every day to build his 'Melancholy Male God' persona.

You want him to play a yellow-haired kid who has leukemia, is dirty and smelly, and kills pigs in a slaughterhouse?

This leap is a hundred times more outrageous than you playing Cheng Yong!"

Facing Sister Liu's questioning, Su Zhe just sneered.

He pushed open the office door and strode up to Yin Hua.

"Thwack!"

A thick script slammed directly onto the table in front of Yin Hua.

"Hua-zi."

Su Zhe looked down at him: "Work's here. The male lead number two."

As soon as Yin Hua heard "male lead number two," his eyes instantly lit up.

He hurriedly tore the mask off his face and excitedly picked up the script: "Thank you, Director Su! I knew you loved me the most!

What kind of role is it this time?

Is it a CEO with a terminal illness?

Or a devoted gangland young master?

I've actually been practicing a few very melancholy gazes lately…"

Yin Hua chattered on excitedly while opening the character biography for Peng Hao in the script.

However, after reading only three lines, Yin Hua's voice came to an abrupt halt.

The smile on his face stiffened, cracked, and finally shattered into pieces.

"Le… leukemia?

Ran away from home?

Carrying pork in a slaughterhouse?

Less than eleven lines of dialogue in the entire film?"

Yin Hua suddenly looked up, staring at Su Zhe as if he were a monster, his voice cracking: "Director Su! Are you messing with me?

This is basically a mute beggar, right?

I'm an idol actor, I'm a melancholy male god with two million followers.

You want me to play this?

These clothes are covered in pig blood and mud; my image will be completely ruined.

I'm not doing it, I won't do it even if you kill me!"

Yin Hua pushed the script onto the table, crossed his arms over his chest, and assumed the appearance of a chaste, unyielding martyr.

Facing Yin Hua's resistance, Su Zhe didn't feel surprised at all.

He slowly pulled over a chair, sat down opposite Yin Hua, and crossed his legs.

"Not going to play, huh?"

Su Zhe nodded, his tone peaceful, as if he were chatting about daily life: "Fine.

Sister Liu, make a note.

Our contracted artist, Yin Hua, refuses to obey the company's work arrangements.

Starting from today, revoke his right to use that 200-square-meter luxury loft on the top floor of the Jinyuan Building.

Stop his monthly meal allowance.

And, according to the contract, claim the breach of contract penalty for refusing to perform… three million.

Oh, right, Tie Niu!"

Su Zhe shouted to someone not far away: "Tonight, go throw Yin Hua's luggage onto the curb and cancel his access card while you're at it."

"You got it, Boss!" Tie Niu's honest and booming voice came back instantly.

"…"

Dead silence.

Yin Hua, the Melancholy Cult Leader who had been unyielding just a moment ago, froze instantly upon hearing the words "revoke the room," "stop meal allowance," and "three million in penalties."

He swallowed a large gulp of saliva.

He glanced at the whistling north wind outside the door, then back at Su Zhe's cold, heartless face.

Idol image?

In the face of being homeless and three million in debt, that meant nothing!

"Di… Director Su!" Yin Hua, with lightning speed, grabbed the script from the table and clutched it tightly to his chest.

He instantly squeezed out a fawning smile that was uglier than crying: "Look at you, what breach of contract?

I was just joking to liven up the atmosphere.

I'll do it, isn't it fine if I do it?

Isn't it just killing pigs?

I've long wanted to experience the joy of the working people."

Su Zhe looked at his spineless appearance and sneered: "Don't agree too early; acting in my movie takes more than just a mouth."

Su Zhe stood up and snapped his fingers at the stylist nearby: "Do it.

Cut off that unsightly mop of hair!"

"What?" Yin Hua covered his long bangs, which he was so proud of, "Cut my hair? You can't! This is my essence!"

But the protest was ineffective.

Under Tie Niu's physical suppression, the stylist walked up with scissors.

Snip! Snip!

Su Zhe stood by, coldly directing: "Don't cut it straight.

I want that uneven look as if it were chewed on by a dog.

Right, cut the bangs short to expose the forehead, then go dye it for me.

Dye it that malnourished, dry, brittle, withered yellow color."

Half an hour later, when Yin Hua looked at himself in the mirror again, tears "whooshed" down instantly.

His once silky, flowing black hair had turned into a messy, chaotic yellow mop.

Where was the melancholy prince?

This was clearly a non-mainstream "shamate" from the outskirts of town.

But this was merely the first step of the hell-level transformation.

"What are you crying for? Can't handle this much?"

Su Zhe pinched Yin Hua's chin and looked left and right: "There's too much meat on your face, you're too well-nourished, and there's no sickly feeling of a terminal patient.

Sister Liu, notify the logistics canteen.

Starting today, cut off all of Yin Hua's carbohydrate intake.

Rice, noodles, steamed buns, sweet drinks—he is not allowed to touch any of it.

He can only eat boiled chicken breast and boiled broccoli every day, and he's not even allowed to put much salt.

Within a month!"

Su Zhe's eyes showed a fierce cruelty: "Lose twenty pounds for me!

I want to see his cheeks sunken and his cheekbones protruding."

Yin Hua's vision went black; he nearly fainted on the spot.

Lose twenty pounds?

No carbohydrates?

For a foodie, this was even more cruel than killing him.

However, Su Zhe's tyranny continued.

He walked to Yin Hua's workstation, took out a large black plastic bag, and swept everything on the table—the SK-II facial treatment essence, La Mer cream, sunscreen spray, primer—all into the trash bag in one go.

"All these sissy things are confiscated."

Su Zhe held up the trash bag: "Yellow Hair is a pauper who can barely keep his own life; he couldn't possibly have such delicate, tender skin.

You need to get used to the wind and sun, and get used to dry, cracked skin."

Finally, Su Zhe turned his head and looked at the hopeless Yin Hua.

He issued the last and most inhumane order: "Tie Niu.

Tie him up, throw him into the wuling hongguang, and send him to that largest pig slaughterhouse in the southern Beijing Suburbs!

I've booked the night shift for ten days with the owner there.

For these ten days, he must follow the workers to unload pork and wash internal organs!"

"The most important thing is…" Su Zhe said word by word, as if he were a true demon: "For these ten days, he is not allowed to take a shower!

Not even wash his hair!

I want him to have the bloody smell of the slaughterhouse, the stench of pigs, and the sweat of the lower class… completely marinated into the marrow of his bones!"

Boom!

Hearing "no showers for ten days" and "washing internal organs at the slaughterhouse," Yin Hua rolled his eyes back.

Finally unable to bear this hellish blow, he fainted on the spot.

The next ten days were a nightmare for Yin Hua that he would never want to recall in his life.

He was in the slaughterhouse at two in the morning, wearing rubber boots and an apron covered in bloodstains, carrying hundreds of pounds of steaming half-carcasses of pork.

He was dizzy with hunger, and his bones felt like they were falling apart from exhaustion.

Every breath he took was filled with the sickening scent of blood.

He was no longer a high-and-mighty idol.

Those slaughterhouse workers didn't know him at all and just treated him like a clumsy temp worker.

If his movements were slow, he'd be scolded; if the internal organs weren't washed clean, he'd be scolded.

At first, he would feel aggrieved and would secretly wipe away tears in a corner where no one was around.

But later, he didn't even have the strength to cry.

His eyes, in the day-after-day of extreme exhaustion and repression, gradually changed.

They became numb.

They became guarded.

They became like a stray dog ready to bite at any moment to survive.

On the morning of the tenth day, in the Su Zhe Studio lobby, everyone was having breakfast.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open.

A pungent, sickening smell of blood and rot instantly flooded the lobby.

Sister Liu covered her nose, just about to start scolding, but the moment she saw who it was, she froze in place.

At the doorway stood a young man who was so gaunt he was almost unrecognizable.

He had a mop of yellow hair as messy as withered grass.

His cheeks were deeply sunken, and his lips were dry and peeling.

He was wearing a tattered jacket covered in suspicious black stains.

He just stood there quietly.

He didn't say "Boss, I'm back."

He didn't complain or vent as he used to.

He just hunched his back slightly, lifted those bloodshot eyes, cold, alert, and carrying a wildness deep in his bones.

He stared fixedly at the food on the table.

That look made people feel a chill run down their spines.

It was as if they had encountered a lone wolf guarding its food in the wilderness.

The hand holding Su Zhe's teacup stopped in mid-air.

He looked at the man at the door who no longer had a single trace of the "Grease King" in him, feeling the suffocating sense of reality emanating from him.

The corners of Su Zhe's mouth slowly, uncontrollably, curled into a crazy arc.

He knew that the vain guy named Yin Hua had died.

And that Yellow Hair, silent as a mountain and loyal as a dog, had come alive!