Chapter 20: Paparazzi?

If it weren’t for his professional responsibilities, Officer Xu thought being friends with Mo Fei would actually be quite enjoyable. However, at this moment, he was responsible for Mo Fei’s personal safety. Letting him wander around untethered was clearly not safe.

Officer Xu wandered through Mo Fei’s apartment, finding no hidden cameras or special markings. That, at least, was a bit of good news. Whoever was watching Mo Fei from the shadows, at least for now, hadn’t managed to lay a finger inside his home.

“You’d better avoid going out these days, and be cautious with anyone who comes knocking,” Officer Xu said, as seriously as if he were instructing an eight-year-old left home alone. Mo Fei nodded enthusiastically, gripping his U-lock and asking, “If someone tries to do something to me and I hit back, does that count as self-defense?”

Officer Xu fell silent for two seconds before replying, “They have to make the first move.” Seeing the realization dawn on Mo Fei’s face, he couldn’t help but add, “The definition of self-defense is complicated—don’t go acting on your own assumptions.”

Mo Fei flashed an “OK” sign. “Don’t worry, I won’t go out these few days. I’ll study the criminal code instead.” Mastering the basic principles, after all, was the foundation for surviving in the world.

For some reason, looking at Mo Fei like this, Officer Xu still couldn’t feel at ease. Still, with work waiting at the station, he could only leave the old residential complex with a heart full of worry.

Mo Fei, true to his word, settled down to study the criminal code. It had been a long time since he’d read a book so attentively, and to his surprise, he found it quite engaging.

One-Eye yawned widely, circled the room, then leaped onto the back of the sofa, tucking his front paws under himself and fixing Mo Fei with his green-eyed stare, his tail swishing lazily.

Outside the old complex, a man watched the car drive away. After confirming Officer Xu was the only one inside, he pulled out his phone and sent a message. A while later, a new message arrived: just three simple words—“Keep an eye on him.”

He pocketed his phone and continued his surveillance.

Two days passed in the blink of an eye.

During those two days, Mo Fei truly didn’t set foot outside. When hungry, he boiled instant noodles; when bored, he chewed a few pieces of One-Eye’s cat food. Fortunately, One-Eye was easygoing and patient, not only unconcerned but even using the squat toilet in the bathroom himself. Even when his food bowl was empty, he wouldn’t meow—only lay quietly in a corner.

There was a distinct air of “living or dying, it makes no difference” about him. Mo Fei thought One-Eye ought to be the first to receive the “Buddha’s Disciple” card. A cat this serene was truly a marvel. Amitabha.

After two days' rest, Director Wang once again found himself troubled by the shooting schedule. Before giving Mo Fei time off, he hadn’t been sure whether Mo Fei was truly a jinx, but during Mo Fei’s absence, the set had been peaceful. It was hard not to believe it now. If any more accidents happened after Mo Fei’s return, that would be ironclad proof. No matter how much he admired Mo Fei’s talent, there would be no next collaboration. At his age, he simply couldn’t endure such shocks anymore.

Mo Fei, preparing to return to work after the brief respite, wasn’t happy either. The more he rested, the less he wanted to work. But if he didn’t, Lü Chunqiu would certainly finish him off.

He left a day’s worth of food for One-Eye before heading out. Lü Chunqiu had come especially to pick him up, praying this little ancestor wouldn’t cause any more trouble—any more and they’d all be finished.

“When we get to the set, you’d better apologize properly to Director Wang and thank him as well. Mind your manners, understood?” Lü Chunqiu said, watching Mo Fei, who was quietly munching a bun in the passenger seat, and feeling utterly exhausted. “If you drag us down and get us blacklisted in the industry…”

Lü Chunqiu flashed a sinister smile. “Believe it or not, I’ll drag you down with me!”

Mo Fei felt a chill run down his spine, swallowed his bite of bun, and grinned obsequiously. “I’ll do my best, I promise!”

When Mo Fei arrived on set, he received his new script—it was noticeably thinner than before. In fact, it wasn’t just him; regardless of whether he was a jinx, Director Wang had decided the whole production was unlucky and wanted to wrap things up as soon as possible. Every actor’s scenes had been cut to varying degrees.

Mo Fei’s role had been slashed the most. If not for the remaining investment from a sponsor, Director Wang might have simply called off the film altogether.

Mo Fei’s scenes for the day were packed back-to-back—it was obvious to everyone that they wanted him to finish up and be gone as soon as possible.

Mo Fei felt a wave of darkness wash over him. He just wanted to slack off a bit—was such a harsh reprisal truly necessary? Still, despite the number of scenes, his role was more ornamental than substantive; as long as he played the comic foil, he’d be fine.

To prevent another incident like scaring the third male lead to tears on the first day, Director Wang instructed Mo Fei to smile brightly and cheerfully, and above all, not to pull any stunts.

Mo Fei gave an “OK.”

Facing Mo Fei’s goofy, cheerful smile, he still didn’t look like a good person, but at least the other actors felt somewhat reassured.

Filming proceeded surprisingly smoothly. Director Wang began to wonder if he was just being overly sensitive—maybe the severed limb and the rescue were just coincidences, after all?

In a distant corner from the set, someone was lurking furtively.

“This is a good spot, you can see the whole shoot,” said a man in a vest and a baseball cap, squeezing in beside the other person with a camera. Without caring about the strange look he received, he raised his camera and fiddled with the settings. “Tsk, this angle is perfect.”

After checking the photos, the man in the cap finally glanced at his companion and greeted him with a friendly air. “Hey, you’re a paparazzo too? Why no telephoto lens? You’re working with just binoculars?”

The other man glanced at his own high-powered binoculars but said nothing.

“No money? No gear?” the man in the cap guessed, patting him on the shoulder. “Ah, don’t worry, we’ve all been there.”

“But let me give you a tip—Director Wang’s set isn’t worth much. Everyone knows Director Wang shoots fast. By the time we get anything juicy, the film’s already wrapped.”

“No future here.”

The other man looked at him curiously. “Then why did you come?”

“You didn’t get the memo?” The man in the cap looked surprised. “I thought you were in the loop, here because you knew something big happened on Director Wang’s set. Turns out you’re just wandering in blind, huh?”

“Something big happened?” The other man raised his eyebrows. “What sort of thing?”

Immediately, the man in the cap grew wary. “I’m only telling you because I borrowed your spot—don’t try to steal my scoop.”

With that, he raised his camera to the set again, muttering under his breath, “Doesn’t look like there’s much going on here anyway.”