Chen Qiyu and Luo Xi slowly wandered over toward Shi Jian and Zheng Gouzi.
At the moment, Shi Jian and Zheng Gouzi were blanching thin slices of luncheon meat in a pot. The broth bubbled gently, rich aromas drifting outward.
The instant Zheng Gouzi saw the two approaching, his reflexes kicked in. He hugged his bowl tightly to his chest.
"Even if you're high-ranking officials," he declared firmly, "I'm not sharing my food."
Shi Jian chuckled and waved his hand.
"Come, come. Don't mind him. Sirs, please join us. There's plenty."
Zheng Gouzi leaned over and whispered, astonished,
"You're actually giving them food?"
Shi Jian lowered his voice.
"We're deep behind enemy lines. One must be flexible, not rigid. Necessary expenses must be paid. Dao Xuan Tianzun taught me that."
"Oh," Zheng Gouzi said, instantly enlightened.
"Then that makes sense."
With Shi Jian's invitation, Chen Qiyu and Luo Xi joined them. The four squatted around the same pot, fishing out slices of luncheon meat.
The moment the meat entered their mouths—
Chen Qiyu and Luo Xi's expressions froze.
The flavor exploded.
The meat was rich, salty, fragrant, and unbelievably tender.
During the later World War era, soldiers from countless nations would drool uncontrollably at the sight of American canned luncheon meat — and for very good reason.
Luo Xi looked like a peasant encountering civilization for the first time. His eyes glazed over.
"Mmm… this is incredible… damn, this is really good!"
As a provincial governor, Chen Qiyu had to maintain decorum. He didn't vocalize his amazement, but his lips smacked unconsciously, and he let out a soft hum.
"Commander Shi," he said slowly, "your household troops truly enjoy… excellent logistics."
Shi Jian smiled modestly.
"Just passable."
Chen Qiyu pressed on.
"Your family must be quite wealthy?"
Shi Jian's heart skipped slightly.
Fishing. This was definitely fishing.
Naturally, he couldn't tell the truth. Fortunately, everything had already been prepared in advance — every person involved had rehearsed the story countless times.
Shi Jian smiled faintly.
"My family was originally poor. I was nothing more than a destitute military man. But my paternal uncle happened to make some money and helped support me into official circles."
"Oh?" Chen Qiyu asked.
"And who might your uncle be?"
Shi Jian laughed.
"Shi Laosi. He wrote a book called Gao Piao. It became a bestseller, and that's how he grew wealthy."
Chen Qiyu's eyes lit up instantly.
"Ah! I remember now!"
Back when he encountered Gao Shan's caravan near the Huangqiu Terrace tunnel, he had flipped through several books. Among them was Gao Piao. Compared to titles like Tapo Tianqiong, Quandong Xuankun, or Fanren Xiuzhen Zhuan, Gao Piao had left a much deeper impression on him.
"So Shi Laosi, the author of Gao Piao, is your uncle," Chen Qiyu said thoughtfully.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The Shi clan must have been poor originally, then one member struck gold. Once wealth appeared, power naturally followed. Funding younger relatives into officialdom was entirely normal.
With this explanation, Shi Jian's extravagant military expenses were finally accounted for.
Chen Qiyu sighed.
"Publishing books is truly that profitable? It almost makes me want to publish one myself. But I have no interest in frivolous works like Tapo Tianqiong. I'd want to write something meaningful, like Gao Piao."
Shi Jian smiled inwardly.
Writing is easy. Becoming popular is hard.
You think your taste represents the world, but readers might not even glance at your work.
Your disdain for Tapo Tianqiong alone proves you don't understand what most people enjoy.
If Gao Piao hadn't been favored by Dao Xuan Tianzun and granted special permission for printing, it would have died before anyone noticed.
Even now, it sells only moderately — most copies are funded and distributed for propaganda purposes.
But such thoughts were best kept to himself.
As dawn broke—
The Flower World Star Agency officially began filming preparations.
The actresses still needed more training for action scenes, but dramatic scenes were already well within reach.
Miss Cai Lin donned armor.
Not theatrical stage armor, but a genuine set of female general's armor, borrowed directly from Xing Honglang.
The moment she put it on, Cai Lin nearly staggered.
Dozens of pounds.
Yet actresses of this era were different from those of later generations. A modern celebrity might refuse to act at the slightest discomfort, demanding a stand-in.
But actresses here had low status and iron endurance. Cai Lin clenched her teeth and bore the weight.
Walking slower was fine. Today was for dramatic scenes — conversations within Tianbo Residence. No need for acrobatics.
The full cast assembled.
All Twelve Widows of Tianbo Residence stood in formation.
Outside the box, Li Daoxuan activated every camera, capturing the women from multiple angles.
Comic books required almost no dialogue.
Films, however, demanded it.
The actresses had studied the story of Mu Guiying extensively and even hired a professional storyteller to guide them in improvised dialogue.
At this moment, the storyteller finished explaining a scene and turned to Cai Lin.
"Miss Cai, here you must express longing for your husband, Yang Zongbao. You'll gaze at the sky, speak softly, perhaps ask your late husband's spirit to protect you…"
Cai Lin nodded.
"Understood."
Just then, Dao Xuan Tianzun, watching from the side in test-03 form, suddenly spoke.
"Hold on."
Everyone froze.
"You're filming a movie, not staging a play," Li Daoxuan continued calmly.
"This scene can't rely on Cai Lin alone. Films allow flashbacks. To strengthen the emotion, we should insert a flashback of Mu Guiying and Yang Zongbao together."
The crowd exclaimed in unison,
"Huh?"
"So," Li Daoxuan concluded,
"we need someone to play Yang Zongbao."
The moment the words fell—
Every single gaze turned toward Lao Nanfeng.
Lao Nanfeng pointed at himself.
"Why are you all staring at me?"
Someone muttered,
"Brother Nanfeng would suit Yang Zongbao, wouldn't he?"
"I think so!"
"Isn't he a bit too roguish?"
"…Maybe he can manage?"
Li Daoxuan burst out laughing.
"Excellent. It's decided. Lao Nanfeng, go get dressed as Yang Zongbao and act the flashback with Cai Lin."
When Dao Xuan Tianzun spoke, it was divine will.
Lao Nanfeng had no choice.
Half an hour later—
Lao Nanfeng, fully armored, stood before Cai Lin.
Cai Lin's face flushed pink.
"My husband… I pray your spirit protects this humble wife, that I may return safely from this expedition."
"Cut!"
Li Daoxuan sprang up furiously.
"No! Absolutely not!"
"Mu Guiying is not meek! What's with 'my husband' and 'this humble wife'? Are you trying to anger me?"
He pointed sharply.
"You grab Lao Nanfeng and shout: 'Zongbao! Your old lady is going to war! You stay home and wait obediently for your old lady to return victorious — understand?!'"
Silence fell like thunder.
Cai Lin broke into cold sweat.
"…This lowly one cannot do it."