
I wake to discover that I am stranded more than a thousand meters above the ground, standing on the top of a stone pillar that rises through the clouds. I have no memory of how I reached it, no obvious route down, and no idea whether anyone else is nearby. The impossible location turns a simple question—how do I get home?—into a test of observation and survival. As I search the pillar for clues, I begin to suspect that arriving here was not an accident and that the sky around me is hiding an even larger mystery.
Chapter 23: The Rules
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know the answer to that question. No one on any of the production teams I’ve been on has ever answered it either, so I can’t help you. Please ask a different question.” The woman in sunglasses shook her head. “Huh? Well… okay.” Gao Fei looked a little disappointed. The others were also a bit disappointed. Although the goal of landing on the ground seemed very distant for everyone, it was, after all, something to strive for, and what they wanted right now was an affirmative answer. But the woman in sunglasses clearly couldn’t provide one. “My next question is this: if you had a loved one—someone very close to you—who turned into a wax figure, would you spend 1,000 points to save her? Or would you use those 1,000 points to lower the height of the stone pillar? Which would you choose?” Gao Fei paused to think for a moment before asking his next question. “I’d save her.” The woman in sunglasses remained silent for a moment before answering Gao Fei, her tone turning somewhat cold, as if Gao Fei’s question had touched a sensitive spot deep within her. “Why? Does it make sense? What if she dies again after you save her?” Gao Fei was somewhat taken aback by the woman in sunglasses’ response. He had actually intended to use her answer to help him decide what to do, but her response clearly differed from his own choice. “That’s the second question.” The woman in sunglasses turned to look at the director. “Answer accepted. One point awarded. Next,” the director said. “Wait a minute. I’ll answer your question for free.” After hesitating for a moment, the woman in sunglasses decided to answer Gao Fei’s question after all. Everyone turned to look at the woman in sunglasses, eager to hear her insightful take on the matter. “What if we use these 1,000 points to lower the stone pillar, return to the real world, and then can never come back here again? Wouldn’t our loved ones be sealed inside those wax figures forever? Since they’re such close family, and I have the 1,000 points needed, I’d definitely save them. If I can’t bring my loved ones back with me, what’s the point of returning? To spend every day enduring the pain of losing them?” The woman in sunglasses’ tone grew even colder. “But if I rescue her and she does something foolish again, am I supposed to rescue her yet another time?” Gao Fei pressed. “It’s simple. I just need to earn 2,000 points, right? Use 1,000 points to save my loved one and 1,000 points to descend to the surface. Then I can leave with her. You might think earning points is hard now, but once you reach a higher level, 1,000 points might not be a big deal.” The woman in sunglasses replied to Gao Fei. “Hmm, that makes sense.” After hearing the woman in sunglasses’ reply, Gao Fei seemed to have put his mind at ease. “Your turn.” The woman in sunglasses turned to Li Teng. “Beautiful lady, you have loved ones trapped there too, right?” Gao Fei chimed in again. “Next question.” The woman in sunglasses ignored Gao Fei and gestured toward Li Teng. Li Teng had his question ready long ago. “Earlier, I asked him if being one or two levels higher as an actor meant having more supernatural abilities or a higher cultivation level. He said no—it just gives you an advantage during casting. You said his answer was wrong. I want to know why.” “His answer wasn’t entirely wrong. It’s true that when you advance from an extra to a minor supporting role, or from a minor supporting role to a regular cast member, you don’t gain abilities beyond those of ordinary people—you simply have greater priority when it comes to choosing roles in the script.” “But there are some special cases.” “For example, suppose you’re appearing in an action film and have already risen to a certain level, allowing you to take on a supporting role in a major production. Let’s say you’re playing Ouyang Feng, the ‘Western Poison,’ and the scene to be filmed is a showdown between two top-tier martial artists—Ouyang Feng and Hong Qigong…” “If the two of them must determine a winner in that scene—and one of them must die for the scene to be completed—then before you take the role, you must spend points to acquire one or more of the martial arts skills possessed by your character, Ouyang Feng—such as the Toad Style—to ensure you win the duel against Hong Qigong, or at least hold your own.” “During the filming of this scene, you—as Ouyang Feng—will truly possess the Toad Style and be able to use it on set.” “Similarly, if you’re starring in a sci-fi film as Spider-Man and you’ve redeemed Spider-Man’s web-slinging ability before filming, you’ll actually be able to shoot webs from your palms to portray your character during the scene.” “If you’re in a horror movie playing a ghost and you’ve exchanged for the ability to walk through walls, then during the scene, you’ll actually be able to walk through walls.” “This exchange is only valid while on set. Once you leave the set, you’ll revert to being an ordinary person and won’t be able to take the superpowers you gained on set with you outside of it.” “This redemption even has a somewhat compulsory nature, because if you don’t use your points to redeem the corresponding martial arts skills or superpowers, you won’t be able to complete the scene—and you’ll likely be killed by your on-screen opponent. In that case, the cost would far outweigh the benefit.” “High-level actors not only have an advantage in casting but, since they typically hold more points, they’ve already exchanged them for the superpowers associated with their respective roles. Using those superpowers to crush a low-level extra on set is a piece of cake.” “That’s why I said earlier that his answer was wrong.” “I didn’t actually need to answer your question in such detail. The reason I did is because I think highly of you—consider this a favor I’m doing for you.” After her lengthy explanation, the woman in sunglasses concluded her response. “Answer accepted. You’ll receive 3 points as a reward,” the director announced. “Um… this doesn’t count as a favor I owe you, does it? One question is normally worth only 1 point, but I helped you earn 2 extra points—so you’re the one who owes me a favor,” Li Teng countered the woman in sunglasses’ earlier claim. “You…” The woman in sunglasses was a bit annoyed that she hadn’t gotten the upper hand, even through her sunglasses. “It must cost a lot of points to redeem superpowers, right? Since points are so valuable, if you use them to activate these superpowers during a performance, can you only use them once in the scene you’re shooting at that moment? If you explain that question to me in full detail, then I’ll truly owe you a favor,” Li Teng called out to the woman in sunglasses. There were too many unwritten rules on set. Li Teng had to do everything possible to understand them as quickly as possible and at the lowest cost, so he could better handle future filming assignments and avoid falling into traps set by others due to his lack of knowledge.