Chapter 73: The Realm Where a Mountain Is No Longer a Mountain, Yet Once More a Mountain

July was approaching, and the end of filming was near.

The entire crew was in a flurry of activity. Those working on post-production focused on their tasks, while others were busy reshooting or patching up scenes. Any shot that didn’t meet the standard had to be redone. Even sequences requiring wire work and green screens for special effects meant the post-production team was working overtime.

Sumu had some action scenes to shoot, but with the aid of wires and slower movements, things became much easier. This was still different from a pure martial arts fight scene. Sumu looked forward to the day when he could act in real kung fu films or play the role of a rugged hero in a martial arts epic. Of course, that would require having the right level of skill. Otherwise, some stunts would have to be left to stand-ins. But there was no rush; sooner or later, he’d have the opportunity. Who knew—perhaps one day the project lottery would yield just the right script.

“Brilliant lights fill the street—”
“How can I save—when love is so poisonous—”
“People as ordinary as me—why are you pretending to be deep?”

[High notes proficiency +2]
[Mid-low notes proficiency +2]
[Breathy voice control proficiency +2]
[Skill points +0.02…+0.02…]

Sumu was resting in his trailer. With nothing else to do, he popped a double-strength throat lozenge and sang to increase his proficiency. Each lozenge melted away in about ten minutes, so its effect was short-lived, and he needed to sing as much as possible.

“Wait a sec.”
Fan Orange suddenly noticed something odd. “I know the first two lines. You had Liu Yadong help you with the arrangement before—it’s called ‘Salvation,’ right? But that last line, what song is that from?”

Sumu replied, “Oh, I just made it up.”

Orange looked shocked. “Made it up? ‘People as ordinary as me’—Sumu, what on earth have you been through, how did you suddenly become so musically gifted?”

Sumu scoffed, “And you call yourself my assistant? Haven’t you figured out how talented I am yet?”

Orange shook her head. “Nope.”

Sumu shrugged. “Then forget it.”

Orange pressed on: “What kind of candy are you eating? I want one too.”

Sumu replied, “That was the last one. Just one left.”

Orange pouted, “Stingy!”

“There really was only one.” Sumu was exasperated. And honestly, even if she ate one, it wouldn’t help her. These lozenges were for doubling his proficiency gains.

“I kiss you goodbye—on this empty street—”
“A toast to the sunrise—a toast to death—”

[Falsetto proficiency +2]
[R&B proficiency +2]
[Skill points +0.02…+0.02…]

After a while, the lozenge in his mouth melted completely, and Sumu finally stopped singing. He then glanced at his male arts panel.

[Male Arts Panel]
Skill points: 63.4
[Script lv4: 6/10000]
[Emotion Lv4: 5/10000]
[Expression Lv4: 4003/10000]
[Dialogue Lv4: 9/10000]
[Actions LV4: 8/10000]
[Kissing Skill LV3: 4/5000]
[…]

The parameters lined up in front of him. Sumu focused on the proficiency of his acting skills. After all this time of tireless effort, he had finally raised all his acting skills to LV4—master level—except for kissing. After all, opportunities to practice that were few and far between. No matter how good his relationship with Zhang Huaimou, he couldn’t possibly have a kissing scene go through dozens or hundreds of retakes. Raising this skill any further would have to be left to fate.

With all his acting proficiencies now at LV4, Sumu gained a new understanding and enlightenment about performance. This was the insight that came with reaching a certain threshold of skill. Before, he could execute every technique with precision and control—every emotion, movement, expression, psychological nuance, all performed with meticulous accuracy. But these were still direct, surface-level outputs. There was nothing technically wrong, but compared to true masters, there was a certain lack of depth.

A true master’s performance was, as the saying goes, “seeing a mountain is no longer just seeing a mountain, and yet it is still a mountain.” Sumu’s greatest proficiency now was in controlling his expressions. He could convey joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness with great precision and subtlety. He could portray these emotions with varying layers—light, intense, sudden, or repressed. But as a person, one’s inner world is far more complex than imagined.

Often,
A smile is just an expression, not necessarily happiness.
Crying is just an action, not necessarily sorrow.
Joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness are on the surface.
Love, hate, passion, and enmity dwell within.
The truest people are those whose outward appearance doesn’t match their inner feelings.

So, is seeing a mountain really just seeing a mountain?
The answer is: not necessarily.

A master can portray a happy person, but the audience may sense sadness and loneliness. A master can play a defeated, fallen man, yet from his silhouette, the audience perceives his inner strength and resilience. This is a deeper realm, not something that can be achieved by technique alone.

Sumu was now experiencing this elevation in his craft. But he still had a long way to go before reaching LV4 perfection; much more practice was needed. With continued accumulation of proficiency, he would gradually attain this “seeing the mountain” state.

…

[Notification: Blind Box rules updated!]
[From now on, all categories will be randomized—]

Sumu read the notification and understood. Now, he could no longer select a category in advance when opening a blind box; it was all up to chance. In short, it was luck that mattered now.

“Open three blind boxes,” Sumu said.

[Deducting 3.0 skill points]
[Blind boxes being unwrapped…]
[Work: Script for ‘The Crime Without Proof.’]
[Work: Script for ‘Sadako.’]
[Task: Your current proficiency in street dance has not been developed. Please raise any dance style to LV2.
Reward:
[+1000 proficiency]
[Skill points +5.0]
[Attribute: Flexibility]
Complete]

Sumu stared blankly at the three results. He genuinely hadn’t expected the two scripts to be these particular ones. He’d never seen ‘Sadako’—not out of fear, but simply because he didn’t like that genre. As for ‘The Crime Without Proof,’ it was a classic in the suspense web drama genre. It might not have been especially popular in his previous life, but he still remembered the iconic scene of Li Fengtian smoking a cigarette in reverse.

Of course, Sumu’s current situation and options meant he didn’t have to act in every project. What he needed was a hit series to make money. But possessing a script was like holding an ace; even if he didn’t act in it himself, he could use it for other purposes, such as trading for benefits. For example, after establishing his own studio, he could discuss it with Yu Hong at a suitable time.

The last task wasn’t really practical at the moment. Sumu figured he’d have to wait until filming wrapped up and he was back in Galaxy City before tackling it.

Just as he was thinking this, Orange interrupted him.

“Sumu! Sumu!”

Snapped out of his reverie, Sumu responded, “Yeah?”

Orange said, “What are you thinking about? I’ve been calling you for ages.”

“Nothing. What is it?”

“Someone from the crew is looking for you—it’s your turn for a scene.”

Reminded, Sumu quickly got up, left the trailer, and hurried to the set.

“Cameras ready, everything’s set!”

“‘Joy of Life’ scene 857, action!”

…

August.

“It’s a wrap!”

“Sumu, thank you for your hard work!”

Scattered applause broke out around him.

Holding a bouquet, Sumu’s face was full of reluctance. “Thank you, thank you, everyone! Since we’ve wrapped filming, I’d like to say a few words to you all…”

[Public speaking +1]
[Expression +1]
[Emotion +1]
[…]