Chapter 033

Lu Jianxing’s filming location was at a Film and Television Base in City X, a considerable distance from City X’s downtown.

Qiao Man sat in the car, watching the scenery fly past outside the window, in an absolutely wonderful mood. Lu Jianxing sat beside him and could clearly tell the kid was even more energetic than usual, his little feet swinging back and forth, his mouth humming an off-key tune. After listening for a while, Lu Jianxing finally recognized it from the wandering melody as the theme song of a cartoon the kid had watched yesterday.

First they got to City X, and now Lu Jianxing was following him all the way to the film set. A strange feeling crept over Lu Jianxing – this kid might just never get sent back…

How were there so many ghosts in this world?

When Qiao Man pushed open the car door and hopped out, he was also thinking happily: Ah, how are there so many kind-hearted ghosts in this world?

If only he could bring Xingxing along on every business trip!

At a hotel near the Film and Television Base, Maomao had known they were coming and was waiting in the lobby early. The moment he saw the two of them appear, he hurried out. “Brother Lu! Xiao Man!”

Qiao Man greeted him cheerfully too. “Maomao!”

“Baby, you really came. This is amazing! You have no idea how I’ve been living these past few days. I couldn’t eat well, couldn’t sleep well, lost several pounds!”

Qiao Man eyed his round figure. “Really?”

Maomao said with full conviction, “Really. I even ate one less bowl of rice at lunch.”

Qiao Man nodded solemnly. That was indeed very serious.

Maomao led the two of them to check into the hotel first.

The hotel had been booked in advance by the production crew, and all the guests were staff from the same team. With shooting about to begin, aside from the crew members who had arrived early to handle preparations, the actors were also trickling in one after another. As they stepped into the elevator, it just so happened that the director was also returning from outside and entered the same elevator.

Their production’s director was surnamed Yang, a tall, lean, middle-aged man with an easygoing and amiable demeanor. Spotting them, Director Yang greeted them casually. “Lu Jianxing, you’re here… Oh?” Before he finished speaking, Director Yang noticed the child standing beside him.

Qiao Man tilted his head up and gave him an adorable smile. “Hello, Uncle.”

“I know you. You’re the kid who was on Wilderness Challenge with Lu Jianxing. I’ve watched the show with you two.” Wilderness Challenge had been hugely popular in both its live broadcast and edited versions. When the edited version went online, it trended on several hot searches, and that was where Director Yang had seen it.

He was a fast surfer on the internet and also knew that the two of them weren’t just partners on a variety show, but were already living together in real life. “Bringing the kid along to the set for a visit?”

Lu Jianxing ruffled the kid’s head and said, “He’s in City X for a few days. Today I’m joining the production, so he came to see me off, and he wants to hang around the set for a couple of days too.”

“I understand. The first time apart, of course you can’t bear it. I once had an actress in my crew, still nursing when filming started, who brought her newborn baby with her to set. As long as it doesn’t hold up the work, everyone’s understanding.” Director Yang said this, then looked at him, then at Qiao Man, and suddenly laughed. “Other people bring their babies to set. Are you bringing your dad to set?”

Lu Jianxing: “…”

Maomao turned to look at his reflection in the elevator, running through every sad thought he’d ever had in his entire life.

With a chime, the elevator reached the floor Director Yang was staying on, and he stepped out.

The elevator doors closed again and continued upward. Qiao Man grabbed the hand that had been resting motionless on top of his head, puzzled. “Xingxing, why are you suddenly unhappy?”

Another chime sounded as the elevator reached their floor. The doors opened, and Lu Jianxing was the first to walk out. “We’re here.”

Lu Jianxing’s role was a major supporting male lead, so he didn’t have to share a room with anyone else.

Once they’d put away the luggage, Maomao began telling the two of them about the ghost trouble on the neighboring production.

The neighboring production had started filming a month earlier than theirs. It was a historical romance drama¹, shooting within the film city. The strange incidents had also started about a month ago.

First, the props on the filming set kept shifting positions. Scenes arranged in advance would be different by the time filming started, with props appearing in places they shouldn’t be.

Lu Jianxing and Qiao Man had just dealt with a ghost once and now had a bit of experience. So Lu Jianxing asked, “Could it be someone messing around?”

Maomao shook his head. “At first we thought it was someone playing pranks. If the props moved, you could just put them back. But then one day during filming, the camera recorded a prop moving on its own when no one else was around.”

Qiao Man sucked in a cold breath. “Whoa…”

“Baby, don’t be scared yet. The second you get scared, I start getting a little scared too.”

Maomao drank some water to steady his nerves, then continued. “All of that was just minor stuff. If props went missing, you could always find them again. But the day before yesterday, the actor playing the third male lead on the neighboring production was on wires², and the wire suddenly gave way!”

Qiao Man didn’t know what wires were. Lu Jianxing frowned with concern. “Was he hurt?”

“He’s fine. He wasn’t very high up, and there were mats below. He wasn’t hurt, just got a terrible fright. I was helping out on the neighboring set at the time and saw it happen with my own eyes.” Maomao gulped down more water. He glanced left and right, his gaze unfocused, as if on guard against some invisible presence.

He also scooted closer to Qiao Man, pressing against the kid’s warm little body. Feeling the heat radiating from the child, he immediately felt much more at ease. Maomao went on. “Still the day before yesterday – the night of the accident, Director Liu from the neighboring production was reviewing the footage and discovered that when the third male lead had his accident, a ghostly figure was standing right beside him.”

“A ghostly figure?” Lu Jianxing ventured a guess. “Could it have been an actor who accidentally wandered into the shot?”

“It wasn’t an actor. It really was a ghost.” Maomao pulled out his phone. “I even have a photo!”

The neighboring production was haunted, and everyone there was keeping it deeply secret, not daring to spread word outside. It was only because Maomao’s friend happened to work as an assistant on the directing team that he’d heard about it and had, by chance, obtained that crucial piece of evidence.

The photo on Maomao’s phone was a picture taken of the camera’s screen. In the footage displayed, the third male lead stood with the other actors, and the ghostly shadow Maomao mentioned stood right behind him.

Lu Jianxing took one look and immediately understood why it was called a ghostly figure instead of an actor. The crew’s stylist had referenced Tang Dynasty clothing, while the ghostly figure had half its head shaved bald and a long braid³ hanging from the back of its head—completely different era.

More importantly, that ghostly figure was a pearly white, its lower body fading into translucent, the legs disappearing below the calves, the whole thing floating in midair.

Lu Jianxing couldn’t pinpoint a problem right away.

Maomao asked nervously, “Baby, look—is that really a ghost?”

Qiao Man hesitated, slowly shaking his head.

Maomao’s face lit up. “Not a ghost? That’s wonderful!”

Qiao Man kept shaking his head. “I’d need to see it in person. Through a photo, I can’t sense Yin Energy.”

Lu Jianxing: “Is the neighboring crew still filming today?”

“I’ll ask.”

Maomao sent a message to his friend and got a reply soon after. Despite a minor incident the day before, no one was hurt, so they were still shooting as usual today.

Once they had confirmation, the group immediately set off for the filming site.

Maomao’s friend was named Xiao Hui, working on the crew as a gofer—nothing important, just an errand-running assistant. When he heard they’d arrived, Xiao Hui quickly came out to meet them, explaining as they walked, “Actually, Director Liu also brought in a master to get rid of the ghost. Supposed to arrive today.”

Once filming starts, money burns every single day. Unless there’s a major accident, they won’t halt production lightly. But with a ghost haunting the set—especially after a real mishap—it had everyone on edge, terrified they’d be the next to encounter it.

As the director, Director Liu was the most worried. Not just about accidents shutting down the shoot, but he was also somewhat superstitious himself, full of fear and reverence for spirits and ghostly matters. After the camera captured that ghostly figure, he’d been the most rattled and also the quickest to act.

Master Xiao Man arrived before the master Director Liu had invited, so Xiao Hui went to inform the assistant director first.

Qiao Man held Lu Jianxing’s hand, looking around with open curiosity. Actors in gorgeous silk robes and brocade dresses passed by, and his head swiveled to follow them, utterly transfixed, as if the TV dramas he’d watched had come to life. The first show he’d ever seen after coming down the mountain was about a protagonist who traveled from the modern world to ancient times, standing dazed on a bustling ancient street—and right now, Xiao Man looked exactly like that.

The assistant director glanced over from a distance, said something, then shook his head at Xiao Hui. Soon, Xiao Hui trudged back, dejected.

“The assistant director didn’t believe me—thought I was playing a prank,” Xiao Hui said. “He also said Director Liu already invited a master, who’ll be here soon.”

Maomao fumed. “What kind of master? Could he possibly be more skilled than Xiao Man?”

Xiao Hui was Maomao’s friend; he’d heard Maomao praise Master Xiao Man’s abilities countless times. A loyal viewer of “Wilderness Challenge,” he’d personally witnessed the kid’s startling displays of power and had absolute faith in Qiao Man’s capabilities. Learning his friend had brought Qiao Man over, he was beyond grateful.

After coming all this way, they couldn’t just leave empty-handed. Xiao Hui steeled himself: “I’ll go straight to Director Liu!”

As he spoke, his eyes searched the crowd for Director Liu.

He spotted him quickly, but Director Liu was taking a phone call. The moment he hung up, he rushed out. Along the way, someone tried to speak to him and was waved aside.

As Director Liu and his entourage headed out, they heard someone murmur, “The master is here.”

The master?

A master even more reliable than Master Xiao Man?

The group followed, curious.

Meanwhile, Maomao said guiltily, “Brother Lu, it’s all my fault. I was so spooked by the ghost story that I didn’t check the details before bringing Xiao Man over.”

With Director Liu’s own master already here, had Xiao Man come all the way for nothing?

Lu Jianxing patted the kid’s head. Qiao Man was still captivated by the filming scene, eyes darting everywhere—everything looked new, everything grabbed his attention. Yet he clung tightly to Lu Jianxing’s hand, following right beside him even when distracted.

Before, Lu Jianxing had only worried he couldn’t properly look after the kid while filming; now it seemed, at worst, he could just bring “Dad” onto the set.

Soon, a car pulled up at the gate. Director Liu and the others immediately hurried forward. Amid eager anticipation, a Taoist priest wearing a Taoist Robe stepped out of the vehicle.

He had a haughty expression, a small mustache above his lip, and the assistant following behind mirrored his posture exactly. Director Liu greeted him warmly, but the Taoist only gave a cold nod in acknowledgment.

Lu Jianxing let out a soft “Huh?” Qiao Man looked up at him, then at the Taoist, and also found him a bit familiar.

But where had he seen him before?

Qiao Man racked his brain, then: “Ah!”

“It’s him!”

Not far away, the Taoist was making his way inside at Director Liu’s invitation, sweeping a disdainful gaze over the crowd. His eyes instantly locked onto the kid over there. Qiao Man broke into a smile and waved at him in a friendly greeting.

Master Ding: “…”

Master Ding: “…………”

Master Ding flicked his sleeve⁴ and turned to leave.

Director Liu froze, then hurried after him: “Master Ding, Master Ding, don’t go!”

Master Ding erupted: “You already hired someone else—why did you even call me? I’m not doing this job!”

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Translator’s Notes

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1. historical romance drama: A translation of ‘gǔ’ǒu’ (古偶), short for ‘ancient idol drama.’ This specific genre focuses on romance and high-production aesthetics featuring attractive young actors (idols), often set in a fictionalized or stylized version of ancient China. ↩
2. on wires: Refers to ‘diào wēiyǎ’ (吊威亚), the use of wire harnesses to simulate flying or superhuman leaps in martial arts and historical films. It is a staple of Chinese action cinematography but carries significant physical risk if the equipment fails. ↩
3. half its head shaved bald and a long braid: This describes the ‘queue’ hairstyle (biànzi) mandated during the Qing Dynasty. Lu Jianxing recognizes the ghost is from a different era because the current production is styled after the Tang Dynasty, which predates the Qing by nearly a thousand years. ↩
4. flicked his sleeve: A traditional gesture (拂袖, fúxiù) where a person forcefully shakes or sweeps their wide sleeves while turning away. It is a classic non-verbal expression of being deeply offended, indignant, or walking away in a huff. ↩