After Defying the System, I Became a Genius Director

It must be said that Li Xingyu was a person with considerable sense of responsibility. Even after hearing that Shao Yichen’s film crew consisted of only two people, he didn’t abandon the task but continued helping Shao Yichen contact the landlord—though his occasional questioning glances made Shao Yichen’s heart sting a little.

He probably thinks I’m running a scam, Shao Yichen thought sadly, deciding to apply to the system today to disburse the salary and rent payment as soon as possible.

The landlord Li Xingyu contacted sounded like a young man, judging by his voice. The reason for making this judgment by sound was because this landlord couldn’t even be bothered to meet them in person for discussion. He simply called, readily agreeing to their request to use his apartment for filming, and even indicated that he had no need for the apartment for the next few months, so it was just sitting empty, and the film crew could even extend their filming time if needed.

His attitude was so accommodating that Shao Yichen wondered if the apartment was really his and whether there was some hidden story… Fortunately, Li Xingyu’s assurance carried some credibility.

At Shao Yichen’s insistence, the weekly rent was set at 10,000 yuan. After all, the system’s money might as well be used, and Shao Yichen didn’t feel the slightest pinch. Given the landlord’s attitude, he might have even lent them the apartment for free. But both Shao Yichen and even Li Xingyu would have felt uncomfortable with that arrangement, hence the agreed price.

With the location secured, the final issue troubling Shao Yichen was resolved. The remaining task was to begin filming and just muddle through the entire movie!

Shao Yichen heaved a long sigh of relief, feeling a great weight lift from her heart. She turned to Li Xingyu beside her and said: “Now that we’ve found a location, let’s start filming as soon as possible—how about tomorrow?”

Li Xingyu nodded, but still appeared to have some doubts: “If the entire production crew is just two people… then who’s the other actor?”

“Me, of course,” Shao Yichen straightened her posture, completely unabashed.

The next day, filming began with great enthusiasm.

Before filming, Shao Yichen had already withdrawn the salary and rent through the Director System and transferred it to Li Xingyu. This indeed dispelled Li Xingyu’s concerns that “this film crew is fake,” but simultaneously made him more confused—if the crew was real, it meant this Senior Sister was truly planning to complete this film with just two people, which seemed even more bizarre than the crew being fake.

With this puzzlement, Li Xingyu immersed himself in the filming.

Lighting relied on natural light, sound recording on a voice recorder, and camera work on the director—when the director needed to make a cameo as the female lead, the camera was simply fixed in position. Li Xingyu was amazed to discover that Shao Yichen was seriously planning to make a film with just two people, at the cost of making the film look like the very definition of shoddy production.

Meanwhile, he discovered that this Senior Sister genuinely couldn’t act. Her expressions were stiff, her body language practically nonexistent, and she would occasionally stutter as if the lines burned her tongue. She was clearly self-aware of this and adopted the strategy of—letting her hair down to cover her face, filming her back whenever possible rather than her face, while drastically reducing the female lead’s scenes.

More amazingly, whether the director realized it or not, this approach actually seemed quite effective to Li Xingyu. After all, at the beginning of the film, the female lead would be perceived as a ghost by the audience. This “abnormal” camera representation actually deepened the audience’s misunderstanding when applied to the female lead!

This was also why Li Xingyu persisted in this two-person film crew—the contract was certainly part of the reason. But whenever he lost hope for the film’s final result, some of Shao Yichen’s inadvertent operations would rekindle his hope.

He even thought that if Shao Yichen wasn’t doing this deliberately, then her talent must be truly astonishing.

Beyond this, he discovered that this Senior Sister’s behavior as a director outside of acting was even more unusual.

Specifically—she was meticulous in the strangest places.

For a horror film, a normal director should prioritize scenes that build a frightening atmosphere. But Director Shao Yichen’s attitude toward this was extremely casual. No matter how poorly Li Xingyu felt he performed, she insisted on one take, euphemistically calling it “maintaining the state.” As long as there were no obvious mistakes, she absolutely refused to reshoot. Left with no choice, Li Xingyu could only strive to deliver his best performance in the first take, and after a day of such practice, he actually felt he had gained new insights into acting.

This didn’t mean the director always settled for one take, however. For small details that normally wouldn’t attract attention, this director would repeatedly reshoot to pursue what she called “the best effect”—especially for comedic scenes unrelated to horror. She seemed determined to make every audience member laugh, and these scenes were generally shot when the horror atmosphere was at its peak, severely disrupting the frightening mood.

Since the filming location was limited to a single room, there were no location issues, and Shao Yichen and Li Xingyu filmed the movie in chronological order—allowing Li Xingyu to directly experience how the atmosphere flowed between plot points. From his current impression, the transitions between shots were indeed smooth, but any horrifying atmosphere was completely absent.

Perhaps Senior Sister has her own ideas, he could only reach this conclusion for now.

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Shao Yichen indeed had many ideas.

Among them, the most prominent was—could this Junior Brother’s acting skills be much better than she had imagined?

This doubt had begun from the very first day of filming.

She had originally selected him to play the ordinarily-looking male lead specifically because his outstanding appearance would clash with the film. The day before filming began, when this Junior Brother asked how he should dress, she had casually waved her hand and told him to dress however he liked…

The result was that the next day, she saw her Junior Brother walking toward her wearing black-framed glasses and a plaid shirt with jeans, slightly hunched, looking like an utterly ordinary office worker.

Shao Yichen: ???!!!

Could the difference of just a pair of glasses create such a dramatic transformation from flawless to completely ordinary?!

Shao Yichen was astounded.

But after careful observation, she confirmed that this Junior Brother still possessed a perfectly handsome face made for the screen. She couldn’t comprehend what had happened in the transformation from handsome man to small-time employee.

The root cause of her incomprehension was essentially her complete ignorance about acting. If she were even a slightly experienced director—no, even just a seasoned viewer who frequently watched TV dramas and films—she would have easily realized that what created this difference was Li Xingyu’s deliberate alteration of his walking habits and certain subtle movements, rapidly shifting his demeanor toward that of an ordinary office worker, thus further indicating Li Xingyu’s evident talent in performance.

Unfortunately, before her reincarnation, Shao Yichen preferred spending money on games rather than consuming time on films and TV dramas. This resulted in her current appreciation ability for acting being practically zero, causing her to regrettably miss the opportunity to discover her Junior Brother’s amazing acting skills.

Therefore, after brief astonishment, Shao Yichen began reassuring herself.

The current situation wasn’t so bad! Although her Junior Brother’s appearance had become more aligned with the character setting, it also made his perfect looks less prominent. She had originally worried that once this Junior Brother’s stunning face was exposed on camera, he might coincidentally be discovered by some influential account and then rocket to fame, bringing recognition to the film—in a world with systems, such things weren’t impossible! But now, looking at Li Xingyu’s glasses, shirt, and jeans, Shao Yichen thought that even the most discerning influencer could only praise him as “clean-cut,” and that’s without considering the character’s aura.

Besides, with her personally overseen terrible script as the foundation, how could they possibly produce a watchable film? If she couldn’t trust Li Xingyu, she should at least trust herself!

Shao Yichen’s heart was once again filled with determination.

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Between Shao Yichen’s perfunctory handling and Li Xingyu’s pursuit of excellence, the film finally reached the truth-revealing part in the latter stages.

As the climax of the entire film, this should be the most crucial part for the actors’ emotional outbursts.

For this very reason, it was also the main part Shao Yichen was determined to sabotage!

According to the script, the plot here involved the male protagonist, having exhausted all methods yet still unable to send away the female lead he believed had become a ghost, reluctantly sneaking into her bedroom. Hoping to understand her true final wish through her diary in the drawer, he accidentally discovers his own death notice in her room, finally realizing the truth. At that moment, the female lead’s silhouette appears behind him.

Yet throughout this long sequence, Shao Yichen had not designed a single line of dialogue, and had even deliberately avoided noting the male lead’s emotions. Even the “female lead’s silhouette” mentioned in the script wouldn’t actually appear in the shot—it would all rely on the male lead turning his head and changing his expression to let the audience understand, “Oh, the female lead is standing here now.”

—She was deliberately setting a trap for the lead actor!

This plot segment would take at least a minute to perform, and Shao Yichen planned to shoot this part as a long take—in fact, this was also a cost-saving measure: one continuous shot, absolutely no retakes.

Under these circumstances, the acting requirements for the lead actor were extremely high.

As everyone knows, a well-executed long take demonstrates technical prowess, but a poorly executed one looks like the director forgot to yell “cut.”

Shao Yichen was naturally pursuing the second option: a terribly executed effect.

After all, everyone knows long takes are difficult to execute well, so even if the result resembles organic fertilizer, industry insiders would be understanding, considering it merely a novice’s first attempt that didn’t succeed. But to outsiders, garbage is garbage. Just because the process of creating garbage was extremely difficult doesn’t mean non-recyclable waste can be forcibly categorized as recyclable. This nonsensical climax would likely be torn apart by the discerning eyes of the public.

This way, she would both leave room for the original owner to continue surviving in the industry while successfully making this terrible film even worse—truly killing two birds with one stone.

Thinking this way, Shao Yichen felt she was indeed a genius.

Author’s Note: The female protagonist is a genius, but not in terms of losing money.

Come on, Li Xingyu! Show Shao Yichen what real acting is!