636-640

Chapter 636: The Battle of Stares

One step, then another.

Tommy stepped out of the shadows, swinging a baseball bat, wobbling like he was walking a runway. No dodging, no evading—he made a frontal approach.

In the stillness of the night, the faint sound of the bat scraping the dirt filled the air. It wasn’t loud, but it made the hair on their skin stand on end.

Closer. And closer.

Evan refused to back down. He shielded Keller behind him, raising his right hand to try to stop Tommy. When dealing with a mad dog, keeping your distance was the best move.

“Stay away from us, you freak.”

Heh.

Tommy smiled.

Since his entrance, Tommy hadn’t said a single word, yet the tension in the air had reached its peak. Watching Evan protectively guarding Keller, their faces filled with dread, made Tommy feel ridiculous.

“Oh. What do you mean by ‘us,’ exactly?”

“Us” referred to Evan and Keller, but clearly, Tommy didn’t think they should be bundled together.

“As if I’d hurt my own sister.”

Tommy tilted his head, studying Evan with a heartbroken expression, his left hand idly drawing circles in the dirt with the baseball bat, his voice calm in protest.

No yelling, no threats, no sudden moves, no attacks.

However…

The dangerous aura he exuded created an overwhelming pressure, forcing Evan and Keller to keep stepping back, trying to maintain a safe distance.

Their retreat only made Tommy angrier, more sarcastic. He dragged his heavy body with the bat, looking as if he might collapse at any moment, but his eyes never wavered from Evan, though his peripheral vision occasionally flickered toward Keller.

“You really have it good, Evan.”

“You’ve got the perfect life, the perfect friends, and on top of that, you’ve even hooked up with my sister.”

“I’ll admit, she’s pretty good-looking.”

Step by step, the tension grew unbearable.

It was noticeable now—Tommy’s words sped up, his steps quickened. You could almost hear the fire in his blood beginning to boil.

Evan didn’t respond. He just kept shielding Keller, spreading his arms like a mother hen guarding her chicks, his sharp eyes locked on Tommy.

Finally, Keller couldn’t hold back any longer. Hearing Tommy’s taunting tone, she lashed out in anger, “Shut up, Tommy!”

Tommy wasn’t pleased. He pulled a face at Keller. “Come on, I was complimenting you!”

Evan shook his head lightly. “Tommy, what are you doing?”

Tommy suddenly stopped.

The air froze.

He stood there, head tilted, examining Evan and Keller closely. In the dim night, his expression and gaze were unclear, but beneath the calm exterior, you could sense the wild beast stirring.

Finally, it formed into a smile.

A sad and bitter smile. An angry and despairing smile.

“Hah.”

“Even if the whole world loves you, it’s not enough. You had to take away the one person in this world who didn’t treat me like a pile of garbage?”

Evan raised his hands in a gesture to stop, trying to calm Tommy down.

But Keller spoke first, “Tommy, you know I love you.”

Evan added, “No one thinks you’re a pile of garbage.”

“Heh.” Tommy laughed, his face full of forced cheer. “Wait, really? What did you just call me again? Let me think.”

Tommy really looked up at the sky, pretending to be deep in thought.

For a fleeting moment, it seemed like they were having a friendly conversation. But it lasted only a moment.

“Oh, I believe it was…”

“Freak.”

One word, one sentence. Before the word even fully escaped his lips, Tommy’s expression shifted—his pleasant demeanor turned into fierce rage.

Bang!

The silver baseball bat swung in an arc, striking Evan’s shin bone with a vicious crack as Tommy switched it from his left to right hand.

Evan: Ugh.

A muffled grunt.

The pain was too intense, too sudden. Evan didn’t even have time to cry out. The sharp agony hit him like a tidal wave, overwhelming his mind.

His vision went dark.

Keller’s panicked voice echoed in his ears, “Tommy! Stop it, Tommy!”

But.

Keller’s plea only fueled Tommy’s rage. He gritted his teeth, and the baseball bat answered Keller’s cry—

One hit. To the arm.

Another. To the waist.

And one more. To the leg.

Three quick, brutal strikes like a storm, giving Evan no chance to catch his breath.

Evan collapsed.

When the pain reached its peak, his brain couldn’t function. Evan curled up, utterly defenseless, as blow after blow rained down on him.

“Stop!”

Bang.

One hit. To the back. The bat.

“Tommy, stop!”

Bang.

Another hit. To the stomach. A kick.

Keller’s anguished, tear-filled screams begged Tommy to stop, but her words only drove him into further madness.

Buzz.

Evan’s mind buzzed. He could almost hear the sound of his sanity snapping. After a crisp “pop,” the pain disappeared.

Everything was chaos. Everything was white noise.

His entire body was limp, as if the string in his spine had been pulled out, and his bones started slowly falling apart, one by one.

But the beating didn’t stop. He could no longer tell what was a punch, what was a kick, or what was a blow from the bat.

Keller was in utter despair. “No, God, no…”

Finally!

The storm seemed to cease.

Evan, curled up like a shrimp, struggled to stay conscious, with only one thought in his mind:

Breathe. Evan, just breathe.

“Heh.”

Tommy, gasping for breath, wore a twisted smile.

Seeing Evan trying to get back up, Tommy stomped on Evan’s right shoulder, forcing him back into the dirt.

Tommy circled Evan like a hunter showing off his prey, spitting on the ground beside him. But even though his prey was Evan, Tommy’s gaze was locked on Keller—a challenge and a threat.

Keller watched, unable to believe her eyes, tears streaming down her face, her heart shattered.

“No, Tommy. Stop.”

It wasn’t a scream, nor a roar, but a helpless plea.

Keller couldn’t bear to see this. She wanted to protect Evan, but also Tommy—

She couldn’t stand by and watch Tommy kill Evan. She didn’t want Tommy to make such a grave mistake.

Watching Evan lie there motionless, Keller sank into despair.

However.

Tommy noticed. Keller’s sad, desperate gaze was fixed on Evan.

Heh.

Even now, Keller’s eyes were only for Evan. She was still only worried about Evan.

“Ah.”

Tommy lost it.

“Ahhh!”

Laughing and screaming, crying and laughing.

“Ah!”

Tommy completely lost his mind. He screamed with all his strength, his shouts filled with bitterness and despair, mixed with rage, burning like a wildfire.

Even though Keller kept calling his name, it was no longer enough to bring Tommy’s soul back.

“Hah, hahaha.”

Tommy laughed maniacally, raising the baseball bat high in the air. He turned and looked at Keller one last time—

Tears streamed down Tommy’s face as he looked at Keller.

Keller looked back, her eyes also filled with tears.

In that brief moment, their eyes met, their emotions and souls frozen in time, but they both shut the other out.

Then, aiming at Evan’s head, Tommy swung the silver bat with all his might, with no reservations.

*Chapter 637: Emotional Nexus*

The entire room fell into dead silence; Eric had forgotten to breathe—

So, this was the emotional thread that Anson, Heath, and Rachel had been discussing and untangling all along.

The three actors had already reached a consensus: Keller’s attempt to stop Tommy was interpreted by Tommy as a signal that Keller had given up on him in favor of Evan, which infuriated Tommy, leading him to entertain the idea of a deadly confrontation.

But what was the key point?

Three characters, three independent individuals, each with their own personalities and emotional arcs, all intersecting at one specific moment, igniting conflict.

The actors’ task was to clarify their own character’s path and then find the intersection point where they could each unleash their emotional explosion in sync.

However, the timing had always been off. Either Tommy's emotional shift came too early, or Keller’s subsequent actions didn’t align. The three actors had been constantly adjusting, trying to find the perfect moment of emotional climax—

Until now.

When Tommy’s intense beating of Evan reached a certain point, Tommy’s fury had mostly dissipated. In his mind, he was debating whether to continue or stop. Then he saw Keller’s desperate and fragile gaze, fixed on Evan as she repeatedly tried to stop him. This was the moment Tommy’s inner world collapsed.

At this instant, Tommy fell into despair.

And Keller caught this fleeting moment as well—

According to the script, there was a noticeable flaw:

Keller’s timing to call for help.

In the script, Evan found an opening, turned the tables, and began beating Tommy. Keller then turned around and pressed the emergency button to summon campus security.

From the scene, it appeared Keller was trying to stop Evan from beating Tommy. But from a timing perspective, Keller hadn’t called for help when she saw Tommy preparing to kill Evan. Instead, she only called when she saw Evan gaining the upper hand. So, what was Keller’s real mindset? Was she purely protecting Tommy?

This felt strange.

Again, it comes back to the same point: each of the three characters had their own emotional thread, and only by finding the right moment could the details fill in, making each character complete within the emotional conflict.

So, they continued to adjust, search, and explore through their performances.

Finally—

The scene fell into a deathly stillness as if the wildly beating hearts were about to explode. The entire world seemed to spin into chaos, and the overwhelming shock and tension kept surging in relentless waves, driving everyone to madness.

The camera followed the gaze.

First, it landed on Tommy.

Tears streamed down his face, his eyes filled with pain, sorrow, and despair, as if he was struggling in a hellish abyss. Yet, there was also a decisive resolve cutting through all lingering attachments, with a crazed fire burning deep in his pupils.

Next, the camera fell on Keller.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. A moment ago, she had been watching Evan with concern, but the intensity in his gaze startled her, causing her to lift her head, where she was met with Tommy’s madness and despair, pulling her heart into an abyss.

No—

Keller tried to speak, but she was a second too late.

Her heart soared, and at the same moment, Tommy’s cold, ruthless, and brutal swing of the baseball bat crashed to the ground, shattering everything into pieces.

“Tommy!”

Keller screamed in despair, but as soon as the cry left her lips, she shut her eyes—

Unable to bear the sight, too terrified to look.

She spun around, using all her strength to dash towards the campus phone booth.

Sprinting. Running wildly.

It was as if her whole body had ignited, scattering pieces of her soul everywhere.

She lunged forward, diving into the phone booth, slamming the campus emergency button, her eyes vacant, muttering softly over and over again.

“Help. Help. Help…”

She had even forgotten how to cry.

Suddenly, she turned around again, only to witness something unbelievable, as the shattered pieces of her heart quickly reassembled, choking off her breath.

“Oh my God.”

…

Over there, Evan was gasping for air, trying to catch his breath in the midst of the storm.

However, it wasn’t easy.

The world was spinning, his senses were crumbling, and he couldn’t even feel his own hands or feet. His head was swollen like a watermelon, with sounds and light fading into the distance, as if everything was being thrown into a blender.

Lying on the ground, he couldn’t see Tommy or Keller’s eyes and was unaware of Tommy’s shift. But he knew Tommy wouldn’t give up easily, and he needed to fight back.

Otherwise, the consequences would be unimaginable.

He held his breath, waiting for the right moment, struggling to lift his head to observe Tommy’s condition, looking for the slightest distraction.

Then, it happened—

Tommy’s emotions visibly fluctuated. As he raised the baseball bat high, his swing widened, exposing an opening under his right arm and side.

An opportunity.

He didn’t know if this was the best chance, but he couldn’t wait any longer.

Maybe this was his only chance.

Struggling, curling up, stumbling, Evan forced himself to stand. Without even having time to defend himself, he lunged sideways, crashing into Tommy’s exposed right side.

A tight grapple.

Bang.

Tommy, ready to strike, suddenly felt the gap under his arm fill as a weight like a mountain pressed against him, knocking him off balance.

“Damn it!”

Tommy tried to push Evan away.

However.

Evan seized the moment, breaking Tommy’s balance, and pulled a canister from his pocket, spraying it toward Tommy’s face without hesitation—

Pepper spray?

No, it wasn’t—it was snow spray.

Sssss.

A flurry of snow clouded Tommy’s vision. Though harmless, the spray stung Tommy’s eyes, causing him to stagger back in an attempt to dodge.

A trip.

Evan stumbled forward, colliding with Tommy like a rugby tackle, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist as they both tumbled to the ground.

Finally!

The situation reversed!

Though still weak, dazed, and off-balance, Evan managed to summon enough strength to climb on top of Tommy, raising his fists and bringing them down.

“You’re insane.”

“You’re insane!”

Punch after punch.

Evan continued to rain down punches on Tommy, though they lacked strength, more like a nuisance than a real threat.

This gave Tommy a moment of calm, and he began to struggle—

Like the Monkey King beneath the mountain, unwilling to stay down.

Danger. Danger!

Amid the chaos, Evan sensed the threat. Clenching his teeth, he steadied himself, focusing his punches with more force and frequency.

This time, Evan found his footing. His gaze turned sharp, emitting a deadly intent as he tried to overpower Tommy and secure his advantage.

Fists, like a storm, relentlessly crashed down on Tommy’s face.

But Tommy wasn’t afraid.

Tommy shielded his face with his hands. Though he couldn’t breathe and was unable to fight back, the truth was, Evan’s weak punches were a joke, incapable of truly suppressing him. Everything happening before him seemed laughable.

Absurd. Ridiculous. Hilarious.

Through his fingers, Tommy looked up at Evan from below. Despite being battered, despite being on the losing side, despite being unable to resist, Tommy still felt like the one in control, casting a contemptuous glance at Evan.

Then, he laughed.

Heh.

In his eyes, Evan was nothing more than a clown.

*Chapter 638: Insane*

Bang, a punch.

Heh, Tommy chuckled. As expected, just flashy moves—he still thinks he can protect Keller?

Bang, another punch.

Tommy didn't dodge, taking the hit directly, but he grinned as if daring Evan to punch harder, more violently.

Evan noticed this, their gazes briefly locking.

Then.

In Tommy's eyes, Evan saw madness—a twisted, demonic smile, bloodthirsty and mocking his cowardice and fear.

In Evan's eyes, Tommy saw shock, and that made him sneer. This man—who claimed he wanted to protect Keller.

But—

The truly pitiful thing was that Keller still chose him, this flashy, useless fool.

Ridiculous. Pitiful. Laughable.

Keller had abandoned him, betrayed him, and discarded him.

So, he would destroy her.

Tommy stared at Evan, bruised and battered but still calm, lying on the ground and looking up at Evan with a crazed, twisted grin.

"She's mine."

He said.

Even in hell, he wouldn't let go.

Those words, light as a feather, carried no power, but they pushed his insane obsession to the extreme, finally morphing into a sinister smile.

Ha. Hahaha.

Evan saw the devil in those eyes—

A fist raised high, coming down hard.

Yet it still couldn't erase the madness and bloodlust on the devil's face.

"Heh, you can't..." Tommy said.

The fist came down again, cutting him off, trying to silence him. Evan just wanted him to shut up.

But Tommy refused. "I bet you don’t have the guts..."

His words, laced with the scent of blood, relentlessly taunted Evan, inching him closer to losing control.

One punch, then another, and another.

Finally!

Tommy didn’t speak anymore.

Evan, panting, raised his fist high again but stopped just before swinging, struggling to regain control. His mind was in chaos, his chest heaving as he stared at Tommy.

Tommy stopped resisting, finally quiet.

Evan thought maybe he should stop too.

However.

At that moment, Tommy barely opened his swollen eyes, and amidst the blood on his face, a smile appeared, as if mocking Evan's helplessness.

Contempt. Scorn. Derision.

Lying there, his half-closed eyes shot a sliver of light that pierced Evan’s soul. That blood-soaked voice rippled through Evan's panting breaths:

"You can’t protect her."

Memories surged, choking Evan as they flooded back—all the painful memories from before the timeline had changed—

Back then, he had missed his chance to save Keller, leading to her choosing to end her own life. He would never know what her father and brother had done to her, nor what scars her childhood had left that made her want to forget everything, even her own life.

The thread of reason snapped.

The fist that had relaxed a second ago clenched tightly again, fury, pain, and bitterness erupting from the depths of his soul, and he struck down with unbelievable force at that twisted smile.

Bang.

"You ruined Lanny’s life."

Bang.

"You killed Crockett."

Bang.

"You murdered that woman and her child."

Then, his fist stopped, raised high. Staring at Tommy’s bloodied face, grinning arrogantly and viciously, Evan’s mind buzzed with deafening noise.

Through gritted teeth, words squeezed out between clenched jaws.

"Now,"

"You’re trying to kill me. You’re trying to destroy Keller. You’re trying to destroy us."

The rage in his chest turned into tears, streaming down one by one, only to be quickly swallowed by madness, as though the wings of a dark angel were blocking the last ray of light.

"Ah!"

Evan grabbed a baseball bat and swung down with insane fury.

The world finally fell silent.

Keller ran back, heart pounding in her throat, whispering softly, "Tommy, Tommy, Tommy..."

She feared Tommy would do something reckless.

But just as she arrived, she saw Evan swinging the bat down hard. Her eyes widened, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground.

She stared in shock at the scene before her.

She tried to speak, tried to make a sound, but nothing came out—

A faint, whimpering sound, like a newborn baby.

The distant wail of sirens grew louder, as if the whole world had slowed down, everything moving in slow motion.

Evan took a deep breath, looking down at the bloody mess on the ground. His shoulders were raised, muscles tense, holding his breath. His eyes were blank.

Stunned, he stared at Tommy lying motionless before him, unable to understand what had just happened.

Then.

He lifted his head, blood splattered on his face, staining his eyes red. His scattered focus slowly converged under the flashing lights of police sirens. He looked down at his hands, frozen in place.

The night wind blew, the moonlight falling, wrapping Evan in its glow, the soft light cascading down his body like blood.

He froze. A single, cloudy tear broke free from his eye and slid down.

“Cut.”

It wasn’t until McGee snapped out of it and shouted the word that he seemed to free himself, though his body remained stiff and unmoving.

The entire set was silent, frozen in shock.

A gust of cold wind rushed through, sending shivers over every inch of his skin. His mind finally started catching up, trying to react, but his brain was blank, even his screams and cheers stuck in his throat.

Shock. Impact. Tension.

Words couldn’t describe even a fraction of the feelings and emotions surging inside him. Even after witnessing it firsthand, it was still impossible to believe what he had just seen.

Drama, conflict, tension.

It wasn’t just the plot; they could clearly see the struggle of three characters, three souls, each consumed by their own despair, converging at this tragic moment in different ways—

No one was victorious.

Whether they acted or not, whether blood was shed or not, everyone was left scarred.

It was as if they could see the souls withering and dimming before their eyes, yet no one could stop it, not even a sound could be made.

That kind of despair. That kind of pain.

Even as mere spectators, they were utterly exhausted, feeling the sighs and helplessness from the depths of their souls, a fatigue they couldn’t shake, drowning, suffocating bit by bit, watching themselves disintegrate.

Everything, not just complete, not just real—it was overwhelming.

Even after the scene had ended, they were still unable to pull themselves out of it.

McGee noticed that even after calling "cut," the crew remained frozen. But right now, he didn’t have the energy or presence of mind to deal with them. The storm raging in his mind left him gasping for air, struggling to breathe.

So, McGee called out again—

“Cut.”

It was over, everything was over, the spell was broken, and they needed to return to reality, to escape from the endless mire of despair, to breathe.

Finally, they gasped for air.

*Chapter 639: Sweating Profusely*

The filming site was a complete mess, both physically and mentally, with thoughts scattered everywhere like shattered pieces. Although the shoot had ended, the three actors remained slumped in place, motionless, with only their chests heaving as they tried to process the lingering emotions.

Then...

Anson glanced at Heath, noticed Heath’s gaze, and then looked at Rachel. Heath’s eyes shifted between Anson and Rachel before settling on Anson again. Rachel glanced at both Anson and Heath, her eyes filled with lingering fear.

The three of them exchanged looks, eyeing each other drenched in sweat and utterly disheveled. Reality finally started sinking in—

"Pfft."

Anson was the first to break, “You guys should really see yourselves.”

“Yeah, right, you should see yourself.”

“Look who’s talking! You look like you just got fished out of a lake.”

“Haha, soaking wet, haha.”

“You should see your own face. You honestly look like a pighead.”

“You’re the pighead. I’m filing a work injury claim. Just wait, I’m calling the union. Anson Wood, abusing his power to assault a handsome genius actor.”

“Is ‘genius’ the key point, or ‘handsome’?”

Laughter, and it wouldn’t stop.

The silence on set was finally broken. The entire crew gawked at the three actors, sitting in the mud, looking like a disaster but acting completely nonchalant, as if they were enjoying a campfire. The costume team cast desperate glances at Eric for help—

If they had to reshoot this scene, they’d have no outfits left.

However, the three actors seemed completely oblivious, sitting on the ground, chatting and laughing, as if they were at a casual party.

Eric hesitated a little. He knew he should go over and talk to them, check in on some details with the actors, but seeing their genuine, carefree smiles, he sat back down in his seat. Just a bit longer, he thought. They need some time.

They had already shot this scene seven times. The actors were more than familiar with it by now—knowing when to go all in, when to hold back, what was on camera and what wasn’t. Every detail was crystal clear, and their coordination had developed into a kind of unspoken understanding—

The fight? Half-real, half-acted.

Some shots required close-ups. To create a sense of realism, both Anson and Heath were actually throwing punches, not holding back, because if they faked it, the muscle tension would look wrong on screen.

Other shots, like the wide angles, were choreographed with camera tricks. In the final part, where Evan loses control and beats Tommy to death, Anson was actually punching the ground near Heath’s head. But he still punched with full force, leaving his fists red and swollen, even bleeding.

The baseball bat they used was custom-made, made of foam to appear solid but remain harmless, allowing the actors to swing with full strength without worrying about any real accidents.

Despite all this, to maintain realism—and because they were fully immersed in their roles—both Anson and Heath really got heated during the fight.

They’d tried not going all out in some scenes, but even when the camera wasn’t zoomed in, if the punches weren’t landing with force, it just didn’t feel right. Their minds had to stay clear to avoid losing control, but that meant they couldn’t fully embody their characters.

So, after some discussion, they agreed to aim for thicker parts of the body and punch with all their strength, avoiding vital areas as much as possible to stay in character.

And now, they had gone all in.

Anson’s fists were split open, and his abdomen and waist were covered in bruises. Heath’s lip was split, his jaw swollen, and he had a small scrape near his eye.

Both of them sat there, drenched in sweat, muddy and out of breath, looking at each other. Neither could hold back a laugh.

And then there was Rachel—

“Oh my God, forget Anson, I gave that guy a real beating. What happened to you? Did Evan hit you too?”

Heath had barely spoken when all three of them burst into laughter again. Rachel, also drenched and covered in mud, looked like she’d just fought a hurricane.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Please, you guys think it’s easy for a female character to just scream and run, huh? That’s hard work too!”

She took off her 8-centimeter high heels and showed them.

No words were needed. Heath and Anson immediately shut up.

Then...

Rachel couldn’t hold back either. She looked at Anson, “This time, it felt right.”

After seven takes—five if you don’t count the outtakes—they had been searching for a seamless, emotionally consistent performance. Was this it?

Not just Rachel, Heath also thought for a moment and looked at Anson.

Not because Anson was the producer and the biggest star of the cast, but because working with him had earned their respect. Anson’s insight into the characters and the story was genuinely impressive.

Heath thought he was crazy enough, but compared to Anson, he had to admit defeat.

Anson felt the weight of their gazes. It wasn’t confidence or arrogance that he sensed, but rather the responsibility and pressure that came with leadership.

He didn’t rush to answer. Instead, he thought carefully, reviewing the entire scene in his mind, filling in every detail. When the whole picture became vivid in his head, he looked up.

“I’m good with it. What about you guys?”

Anson didn’t make the final call right away. He looked up at Rachel and Heath.

Heath considered it seriously for a moment. “I think this is the direction we’ve been looking for.”

Which meant—

Finally!

After so much effort, so much collaboration and experimentation, they’d done it. Satisfaction washed over them, filling their chests with a warm glow. As their eyes met, soft smiles crept onto their faces.

Ahem.

Mackie, noticing the bond between the three, had waited patiently but couldn’t hold back any longer. He cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Only then did Anson and the others notice Mackie’s arrival.

And Eric.

Sensing their attention, Mackie quickly smiled, “So, how do you all feel?”

Initially, Mackie and Eric had no ambition to direct. They were content just following the script. But as filming progressed, the subtle nuances the actors brought to the characters started filling in the story in ways they hadn’t expected.

How could the two directors, who knew the script so well, not notice?

More importantly, how could they resist?

No one understood the script better than they did, and no one understood how the actors’ interpretations made the story flow better.

So they showed up, beaming with excitement, their hands rubbing together eagerly like little flies.

Chapter 640: The Power of the Great Wilderness

Honestly, Anson was exhausted. His brain felt emptied, leaving his whole being hollow. Even sitting on the ground, he couldn't stop his knees from trembling slightly, and his stomach churned as if he was about to vomit.

So, was this method acting, or expressive acting?

Anson had no idea.

The only thing he could be sure of was the sense of release, venting, and burning out. He poured himself entirely into it, and despite the deep fatigue and emptiness afterward, there was an indescribable sense of satisfaction.

His chest instantly filled up—

So, this is what acting feels like.

Because of this, all the roles he had played before now seemed dull and boring. He couldn't help but rethink and reconsider them in his mind.

No wonder people say acting can be addictive.

Anson liked it.

This was the first time he truly felt the joy and happiness of acting, and to his surprise, it came from the film The Butterfly Effect—not because he was producing for the first time, but because he had found a role that truly resonated with him.

Interesting.

Behind the fatigue was a deep sense of exhilaration and release.

Anson was drained.

But strangely, he didn’t want to rest. Instead, he wanted to keep exploring.

So, when he saw Mackie's nervous hand-rubbing gesture, a smile quietly crept onto his face. He enjoyed working with such a simple and pure team.

Anson gently patted Mackie on the shoulder, "Shouldn't this be the question we ask the two directors? So, how was the scene?"

Mackie immediately smiled, "Great, great. It was practically perfect."

Now, Mackie was 100% sure that having Anson on this project was their fortune. Maybe they really could... succeed?

Eric was also visibly shocked, nodding repeatedly. "What do you mean 'practically perfect'? It was flawless. I couldn't find a single flaw."

Anson couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. "No need to be so tense. We're just following orders. If the directors say it's good, then it's good. There's no need to shoot the scene again."

Heath and Rachel both nodded, following Anson's lead.

However, Mackie hesitated, and his words became a bit unsure.

"Uh, we all know you've exhausted yourselves filming this scene. You probably don't even want to move a finger."

As he spoke, he glanced at Anson and Heath—

The two of them had actually fought with real intensity, both now sporting visible injuries. If they were to continue shooting, they'd need makeup to cover up the wounds, which were shockingly real.

Yet, both actors appeared completely relaxed, as if they weren't affected at all. Their calm demeanor made Mackie's concern seem unnecessary, and he couldn't help but feel awkward.

"But..."

He trailed off.

Anson picked up on Mackie’s hesitation and tilted his head with a curious expression. "Oh, so you think we should do it again?"

Whoosh!

In an instant, Heath and Rachel both turned their gaze toward Mackie.

Mackie panicked, "No, no, that's not what I meant. Don’t misunderstand."

Anson smiled gently. "Director, don't worry, we don't bite."

Pause.

Heath added, "And even if we did, you wouldn't be our choice with that rough skin of yours."

Heath then glanced at Eric.

Eric: ???

This little joke managed to ease some of Mackie’s tension. "Anson, what I mean is, we might need to reshoot some close-ups."

He gritted his teeth and finally said it.

"Look, here's the thing."

"Your performances were detailed and complete, with so many nuances, and we couldn't keep up. The camera didn’t capture everything."

"Like when Tommy was about to lash out, his eyes met Keller's."

"Keller kept trying to stop Tommy, his gaze constantly checking Evan’s state."

"When Tommy took the blows, he used his eyes to provoke Evan."

And so on.

During the filming, the actors had fully immersed themselves in the scene. Their performances, including the subtle details and the interactions between characters, were seamless.

However, not all of these details were captured on camera.

The camera needs to move, lock in, frame, and adjust its angle. If it doesn't hit the right place at the right time, it can miss the actor's performance.

Clearly, Mackie and Eric weren’t skilled in framing or capturing intricate emotional moments.

But that didn’t mean they were blind.

They could feel the tension between the actors, the emotional exchanges in their glances, and the subtle shifts in dynamics between the characters. Every look, every expression, and every movement had been carefully planned and executed.

This was the result of the actors constantly discussing, experimenting, and pushing each other.

At first, Mackie and Eric had no clue how to present or capture these emotions. But after witnessing the actors’ interplay, they had a creative breakthrough. Their minds flooded with ideas, and they could “see” where the camera should have been and what it should have caught.

They needed to catch up—and then, through editing, they could piece it all together, making everything flow smoothly and bringing the tension between the characters to life on screen.

The more they thought about it, the more excited they got.

But seeing how exhausted the actors were, the words they were about to say got stuck again.

Mackie started, and Eric couldn’t hold back his excitement either.

"One last thing."

"Just one last thing."

Cough, cough.

Eric choked on his own saliva from excitement, coughing violently, but he didn’t care. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he continued.

"That final shot. Anson's look and expression were brilliant. No words or actions were needed; one glance was enough to convey all those complex and overwhelming emotions."

"God, if there is a god of acting, he came down and possessed Anson."

"We can't miss this."

"How could we miss this?"

"Cough, cough. Anson, really, that scene was just, just, just incredible. I know you're tired, but we really need to capture it on film. Please, let’s reshoot a few more shots while you're still in the zone, while you're still in character."

Everyone exchanged glances.

Then.

Anson’s face dropped. “Wait, are you saying you didn’t get that shot? What? What on earth were you doing? Just standing there watching, instead of capturing it on camera?”

The atmosphere suddenly froze. Everyone held their breath, trying to make themselves invisible, as if watching a dragon about to breathe fire.