276-280

Chapter 276: I Feel a Bit Seasick

The next day, the two of them lazily got out of bed and went to the city hospital to visit Lima’s grandmother. They also took the opportunity to meet Lima’s family: her parents, brother, and sister.

Since he had gained a bit of fame in the country, most of Lima's family had a favorable impression of him, except for Lima’s father, Old Gio.

Old Gio seemed to have heard some rumors about him, and his expression was rather stern when they met.

However, Lima’s father mentioned that he liked men who could drink and invited him for a drink.

Luca didn’t particularly enjoy drinking, but he accompanied his future father-in-law a few times. In the end, he finally won a smile from him.

“Not easy at all!”

At Lima’s family estate in the small town of Praia Harbor that morning, Luca rubbed his temples, feeling a bit of a headache.

In the two days since they arrived, his father-in-law had invited him for drinks three times—once in the city and twice more back in town. If he didn’t drink, Old Gio would frown, but if he drank, he would get a smile.

Thinking about the possibility of drinking again today, Luca felt a bit anxious. If he kept this up, he’d turn into an alcoholic. He needed to leave soon.

“Here, have some juice!”

Lima walked into the living room with a smile.

“Thank you, dear.”

Luca took a few sips of the cold pomegranate juice, feeling much better.

“If you can’t handle drinking, just drink less. Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Lima said with a light laugh.

“If Gio wants to drink, of course I’ll accompany him.”

Gio, Lima’s father, was the kind of man who couldn’t hold his liquor but would always act tough after drinking.

Lima chuckled. “Do you know why my dad keeps inviting you to drink?”

“For hospitality!”

Brazilians are known for their warm hospitality, and it’s always genuine.

“Nope!”

Lima sat down and wrapped her arm around his, smiling. “He’s testing you.”

“Testing me?”

Luca looked puzzled. “Testing what?”

“He’s testing whether you become violent when drunk. It’s a local custom here in Salvador. In the past, many men would get drunk and abuse their families. My dad’s worried you might have that issue too, so he’s testing you.”

“You got drunk twice, and both times, you just slept quietly without causing any trouble. So, congratulations, you passed the test!”

“...”

Luca stood there, stunned, half-laughing and half-crying. Lima’s father was really thoughtful.

“Little chubby girl, you know I don’t have that problem. Why didn’t you vouch for me?”

“I did, but my dad still wasn’t convinced,” Lima laughed.

“What’s there to worry about? You’re an Amazon warrior! It’s a miracle you don’t beat me up. There’s no way I’d dare hit you. I wouldn’t even win in a fight!”

His father-in-law’s concern was entirely unnecessary.

Lima giggled lightly. “Alright, you did well this time. My family really likes you.”

“That’s great news.”

Luca laughed heartily, feeling that his effort had been worth it.

“Let’s go, I’ll take you to the beach. Want to go diving? This area has some of the best diving spots, with coral reefs and beautiful sea turtles. We even have a turtle conservation area. Some of the turtles are as big as small cars! How about a dive to clear your head?”

Lima stood up and tugged at his arm.

“Alright!”

Luca went along with her suggestion and spent half the day exploring the underwater world. They even had a romantic picnic on a small island before he left Salvador that afternoon.

Lima didn’t join him this time.

Last year, she stayed in New York and didn’t spend Christmas with her family. This year, she wanted to be with them and would come to Rio for New Year’s instead.

They parted reluctantly.

He had taken an airbus on the way there, which was slow and frustrating. On the way back, he opted for a different mode of transport—a ferry.

When he asked Lima how the boat ride was, she just smiled mysteriously.

Only after boarding did he understand why. The ride was rough.

The captain must have been a former pirate, because his sailing style was wild.

In the summer, the sea was choppy, and the wind was strong. No matter how big the waves got, the captain powered through them.

Although Luca had been on ferries before without getting seasick, this time was different. He’d eaten a lot of seafood that afternoon, and before he could digest it, he threw it all back into the sea.

His normally handsome, well-defined face turned pale.

After enduring three long hours, he thought they were about to dock, but when he asked, they had only reached Barra Port. He was speechless.

After suffering for what felt like an eternity, the ferry finally docked at the São Cristóvão Pier.

The sky was completely dark as he wobbled off the boat, his legs trembling.

He felt stronger for surviving the ordeal.

Beep beep!

A champagne-colored BMW X3 slowly pulled up.

The door opened, revealing a stunning woman in a cream-colored suit with medium-length hair draped around her shoulders, working on a laptop.

“Need a hand?”

Kate turned her head, smiling at him.

“No, no need!”

Luca waved her off and used the railing to steady himself as he got into the back seat. As soon as he sat down, the world stopped spinning.

“Haha, Lima was right. You really had a rough time,” Kate said, handing him a bottle of water.

“Lima guessed?”

Next time the little chubby girl visits, he’s definitely going to give her a good spanking.

He took a sip of water and looked at her laptop.

“Are you done with work?”

“Pretty much. I can rest for a few days and pick things up again after New Year’s,” Kate said, stretching her neck.

“You deserve a break. You've been busier than the president lately,” Luca said as he started massaging her shoulders.

Recently, Kate had been swamped with book signings, fashion shows, charity events, and even a speech at the International Cultural Exchange organized by the Ministry of Culture, which landed her on international news today.

“You don’t need to overwork yourself. Book signings don’t need to be so frequent. Brazil’s illiteracy rate is 18%; not many people here like to read. Even if you do a ton of signings, it won’t boost sales much.

“It’s the same with fashion shows. Brazilians wear the same three things all year: tank tops, flip-flops, and beach shorts. High-end fashion? They can’t afford it and don’t need it.

“You could do a hundred fashion shows here, but one in Paris or New York would be worth more.

“As for charity donations, take it slow. In a few years, we could even set up a foundation. Spend what you can on the causes that matter. Keep things clear and transparent.

“For other meetings, go if you like them, but don’t force yourself.

“We’re making money to live comfortably, not to burn ourselves out. I don’t want to see you working so hard that I don’t even get to see you some days. You agree, right?”

“...”

Kate didn’t respond.

He looked at her curiously.

She had fallen asleep, breathing softly.

Well then.

She was really exhausted.

He stopped talking, closed her laptop, and gently adjusted her position so she could sleep more comfortably.

“Jinna, drive a little slower!”

“Got it!”

Jinna lowered the speed, and they slowly made their way through the city streets.

Night had fallen, and neon lights lit up the buildings on both sides of the street. Clubs pulsed with lights, while the hillside favelas twinkled with countless lights. In the dark, both the wealthy areas and the slums looked the same.

Bang, bang, bang!

Suddenly, gunshots echoed from the road ahead.

All the cars on the road stopped. The drivers waited quietly, their expressions calm.

Luca gently patted Kate’s shoulder.

She didn’t wake up.

After more than ten minutes, the traffic slowly resumed. It was as if nothing had happened, though there was a car ahead with shattered windows and blood on the ground.

Luca glanced at it, then turned his gaze away.

This was Rio.

These things happened every day, and after seeing it a few times, he was used to it.

The car pulled up to the estate, and Luca tucked Kate into bed before making a quick phone call to Lima. Then, exhausted, he headed to his room.

Seeing the script and filming schedule on the desk, he hesitated for a moment before sitting down at the desk. He began writing character backstories and planning acting exercises based on his ideas from the past few days.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 277: Happy New Year*

Christmas had arrived.

Brazil is the largest Catholic country in the world, with over 81% of Brazilians practicing Catholicism, which is one of the three major branches of Christianity.

As a result, Christmas is the second most important holiday in Brazil, only behind Carnival.

Leading up to Christmas, the government decorates large public parks, main streets, and popular public areas with tall Christmas trees adorned with lights, bows, and stars atop the trees.

After nightfall, the lights on the trees illuminate, creating a dazzling display.

In Rio de Janeiro, the City of God, there are many festive activities in the city center on the day of the holiday.

On the main commercial streets, many women dress in sexy Santa bikinis, wear little red hats, and hand out gifts. On the beaches, there are soccer and volleyball matches, while in the squares, people crowd together, drinking beer, dancing samba, and singing loudly.

The holiday atmosphere is extremely lively.

The Kelly estate was no different.

On Christmas Day, eight Christmas trees were set up in the yard, each adorned with shiny ornaments, wreaths, twinkling lights, and small gifts. Snowman dolls and festive reindeer were also placed around, creating a joyful atmosphere.

Kate had invited Aunt Regina's family, as well as Márcio, to celebrate at home. With Gina joining, it was a lively family gathering.

They enjoyed a barbecue together, drank beer, exchanged gifts, and attended a dance, celebrating a very festive Christmas.

After Christmas came the New Year. Brazilians love to relax and party, so any holiday is a good excuse for them to celebrate.

Unlike the family-oriented Christmas, for New Year's Day, people prefer to go out. If there’s a forest nearby, they’ll go hiking; if there are mountains, they’ll go climbing in search of the legendary golden birch fruit. Beaches, naturally, get packed with people.

This year, the Kelly family chose to go on a trip to welcome the new year.

"Luca, hurry up, we're about to leave!"

On New Year’s morning, Luca was fixing his clothes in front of a mirror—T-shirt, capri pants, sneakers—when he heard a few shouts urging him downstairs.

"Coming!"

He put on his sports watch and glanced at the mirror once more.

After being back for a month, his skin had tanned into a bronze color, making him look even more like a Brazilian.

He gave a slight grin at the mirror before heading downstairs to the front yard.

In the yard, Kate was already ready, her long hair tied up, wearing a white tank top and fitted pants, making her look sharp and athletic. Her skin had also darkened a bit, and she looked incredibly fit, like a secret agent.

"Where’s your hat?" Kate asked as she closed the car’s trunk.

"Uh..."

Luca paused. "I forgot."

He scratched his head and turned back toward the house.

"Your hat’s right here!" Lima waved the hat from inside the car, leaning out of the window.

She looked at Kate and asked, "Kate, what’s been going on these days? Why does Luca seem down? He was fine when we were in Salvador."

"He’s practicing his acting. His new role is someone buried underground, so to get into character, he’s been spending hours in the closet to feel the darkness and confinement," Kate said, shaking her head, a bit helpless.

When it comes to acting, Luca can be quite obsessive. These days, he’s been crawling into closets by day and writing reflections at night, fully immersing himself in the role. It's almost become an obsession.

"Luca, aren't you afraid of getting claustrophobic spending all that time in closets?" Lima laughed.

"No, claustrophobia usually stems from traumatic experiences in childhood. I’ve never had any such issues," Luca replied.

"What about depression? I’ve heard a lot of actors suffer from depression."

"Definitely not! I have you all keeping me company, so how could I ever be depressed?" Luca spread his hands and smiled.

"You better not get depressed, or I’ll beat you up every day," Kate teased, shaking her fist. Then, suddenly, she grabbed Luca’s ear playfully.

"Happy New Year, darling!"

"Haha, I want in too!" Lima laughed, reaching out from the car window and grabbing his other ear.

"Happy New Year, darling!"

"What are you two doing, pulling on my ears?" Luca asked, puzzled.

"It’s a blessing! Did you forget?" Kate laughed.

Luca thought for a moment. In some parts of Brazil, it’s a tradition to pull each other’s ears on New Year's Day as a form of blessing.

"Alright!" he said, pulling on both their ears and giving each of them a kiss on the cheek.

"Happy New Year, darling!"

"Haha, what about Gina? Gina, can we pull your ears?"

"..."

"Never mind, Gina’s shy!"

“Hahahaha~”

After some more laughter, the group of four hit the road: driver Luca, beauty Kate, sexy Lima, and fierce Gina.

They embarked on their New Year's trip.

Having lived in Rio for some time, they’d already exhausted the city’s tourist spots.

Since they had some time, they decided to travel a bit farther this time.

They first visited Rio’s cathedral for a New Year's prayer, then headed to the southwest to dive around Ilha Grande, climb Parrot Peak to catch parrots, take a boat ride to explore a tropical rainforest reserve, and go gliding off the mountaintops in Boituva.

The four spent three or four days touring the southeastern region before returning to Rio, satisfied but deeply tanned.

After Christmas and New Year’s, the festive atmosphere slowly faded, and everyone returned to their work.

Lima had an ad shoot, so she flew back to New York early.

Kate resumed her usual busy schedule, busier than a president.

Luca was also due to start filming soon.

The "Buried" crew had been preparing for over half a month, and on January 10th, filming officially began in a studio in Rio.

The set was simple, just a few wooden boxes equipped to hold cameras. The crew was small, consisting of only 33 people, all of them old colleagues of director Babanque, with the youngest being over 30.

Luca was the youngest.

When he arrived on set, he greeted everyone.

But no one responded, and they all looked at him with strange expressions. Whether he offered beer or barbecue, no one engaged. They all remained cold and distant.

The atmosphere in the crew was eerily strange.

When filming began, Babanque didn’t say much—just told him to lie in the box and act. From start to finish, it was all about intense performance.

There were no breaks, no “cut,” no feedback or direction. He’d finish one take and then go again.

No matter how he acted, old bald Babanque just sat there, resting his chin on his hand, watching coldly.

By evening, after Luca crawled out of the box, drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted, the only words from Babanque were, "Wrap for today. See you tomorrow!"

Everyone left.

Soon, he was the only one left on set.

Luca felt like he’d been tricked.

How could any actor endure this kind of shooting?

He thought it was just the first day.

But the second day was the same.

And the third.

Every day, he was alone in the box, performing a one-man show.

No matter how he performed—whether he did well or poorly—he received no feedback at all.

It was like working with a bunch of ghosts.

By the fourth day, it was still the same. He crawled out of the narrow box, dripping with sweat and completely drained, with no one offering a hand to help him up.

"That’s a wrap!"

Old bald Babanque waved his hand dismissively.

"Wait!" Luca cracked open a cold beer, chugged it down, and exhaled deeply before walking over to confront the old man.

"Director Babanque, what is this? Are you trying to use silent treatment to force me to quit?"

"..."

Babanque stared at him blankly.

Luca clenched his fist, wanting to punch him, but remembered that the old man had cancer and heart disease, so he was untouchable.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Director Babanque, we had an agreement before filming that you would give me guidance during the shoot.

But now we’ve been shooting for four days.

You haven’t said a single word.

Not only have you stayed silent, but no one else in the crew has spoken to me either.

Are you trying to force me to quit?"

"..."

Babanque remained silent, just staring at him. The rest of the crew stayed silent too, simply watching.

Luca was furious. "Will someone please say something?!"

"This is how I direct. If you can’t handle it, you can leave," Babanque replied, waving dismissively as he turned to walk away, followed by the others.

"Wait!"

Luca stepped forward. "I’ve done my research. This isn’t your usual directing style. You typically give guidance to your actors. Why are you using a different approach for this film?

Are you deliberately making things difficult for me?"

"..."

Babank didn’t speak; he just looked at him. No one in the crew spoke either, they all just watched.

Luca snapped, “Would you guys say something!”

“This is how I direct. If you can't handle it, you can leave.”

Babank waved his hand and turned to walk out, with the others following behind.

“Wait!”

Luca stepped forward, “I did some checking. This isn’t your usual directing style. You usually guide actors during filming. Why did you change your approach for this film? Are you purposely giving me a hard time?”

"…"

Babank remained silent.

Luca, frustrated, said, “I did say that if I gave up, you could recast and continue the project. But there’s a condition—it must be because I feel I’m not up to the task and willingly give up the role. If I don’t want to give it up, it doesn't matter who you find. I own half the rights to Buried Alive. Without my approval, this project will stay shelved forever. Is that what you want?”

“... You want my guidance?” Babank said calmly.

“I just want you to act like a normal director!” Luca retorted flatly.

“Why do you want my guidance?” Babank asked again.

“You're the director; it’s your responsibility,” Luca said firmly.

Babank shook his head. “Guiding actors isn't the director’s responsibility. There's no rule that says a director must guide the actors’ performances. The fact that you want guidance means you’re not happy with your own performance. If you’re not satisfied, then what’s the point of my guidance?”

"…"

That sounded a bit like twisted logic.

“If you’re satisfied with your own performance, then you wouldn’t need anyone’s guidance. You wrote the script; your understanding of the character is deeper than anyone else's. No one can guide you—you’re the only one who can guide yourself. You’ve been acting for four days, and you’ve played this scene over twenty times. Are you happy with your performance?”

"…"

“You’re not satisfied? Then you already know the answer. What more could I possibly guide you on? Or are you hoping I’ll say ‘good enough,’ so you can move on, all while still feeling unhappy about your previous scene, leading to another poor performance? And when it’s all done and the film is criticized, you can blame me for it?”

"…"

“Young man, a truly good actor never looks for problems in others,” Babank said as he pushed open the door to the soundstage and walked out.

“Master, is this really the right approach?” The assistant director, José Padilha, hurried to catch up.

“What’s wrong with it?” Babank responded while walking. “I’ve said it before, this is how I direct. If you can’t handle it, you can leave.”

“Master, working like this creates so much pressure. Being on set every day feels like attending a funeral. You need to manage the mood a bit better. The atmosphere is so heavy. After a while, even beyond Luca, we’re all feeling the strain.”

“This is how I direct. If you can’t handle it, you can leave.”

“Me?” José forced a grin. “I can manage. But Luca… he’s a top model and a big star. He doesn’t need the money or fame. Everywhere else he goes, people treat him like royalty. But here, it feels like everyone is treating him like the enemy. How much longer can he take this?”

“I’ve said it before, this is—”

“Stop, stop, stop—Master, could you come up with a new line?” José joked, grinning. “Master, are you really planning to kick Luca out and give the role to Santoro? I don’t think Santoro is any better than Luca. Over these few days of filming, in this stuffy heat, he’s been lying in a closed box for four days without a single complaint. Compared to many young actors, he’s doing quite well.”

“So what?” Babank asked.

“So what?” José was momentarily stunned.

“You’ve said all that, but what are you really trying to tell me? Are you suggesting you have a better, more pleasant way to shoot this film?”

“I don’t!” José admitted.

“Then shut up!” Babank snapped. “I never make bad films. Whether it’s the box office or critical reception, I’m always able to justify my films to myself. That’s why my actors must be able to convince themselves before they can convince me. No exceptions.”

“I get it, Master. How about I buy you a drink?” José said quickly.

“With my heart condition, you’re offering me alcohol? Are you trying to kill me so you can take over as director?”

“N-no! I would never!”

“Hmph!”

Babank walked away.

José scratched his head and looked back at the soundstage, sighing to himself. “Of all the people to work with, it had to be Master Babank. This is pure self-torture!”

Inside the soundstage, Luca stood for a while, thinking over Babank’s words. The old man was right. If you can’t convince yourself, how can you convince anyone else? But acting has never been a one-person job. If you’re just figuring things out by yourself, lying in a coffin and acting solo, then why have a director at all? Couldn’t you just handle it alone?

The reason he sought out a director was to gain experience, but how could he do that in this situation? Figuring it out alone meant constantly doubting yourself, over and over, killing your own passion for the craft. It was too cruel.

“Is Babank telling the truth, or is he just messing with me because he wants to replace me?”

Luca wasn’t sure.

But giving up had never been his style.

Since the old man said to guide himself and to first satisfy himself, that’s what he would do. In his previous acting experiences, once the director called “cut,” he let go of the performance, not dwelling on whether it was good or bad. But this time, he wanted to be his own judge and make himself proud.

He walked over to the monitor. “Farkas, I’d like to review the footage from the past few days.”

The assistant director, Farkas, nodded and rummaged through his bag, pulling out a reel of film and placing it on the table. It was labeled with the date, from two days ago.

“Thanks!”

Farkas still didn’t respond.

Luca shook his head. This place was insane. The old man had an iron grip on the entire crew.

At home, Luca took out his professional equipment to watch the footage. The film had been carefully edited. A full day’s worth of performance had been cut down to less than four hours.

Sitting in his home theater, he watched closely, replaying the footage over and over, finding some insights.

The next day, he went back to the set and lay down in the wooden box to perform again.

The old man and the crew still didn’t say a word. They clocked in and clocked out like before.

Luca no longer asked Babank for guidance. Each day, he pushed himself to the limit, performing until he was utterly exhausted, and then went home at night to watch the footage until he fell asleep on the couch.

Days passed. He felt his performances improving, but Babank still didn’t say a word.

He often had a dismissive look on his face, as if saying, "You failure, you don’t deserve my guidance."

"…"

Luca became depressed. He didn’t know how to act anymore. He had completely lost his way.

(End of this chapter.)

*Chapter 278: Luca's Dilemma and the Blank Paper*

It was the weekend, and Luca stayed home instead of going to the set.

With some free time, he needed to seriously think about what to do next. After a period of self-torture, the recent scenes had improved significantly compared to the beginning. Whether it was his actions, lines, emotions, or the impact, everything was much more on point.

He was an experienced screenwriter and a frequent moviegoer. He could tell if a performance was good or not.

The recent scenes were good.

But the bald director's silence and perpetually unsatisfied expression turned the slight sense of satisfaction Luca felt into thin air.

What should he do next?

He didn’t know.

In the early stages, after each day of filming, he would watch the recordings at night and clearly see the problems.

But not anymore. Recently, he hadn't felt any breakthroughs during performances, nor could he identify any issues.

The recordings from the last few days were almost identical, with no changes. Continuing to act this way would just be repeating the same scenes over and over. What’s the point of that?

“Headache!”

He squatted in the wardrobe, pinching his brow. He hadn’t slept well these past few days and felt mentally foggy. Sometimes he even had migraines—it was all too exhausting. He felt like he couldn’t hold on much longer.

Give up?

Impossible.

Giving up would be a win for that damn bald guy.

Not giving up, then maybe changing the director?

But they had a prior agreement: to change directors, they’d first need to dissolve their working relationship, which would be a very troublesome matter.

"This collaboration is a huge loss!"

Luca tapped his forehead, staring at the dark wardrobe. He lay down straight and began practicing his coffin scene.

“When will the movie be finished?”

In the afternoon at the dining table, Kate gently asked.

“I don’t know.”

Luca took a bite of the meat pie and said, “Old Burbank is quite a headache. I have no idea what he wants, what his standards are. Filming this movie feels like playing charades.”

He shook his head, completely unsure how to describe this filming experience.

From China to Hollywood, he had met many directors and knew that a lot of famous directors had their quirks. But directors as peculiar as Burbank were rare.

“If you’re not happy, why keep going? Last year, we earned what most people can’t earn in a lifetime. With that money, we could just relax and enjoy life.

If you enjoy being a celebrity, you could take on some easy, fun roles. If that’s not enough, we could invest in our own movies. You don’t need to push yourself so hard.

You’ve lost a lot of weight lately.”

Kate caressed his cheek, touching his jaw and cheekbones. Seeing him so exhausted every day, with his pale face, she couldn’t help but feel a little regretful. Maybe she shouldn’t have encouraged him to pursue stardom back then.

“Kate, I’m fine!”

Luca smiled and held her hand. “Making movies is a fun thing. How about I write a script and have you star as the lead actress?”

“No thanks. I don’t want to end up like you, spending every day hiding in a wardrobe and making myself look so pathetic. You’re not filming; you’re torturing yourself!”

Kate twisted his ear while giving him her blessings.

Luca burst out laughing. “Every job is like that. Isn’t modeling a form of self-torture too? You practice awkward catwalks, poses, dieting—especially dieting. It’s the most torturous of all. You can’t even eat something good.”

He grabbed a coconut shrimp and fed it to Kate. “How’s it taste? I got it from Lanches.”

“Meh. The shrimp isn’t fresh, and the spice is too overpowering. Not as good as my cooking.”

Kate tasted it and dismissed it with disdain.

“Well, of course, no ordinary chef can compare to you. Try this one.”

Luca seized the moment to feed her more slices of roasted meat, sausages, and cod, asking her to rate them.

Kate shot him a glance. “Are you trying to turn me into a fatty?”

“Yup. You’ve been flying all over the place recently, and you’ve lost a lot of weight. Eat some meat to regain your strength.”

“Fine, I’ll gain some weight, and so will you. How about we get fat together?”

Kate smirked, grabbed a piece of pig ear, and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Sounds great!”

The two began a feeding contest, exchanging bites until four plates of Brazilian food vanished from the table.

After dinner, Kate, worried about gaining weight, dragged him to the beach for a walk, building sandcastles, playing soccer, and even checking out the other women, only returning home after dark.

They spent most of the weekend having fun together.

The next day, Luca returned to the set, full of energy, greeting everyone.

He hoped today would be different. He hoped the bald director would finally say something, perhaps tell him he was acting well or poorly, and offer suggestions on how to improve.

But he was disappointed. Just like on day one, the set remained the same today.

The diligent but quiet lighting technician, the invisible sound crew, the rough makeup artist, and the cameraman who always mumbled behind the machines.

And then there was Burbank, the sick old man, staring at the monitor for half a month without saying a word.

Seeing their behavior, Luca suddenly realized these people didn’t have it easy either.

But so what?

He had it rough too.

Every day he had to lie in that small, enclosed, suffocating coffin, reciting those dull lines, controlling his facial muscles, and performing the same monotonous scenes.

The repetition numbed him, yet he still pushed himself to act—

"Hello, 911—hello, I’ve been buried alive."

"You have to save me, I can’t breathe."

"Sir—I’m buried in a coffin, please help me."

At 5:30 PM, another day ended.

It was another fruitless day. He didn’t even bother watching the previous day’s footage.

The result would be the same.

Even the smallest expressions were nearly identical. He felt like he couldn’t push forward anymore.

It was time to have another talk with the old man.

“Director Burbank.”

At the studio entrance, he called out to the old man.

Burbank stopped, looked over without any expression, giving off a vibe that he had no interest in talking.

Luca shrugged. “Director Burbank, you’ve seen the recordings over the past few days. You should know that my performance has plateaued. Continuing to act like this is pointless. Do you have any suggestions?”

“...”

The bald director remained silent.

Luca fumed. “Director Burbank, are you seriously not going to say anything? Do you want to watch us endlessly repeat these scenes, wasting time, wasting life?”

“My time is more precious than yours.”

Burbank responded coldly.

Luca knew this. Burbank had been diagnosed with lymphoma at 38, and for the past 19 years, he had been hovering on the brink of death.

Luca sighed. “You’re right, Director Burbank, your time is precious. So why can’t you just point out what’s wrong with my performance? If you’d just say something, I’d fix it, and we’d save a lot of time.”

Before Burbank could respond, Luca added, “I need your guidance—not because I’m dissatisfied with my own acting, but because I need a professional, an outsider’s perspective, to point out my flaws.”

“You’re satisfied with your performance?”

Burbank asked.

“Yes.”

Luca confirmed.

“100 percent?”

“...Yes.”

Luca nodded.

“But I’m not satisfied.”

Burbank gave him a glance and walked away.

“Director Burbank, can you at least tell me what you’re not satisfied with? If you don’t say anything, how can anyone know what kind of movie you want?”

Luca chased after him.

“...”

Burbank didn’t respond, getting straight into his car and leaving.

“Fuck!”

Luca was furious. This old man was beyond frustrating.

Filmmaking was a team effort, yet the old man dumped all the pressure onto him. How was he supposed to bear it?

“Here!”

Just as he was about to leave, the assistant director, José, came over and handed him a piece of paper.

Luca was stunned. What was this about?

Could it be the old man’s feedback?

Excited, he unfolded the paper, but there was nothing on it. He looked closely—nothing at all.

“José, what does this mean?”

“...”

José glanced around. “Your performance is only separated from success by a thin piece of paper. Now you just need to figure out how to break through it.”

Luca furrowed his brow. Only a piece of paper? That sounded a bit mystical.

“It’s what the teacher said.”

José got into the car.

“Did he say how to break through that paper?”

Luca quickly asked.

“You have to figure it out yourself.”

Vroom—the car drove off.

Luca stood there, holding the blank paper, utterly bewildered. How was he supposed to figure it out? Was this some kind of spiritual enlightenment?

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 279: Luca Still Soaking in the Pit

"Figure it out myself? How do I do that?"

Back home, Luca thought for a moment and then went to the city library to find some books, mainly on acting, psychology, and actor biographies.

After reading for three days, he made some small progress.

He also watched a few thriller films with similar plots, such as Buried, Drishyam, and The Buried Child.

He watched them several times, feeling like he had a faint understanding of what to do.

But he still couldn't quite break through the barrier.

"Sigh~ I guess I’ll have to use the dumbest method."

Luca called to have a wooden box made, grabbed some tools from the tool shed—shovel, crowbar, bucket—and headed to the backyard to start digging a hole.

"Luca, what are you doing?"

Massio squatted nearby, munching on a pear while asking.

"Digging a hole!"

Luca said as he swung the pickaxe, breaking up a chunk of dirt.

"Why are you digging a hole?"

"I'm going to bury myself alive."

"Uh~"

Massio looked at him like he was crazy, pausing for a moment. "Did you join a cult or something?"

"What?"

"A cult!"

Massio gestured animatedly. "I heard there's a kind of cult that worships the power of the Grim Reaper. When followers get seriously ill, instead of going to the hospital, they bury themselves alive, offering their lives to the Grim Reaper.

Eighteen years later, when someone digs them up, they turn into young, healthy children. I’ve heard many people believe this and bury themselves before they die.

Are you planning to do that? But you don’t seem sick—well, except maybe mentally—you seem pretty normal. So why are you burying yourself alive?"

Luca smirked, "I'm practicing acting. The other methods aren’t working well, so I want to experience it firsthand. This is the experiential method in acting theory. Understand?"

"Nope!"

Massio squatted at the edge of the pit and said, "I just think you're out of your mind.

You're an international movie star, the world’s top male model, with a supermodel girlfriend and rumors about several celebrity girlfriends. The papers say you earned millions of dollars last year.

Your life is amazing—so many people envy you, but instead of enjoying it, you keep doing this weird stuff. You really aren’t right in the head."

"Stop talking nonsense. This is my work, trying to do better. Never mind, I’m not explaining it."

Luca waved his hand and tossed a shovel to him. "Help me shovel. The ground here is too hard; I'm digging too slowly on my own."

"Fine!"

Working together, they quickly dug a hole more than three feet deep.

After a while, the wooden box arrived—an improvised box made from plywood, about two meters long and three feet wide.

"Why does this look like a coffin?"

Massio knocked on the box. "Luca, are you really going to lie in here? Be careful if Kate finds out—she’ll kill you."

Luca frowned, "It's noon now, Kate will probably be back around five. We’ve got five hours.

Once I’m inside, cover me with dirt, and at four in the afternoon, come and wake me up.

Remember, don’t be too early or too late. Too early won’t have the effect, and too late—you know what’ll happen."

"Got it, got it. But aren’t you afraid you’ll suffocate once the dirt’s on?"

"No worries, there’s a vent hole here!"

Luca stripped down to a tank top and shorts, climbed into the wooden box.

"Massio, you can cover me now."

"OK!"

Once Luca pulled the lid closed, Massio picked up a shovel and began filling the hole with dirt.

"Luca, can you breathe?"

After covering the pit, he called out loudly.

"No... problem!"

The response was muffled.

"Alright, take care, see you later!"

Massio dusted off his hands, grabbed a bucket of beer, and sat in the gazebo, sipping and playing with the parrot while taking a nap.

He woke up, only to find it was just after 1 PM and he was a bit bored.

Ring~ ring~

His phone rang.

It was Marcel.

"Hey, Marcel, what's up? Drinking? Nah, I have important stuff today, you guys go ahead."

Massio smirked a bit, both disdainful and proud.

Before Luca and Kate became famous, those people looked down on him, a poor man. Marcel and his crowd? He couldn’t even dream of joining them.

But ever since Luca made it big, and people saw him frequenting the Kelly estate, sometimes even hanging out with Luca, they started welcoming and respecting him.

Massio wasn’t dumb; he knew it was Luca they valued.

Luca was a superstar, a billionaire. Building a good relationship with him could lead to big money.

But Luca lived a quiet life.

Aside from formal events, he avoided socializing, no longer even visiting his once-favorite nightclubs.

Those people had no chance to approach Luca, so they turned to Massio, hoping he’d act as a go-between.

"Marcel, I really have something to do. What? Caroline is coming to dance?!"

Massio stood up in surprise and paced around the room, checking the time—it was just after 1 PM. He figured he could make it in time.

"Alright, I’ll come over in a bit. Luca?"

Massio glanced at the backyard. "He definitely won’t have time. He’s working with the famous director Babank, you know how busy he is right now.

Okay, after the movie’s done, I’ll let you know."

He hung up, walked around the yard once, then drove to the Degal Dance Hall.

The dance hall was lively, with people singing and dancing, and a group drinking in the booths near the stage.

"Hey~ Massio!"

A middle-aged man with a gold chain called out.

"Hey~ Marcel, is Caroline here yet?"

Massio looked at the stage, where only a few regular dancers were performing.

"Haha, I knew you were eyeing Caroline. She’s got another gig first, you’ll have to wait a bit longer," Marcel laughed.

"Really?"

Massio felt a bit disappointed—he was definitely interested in Caroline.

"Massio, it’s the weekend. Luca’s still busy?"

"Yeah, he’s practicing his acting at home. He even asked me to help earlier."

Massio shrugged and downed a glass of beer.

"Luca’s practicing his acting, and what exactly are you helping with? Can you act?"

Someone teased.

"Of course, I’ve even done some background acting!"

Massio replied.

"Hahaha, I remember you played a corpse."

"Playing a corpse is still acting, okay?"

"Alright, alright, Massio, you’re an actor too. But why aren’t you in Luca’s new movie?"

Massio shook his head. "Luca said this film only has him as the actor. Maybe next time."

"Uh~ Just one actor?"

Everyone in the booth was stunned.

"How can one person act out a movie alone?"

No one believed it.

Massio shrugged, "I don’t know, maybe it's a ghost movie with lots of special effects."

People nodded as if they understood.

"Massio, you said you’d invite the big star to hang out last year. It’s been almost two months—when’s he coming?"

"Yeah, Massio, I want an autograph from the star!"

"Massio, can you give us an update? Just say something!"

A few people asked.

Massio shook his head, "Luca doesn’t like partying anymore. No fooling around, no drugs, no heavy drinking. He works out every day, reads, acts—barely leaves the house. If he doesn’t want to come, I can’t force him."

"How is that possible? He used to be quite the playboy."

"Yeah, didn’t he have a drug habit? Did he really quit everything?"

"No way, Massio. He’s probably sneaking around—you just don’t know."

"Yeah, big stars are always image-conscious."

Everyone chattered.

"Believe it or not!"

Massio shrugged, sipping his beer as he watched the performance on stage.

"Alright, everyone, let’s break it up!"

Marcel waved his hand, then pulled Massio aside. "You mentioned before that Luca likes girls who read, so I found three great ones from some universities. You should ask Luca if he’s interested."

"You really went and found some?"

Massio was surprised—he had just mentioned it casually, but Marcel had taken it seriously. What a persistent guy.

"Yeah, it took me a lot of effort, but I found three smart, good-looking girls who love to read. Luca will definitely like them."

Marcel smiled.

Massio forced a smile, not really believing it.

Luca’s girlfriend was the supermodel Lima, plus there were rumors about other celebrity girlfriends—would he even be interested in anyone else?

"Alright, I’ll ask."

"Haha, great!"

Marcel happily patted his shoulder. Luca was wealthy and successful, and plenty of people wanted to meet him, but the opportunity hadn’t come. If Marcel could be the first to connect with him, the benefits would be huge.

"Caroline’s here!"

Someone shouted.

Macio immediately stood up.

Marcel laughed and said, "Macio, go ahead, Carolyn's here to ask you to dance."

"Really?"

Macio excitedly walked over, smiling as he invited her to dance.

The girl happily accepted.

The two started dancing and drinking in the ballroom, becoming an enviable pair.

After who knows how long, the sky gradually darkened, and someone walked into the ballroom, drenched.

"Kura, did you fall into the sea? Why are you soaking wet?"

Macio leaned on the couch, holding half a bottle of whiskey, and asked with a smile.

"It's raining, didn't you know?"

The newcomer said.

"Is it raining?"

Macio glanced at the window. Outside, it was pouring, the streets were drenched and flooded, and no one knew how long it had been raining. A crack of thunder lit up the dim street.

Is it already dark?

Suddenly, he froze, feeling like he had forgotten something.

That's right!

Luca!

Damn it, Luca's still lying in the pit.

With such heavy rain outside, what if the air hole on the wooden crate gets blocked?

Swoosh~

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and the alcohol instantly sobered up. He braced himself on the couch and ran outside.

"Macio, where are you going?"

"Macio, are you heading home to get the laundry?"

"It's too late; it's been raining for over half an hour. The clothes are already soaked. Don’t bother going back."

People around him shouted.

It’s been raining for over half an hour?

Macio pulled out his phone and checked. His heart sank. It was 5:20 PM.

Damn it!

Damn it!

Drinking always causes trouble!

He ran outside while dialing his phone.

"Kate, are you home? Hurry to the backyard and dig up Luca. He's still soaking in the pit!"

(End of the chapter)

Chapter 280: Everyone Buries Luca Alive Together

The next day, Luca arrived at the studio early.

Compared to before, his complexion was unusually pale, as if he had been seriously ill. However, his dark eyes were exceptionally bright, almost piercing.

Everyone in the crew noticed his change, but out of professionalism, no one asked. They merely glanced at him and then continued with their tasks.

Luca didn’t speak either. He sat cross-legged on a wooden cabinet, eyes closed, like a meditating monk, his expression calm and unbothered.

Assistant director José Padilha noticed his demeanor and was secretly surprised.

After filming for so many days, Luca had always paced around nervously before each scene, muttering to himself or sighing. Once, he even broke a cup, giving off an anxious vibe that made others around him feel uneasy.

But today was different. He exuded a calmness from the inside out, serene and composed.

"What on earth happened?"

José scratched his chin in confusion.

"Hey, Luca!"

He approached with a grin, trying to start a conversation.

Luca merely nodded slightly and closed his eyes again.

"Uh..."

José’s smile froze on his face, like pigeon droppings dried in the sun. He finally understood what it meant to be ignored. Luca was clearly paying him back for the cold treatment he had received before.

"Heh..."

A light chuckle arose from the surrounding crew, laced with sarcasm.

"What are you laughing at? Hurry up and get ready."

José waved his hand and returned to his seat, glaring at someone.

"Such a show-off!" he grumbled. Feeling like his rant wasn’t enough, he quietly added, "It's already been six days without progress. If this continues, we might as well give up."

Luca ignored him and continued meditating.

At 9:30 AM, director Babank arrived. As usual, he entered the set, sat behind the monitor, and adjusted the setup.

Once everything was ready, Babank shouted, "Action!"

The day’s filming began again.

Luca lay inside a unique wooden box, with a movable panel above. The camera was positioned in the open space, allowing it to rotate 360 degrees around Luca to capture every angle of his expressions and movements.

"Whoa..."

As filming began, Babank stared at the monitor for a while before letting out a gasp. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Teacher, are you okay? Are you having a heart attack?" José turned around to find Babank trembling, fists clenched, and breathing irregularly, as if showing symptoms of a heart attack.

"Where’s your medicine?"

José frantically patted him down, searching for his meds.

"Get lost!"

Babank took a deep breath and shoved him away. Standing up, he sternly commanded, "Everyone, stay sharp! Give me 100% effort. If there’s any mistake, don’t blame me for not being polite."

"Got it!"

The crew, knowing he was serious, immediately shifted to their best performance.

"What happened to the director?"

José asked curiously.

"Do your job!" Babank glared at him, put on a headset, and adjusted his reading glasses on his nose.

He stared intently at the monitor, his fists tightening as footage streamed in.

José wanted to ask if he needed water, but fearing expulsion from the team, he scratched his head and resumed his role as assistant director. He oversaw everything from extras to logistics.

Seeing the crew member with a spray bottle, he called out, "Jami, why are you still here? Go spray sweat on Luca."

Since the protagonist in Buried Alive was trapped in an underground box, the prolonged time would make him sweat profusely, soaking through his clothes.

Actors couldn’t sweat that much on cue during a performance, so they used spray bottles.

"José, there’s no need today. Luca doesn’t need sweat touch-ups."

The crew member replied.

"No need?" José frowned.

"Yes, I checked earlier. During the performance, he’s sweating on his own. His forehead, face, and chest are all drenched, soaking his clothes just perfectly."

The crew member marveled.

"Sweating on his own?"

José scoffed, not convinced.

He recalled Babank mentioning that there were legendary actors in Hollywood who could control every muscle, vein, heartbeat, and even sweat during an explosive performance, almost god-like.

But José had never witnessed this himself, so he doubted it. How could someone control their sweat? That seemed harder than controlling thoughts or emotions.

Now hearing the claim that Luca could manage his own sweat, José was 120% skeptical. Luca was just a novice actor. How could he possibly do that?

Shaking his head, José moved to the monitor. Luca was performing a phone call scene—

"It's so hot, I can’t breathe."

"Please, save me."

"I’m telling you, I’m in some place in Iraq. Please save me."

On screen, Luca’s breathing quickened, sweat pouring down his forehead, his shirt drenched.

As he wiped his forehead, fresh beads of sweat appeared instantly.

"Whoa..."

Seeing this, José shivered. Whether from excitement, fear, or cold, he couldn’t tell, but his body trembled.

"How is this possible?"

He widened his eyes, watching intently.

Following Luca’s performance, his heart raced, feeling as if someone was squeezing it, creating a strange, addictive tension.

José was shocked. When did Luca's acting improve so much?

No, wait, this wasn’t acting. He wasn’t even acting anymore.

In the footage, Luca’s every move, expression, and tone felt like instinctual reactions, as if it were real, without any flaws.

When he held his breath during the phone call, his actions and posture were perfect.

José tried to think of a better way to perform, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t find a more perfect approach. He doubted anyone could do it better than Luca.

This role belonged to Luca. His performance was irreplaceable.

"How did he suddenly become so good?"

José couldn’t figure it out. Just yesterday, Luca’s performance was flat with no signs of improvement. But in just one day, he had not only broken through, but soared to an entirely new level.

"José, the lunchboxes are ready. When should we eat?" A staff member quietly asked.

"Lunch? It’s barely time for lunch!" José frowned and checked his watch, then froze. It was already 1:00 PM.

What the heck?

He remembered filming had just started, and he had only been standing behind the monitor for a little while. How had it already become 1:00 PM? Where had the time gone?

"José? Assistant director José?"

The staff member nudged him, sensing something off with everyone on set today. They seemed dazed.

"Hold on."

Still confused about where the time had gone, José leaned down and gently said, "Teacher, it’s 1:00 PM. Shall we break for lunch?"

He called a few times before Babank finally shifted his gaze from the monitor to José’s face.

"Lunch?"

Babank frowned. "Push lunch back today. Give everyone a slice of pizza and a can of coffee. No one is allowed to leave their posts."

"As for Luca, let him be. He’s in the perfect state right now, transitioning from energized to exhausted. This isn’t something you can act; it’s a real physical and mental reaction. This state is incredibly valuable. Once interrupted, it’s hard to regain."

Babank explained.

"Teacher, do you think this take is good?"

José asked excitedly.

Babank hesitated, then waved his hand and focused back on his work.

José shook his head, worried that the director’s body couldn’t handle the constant excitement and lack of movement. But then he remembered something Babank once said: "Filmmaking and living—I don’t know which is more important."

It was clear how dedicated he was to his craft. Resting wasn’t an option, not even in death.

"Forget it."

José started organizing lunch, just as the director had instructed: pizza and coffee while continuing to work, no breaks allowed.

They worked straight through, eating while filming, until it was suddenly 8:00 PM.

"Cut!"

At 8:25 PM, Babank shouted the first "cut" of the entire shoot.

Everyone on set froze, looking toward the monitor. What did this mean? Was filming over?

Babank didn’t respond.

Thud.

A pale, weak figure slowly crawled out of the box. As Luca stood up, his body swayed and collided with a nearby shelf.

A crew member quickly helped him, guiding him to sit down on the floor.

Everyone on set looked at him with deep respect.

It had been 22 days since the shoot started.

Luca had spent 22 days inside that box, enduring the suffocating, hot, and cramped space without complaint, never missing a single day.

He performed with complete dedication every day, and more impressively, he withstood the oppressive atmosphere of the set.

At the beginning of filming, Babank had said he wanted to turn the set into an invisible box, trapping Luca inside to help him better embody the character’s suffocation.

In a way, the entire crew had buried Luca alive with their cold treatment.

And now, he had finally emerged from that box.

On the 22nd day of filming, he worked continuously for 11 hours, from morning until night, without eating or drinking, fully immersing himself in the role. Finally, on that day, with sheer determination, he managed to crawl out of the coffin.

This kind of person... so strong. No wonder, even after breaking his spine, he was able to stand up again and become a big star. Such a person is truly remarkable.

Clap, clap, clap~

Suddenly, there was a burst of applause from the set, though no one knew who started it.

Luca was sipping his coffee. Hearing the applause, he turned his head in confusion toward the crowd, his eyes full of bewilderment, having no idea what had just happened.

His mind was still stuck on the storyline.

The protagonist, nearly losing consciousness, finally heard the rescue team approaching.

The sound of the rescue team came from above, and they shouted as they dug someone out. But that person turned out not to be the protagonist.

In the end, the protagonist was supposed to die.

If I hadn't managed to crawl out of the coffin, maybe that would have been better.

Wait, no!

I can't think like that.

This is just acting.

"Are you satisfied with your performance?"

Burbank squatted down and asked calmly.

Luca paused for a moment. "I don't know."

He shook his head again, still dazed. "I don’t even know what I just did."

At this point, he only felt incredibly exhausted. Every muscle in his body had lost its strength. He just wanted to collapse for a while.

"Do you want to keep going?"

Burbank asked.

Luca thought for a moment. "I think I can do better."

He wasn’t sure how today's performance went, so he couldn’t judge it, but he felt that if he kept going, he would definitely improve.

"Alright, we’ll continue tomorrow!"

Burbank patted his shoulder and had a few people take Luca home.

"Director, you already called 'cut.' Why continue?"

After Luca left, José asked in confusion.

Everyone in the crew turned to look as well.

Burbank lit a cigar and lazily lay back on the couch.

"Because his potential is greater than any actor I've ever seen."

The old man's voice carried a hint of excitement as he exhaled. "If he wants to keep going, then let him. I’m eager to see how far he can grow."

"..."

The crew looked down, somewhat reluctant. They were all exhausted from working with the production for so long.

"Luca and I are the investors. We’re giving you the chance to make more money, and you’re still not happy?"

Burbank said unhappily.

"We are happy, but having to stay silent every day, with faces like we’re attending a funeral... it's too hard. If this keeps up, I might get depressed," the cameraman mumbled. He was a chatterbox, and the silence over the past few days had nearly driven him crazy.

"Yeah, exactly!"

Everyone chimed in.

Burbank snorted. "Fine, starting tomorrow, the ban is lifted. You can talk as much as you want. A bunch of chatterboxes!"

"Haha, that’s great!"

Everyone cheered up.

Burbank shook his head and waved José over, whispering a few instructions.

"Uh... Director, is this really okay?"

José hesitated.

"There's nothing wrong with it. I'll take full responsibility."

"Alright, then!"

As night fell, the crew gradually dispersed.

José was the last to leave the set. He glanced at the starry night sky.

"Today was really unforgettable. Tomorrow... oh well~"

(End of the chapter)