It all happened in an instant.
Despite their extensive experience in security operations, the bodyguard team failed to react in time. By the time they reached the master bedroom, they could only watch helplessly as Mr. Liang darted out like a rabbit disappearing into the horizon.
Caught off guard by the sudden encounter, President Huo remained lying silently on the bed for a moment before propping himself up against its edge.
The captain of the bodyguards approached nervously: “President Huo…”
Thinking that only one minute remained and there wouldn’t be any issues, he had let his guard down—a mistake he now deeply regretted: “Are you alright?”
Huo Lan didn’t respond immediately but raised his hand to touch his lips.
The captain noticed a faint bruise forming at the corner of President Huo’s mouth: “…”
The butler had taken today off and entrusted President Huo’s safety entirely to him. The butler had specifically reminded him to be extra cautious about everything.
Despite all calculations… one move had been overlooked.
“Should we… go inform Mr. Liang?”
The captain asked hesitantly. Feeling guilty, he suggested apologetically: “We can tell him that you still need rest and ask Mr. Liang not to—”
Huo Lan: “No need.”
Huo Lan didn’t pay any attention to the bruise on the corner of his mouth. He glanced at the bodyguard captain and spoke in a stricter tone: “Do not go looking for Mr. Liang.”
The bodyguard captain was puzzled: “Why?”
“…” Huo Lan’s expression darkened, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he got up and walked quickly to the window.
Liang Xiao had moved incredibly fast. Just two minutes ago, he had jumped off Huo Lan and was now already seated in the van, heading straight to the set.
Huo Lan lowered his gaze and lightly clasped his arms around himself.
He tried to recall the sensation from earlier but couldn’t help feeling a tinge of regret.
When Liang Xiao had burst into the room, Huo Lan had still been half-asleep. Startled awake by the sudden impact, his mind hadn’t cleared quickly enough to fully register what had happened.
By the time he came to his senses, Liang Xiao had already dashed out of the room and disappeared.
Huo Lan found himself wanting to fill in the gaps of what had happened when Mr. Liang entered. Watching the nanny van drive away, he remained silent for a moment before asking: “Who was responsible for the master bedroom?”
The bodyguard captain braced himself: “Me.”
Huo Lan wanted to ask further: “You—”
The bodyguard captain didn’t hesitate and loudly declared: “I didn’t see anything!”
Huo Lan: “…”
The bodyguard captain understood perfectly and was determined to protect President Huo’s personal privacy. He pulled over a line of bodyguards and said firmly, “They didn’t see anything either, right?”
The other bodyguards, clueless about what was going on, nodded hastily: “Yes, yes, yes…”
The bodyguard captain stood upright with a righteous air, dutifully maintaining confidentiality.
Huo Lan glanced at them silently for a long moment before saying: “Pull up the surveillance footage.”
The bodyguard captain immediately realized how meticulous their President Huo was and shook his head repeatedly as he explained: “Rest assured, there’s no surveillance in the bedroom.”
The bedroom was a private area. The bodyguard captain had personally led a team to inspect it thoroughly to ensure there were no risks of privacy breaches.
He firmly guaranteed: “There won’t be any records. If anyone dares release anything, we’ll hold them accountable.”
Huo Lan: “…”
Suppressing his temper as best as he could, Huo Lan turned back toward the window.
He failed to keep it in and caused a snowfall: “Where’s the butler?”
The bodyguard captain stood amidst the flurry of snowflakes, unsure whether President Huo was angry or pleased. He stammered: “He hasn’t started his shift yet…”
Huo Lan: “Have him come after his handover.”
The bodyguard captain hesitated: “Do you need something from the butler?”
Concerned that President Huo might not fully understand their team’s division of responsibilities, he explained: “The two of us rotate shifts for inner security; our authority is equal.”
The bodyguard captain added earnestly: “If there’s something that needs handling, you can tell me directly—it’s the same—”
“Tell him,” Huo Lan interrupted decisively, “there’s no need for rotations anymore.”
—
“He said there won’t be any more rotations.”
Duan Ming put down his phone and relayed the message: “Inner security will now be fully handled by Butler Huo. The bodyguard captain is suspended from inner duties and will only be responsible for outer perimeter security from now on… What did he do?”
Liang Xiao hadn’t yet recovered from the adrenaline rush of those extreme fifty-seven seconds. Hearing this, he looked up in confusion: “Huh?”
Duan Ming sighed, “It’s fine. Keep savoring the moment.”
Liang Xiao felt a bit embarrassed and coughed lightly: “There’s no need, really.”
“There is,” Duan Ming replied knowingly, clearly familiar with this process. “Since you’re going to think about President Huo sooner or later, you might as well think about him now. That way, you’ll spend one less minute overheating on set later.”
The scenes Liang Xiao was filming today were all outdoor shots, featuring horseback riding and martial arts. He needed to portray the young marquis’s extraordinary talent and brilliance. The youthful energy had to be just right, and his posture and demeanor needed to be sharp and precise.
Worried that Liang Xiao might soften himself again with his thoughts, Duan Ming generously encouraged him: “Go ahead and think. Energy conservation.”
Liang Xiao rubbed his flushed face twice, trying to calm himself, and grabbed the script: “It’s not like I… think about President Huo all the time.”
Duan Ming nodded as if he believed him: “You’re probably just analyzing the summary and narration.”
Having been teased all morning, Liang Xiao snapped in frustration: “Is it so bad that I’ve memorized it?!”
“It’s good,” Duan Ming finally gave in to his curiosity and flipped a page in the script. “This scene’s script was drafted by—”
Liang Xiao couldn’t help but continue: “The head writer of the team, further refined by the second and fourth assistant groups…”
Duan Ming finally understood why Liang Xiao had struggled so much with memorization. He looked at him and nodded knowingly.
Realizing what he had just done, Liang Xiao muttered as he finished reciting: “…Reviewed and approved by the initial and final review teams of Group Three.”
Duan Ming didn’t say much more. He patted Liang Xiao on the shoulder and shoved the script back into his hands.
Then he sent a text message to an assistant, instructing them to buy some highlighters for Liang Xiao.
—
Although Liang Xiao had accidentally memorized a lot of unnecessary content, thoroughly reading the script and committing it to memory still helped him immerse himself in the role.
While the crew was setting up for the imperial guards’ spring festival scene, Liang Xiao returned in costume and makeup to rehearse a long take of the young marquis practicing with a spear.
Before Director Jin could offer any guidance, Liang Xiao had already started to capture the essence of the character.
“That’s stunning!”
The production manager was thrilled and chased after Director Jin Zhenbo with praise: “We’ve struck gold this time! He can lift his leg straight over his head! Perfectly straight—”
Jin Zhenbo, having directed for years and seen plenty of skilled martial artists, wasn’t as easily impressed as the production manager. He pulled up the monitor footage for a closer look.
Liang Xiao walked over: “Director Jin.”
“The feeling is still off,” Jin Zhenbo said bluntly. “Not enough arrogance. When you toss the spear casually to a servant, it doesn’t convey that sense of haughty indulgence.”
Liang Xiao thought for a moment and nodded.
Frowning, Jin Zhenbo began pointing out flaws frame by frame: “Your spear retrieval isn’t sharp enough. The force is weak, your breathing is unsteady… Have you been skipping your training recently?”
His tone grew stern: “You can’t neglect your fundamentals. Are you aware of that?”
To everyone else on set, Liang Xiao’s performance seemed flawless. The production manager watched helplessly as Director Jin picked apart every detail from head to toe. He wanted to speak up but was pulled back by the chief producer.
A few young actors playing supporting roles had been watching in awe earlier but were now so intimidated they didn’t dare move. They stood silently against the wall like statues.
Liang Xiao responded sincerely: “I understand.”
“It’s not easy to stand out—don’t waste your foundation,” Jin Zhenbo said. Seeing Liang Xiao’s good attitude, his tone softened slightly: “If heaven gives you a meal ticket, you still have to hold onto your bowl steadily.”
Liang Xiao nodded firmly.
This was the first time Duan Ming had seen Liang Xiao being reprimanded like this. Although he knew Director Jin Zhenbo was known for his high standards and strict demands, he couldn’t help but frown slightly.
Liang Xiao’s physical condition had never been particularly strong—he could endure more than the average omega, but only slightly. Recently, he’d fallen ill several times, just recovered from his heat period, and hadn’t been eating or resting well since joining the production a few days ago. Naturally, his stamina had declined.
It wasn’t a matter of attitude.
Duan Ming wanted to explain on Liang Xiao’s behalf but hesitated before speaking softly: “Director Jin—”
“Don’t worry.” Liang Xiao smiled and cut off his manager’s words. “I’ll start recovery training as soon as I get back.”
Jin Zhenbo seemed slightly satisfied and stopped scolding him: “When you’ve joined costume drama productions in the past, most of them were fantasy wuxia series. The martial arts choreography leaned toward graceful and ethereal movements. This time is different.”
Liang Xiao replied seriously: “Yun Lang is a battlefield general.”
Jin Zhenbo raised his eyebrows slightly, glanced at him, and nodded: “Fancy moves are useless on the battlefield. Whether it’s spear techniques or swordsmanship, they’re all designed to take lives.”
“The martial arts director will redesign the choreography for you. This scene with the spear practice may seem ordinary, but it actually serves as the first hint of his identity as a general. The visual language of the camera must convey its power.”
Jin Zhenbo added: “You have one week to adjust your stamina and refine each movement step by step.”
