It seems that Shang Yechu will have to make the selection himself.
Despite being an actor, she was being asked to do the work of a casting director—the capable should do more, the capable should do more. Shang Yechu consoled herself with this thought, feeling a mix of pride and nervousness.
Attached to the end of the table were photos of all the company's artists—makeup-free, headshots, no filters or retouching, even categorized by face shape (oval, melon-shaped, round, rectangular). The editing software had a red "out" watermark, which Shang Yechu conveniently used to add "out" to each person's face.
Out, out, out. Shang Yechu rejected most of the unsuitable candidates, and then, relying on her memory, rejected artists who would later transition into singing or becoming idols. This kind of thing was quite stress-relieving, and Shang Yechu was having a great time making these rejections.
Qingping Entertainment is truly a place where hidden talents abound; Shang Yechu saw quite a few familiar faces. The entertainment industry is small; if you can become a familiar face among your peers, you're likely to be a third or fourth-tier celebrity in the future.
Gu Wenhua was currently filming on Mount Taifu with Gao Sanfu, and it wouldn't be appropriate to call him back from so far away. Therefore, Shang Yechu didn't contact him immediately.
These have been incredibly busy days.
Every morning, Shang Yechu goes to Qingping Entertainment to audition actors and select suitable supporting actors for her.
Every day at noon, Shang Yechu would drive to Sheng Wenzhi's house to coax him out of bed and force him to revise the script. Sheng Wenzhi's creative enthusiasm, like any writer's, was unpredictable; if Shang Yechu didn't personally wake him up, he would sleep until the next evening.
Every night, Shang Yechu would also watch a large number of horror movies in the database of Room 103. Whether it was domestically produced ghost-free ethical films, or European and American horror films with bloody gore and the Bible in one hand and the cross in the other, or Asian ghost films with a damp and terrifying atmosphere, they were all objects of Shang Yechu's study and contemplation.
When Shang Yechu first watched it, she was quite frightened. Needless to say, highly acclaimed films like *Silent*, *Puppet*, and *Died Yesterday* speak for themselves, and Asian horror films also have their own unique style. In *Erosion*, the protagonist always feels an itch on the back of his head; in the finale, when he reaches out to touch it, he peels back his scalp to reveal a dense mass of worms that have already eaten away at his brain lobes…
After watching the film, even though she knew she didn't have a physical body in 103's database, Shang Yechu still couldn't help but touch the back of her head from time to time. It always felt itchy there.
In addition, there's the classic Thai horror film *Soul Stealer*, which tells the story of a camera that kills whoever it films. Those filmed by the camera will die within seven days. The male protagonist, trying to save his girlfriend who was accidentally filmed, deliberately smashes the camera. However, the camera reappears in his house. After many failed attempts, the protagonist decides to film himself so he and his girlfriend can commit suicide together. But when taking a photo with his girlfriend, he suddenly realizes that she has no shadow…
The film's ending features a shot of the death camera, the camera zooming in closer and closer until it focuses on the camera's deep lens. "Click," the shutter sounds, the screen goes black, and Shang Yechu's face appears.
It was as if this camera had taken a picture of Shang Yechu.
After watching the ending, Shang Yechu felt completely cursed, as if the film had struck her as unlucky. She'd heard the film grossed 400 million baht; didn't the Thais find it unlucky?
Although I don't want to engage in feudal superstition, I've always preferred to believe in such things rather than dismiss them.
In the days immediately following watching the movie, Shang Yechu would meticulously check her seatbelt several times before getting into a car, constantly reminding Aunt Cai to pay attention to traffic lights, and even while eating, she couldn't help but secretly observe Aunt Song to see if she had tampered with her food. She felt like an emperor who could be murdered at any moment.
Finally, 103 couldn't stand it anymore and said to Shang Yechu:
"Your image in my database is merely a projection of virtual consciousness. It's like a live stream. Haven't people in movies tried it? It only works if the person is standing in front of the camera. You won't die from pre-recorded videos or developed photos."
Only then did Shang Yechu end this sudden outburst of paranoia.
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