In the end, everyone present filled their stomachs with instant noodles from the factory, served with the freshly prepared seasoning.
By lunchtime, the cafeteria had specially prepared a meal for their group, but no one touched it.
Several people in charge of the instant-noodle production area said excitedly, “With the oil packet from the Pei family’s eldest daughter, our instant noodles can practically dominate the market.”
“I could stock ten cases of noodles like this at home in one go. I’m sure office workers and students would be willing to buy them in bulk, too.”
“Even when I’m not hungry, I’d want to have two bowls. This isn’t something you eat just to get by—it’s genuinely delicious.”
One of the workers who had been researching seasoning blends for years asked, “Miss Pei, the proportions of the other ingredients aren’t all that different from before. I assume the secret lies in your spice packet. Is it expensive? If we produce it on a large scale, will it drive up the cost of the instant noodles?”
“And what about the shelf life? Will it be affected?”
Pei Liang replied, “No. They’re all inexpensive spices. However, this is an exclusive recipe of the Pei family. When the time comes, the production workshop will only receive the finished product, and the process will be divided into separate stages. I hope everyone can understand.”
“Of course! Of course!” everyone hurriedly assured her.
After what had just happened, these instant noodles were their hope of making a comeback against the odds. Naturally, no one wanted to see the secret recipe leaked.
Pei Liang continued, “Besides the oil packet, I’ve also made some adjustments to the seasoning powder. You can try the formula I provided and see if there’s anything else that needs changing.”
The powder packet’s formula had not changed much. It still used the same few ingredients, with only the proportions adjusted. The most obvious change was that the amount of monosodium glutamate had been reduced considerably.
Everyone could understand why. “Miss Pei, the flavor of this sauce packet is already rich and well-rounded. There’s no need to add much MSG to enhance it. In fact, too much MSG would interfere with the refined taste brought by the sauce packet.”
Pei Liang nodded. “Although the raw-material cost hasn’t increased by much, adding the secret recipe has made the processing and transportation more complicated and expensive.”
“Then we’ll raise the unit price!”
“What?” Everyone was startled.
Their company had only just suffered a blow to its reputation. To be honest, consumers had already lost some confidence in their products.
At a time like this, they weren’t lowering prices to promote the products. They were raising them instead?
Pei Liang smiled. “Not only that, I’ve also adjusted the filling recipe for the dumplings. Let’s move to the dumpling production area first.”
Pei’s brand of dumplings was considered mid-to-high-end within the industry. Usually priced at over twenty yuan per bag, they were marketed as frozen dumplings made with fresh meat and crafted to resemble handmade dumplings.
Unlike the cheap dumplings that sold for only a few yuan per bag and were made with the lowest-grade meat and various additives, Pei’s dumplings used much fresher ingredients.
Pei Liang glanced at the meat filling being processed by the machine. In fact, the filling for frozen dumplings had to be cooked before being processed further, which helped reduce costs and made storage easier.
If raw filling were used, the dumplings probably wouldn’t have much of a shelf life. There was no way a convenience food could be handled that way.
Fortunately, in her previous life, Pei Liang had been a master chef. Besides slow, careful cooking, she had also gained plenty of experience preparing food in huge quantities.
As she had mentioned before, the larger the scale of the cooking, the harder it was to ensure consistent flavor. For one thing, achieving even heating was difficult, while moisture could not evaporate quickly enough and would collect at the bottom of the pot, ruining the texture.
That was why cooking in small pots and stir-frying small portions could sometimes be worlds apart from preparing large-scale meals in massive pots.
Pei Liang’s personal record, however, had been preparing food simultaneously for more than a hundred thousand soldiers after a major victory in an important battle. Naturally, she had accumulated considerable experience in this area.
Everyone watched as the Pei family's eldest daughter repeated an operation similar to what she had done in the instant-noodle sauce preparation area earlier, calmly and decisively mixing and cooking the dumpling filling.
Someone asked Pei's dad, “President Pei, didn’t you say that your daughter had spent the past few years as an actress? Where did she learn all this?”
Pei's dad wanted to ask the same question, but he could hardly reveal his ignorance as her father. He could only laugh awkwardly and say, “Well, well, she’s been clever since she was little. She learns anything after seeing it once. I suppose she figured most of it out on her own.”
“That’s certainly true.” The other person gave a thumbs-up. “President Pei, you have an excellent successor. The Pei family's eldest daughter is capable, decisive, and talented. The Pei family will flourish under her leadership sooner or later.”
Although Pei's dad was still in the prime of his life, having such an outstanding successor gave the employees greater confidence in the company’s future.
Pei's dad felt complicated emotions as well as pride. He modestly denied the praise with his words, but the smugness on his face was impossible to conceal. Even the gloom caused by discovering so many parasites within the company had largely disappeared.
Once the dumpling filling had been processed, several female workers from the dumpling-wrapping area, who had been waiting nearby, immediately got to work. The moment the filling came out, they began wrapping dumplings with the swift hand movements they had developed through years of experience. Before long, they had made several hundred.
Some people did not even wait for the dumplings to be wrapped. They scooped up a spoonful of the filling as soon as it came out and rolled it around in their hands to taste it.
It was the most common cabbage-and-pork filling. Ordinarily, this flavor suffered from the usual problems found in frozen dumplings: the meat filling was watery, the broth lacked richness and meaty flavor, and the meat itself had little springiness.
This was not merely a problem with their company’s products. Even high-end dumplings selling for thirty or forty yuan per bag on the market often had similar issues.
The aroma and texture of the filling mostly came from additives and seasonings rather than the ingredients themselves. Frankly, when meat and vegetables were mixed together in large quantities, failing to use strongly flavored seasonings to create layers of flavor could result in a greasy, gamey taste that was nearly impossible to swallow.
But Pei Liang’s filling was different. She had not added any unnecessary seasoning, yet the moment they bit into it, the freshness and tenderness of the cabbage, the rich smoothness of the meat juices, and the firm, pleasantly chewy texture of the filling burst across their tongues.
The simple combination of pork and cabbage somehow tasted as rich and savory as a fine broth. It was utterly irresistible. Maintaining the freshness and tenderness of the ingredients was already remarkably difficult when producing food in such large quantities.
The filling was so impressive that everyone completely overlooked the ordinary dumpling wrappers. Though they had already eaten their fill of instant noodles, they now stuffed dumpling after dumpling into their mouths without even dipping them in sauce.
“With those instant noodles and these dumplings at home, you’d never have to worry about going hungry.”
“These taste even better than the filling I make at home with the best pork from the front leg.”
“No, you have to wrap some more. I’m taking a bag home later.”
“I want some too. Wrap a few hundred more.”
“A few hundred won’t be enough to divide among us. Just wrap all the filling in that pot. We can each take some home later.”
Once the recipes had received everyone’s approval, and it was confirmed that the existing production methods could be used without purchasing new large-scale equipment, Pei's dad decisively approved the recipe changes.
It wasn’t just the instant noodles and dumplings. Pei Liang had not overlooked any of the company’s other products either. She had improved them all within the framework of the existing production lines and cost structure.
As for the secret recipes, she left them to Pei's dad, letting him figure out how to protect them by dividing the production stages, keeping the procurement of raw materials confidential, and using other measures.
This meant that although the cost of the raw materials had not changed, the increased processing costs were unavoidable.
After discussions among all parties, the Pei family decided to raise its prices.
Instant noodles and similar products were fine. Depending on whether they came in bags or cups, their prices had gone up by anywhere from one or two cents to fifty cents. But for everyday fast-moving consumer goods, even raising the price by a single cent could generate enormous profits.
And because their prices had remained fixed for years, consumers had grown accustomed to them. Even the slightest increase could set off alarm bells, let alone a sudden hike of several dozen cents.
But that wasn’t all. The dumplings and several other frozen products had also launched a number of “premium lines,” priced at more than twice as much as the existing products.
After discussing the matter, upper management had decided that it would be a waste to limit the existing recipes to the original ingredients. At the same time, they didn’t want to abandon their existing price bracket and market share, so they had come up with this solution.
The moment news of the Pei family’s across-the-board price increases broke, the entire internet was stunned—
“They really dare to do this? Didn’t they just get exposed for food-quality problems?”
“Instant noodles going up by fifty cents in one shot? Why don’t they just rob us?”
“The dumplings are even more outrageous. They haven’t even cleaned up the mess from last time, and they’re already rushing to upgrade their products? Is the Pei family’s management thinking with their feet?”
“Weren’t they saying Jia Yue had maliciously sabotaged them?”
“Who can say what really goes on in business? All I can say is, flies don’t gather around a seamless egg. Either way, I’m not touching Pei family products anymore.”
“Same. My pockets are cleaner than my face—I’m so broke I have to split one pack of instant noodles into two meals, and they still want to raise the price? Isn’t Kangshifu good enough?”
The internet was full of disbelief. But since Pei Liang had made this decision, she wasn’t going to sit around and wait for public opinion to gradually turn against them.
Besides, plenty of people were watching her closely, waiting to imitate her skill at manipulating public opinion. If she didn’t respond first, the Pei family’s brand would likely suffer another wave of attacks.
Sure enough, when Jia Yue and its partners saw what the Pei family had done, they nearly laughed themselves sick. They were convinced that Pei Liang had handed them a knife and invited them to use it.
But before they could get the public-opinion machine rolling, a flood of “smells amazing, take my money” reactions began appearing online.
The first person to come forward was the blogger who had originally exposed the Pei family’s quality problems.
Although the blogger did accept sponsored promotions, his reputation and popularity meant that he at least had to keep his reviews consistent with the facts.
This time, Pei Liang had someone contact him and ask him to do a tasting livestream. Just as before, all he had to do was give his honest opinion. There were no other requirements.
The food-streaming blogger had accepted money from them back then, but this request didn’t ask him to change his story or violate the rules by whitewashing the brand, so he agreed.
The title of that episode was especially provocative: “Brain-Dead Marketing—Are They Taking Consumers for Fools? Why Are Pei Family Products So Expensive?”
The title perfectly reflected how netizens felt after hearing the news. After all, this was the same streamer who had been the first to challenge the Pei family.
Faced with the herd mentality of public opinion, the streamer had effectively become the consumers’ representative in the entire incident.
Pei Liang even paid to promote the video. With the fans and passersby drawn in by the controversy, it quickly shot to a prominent position on the homepages of all the major video platforms.
On the streamer’s simple tasting table sat several of the Pei family’s products.
At the beginning of the video, he unwrapped a package of instant noodles and boiled some water. Drawing on his previous impression of Pei family products, he launched into a humorous, witty, and comprehensive roast of them.
He also expressed his dissatisfaction with the decision to raise the price of such everyday convenience foods. Once the Pei family opened this door, other brands might follow suit after the market got used to it. In that case, consumers everywhere would be the ones to suffer.
The barrage comments resonated with every word he said. Messages such as “Hard not to support this” and “You’ve earned my coin” kept scrolling across the screen.
Then the streamer lifted the lid from the cup, and the expression on his face changed noticeably.
The viewers assumed there was another quality problem and began spamming the comments—
“Uh-oh. The streamer’s in danger.”
“Risking his life to taste-test it.”
“Da Lang, eat your noodles.”
But the streamer eagerly grabbed his chopsticks and started slurping.
Normally, he sampled food slowly and carefully, explaining every aspect of his evaluation. This time, however, he looked as if he hadn’t eaten in three days. He buried his head in the bowl, clutching it as he noisily devoured the noodles.
Some viewers grew unhappy.
“Did he sell out?”
“Old X, you’re really going all out for this sponsorship. Were you starving for two meals?”
But just then, the dog the streamer kept at home jumped onto the table and snatched noodles straight from his bowl, shoving its head in as if its life depended on it.
Longtime fans all knew that although the dog was greedy, it was also well trained. It had never done anything like this before. Even when the streamer had previously reviewed foods the dog preferred, such as braised meat and sauce-coated bones, it had never jumped onto the table to steal food.
The barrage immediately became unsettled. After all, this streamer wasn’t just a reviewer—he was also a competitive eater and food streamer.
His way of eating was famously appetite-inducing.
“I’m not saying another word. I’m going downstairs to buy a pack of Pei family instant noodles.”
“Same. It’s only a few bucks. I’ll try it, and if it’s bad, I’ll come back and roast the streamer.”
By the time the streamer finally rescued his noodles from the dog and finished drinking every last drop of soup, he smacked his lips in lingering satisfaction.
He sighed and said to the audience, “Raise the price. It deserves to be more expensive. In my opinion, none of the instant noodles on the market that cost more than this can compare.”
Then he excitedly urged the viewers, “Go buy it! Listen to me—just buy it. If it isn’t delicious, you can beat me up.”
“No, wait. I’m going to place an order for several cases first. If I’m too late, they might all be sold out.”
“This is freaking ridiculous.”
“Keep acting. Go on, keep acting! The Oscars owe you a statue.”
“You’re really going all out to take that sponsorship money.”
“He didn’t want to, but the Pei family paid him way too much, hahaha.”
“Seriously, go buy it!!!!!”
“To the idiot above: why are you reminding everyone else? Hurry up and stock up yourself. I’m going downstairs to buy some too.”
Before long, the mood in the comments began to take a strange turn. Quite a few people went downstairs with the attitude of spending a few bucks just to see what the fuss was about, then came back with a cup.
The moment they finished eating, they transformed into unofficial promoters.
“I refuse to let anyone not know about this.”
Since the Pei family was still at the center of the controversy and the streamer’s promotional campaign was highly effective, many people tried the products half-convinced, then began frantically stockpiling them and recommending them to everyone around them.
At first, the spectators following the drama assumed it was all the work of paid online accounts, including people on Jia Yue’s side. But the very next day, shopping malls placed additional orders and changed the products’ shelf locations, putting the Pei family’s goods back in the most prominent spots.
Then came the official online stores of the Pei family’s food brands. The sales figures—especially for the instant noodles and dumplings—were downright terrifying.
If this had merely been a marketing stunt, the cost would have been far too high. And besides, countless people who had actually eaten the products were sharing their opinions both online and offline.
For a while, the Pei family’s instant noodles and convenience foods became the most hotly discussed foods on the entire internet, even crushing the newly popular internet-famous snacks.
“This isn’t instant noodles. This is my survival rations from now on.”
“An instant-noodle expert has reviewed them and said there isn’t a single brand in the world whose flavor can compare with Pei’s. Not one.”
“I’m really not exaggerating. There’s a noodle shop downstairs that’s been open for decades. Obviously, instant noodles can’t match the texture of freshly made noodles, but the seasoning is genuinely in a league of its own.”
“Exactly! I don’t like the texture of instant noodles, so I cook regular noodles myself and add the seasoning packet. Absolute heaven~”
“Only talking about instant noodles? I represent the dumplings, and I refuse to accept that.”
“And I represent the tangyuan!”
[I, for one, refuse to accept this on behalf of shaomai, flower rolls, steamed buns, and egg-yolk buns.]
[All right, all right. We’re all one big loving family here—stop tearing each other apart.]
Jiayue’s paid online commenters still tried to bring up the previous scandal, steering public opinion through the mindset of “better safe than sorry.”
But frankly, food-safety regulation in China had always been a mess. Plenty of household-name brands had been involved in similar scandals before.
And although the matter had caused quite a stir online at the time, the Pei family had responded swiftly and recalled the problematic products almost immediately. In reality, not many people had even encountered them.
While building momentum for its price increase, the Pei company also released videos of its production workshops. Besides, when it came to food, apart from children and pregnant women, most people subscribed to the philosophy of “a little dirt won’t kill you.” Otherwise, why would roadside barbecue stalls and dingy little eateries be so popular?
In any case, Pei had shown that much sincerity. Those who wanted to believe them naturally did.
The upgraded flavors of Pei’s products had even opened up a decisive gap in the market. Jiayue’s products abruptly lost their competitive edge.
They had already poured substantial resources into their tug-of-war with Pei, and shareholders and investors had continued to put in money only because victory had seemed within reach.
But almost overnight, even with clearance-sale discounts, Jiayue’s products went unsold. Pei’s products had not only introduced upgraded varieties, but also refined its existing flavors. At familiar prices, customers could now enjoy deliciousness they had never experienced before.
Why chase a temporary bargain, then?
As a result, Jiayue’s sales for the quarter were dismal.
Compared with its brick-and-mortar chain restaurants, sales of these products were the real bulk of its revenue. Now that core business was hemorrhaging money, while the restaurant chain was also burning cash in a head-to-head battle—who could possibly sustain that?
So Jiayue, which had arrived with such ferocity and seemed to possess inexhaustible capital, backed down. The main reason was that its shareholders could no longer see any prospect of winning. If the competition continued, it would only become an endless money pit.
Problems had surfaced both internally and externally. Collapse was only a matter of time.
But that was all for later.
Pei Liang spent only a few days adjusting the formulas. After discussing the subsequent management and marketing strategy with Pei's dad, she was able to leave the rest to the professionals.
By then, Pei Liang had already joined the production crew and begun filming her second movie.
The entire cast numbered fewer than twenty people. Apart from a handful of roles, there were no strict requirements regarding age or appearance, making casting easy.
Veteran character actors who had spent years working in film were more than adequate for the job.
The director she chose was also someone in the industry known for suspense films with dark tones. He had few representative works, and none especially memorable, but Pei Liang had seen the visual atmosphere in his previous films. Their gloomy, oppressive undertone suited “Haunted Mansion” perfectly.
The film’s total investment was under thirty million yuan, and nearly one-third of that was Xie Chen’s salary.
Of course, Best Actor Xie’s market value was far higher than that. Strictly speaking, even throwing the entire production budget at him might not have been enough to hire him.
Xie Chen’s management company was also furious that he had lowered his fee and taken on two low-budget films in a row. During negotiations with Pei Liang’s side, they had been aggressive and unwilling to yield an inch.
What they had not expected, however, was Pei Liang’s generosity. She would not raise his salary, but she was willing to sign a box-office profit-sharing agreement with them.
She promised that once the total box office reached a certain threshold, Xie Chen would receive a share of the profits.
Pei Liang knew perfectly well that, simply because it was a domestic horror film, few people would be willing to buy a ticket to see it in theaters. There were plenty of actors who met her requirements for the male lead, but if she wanted to dominate the National Day release window, no one could satisfy all her criteria better than Xie Chen.
Moreover, Xie Chen’s contribution to the initial success of “The Missing Bride” had been considerable. Naturally, Pei Liang was willing to be generous.
But Xie Chen’s management company did not see it that way. Pei Liang had already made a fortune by then; surely she could afford to increase Xie Chen’s fee.
Yet rather than pay more, she would only offer a box-office share. Clearly, they believed, she was trying to get something for nothing. It also proved that even she had no confidence in the film’s quality.
From the company president to his agent, everyone took turns trying to talk him out of the collaboration. They practically wore their mouths out.
But he would not listen. He insisted on signing!
The already strained relationship became even more rigid.
In a fit of anger, Xie Chen went to report to the set alone ahead of schedule. The moment he saw Pei Liang, he began venting.
“That idiot company of mine is so shortsighted. They’ve gotten more and more impatient and superficial over the past two years. Fine, they can question your abilities—but they’re questioning my eye for scripts.”
“Me. Xie Chen. They’re questioning my eye for scripts?” Xie Chen laughed bitterly. “Whenever there was a bad investment in the past, or they secured the wrong projects for artists under the company, every one of them cried about how they should have listened to me.”
“I’ve never made a bad call when choosing a film, but they’ve already started getting carried away.”
Xie Chen was not unaware of what was going on. It was nothing more than the industry becoming intoxicated with the profits of the traffic-driven celebrity boom in recent years. Even bad films, bad dramas, or mediocre variety shows rarely had to worry about losing money as long as they knew how to generate hype and market themselves.
The company’s newly signed artists were increasingly being groomed along those lines. His instincts and judgment regarding films alone were no longer considered a standard for measuring profits and losses.
After Xie Chen finished venting, Pei Liang merely continued looking over the detailed shooting schedule without responding. He looked like a dog that had failed to get its head patted.
He sat down beside Pei Liang and said sulkily, “Did you even hear what I said?”
“I heard you. But this isn’t anything new. You and your company have had differing plans for your future—that was something I already knew back in the casino city.”
Xie Chen said unhappily, “Don’t act like it’s only natural. Even though we have disagreements, I still have a contract with them, and I enjoy a great deal of freedom. Besides, the tangible and intangible value I bring to the company is considerable. Under normal circumstances, as long as I don’t go too far, they’ll compromise.”
“The reason things have become this ugly this time—I wonder who that might be because of.”
As he spoke, he shot Pei Liang several sidelong glances, then turned away again with an affectedly proud expression.
He looked like a young master who had agreed to marry beneath him and join her shabby little production crew, had slashed the bride price by more than half and practically paid her for the privilege—and yet she, the heartless woman, had not shown the slightest appreciation.
That was not exactly an unfair interpretation. Given Xie Chen’s status, he was indeed practically being given away at half price.
After all, even Xie Chen had not anticipated that “Universe Alliance” would withdraw from its scheduled release.
With a behemoth like “Universe Alliance” occupying the National Day release window, no other film could possibly have achieved particularly impressive box-office results, let alone a domestic horror movie—a genre synonymous with flops.
Even though Xie Chen knew that, if done well, this could be a rare masterpiece and might even change audiences’ prejudices against domestic horror films, he still had not held out much hope for its box-office performance.
That was why he had agreed to the profit-sharing arrangement in the first place: so that he would have something to show his company.
At that, Pei Liang closed the work schedule and smiled at him, suppressing the urge to ruffle his hair like a dog’s.
“Of course I know. You’ve made a huge sacrifice for our production this time. You’ve really been wronged.”
“But it’s all for our film. You’ve seen the conditions on this set—we save wherever we can. Just scraping together your salary has already drained us dry. We’re all serious about making films and want to give the audience a good work. There’s no need to fuss over superficial things. Once the movie is released, we definitely won’t let you down.”
“Trust me, okay?”
Only then did Xie Chen’s expression improve slightly. “Hmph! If I didn’t trust you, would I put up with this kind of grievance?”
Director Hu, young as he was, carried a thermos everywhere and drank red-date-and-goji-berry tea. He happened to pass by just then, and the more he listened to their conversation, the stranger it sounded.
It took him another two steps before he realized: wasn’t this exactly the sort of nonsense those worthless guys used to sweet-talk young women into accepting no bride price?
“I’ve fallen out with my family this badly because of whom?”
“I know—it’s because of me. You’ve really suffered for my sake. But you’ve seen our family’s circumstances. We definitely can’t come up with eighty thousand; even twenty thousand would empty out my parents’ savings. The two of us are going to live our own lives together, so there’s no need for all these empty formalities. Once we’re married, I’ll treat you well. When I make money, I’ll make up for every bit of hardship you’ve endured now.”
“Hmph! You bastard—if I didn’t trust you, would I marry you?”
Director Hu shuddered all over. When he turned back to look at the two of them, his expression was difficult to describe.
Fortunately, neither of them noticed him. Xie Chen, on the other hand, was somewhat surprised by Pei Liang’s portrayal of being completely broke.
“Your box-office revenue share should have come through by now, shouldn’t it? Why are you crying poverty over a mere thirty million?”
He didn’t believe Pei Liang was taking advantage of him. This person would never invest in anything that wasn’t cost-effective, but was still quite generous when it came to ordinary expenses.
On the previous production, nearly everyone had been satisfied by the time filming wrapped, precisely because the boss saved money in other areas while treating the staff generously.
As a result, after just one film, Pei Liang’s connections across all sorts of channels had expanded enormously.
But Pei Liang merely said, “It’s a secret. You’ll find out later.”
Xie Chen was utterly baffled.
At that moment, a fashionably dressed couple with ingratiating, flattering expressions approached with a teenage boy in tow.
Upon seeing Pei Liang and Xie Chen, they said, “Xiaojun, hurry up and greet Teacher Xie and Producer Pei.”
The boy was not shy in the least. Smiling brightly, he said, “Hello, Sister Pei. Hello, Brother Xie.”
The boy’s name was Gao Jun, one of the leading actors in Horror Mansion. He had begun as a child clothing model. With looks as outstanding as his, he soon entered the entertainment industry.
He had taken part in one or two talent shows, but because of his age, he did not yet fit the profile for an idol group, and so had not debuted as an idol.
Still, he had accumulated a group of fans who kept clamoring for the day he grew up.
Later, his acting talent was discovered by chance, and he had already appeared in several productions—though most were low-budget trashy films with almost no barrier to entry.
Director Liu had recommended him personally, telling Pei Liang outright, “This kid has talent. If he’s properly polished, he may well become a fine actor someday. It’s a pity he ended up with parents like those.”
Gao Jun truly was strikingly handsome. His soft, fluffy chestnut-brown hair, fair skin, and delicate, beautiful features made him stand out. Though his body was beginning to lengthen with adolescence, his face still retained traces of childishness. His cheeks were soft and full, making people want to pinch them.
His smile was infectious, his eyes sparkling and bright. He was so handsome he looked like an angel.
Pei Liang smiled. “Hello. Go upstairs and have a look at your room first. You’ll be staying here for a while, so if you need anything, you can ask the stage manager or one of the production assistants.”
Gao Jun’s parents thanked her repeatedly, then followed the assistant upstairs.
As he went up, Gao Jun looked back, his gaze settling on Pei Liang.
In those bright, innocent eyes appeared a hint of scrutiny that did not suit his age.
Although Gao Jun’s role in Horror Mansion was pivotal, he did not have much screen time in the early part of the story compared with the other leads, and his presence was not especially prominent.
So after filming began, aside from focusing on his acting and watching others to learn, he often helped the crew with small tasks. Of all the actors, he was the quickest to become part of the team and was deeply liked by everyone.
Horror Mansion tells the story of a torrentially rainy night. A celebrity bodyguard played by Xie Chen, the actress who hired him, a couple, a police officer and a criminal, a prostitute, and a family of three played by Gao Jun and two middle-aged actors all end up gathered at an old mansion in an abandoned village because of the weather.
A century ago, the mansion had been the vacation residence of a wealthy government official. After the passage of time, it had long since declined into ruin. Now, it struggled to survive as a cheap inn.
After everyone checked in, people began dying one after another. The first victim was the actress under Xie Chen’s protection; her head was discovered inside a washing machine drum.
Everyone immediately suspected the criminal. When they returned to the room where the police officer and criminal were staying, they found that he had indeed broken free of his handcuffs and escaped.
Xie Chen’s bodyguard character and the police officer went out into the rain to pursue him. Yet not long afterward, the criminal ran back on his own. He claimed that he had tried to escape, but after going in circles, he found himself right back at the old mansion in the abandoned village.
When the bodyguard and police officer returned to the mansion with the criminal, another murder had taken place. This time, it was the male half of the couple who had died.
With two deaths in a row, the police officer naturally had to contact the outside world. The criminal, tied up securely, was left in the innkeeper’s custody, while the bodyguard photographed the crime scene to preserve evidence.
After the two finished their tasks, they discovered that the innkeeper—who should have been guarding the criminal in the lobby—was outside instead. He claimed he had come out to retrieve something, but the bag he had accidentally spilled contained the dead actress’s wallet, stuffed with cash.
When they returned to the lobby, the criminal had already been killed, his throat impaled by a baseball bat. With the criminal dead, the innkeeper became the prime suspect.
During the ensuing confrontation, the innkeeper took the prostitute hostage and tried to flee. But when she resisted, she knocked open the door of a freezer, and the frozen corpse of the real innkeeper tumbled out.
While fleeing, the fake innkeeper ran over and killed the father from the family of three.
After the fake innkeeper was subdued, he explained the truth. He had originally been nothing more than a gambler. When guests had come to register for their rooms, the real innkeeper suffered a sudden heart attack and died. So he had decided to impersonate the innkeeper and make money by running the inn.
With people dying one after another, the police officer ordered everyone to remain in one place and not act on their own.
Yet someone still died: the mother from the family of three. At this point, the fake innkeeper—the most likely suspect—was tied up in full view of everyone and could not possibly have committed the crime. Remembering the criminal’s earlier claim that he had been trapped in a ghostly loop while trying to escape, an eerie supernatural terror began to envelop the entire mansion.
The bodyguard told the surviving woman from the couple and the prostitute to take the teenage boy played by Gao Jun and escape. But the moment they started the car, it exploded.
The woman and the boy were killed.
When the remaining survivors went back into the mansion, all the bodies of the previous victims had vanished. At this point, the murder mystery had fully transformed into a supernatural horror story.
The prostitute broke down and screamed. In doing so, she inadvertently revealed her birthday, and the others were stunned to realize that their birthdays were on the very same day.
The bodyguard was just about to piece together the connection between all these clues when his mind suddenly went blank. The next second, he found himself in a brightly lit office, facing several people seated before him.
It turned out that everyone in the so-called Desolate Village Mansion was merely a personality within the same body.
Because this person had committed an exceptionally brutal murder and was about to be sentenced to death, a psychologist discovered that he suffered from dissociative identity disorder. As long as the evil personality responsible for the killings could be eliminated and the kind personalities preserved, he could be spared the death penalty.
Thus, everything that had happened in Desolate Village Mansion could only have been a massacre among different personalities, rather than any supernatural occurrence.
Now that the murderer had yet to be identified, it meant the evil personality was still alive. The bodyguard’s mission was to return to the inner world, find that evil personality, and eliminate him.
Meanwhile, back at Desolate Village Mansion, the prostitute went to the police car in search of a spare flashlight after the inn lost power. There, she discovered the suspect files inside the vehicle. One of the criminals in the photographs was none other than the police officer who had been traveling with them.
It turned out that the police officer was not a police officer at all, but a criminal who had killed the real officer during the transfer and assumed his identity.
Was the policeman truly the final evil personality? And how would the bodyguard, having returned to the inner world, deal with the battle that was on the verge of erupting? Was that really where it all ended?
The entire film was tightly constructed, with one twist leading seamlessly into the next. The further it progressed, the more viewers could look back on the earlier scenes and realize that those seemingly inconsistent or implausible shots had actually been clues planted from the very beginning.
The ingenuity of the premise was nothing short of astounding.
Most importantly, as audiences had suspected all along, there were still no ghosts or monsters involved. In the end, it all came down to dissociative identity disorder.
Yet built upon that foundation was a completely different story—one that felt fresh and genuinely eye-opening.
That was why Xie Chen had been drawn to the script at first sight and insisted on making the film no matter what.
In the early part of the movie, Xie Chen played a brooding yet upright retired police officer. After an accident during an assignment forced him to leave the force, he became a private bodyguard.
This stage of the role posed no real acting challenge for Xie Chen. The other actors also performed admirably. Since the filming locations were all in or around the mansion, production progressed rapidly once everyone had settled into a rhythm.
Later on, however, Gao Jun’s role became more demanding. The teenager he portrayed had initially been inconspicuous—a timid boy who was meek and submissive in front of his parents, easily overlooked by others—but his character began to require far greater acting ability.
Pei Liang was fairly patient with him, and Gao Jun himself was quick to learn. Whenever he got stuck, the director would give him some one-on-one guidance, and he would soon grasp the point.
But just as the film was nearing completion—at the very period when Gao Jun’s scenes were at their most concentrated—his parents began causing trouble.
They repeatedly asked the production for leave, taking Gao Jun away to shoot advertisements and attend various commercial appearances.
Once or twice would have been understandable, but ignoring the film’s production schedule at such a crucial time was against the rules.
This time, when Gao Jun’s parents brought him to ask Pei Liang for leave, Xie Chen happened to be there as well.
Upon hearing them out, he smiled first. “I haven’t even had the chance to act like a diva and hold up the entire crew, yet you two are already making yourselves quite comfortable.”
The words landed like a slap across Gao Jun’s family’s faces. His parents looked embarrassed, yet they still insisted on asking for leave. In the end, they even seemed determined to have their way regardless of the consequences.
But Gao Jun, caught in the middle, stared at Pei Liang and Xie Chen before suddenly blurting out, “Mom, Dad, how about we skip President Chen’s dinner tonight?”
