Chapter 2 The Beautiful Flower Maiden

He knew that at this point he was nearly penniless, with only a few hundred yuan left in his bank account. If he were to lie in bed for three to five days, he’d probably be left with nothing but the wind to fill his belly.

He did have quite a few outstanding debts to collect, but those were all money owed to him by others.

Among them, the production crew of "Bloody Spring and Autumn" owed him the most—over eleven thousand yuan in total. He’d spent more than two months on that set, died dozens of times in various scenes, and even helped construct temporary facilities on occasion.

He remembered that the assistant director in charge of hiring extras was surnamed Liu—Liu Zhijian. They’d agreed he’d be paid by the end of last year. Yet half a year had passed and he hadn’t seen a single cent.

Aside from that, there were a couple of other crews who owed him small amounts, just a thousand or two each—nothing significant.

It’s said that it’s easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to return from luxury to frugality.

In his past life, Chu Tianfeng had been the God of Thieves. With his uncanny ability for invisibility and superior mastery of formations, he’d visited many cultivation sects and noble clans, rarely failing in his endeavors.

He was, in every sense, wealthier than most of the great sects of the world.

To be honest, this current life of utter poverty was something he could hardly bear; he felt as though life had lost all its flavor.

He’d never imagined he would one day be this poor, or that he would come to value money so keenly.

If he could, he’d happily return to his old profession and play the gentleman thief once more.

But reason told him that this was a society governed by law—not only was killing forbidden, but so was stealing.

What’s more, he was now an ordinary man with no cultivation whatsoever; even stealing a chicken would be difficult, let alone pulling off a high-stakes theft.

Therefore, he couldn’t let any opportunity to earn money slip by, no matter how small—every few hundred yuan counted.

There was nothing to be done; even a fly is still meat!

So, ignoring Yan Bin’s objections, he hurried out of the workers’ dormitory area and headed toward the temporary office.

It was midday in July, and the weather was stiflingly hot. Even the breeze felt as though it had been blown from a furnace—carrying with it a heat and restlessness.

The sunlight fell like white powder scattered from the sky, spreading evenly across the earth, turning the ground into a blinding, dazzling expanse that made it hard to keep one’s eyes open.

“Well, well! Isn’t this that young master—Chu Tianfeng?” A mocking, drawling voice suddenly sounded from nearby.

Chu Tianfeng turned his head.

About seven or eight meters to his right, two young men were lounging against the corner of a wall.

One had a mane of golden hair, a horse-like face, phoenix eyes, sword-like brows, carved lips—dressed in a short-sleeved floral shirt and jeans, he actually looked rather handsome.

The other had a square face, a hawk’s nose, wide mouth, and a face covered in acne. He wore a red T-shirt and black casual pants.

Both of them held cigarettes between their fingers, their postures radiating affected nonchalance.

Chu Tianfeng recognized them both. The one with the horse-face was Peng Yongliang, and the square-faced one was Yuan Qi. Like him, they were professional extras and had often worked together on the same crews.

This time was no exception—Peng and Yuan had joined the crew on the same day as Chu Tianfeng, and all three lived in the same workers’ dormitory.

In fact, they had much in common. Peng Yongliang and Chu Tianfeng even liked the same girl—a certain Xu Yan.

“What do you want?” Chu Tianfeng had no interest in dealing with these two fools.

True, they shared many similarities, but their relationship was far from friendly.

Peng and Yuan were locals in Hengdian, arrogant and reckless, often bullying outsiders like Chu Tianfeng. Chu Tianfeng, on the other hand, was stubborn and refused to accept their so-called “protection.”

And with Xu Yan in the mix, their relationship was naturally even more fraught.

Small skirmishes were an everyday occurrence, and larger conflicts cropped up every few days.

Just yesterday, Chu Tianfeng had even stolen a death scene that should have gone to Peng Yongliang, infuriating him.

“How did it feel to die last night?” Peng Yongliang blew a cloud of smoke from his nostrils, his voice nasal and mocking.

“It was great,” Chu Tianfeng replied, turning away, ready to leave.

He looked down on thugs like Peng Yongliang, just as his former self had.

“Hold it right there.” Yuan Qi strode out from under the eaves. “Hey kid, when Brother Liang talks to you, you’d best listen.”

He came right up to Chu Tianfeng, his face full of contempt.

“What if I don’t?” Chu Tianfeng felt his luck had been rotten lately—barely reincarnated, he’d nearly drowned, and now he was being threatened by two nobodies.

“Let me tell you something, kid.” Peng Yongliang sauntered out as well, speaking slowly. “Some things are yours, some things aren’t. Don’t take what isn’t yours—especially don’t take what’s mine.”

His words were a double entendre, referring both to the role Chu had taken and the woman he coveted.

“Anything else?” Chu Tianfeng understood perfectly, but didn’t care to respond.

He was no longer the old Chu Tianfeng and felt nothing particular for Xu Yan.

“Hmph!” Peng Yongliang stepped closer, “I’m warning you: stay away from Xu Yan, or one of these days, you might end up dead for real!”

“That’s all?” Impatience flickered across Chu Tianfeng’s face.

The threat was obvious—were this his previous life, Peng Yongliang would be dead a thousand times over.

Even though Chu Tianfeng now had no cultivation, he wasn’t afraid of these two idiots.

“Isn’t that enough?” Peng Yongliang took a deep drag and exhaled, blowing smoke directly into Chu’s face.

Chu Tianfeng’s patience snapped. He clenched his right fist and threw a punch.

Bang!

Peng Yongliang had been ready, blocking the punch with his left arm.

Chu Tianfeng feinted with his left, aiming for Peng Yongliang’s abdomen.

Bang!

But just as his left fist grazed Peng’s stomach, Chu suddenly felt a sharp pain in his own lower abdomen.

He realized he’d made a mistake—he’d only focused on Peng Yongliang, forgetting there were two of them.

Yuan Qi, standing further back, had launched his attack as soon as Chu threw his first punch. By the time Chu’s second punch landed, Yuan’s kick struck hard.

It was a brutal kick.

Staggering back, clutching his stomach in pain, Chu Tianfeng had no chance to recover before Peng Yongliang stepped in, swinging his right foot.

Chu managed to lift his arms to block, but—

Bang!

Peng’s kick landed hard on Chu’s forearm.

Chu grunted, stumbling back several more steps.

“Peh!” Peng Yongliang spat, then flicked his cigarette butt in a graceful arc—

The glowing butt struck Chu Tianfeng’s face with a crisp slap, leaving a mark on his right cheek.

Fury blazed within Chu Tianfeng. He clenched his fists, about to charge forward.

Just then, a sharp female voice rang out in the distance—

“Peng Yongliang, stop bullying people!”

The three of them turned to see a tall young woman in a blue dress hurrying toward them, a parasol in hand.

She was tall and beautiful, with arched brows, large eyes, and long, glossy black hair cascading down her back. Her face was expressionless, cold as frost.

Her skirt fluttered lightly with her steps, and paired with her striking features, she seemed like an ethereal, aloof fairy—distant and elegant.

Chu Tianfeng thought for a moment and recalled that she was Hua Wu, a member of the Hengdian Film City Temporary Actors’ Union. Her father, Hua Zhengjun, was the general manager of the film city.

The Hua family was distantly related to Chu Tianfeng’s mother, Chu Xiang. Hua Wu, his cousin, usually looked after him out of familial duty, occasionally referring him for work.

“Miss Hua!” Peng and Yuan quickly put on bright, genuine smiles as they greeted her.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Hua Wu was a relative or friend of theirs.

“Sister Wu!” Chu Tianfeng gritted his teeth against the pain in his abdomen, slowly unclenching his fists.

“Peng Yongliang, tell me honestly—what were you doing just now?” Hua Wu strode up to them, her tone icy as a police officer interrogating a suspect.

Peng Yongliang feigned innocence, grinning, “We were rehearsing a fight scene with Chu Tianfeng—just working out the choreography to make it look good on camera.”

He was a born performer; the lie came easily and sounded almost plausible.

“Is that so?” Hua Wu turned to Chu Tianfeng.

Her voice was cold as ice—Chu Tianfeng half-suspected she was speaking with a mouthful of ice cubes.

“Seems so.” Chu Tianfeng brushed the dust off his clothes.

He hadn’t wanted to back Peng Yongliang up, but even less did he want Hua Wu involved in his feud with Peng.

He didn’t like owing people favors, especially not to Hua Wu.

He’d already searched his predecessor’s memories and knew that Hua Wu had no real affection for him; she looked after him only at her father’s behest. His predecessor had always felt wary around her and avoided spending time together.

“Hmph. Consider yourself lucky. Next time, don’t let me catch you at it,” Hua Wu said. She clearly didn’t buy the story, but since Chu Tianfeng admitted it, she let it go, giving Peng a perfunctory warning.

“Miss Hua, how about we grab a meal together sometime?” Peng Yongliang fluttered his eyelids.

“Not interested.” Hua Wu cast a look of disdain at Peng and Yuan. “Now get lost, both of you.”

“Oh.” Peng Yongliang seemed unfazed, blowing a kiss at Hua Wu. “Miss Hua, goodbye!”

He turned to Chu Tianfeng, making finger-guns with both hands: “Bang! I’ll teach you a lesson next time!”

Chu Tianfeng merely smirked, unmoved.

The angrier he became, the calmer he appeared.

Peng’s repeated threats filled him with fury, but he knew that with no cultivation, his only option was to endure.

Peng and Yuan drifted away, but Hua Wu’s face remained as cold as ever.

“I heard you were hurt?” Hua Wu’s chilly voice sounded again.

She tilted her parasol low, so that Chu Tianfeng could only see her chin.

“Thank you for your concern,” Chu Tianfeng replied, his Mandarin more fluent than ever. “It’s nothing, just a minor bump—not worth making a fuss about.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t care about you. I’m only asking on my father’s behalf,” Hua Wu’s voice drifted out from beneath the parasol, ghostly and aloof.

“Oh,” Chu Tianfeng forced a smile. “Then thank your father for me.”

Truth be told, he felt he ought to thank the parasol—Hua Wu was so thoroughly hidden beneath it, he almost had the illusion he was talking to the parasol itself.

With a cold snort, Hua Wu turned her gaze toward the dormitory. “Where are you off to?”

Chu Tianfeng frowned. “I was going to find Director Zhang to ask if I could take part in tomorrow night’s performance.”

“You mean Zhang Qiang, right?” Hua Wu spun the parasol in her hands. “As it happens, I want to see him too. I’ll go with you.”

“Seriously?” Chu Tianfeng’s scalp tingled; he wished he hadn’t mentioned it.

Bringing Hua Wu along to see Zhang Qiang would look as if he was borrowing her influence—something Chu Tianfeng despised.

“Stop dawdling. Let’s go,” Hua Wu ordered, and set off briskly ahead.