Seven Days and Nights with the Werewolf

Day 1·02

Having confirmed with the production team, the two waited in the airport parking lot for the show’s chartered van.

Fang Daichuan still had his two large suitcases in hand, and he trundled them back to the parking lot diligently and without a word of complaint. Xiao Zhou held an umbrella over him from behind.

A downpour raged all around them, the umbrella buffeted this way and that by the wind. In the blink of an eye, both of them were soaked to the bone, inside and out. The sky in the distance was a terrifying shade of dark gray. Fang Daichuan set the suitcases on a step to keep the wheels from getting submerged, then stood obediently in the puddles below, so Xiao Zhou could step up on the step and hold the umbrella over him better.

“Hey! Is that the car?!” Fang Daichuan had sharp eyes, and he fixed his gaze on a van with a Shandong license plate slowly emerging from the curtain of rain. The van glided past them, its black body emblazoned with four bold red characters: *Werewolf Game*.

At the sight of the words, Xiao Zhou shouted, “Yes! Yes! It’s for the show! Driver!” She darted forward and yelled, “Driver, wait! Please stop!”

The driver glanced into the back seat, hesitated for a second, then pulled up in front of them anyway.

Xiao Zhou stuffed the umbrella into Fang Daichuan’s hand, then sprinted back to grab the suitcases, bowing and scraping to the driver. “Driver! You’re with the *Werewolf Kill* production team, right?! Our Fang Daichuan’s signed on for the show—could you give him a lift?!”

The driver looked stunned. “But… I was told to pick up just one person, and we already have them on board…”

“I just spoke to your production team!” Xiao Zhou patted the driver’s shoulder. “They told us to wait for you—Shandong license plate! For *Werewolf Kill*! It’s definitely you! Just give him a ride, please!”

The driver turned to ask the person in the back seat, “What do you think…?”

The back seat door slid open with a swish.

The van’s cabin was spacious, with two rows of seats facing each other. A young man in a black three-piece suit sat there, expressionless, and lifted his eyes to size them up. His facial features were far more sharp and defined than most people’s, giving him the look of someone with foreign heritage—likely mixed race. Across from him sat a middle-aged man in casual clothes, around forty, a complete stranger.

Two cameras were set up in the cabin, their indicator lights glowing faithfully, a sign they were recording nonstop.

Cameras—this had to be the right car! Xiao Zhou’s heart, which had been in her throat from standing in the rain, finally settled.

The mixed-race man studied Fang Daichuan carefully, a flicker of hesitation and surprise crossing his face. “…It’s you?”

Fang Daichuan was confused. For a C-list internet celebrity like him, being recognized was a rare treat, especially by such a handsome fellow in the industry. He was immediately flattered and nodded hastily. “Y-yes, it’s me. I signed on for this *Werewolf Kill*. Are you in it too?”

The guy was devastatingly handsome, the kind of mixed-race looks that were all the rage and highly sought after these days. Fang Daichuan figured he must be a new comer with powerful connections, debuting with this show. Or maybe he already had some acting experience, and Fang Daichuan was just ignorant of it. After all, in this day and age, there were far more streaming platforms than before, and the new generation of online celebrities and young idols had immense popularity that couldn’t be ignored. Not to mention all the crossover stars—supermodels, singers, internet influencers, fashion icons, all flocking to the film and television industry to make money. It was only natural to not recognize some of them. The awkward part, though, was that the guy had recognized him, so Fang Daichuan didn’t dare ask for his name directly.

The mixed-race guy frowned. “You signed on for the game too? I got no notice about picking you up along the way.”

Xiao Zhou had been around the industry long enough to tell that even if she didn’t know who this new face was, he was definitely more well-connected than her C-list celebrity. She quickly buttered him up to smooth things over. “How could we trouble you to pick him up? I’m sure the van for Daichuan is right behind us. This is your car, but look at this terrible rain—could Daichuan just hop in for now? We’re all on the same team anyway! We really appreciate it!”

The middle-aged man across from the mixed-race guy didn’t say a single word.

“Fine, get in.” After a moment’s thought, the mixed-race guy pulled the door open all the way.

Xiao Zhou smiled gratefully. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

Fang Daichuan nodded and climbed into the van nimbly, then turned to grab the suitcases and pull Xiao Zhou in after him.

“No luggage or unrelated personnel allowed,” the mixed-race guy reminded him, his brow still furrowed. “No cell phones either. Didn’t you read the contract when you signed it?”

Fang Daichuan froze. He’d only glanced through the contract briefly when he signed it, confident that his agency had vetted it for him, and he had absolutely no memory of this clause.

“Right, right! No luggage, no phones!” Seeing him zone out, Xiao Zhou shot him a quick wink and pinched him on the waist. “I’m not coming with you. I’ll wait for the next van with your luggage, or take the plane once the rain lets up. You hurry and go—don’t hold everyone up!”

Fang Daichuan nodded obediently, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and handed it to Xiao Zhou.

“Be careful! Keep your wits about you!” Xiao Zhou shouted after him.

Fang Daichuan rolled down the car window and waved at her with a smile.

The van pulled out of the parking lot at a steady speed, turned onto the highway from the airport’s outskirts, cut through the rain, and sped eastward.

An awkward silence hung in the car.

None of the three knew each other. Fang Daichuan glanced at the camera angles, hesitated for a second, then plunked down next to the middle-aged man, facing the mixed-race guy across the way. Their eyes met by accident, and they sized each other up.

Fang Daichuan scratched his nose, feeling the awkwardness acutely, and forced himself to make small talk. “You know me?”

The mixed-race guy glanced at him, but didn’t reply.

Fang Daichuan felt abashed, and kept rambling on to fill the silence. “Sorry I don’t recognize you. Did you sign on for *Werewolf Kill* too?”

The mixed-race guy shook his head, and nodded his chin at the middle-aged man across from him. “I’m here to pick up Mr. Chen.”

“Oh! You’re staff!” Fang Daichuan breathed a sigh of relief. That explained why he’d never seen him—he wasn’t a celebrity. He then couldn’t help but marvel at how loaded Dragon Fruit TV was; even their staff were this good-looking. It was clear Xiao Zhou hadn’t been bluffing when she said they could replace him with a young heartthrob in a second.

Mr. Chen was also a stranger, in his forties, with unremarkable features and an ordinary demeanor. He wore an oversized shirt, and Fang Daichuan had no clue who he was. Then again, Fang Daichuan had never known many veteran performers from his era—back then, there was no such thing as a “celebrity”; the actors were the kind whose characters were famous, but they themselves were not. Maybe this Mr. Chen was a seasoned character actor who’d played supporting roles for decades.

Thinking this, Fang Daichuan turned, held Mr. Chen’s hand with both of his, and said respectfully, “My apologies for not recognizing you, Mr. Chen—the veteran artist!”

Mr. Chen was clearly caught off guard by the gesture, and quickly shook his hand in return. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Mr. Chen suddenly slapped his forehead. “Hey! I think I do know you! Aren’t you… aren’t you the one who played Chen Xiaolu in *Anti-Japanese Special Miracle Team*?! What’s your name again…? You were amazing at tearing devils apart with your bare hands!”

Fang Daichuan’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He thought to himself: You could’ve at least mentioned I was the third male martial arts lead in some cheesy Mary Sue heroine drama—*anything* but the devil-tearing scene! How the hell am I supposed to do a variety show after this?!

He quickly waved his hand in dismissal. “You’re too kind. It’s nothing compared to your work, sir.”

“Nonsense!” Mr. Chen laughed and patted his hand. “Every time I get a new job and have to go to the middle of nowhere with no cell service, I download several anti-Japanese dramas on my phone. I’ve seen you in quite a few! You’re fantastic at the devil-tearing, the wall-leaping, the bullet-dodging—filmed wonderfully! It’s thrilling to watch!”

The old man had such down-to-earth taste, Fang Daichuan thought helplessly. He was probably a former actor in model operas like *Tunnel Warfare* or something. No wonder he’d never heard of him.

Fang Daichuan stuck out his tongue at the cameras, memorized his character setting under his breath, then took the chance to hype himself up like crazy. “Actually, I’ve been practicing martial arts since I was a kid. I signed on for this *Werewolf Kill* because I heard it requires a lot of physical strength and… athletic talent. My parents have always said I’m a bit slow-witted, and I’ve never won a single game of Werewolf Kill in my life. My hands shake as soon as I get a werewolf card—anyone with eyes can tell. I’m here to try and turn the tables with my combat power, honestly. By the way, Mr. Chen, why did you sign on for this game?”

At this, the mixed-race guy—who Fang Daichuan had pegged as staff—suddenly looked up and stared intently at Mr. Chen’s face. Mr. Chen’s expression flickered for a split second, then he forced a smile. “Me? I’m here for the lucrative prize money! Twenty million yuan!”

There was a prize money?! Fang Daichuan froze in place. He glanced at Mr. Chen, then at the cameras, and finally eyed the mixed-race guy suspiciously. The guy had already looked away from Mr. Chen, sitting in a meditative state, staring at his nose in silent contemplation, his back ramrod straight.

“T-there’s money involved?!” Fang Daichuan regretted not reading the script and contract more carefully than ever.

Mr. Chen looked surprised at his reaction. “You really signed on for the Werewolf Game? How do you know nothing about it? Do you even understand how it works?!”

No matter how slow-witted Fang Daichuan might be, he didn’t dare admit he hadn’t read the script carefully in front of the cameras! He hastened to say, “Of course I do! It’s just Werewolf Kill, bringing the card game to real life, right? I’ve got at least that much sense.”

Mr. Chen nodded.

“Watch your back, Mr. Chen! I might be lacking in smarts, but I’ve got the combat power to make up for it! We might end up as allies… or enemies!” Fang Daichuan tried to c***k a joke, hoping to lighten the mood.

But Mr. Chen didn’t take the bait.

His face fell at once, he nodded stiffly, turned to stare out the car window, and didn’t say another word to Fang Daichuan for the rest of the ride.

What a petty old man, Fang Daichuan thought, rolling his eyes and making a face at the camera. It’s just a reality show—it’s not like it’s a matter of life and death. Is it really that serious? He knew veteran actors like Mr. Chen all looked down on the young idols of today. He decided not to put himself out there for nothing, and turned to stare out the window too.

The van sped on, stopping once at a highway service area for the driver to refuel. The mixed-race guy accompanied Mr. Chen and Fang Daichuan to the restroom.

The sky grew dark little by little. The scenery on the highway was monotonous, nothing but endless farmland on either side, the crops unrecognizable in the dim light. The road grew quieter, with fewer cars passing by. Their van, emblazoned with the big red *Werewolf Game* banner, looked utterly ordinary, and with no A-list celebrities on board, it drew not a single glance of attention.

In the distance, thick layers of clouds piled up one on top of another. When the three men returned to the van after the restroom break, the silence in the cabin deepened once more.