Everyone in the crew, including the director, suddenly froze, their eyes wide with disbelief.
They had just witnessed an unbelievable scene.
A man had rushed into the teahouse, lifted Anita by her waist with surprising ease, and without missing a beat, carried her toward a steep mountain behind the teahouse.
This wasn't just any mountain—it was a place no ordinary person could even think of climbing. But the man... he scaled it with the same fluidity as if walking on flat ground, all while holding Anita in his arms.
"How... how is he doing this?"
The crew was in shock, their minds struggling to comprehend what they had just seen. They were sure the man didn't have any wires attached to him—if he did, they would have been visible, and even if there were wires, it wouldn't have been as smooth as this.
This man was a martial artist!
In their experience, only highly skilled martial artists could move with that kind of agility—climbing mountains as if it were child's play.
But how did someone like that end up playing a bit part in a film?
It was common knowledge that martial artists were sought after for lead roles, not for cameo appearances. This wasn't what they expected at all.
They felt both fortunate and confused to witness such a display of skill.
The director, momentarily forgetting his star actress, shouted urgently, "Quick! Get this shot! It's a rare one!"
This kind of footage, once incorporated into the film, would definitely stir up a storm of excitement.
But unfortunately, the man was too fast. The camera couldn't capture the scene in time.
The director, frustrated beyond measure, cursed, "You guys are useless!"
"Director... shouldn't we be more concerned about Anita's safety?" one crew member ventured, his voice tinged with concern.
"Anita!" The director snapped back to reality, his face going pale. When he looked up, the two figures—man and woman—had already disappeared from sight, having scaled the mountain at an impossible speed.
That martial artist had just kidnapped Anita!
Wait...
The director's mind raced. A martial artist... there was no way he would join a crew as a bit player unless he had some other goal in mind—unless he had specifically targeted Anita.
Anita was in danger.
Panic set in as the director's sweat began to bead on his forehead.
Meanwhile, on a flat stretch of land at the mountain's peak, the man gently set Anita down. With a sly smile, he said, "So, how was it, Anita? Was it exciting enough? Your cheongsam almost got torn off—lucky I saved you in time. Pretty considerate of me, right?"
It was John!
Queenie had orchestrated this surprise. She had helped him get into the crew under the guise of playing a villain, intending to frighten Anita. But it seemed that the role they had lined up for him was nothing more than a minor part with no lines—and worse, he didn't even get to show his face.
John had no choice but to wait for the crew to finish their shooting and then surprise Anita in his own special way.
It had certainly been exciting—at least for him.
But for Anita, excitement was the last thing she felt.
She was more terrified than thrilled.
How could she not be? A stranger had grabbed her and carried her up a mountain with impossible speed. It was more than just unsettling—it was dangerous.
Still, Anita's curiosity began to gnaw at her. She had to know why this masked man had done such a thing. Surely, no good person would treat her this way.
With her back against the mountain's edge, as if ready to leap at any moment, Anita asked, "Who are you? Why did you do this?"
John's eyes softened, and he tilted his head slightly. "Anita, haven't you always wanted to see me? You still don't recognize me? Oh, I'm wearing a mask, that's why." He pulled it off with a flourish.
The moment the mask came off, Anita gasped.
It was him.
She recognized him instantly, and without another word, she rushed toward him, enveloping him in a tight, warm embrace.
Even though she had known John was alive, the sheer emotional weight of finally seeing him again overwhelmed her. Tears sprang to her eyes.
After a long moment, Anita finally pulled away, trying to regain her composure. There was no makeup on her face—just her natural beauty, raw and unadorned.
"John, didn't the sisters say you were treating patients?" she asked, her voice shaky but warm. "Why are you here in the crew?"
"They lied to you," John replied, his tone almost too serious. "They're all bad, especially Queenie. She may look cold, but she's clever."
Anita's brow furrowed as she processed the information. "Ah, so that's why they were being so evasive. They were planning this all along... John, tell me the truth—was this your idea?"
Anita shot him a playful, knowing look, as if accusing him of masterminding the entire thing.
John laughed and shook his head innocently. "Anita, you've got it all wrong. I'm just an accomplice here. Queenie's the one who masterminded this. She's the real villain behind all of this."
John had promised his sisters that he would surprise them, but most of the ideas for this stunt had come from Queenie, making her the true villain in his eyes.
"In fact," John continued, "I think the villain should've been tied up, whipped, and tortured with candles and holy water. You know, for the full experience."
Anita couldn't help but laugh at his wild suggestion, shaking her head. "No wonder Queenie suddenly got involved with our play. You've been planning this for a while, huh? But you know what? I'm a generous person. I won't stoop to your level."
Anita smoothed a strand of black hair behind her ear, her smile playful. Despite everything, she wasn't actually angry with John or the others. She never could be.