Chapter 30: Real Men Play with Guns!

Although it was dangerous here, Zhou Le was very interested in their firearms.

The system had rewarded him with "Firearms Proficiency," but at the shooting range, he had only been able to use the permitted types. It was nothing like this place, which was truly wild. Zhou Le had only ever seen an AK-47 in video games before.

Seeing that Wu Jing had finished filming his town scenes and was resting in his room due to a minor injury, Zhou Le went to visit him.

"How are you feeling, Brother Jing?"

"Much better," Wu Jing laughed. "Just a strained thigh muscle, nothing serious. A few days of rest will do it."

"About how many days?"

"Around three... why are you asking?"

Zhou Le smiled. "Didn't you promise to let me play with the guns?"

"I did, but I'm injured now. Let's wait until we move to the next location. If you're really itching to, why not just play around in your room?"

Zhou Le, of course, couldn't play in his room. "Brother Jing, you might not know this, but I'm actually quite skilled at massage. I think I could help you recover faster."

Wu Jing chuckled. "That's not a massage; that's just kneading shoulders and pounding legs. It won't work on me."

"It's effective. If you don't believe me, ask my godfather, or ask Teacher Lu."

Wu Jing was stunned. "You did that for Teacher Lu, too?"

"A healer has a benevolent heart; I was just helping her relieve fatigue. Look at me, I’m as righteous as they come. Don't believe me? Ask Sister Liu from the makeup department."

"What? You did that for Sister Liu, too?"

"Sigh, makeup is exhausting, especially with so many people to prep, particularly for the battle-damaged looks. Sister Liu's wrists and arms were aching, so I helped her out."

As he spoke, Zhou Le began massaging Wu Jing’s leg. To his surprise, Wu Jing felt that Zhou Le’s technique was indeed different. *It actually seems to be working,* he thought. Finally, he sighed.

"Alright, fine. I’ll arrange it. The weather is nice today, so let’s head out of town."

After making a few calls, he got dressed, grabbed his cane, and headed downstairs, followed by a few "bodyguards." They rode in an armored vehicle to the outskirts of the city. When the trunk opened, there were rifles, submachine guns, and pistols—five or six different models in total. Zhou Le’s eyes lit up with excitement.

Although he knew how to shoot, he listened patiently to the instructions. That day, Zhou Le had a blast in the wild, even snapping a few small trees in half with his target practice.

"Not bad, kid. You weren't bragging on your resume. I thought you only had theoretical knowledge, but your practical skills are impressive. With this kind of accuracy, you’d be a top-tier marksman in the military."

"You flatter me, Brother Jing." As he spoke, Zhou Le suddenly whipped the pistol forward and performed a one-handed reload.

Wu Jing’s eyes widened. "Wait, what was that?"

Zhou Le looked at the pistol. "Reloading."

"No, you reloaded with one hand?"

"Yeah. I played with it for a bit and realized this is an old gun; the recoil spring is loose, so if you have enough strength, you can reload using inertia. But for a new gun, you’d need to modify it. Most of those fancy reloads you see in movies require the gun to be old or have a loose recoil spring."

"That’s so cool! I’ve learned it. I’ll write it into the script later."

"Brother Jing, are you serious? I remember people criticized Leng Feng for the heel-reload move. If you add an inertia reload now, won't you get roasted?"

"Let them talk. A bunch of idle trolls. Besides, if someone complains, you can just step up and demonstrate it for me. We'll slap them right in the face."

Zhou Le had a great time in the wild that day and was still full of energy on the way back.

"Brother Jing, when will you let me ride in a tank? I've never been in one."

Wu Jing held his leg, looking at Zhou Le helplessly. "Tanks aren't that exciting. Next time, I'll take you for a ride in a fighter jet."

Zhou Le’s eyes shone. "Really?"

"No, what are you thinking? Is that something I can just arrange?" Wu Jing changed his tone, "But it’s not impossible. When the military invites us for a tour or a speech, we can ask."

"Brother Jing, please, you must take me!"

"Easy. You're the only young male lead actor, you shoot well, you're constantly trending, and you're good-looking. I’m counting on you for promotion later, so who else would I take?"

"Brother Jing, does your father need another son?" Zhou Le asked again.

"Get out of here. My family already has three sons; that’s more than enough."

Zhou Le had to let it go. He knew Wu Jing’s father had been a martial arts coach, which was why he sent young Wu Jing to the Shichahai Martial Arts School, where he eventually became a student of Wu Bin and a brother to Jet Li.

On the way back, they talked about shooting techniques.

"Le'er, have you ever heard of the Mozambique Drill?"

"I have. Four shots, right? One in the crotch to make them stop instantly, a second in the crotch to cause blood loss and pain, a third to prevent feigned death, and a fourth to make sure they have no descendants!"

Wu Jing: "???"

"Is that right?"

"Hahaha, just joking. Two to the chest and one to the head—even the King of Hell would worry, and even Hua Tuo would shake his head."

Back at the room, Zhou Le didn't leave immediately; he gave Wu Jing another massage. *Sigh, I never expected to use this on a director,* Zhou Le thought to himself. According to his principles, aside from his godfather Yu Qian, he only massaged the opposite sex; otherwise, it felt too strange. But he had a good impression of Wu Jing, and more importantly, he still wanted that tank ride.

"But there are really a lot of Black people here. Even though I know we're safe, I still feel a bit uneasy whenever I see them in large groups," Zhou Le lamented.

"That's for sure. We're on someone else's turf. Even with diplomatic relations, some people are untamable; there's no helping it." Wu Jing had deep insights into this. "But I am curious—why are they so dark? Is it because it's so hot here? But Guangzhou is also very hot, even hotter than some places in Africa, and I've never seen the girls there get that dark."

Zhou Le shook his head. "I don't know, but Brother Jing, do you know why their palms aren't black?"

Wu Jing shook his head. "No idea."

"Because when God was painting them, they were leaning their hands on the hood of a police car."

"Hahaha, you're wicked. You can say that to me, but don't go saying it out there, or I can't guarantee you won't end up a corpse on the street tomorrow."

Zhou Le waved his hand. "Of course, we're all one family here. But from a certain perspective, if people actually knew that, I wouldn't have any haters left."

"Hahaha, but honestly, I know some Black people who try to get vitiligo so they can turn white later." Wu Jing mentioned someone he knew.

Regardless, both Zhou Le and Wu Jing understood during their time on set that there were kind-hearted people of all colors.

Finally, three days later, the town scenes were complete, and they moved to the wilderness to film the factory scenes. Since Yu Qian had nothing to do back home, he tagged along to watch.

On the way, Yu Qian brought up the topic of taking on apprentices in crosstalk. "Back in my day, we all worked for our masters for a few years for free before we were allowed to make any money."

Zhou Le was curious: "Is it still like that now?"

"It's much better now. After that whole incident... you know the one. Everyone's treatment has improved significantly since then."

Zhou Le naturally knew about the incident regarding the reclaiming of the "Yun" character, but it wasn't the right time to ask. He changed the subject: "If a master can't make money, would he make his apprentices go deliver food or drive for ride-sharing apps to subsidize the family? If he had three or four apprentices, they could earn at least thirty or forty thousand a month."

"Hiss—that’s a tricky question." Yu Qian had never thought of it that way. "But wouldn't you get beaten up for doing that?"

Zhou Le continued: "In that case, couldn't you lose a hundred thousand or so? Wouldn't that be even more profitable?"

Yu Qian: "What? Is that even human? I've never heard of such a thing!"