Cassius scrolled through the comments and suddenly laughed.
He shot Rob a quick text. "Extra recruitment plan ready yet?"
"Locked in," Rob replied almost instantly. "We're coordinating with local labor offices. Priority hiring for Tibetan locals, Hollywood-level pay, room and board covered."
"Good," Cassius typed back. Then he added another line. "Reach out to the Qinghai tourism bureau. Let's talk partnership."
"Tourism?"
"Exactly. Once the movie drops, this location is going to be a magnet. Instead of letting fans wander in and mess things up, we plan it properly from the start. Turn it into real tourism revenue and funnel part of it straight into local children's programs."
Rob got it immediately. "Long-term brand play plus actual goodwill. On it."
Three days later Cassius flew to Qinghai. With him were director Yates, production designer Linda, the line producer, and Zhuoma, who had slotted herself in as cultural consultant and all-around fixer. The woman treated every opportunity like a power strip—plug in anywhere money could be made.
The plane touched down in Xining. The thin high-altitude air hit like a slap the second they stepped outside. Yates went pale and started breathing deep. Linda pulled out a portable oxygen can and took two quick hits. Only Cassius and Zhuoma looked unbothered.
"Take it slow the first couple days," Zhuoma told the group. "No showers, no heavy exercise, lots of water."
Local tourism officials had sent three off-road vehicles. The drivers were local Tibetan guys who spoke decent Mandarin. The bureau chief, a forty-something man named Wang in glasses, greeted them with a huge grin.
"Mr. Cass, welcome to Qinghai! The whole province is excited about this."
"Appreciate the help, Director Wang."
Wang pumped his hand. "This is huge for us. Your film is going to put this place on the map."
The convoy rolled toward Yushu. Outside the windows the scenery shifted from city to grassland to snow-capped peaks. Yates and Linda kept their cameras glued to the glass.
"The light here is insane," Yates said. "That clarity, those layers—cinematographers are going to lose their minds."
Linda was already sketching. "The architecture is close to Tibetan style but the details are different. We need to get this right."
They reached Yushu by evening. The local government had set up a straightforward welcome dinner—hand-torn lamb, yak meat, yogurt, and tsampa. Yates tried to copy the locals rolling tsampa into balls and made a mess of it. Zhuoma finally took pity on him and showed him the proper clockwise stir-and-squeeze technique. Cassius rolled his without thinking; five hundred years of muscle memory didn't go away.
Director Wang watched him and raised an eyebrow. "You've been here before, Mr. Cass?"
"First time," Cassius said smoothly. "Did some homework before we came."
After dinner Cassius pulled Wang aside to talk tourism. He handed over a short proposal. "Here's the rough idea. We'll build some of the temporary sets for Kamar-Taj. After filming we leave the structures standing and turn the site into an official tourist spot. Ticket revenue splits three ways—forty percent for maintenance, forty percent straight into local children's education and welfare funds, twenty percent administrative support for your bureau. We'll also train local guides and link the filming locations with other natural sites."
Wang read it twice. "You're really willing to give most of the money back?"
"We are," Cassius said. "The film makes money, the location benefits, and it looks good for everyone. Hollywood isn't here to strip resources. We're here to build something that lasts."
Wang gripped his hand hard. "On behalf of the kids here—thank you."
The next morning the location scout began in earnest. The valley they chose sat backed by snow mountains with a river running through it—close enough to the version in Cassius's head that Yates started grinning the second he stepped out of the car.
"This works," Yates said, arms spread wide. "Main hall on the slope, training grounds by the water, library on the ridge. Perfect."
Linda's team measured terrain and noted light angles while Cassius and Wang discussed infrastructure. Roads needed extending, power lines had to be run, temporary housing for crew had to go up.
"We'll split the cost on the basics," Cassius told him. "Call it long-term investment in the area."
Wang looked like he might actually tear up.
By midday Cassius had already sat through five meetings. Zhuoma found him later with a cup of strong highland tea.
"Five meetings in one day," she said, handing it over. "You tired?"
"Tired, but it's worth it."
Zhuoma studied him for a second. "My uncle says what you're doing carries real merit. He also told me to remind you not to burn yourself out doing it."
"I know my limits," Cassius said. "When you have the chance to actually help, you take it. I grew up with nothing. I know what an education can change."
Zhuoma smiled. "You really aren't like the Hollywood stars my uncle used to describe."
"Which kind?"
"The selfish, vain ones who only care about paychecks and red carpets."
"Those exist," Cassius said. "But not everyone fits the stereotype. I'm just trying to do what feels right while I can."
That night the sky over the plateau was stupidly clear. No light pollution, just the Milky Way stretched out like someone had spilled glitter across black velvet.
"Want to watch the sunrise tomorrow?" Zhuoma asked. "It's worth it up here."
"What time?"
"Five."
Cassius winced but nodded. "I'm in."
At four-thirty the alarm dragged him out of bed. He threw on a thick coat and hiked up the slope behind the house with Zhuoma. Yates, Linda, and a couple of crew members were already waiting, wrapped in blankets and shivering.
"Tell me this is worth freezing my balls off," Yates muttered.
Cassius just sat down and waited.
The sky slowly shifted from deep blue to soft orange, then gold. When the sun finally crested the ridge it didn't rise—it jumped. Light exploded across the valley, turning snow pink and rivers silver. Distant temple roofs flashed like they were on fire.
Yates forgot the cold and started shooting. Linda's pencil flew across her sketchbook. Cassius stayed quiet, watching the same kind of sunrise he'd seen countless times in the dream instance. Only this time it was real.
A soft notification flickered across his vision.
[Event triggered: Highland Sunrise Meditation]
[Effect: Mental clarity +10. Sensitivity to natural energy increased. Meditation and mudra learning boosted 50% for the next 72 hours.]
He blinked. The system was getting creative.
Back at the house, Director Wang was waiting at the door with a serious face. "Mr. Cass, we have a small problem."
He showed Cassius his phone. Someone had posted the exact filming location online. Comments were already flooding in asking for directions and asking if they could visit during National Day.
Cassius thought for a second. "We issue an official statement. Shooting days are closed. We'll run limited open days—two hundred people max, advance reservation only. Revenue from those days goes to the children's fund too. Fans who want to help can sign up as volunteers through the Searchlight Project and help manage crowds. Win-win."
Wang's face lit up. "Smart. Controlled access and still good for everyone."
By afternoon the joint statement from Marvel China and the Qinghai tourism bureau was live. Most fans accepted the rules. A few grumbled, but the tone stayed mostly positive.
That evening Cassius sat alone with a cup of strong tea, scrolling the reactions. State media had dropped a long, measured piece praising the project's approach—local jobs, sustainable tourism, real money going back into education instead of just photo-op charity. Comments underneath ranged from proud to savage comparisons with other idols who only posted donation receipts and then bought hot searches.
One thread summed it up: "Cassius is out here building schools in Qinghai while half the domestic traffic is still fighting over who gets which color light stick."
Cassius shook his head and turned the phone face-down.
He wasn't trying to be a role model. He was just tired of watching opportunities slip away and doing nothing with them. The sets were rising. The tourism plan was moving. The kids' film program was coming together. One piece at a time, he was making sure this corner of the world got something real out of the movie instead of just a few weeks of noise and then silence.
Outside, the plateau stars burned cold and bright. Cassius watched them for a long minute, then went back inside to answer the next round of messages.
There was still work to do.