Chapter 13: Bad Timing

Lu Han howled in the group call for a solid half hour, but the production team didn’t budge. In the end, he had no choice but to head to the construction site.

Each contestant’s phone had a location-sharing app installed by the production crew. After unpacking in her hotel room, Ruan Yu opened the app and saw Lu Han’s green dot had already moved to the suburbs of Beijing—right in the middle of a barren construction zone.

Shen Fangfei knocked on her door:
“We’re heading to the set at six. You’ve got an hour. I’m going down for food—want to come?”

Right in front of him, Ruan Yu flipped open her suitcase with a dramatic flourish. Half of it was filled with different flavors of instant noodles, shocking Shen Fangfei into a flinch.

Ruan Yu waved it off grandly:
“No need. I’m good with instant noodles.”

“We’ve got night shoots today. You think you can last on just that?”

Ruan Yu: “We haven’t joined the crew yet, so they’re definitely not covering this meal. Gotta stretch my money.”

Shen Fangfei was speechless:
“Xiong, how are you living like such a miser?”

What do you think?

Ruan Yu glanced at the cameraman silently recording by the door and gave a small, polite smile, all while internally screaming with sorrow.

Ask him! Ask them!!

After eating, Ruan Yu carefully reapplied her makeup and followed Shen Fangfei to the set.

The film city was massive and home to year-round shoots of historical and period dramas. The crew she joined was filming in the Spring and Autumn/Warring States section—a fantasy romance set in a fictional ancient dynasty.

Only upon arrival did they find out that the production had initially contracted a few makeup artists from Chen Dexuan’s studio—just enough hands to manage. But at the last minute, the screenwriter added a scene where the male lead storms the palace to save the female lead. With more extras and grander scenes, the makeup team was completely overwhelmed, practically working themselves to death.

Shen Fangfei and Ruan Yu were brought in as reinforcements.

The crew was shooting a night scene outside the imperial palace, and the set was a chaotic mess. The lead actors were getting changed and touched up in private rooms inside the hall, while the extras playing soldiers and maids had no such luxury—huddled together outside in the open, without even a place to sit as they got their makeup done.

Not long ago, Ruan Yu had played a minor role in The Hopeless Pursuit of Fame and had stayed with the crew for half a month. She hadn’t experienced any large-scale battle scenes, so when she saw the sheer scale of this production, she froze on the spot.

Shen Fangfei tugged at her. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot. First time following a crew? I’ll have you work on extras with me today. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be helping with the leads’ makeup, so you better learn quickly.”

“Got it.”

Shen Fangfei added, “When I first started in this industry, I got through the same hardships. You can’t be afraid of tough work.”

Ruan Yu wasn’t afraid of the work—she was afraid that, with this many people on set, someone might recognize her.

But the arrow was already on the string—there was no turning back. She gritted her teeth and followed along.

Shen Fangfei led Ruan Yu to meet the on-set assistant director.

After a brief chat, the assistant director, cigarette in mouth, pointed at the cameraman behind Ruan Yu. “It’s fine for your studio’s cameraman to follow you around, but he cannot film any acting scenes. Otherwise, the confidentiality agreement we signed is meaningless.”

Shen Fangfei smiled. “No worries, we’ll be careful.”

Ruan Yu glanced at the cameraman, and while no one was looking, made a face at the camera, subtly swiping a hand across her neck with a look that said:

No, the production team has no heart, and even less discretion.

The live-broadcasting production crew: “……”

Ruan Yu followed Shen Fangfei to the makeup area and received the makeup reference sheets for the extras.

Before every shoot, all makeup looks were finalized in advance. Ruan Yu’s job was to apply makeup to extras based on the designs.

Tonight, she was responsible for three types of looks: for concubines, palace maids, and soldiers.

She started with a few extras. At first, her hands were clumsy—it took her four or five tries just to complete a basic look. But once she got the hang of it, her pace picked up.

It really did feel like a simple coloring game. No wonder she was born for this!

But very quickly, Ruan Yu’s confidence took a hit.

She hadn’t expected that even extras could act high and mighty—and there were quite a few of them.

“Acting like a diva” used to be a privilege of big-name stars, who could give directors and writers attitude. But nowadays, most celebrities wouldn’t dare pull that on set—not in public. With so many people around, a single video could be posted online, and by that night, they’d be trending for all the wrong reasons. One misstep and the carefully crafted public image would collapse.

Instead, now it was often the small-time actors who pulled the diva act. Ruan Yu had heard rumors while fangirling—these types wouldn’t dare vent their frustration at directors or leads, so they’d take it out on nameless staff.

And the prime targets were people like her—new, seemingly easy to push around.

Ruan Yu stood doing makeup for extras until her legs nearly gave out. She hadn’t even had a sip of water. Just then, a concubine—whose makeup she’d already finished—came back and called out to her.

“Hey, you.”

Ruan Yu looked up. “Yes?”

The woman, dressed as a concubine, glanced at Ruan Yu disdainfully. “My makeup’s a little too light. Isn’t the peach blossom on my forehead too dull?”

Ruan Yu examined it closely. “Is it? The look was pre-approved, and I think it’s already quite good. What kind of color do you want?”

The woman studied her reflection. “Is there a bolder shade? Also, I don’t think you highlighted my face enough—here on the bridge of my nose, brow bones, and here too. It all lacks definition.”

Tch.

What, did she want to outshine the entire galaxy?

Ruan Yu bit her tongue and redid the makeup per her request.

“Better?”

The woman still wasn’t satisfied. “Not really. The eye makeup isn’t sharp enough, the eyeshadow lacks depth. It won’t pop on camera.”

Ruan Yu adjusted it again.

More complaints.

With a line of extras still waiting, Ruan Yu’s patience ran out. She pointed to the makeup tools beside her. “Why don’t you try doing it yourself?”

“Aren’t you the makeup artist? You’re asking me to do it?” The woman’s expression soured.

Ruan Yu replied dryly, “Oh? So I am the makeup artist?”

“You—what do you mean by that?!”

The woman was a small-time internet celeb who had managed to squeeze into this high-budget period drama by sleeping with the assistant director. But despite all her effort, she only landed a role as a background concubine—with barely a few lines, and no priority in the makeup room. Now even a makeup assistant dared show her attitude?

Fuming, she snapped, “Do you even know who I am?”

Ruan Yu rolled her eyes internally but kept her tone polite. “Are you… the empress?”

Bullseye.

That hit a nerve. The woman’s lips trembled with rage. She raised a hand to shove Ruan Yu. “You—!”

Ruan Yu grabbed her wrist.

Her voice was soft, but her grip was firm. “Oh, you want screen time? Perfect. Our studio’s shooting a promo. Let me introduce you—this is our cameraman. Smile for the camera, and say hello—”

Only then did the woman notice the camera. She froze for a second in panic. With no way to break free, she ended up awkwardly waving at the lens as Ruan Yu held her wrist.

Ruan Yu was just teasing her—but then let go quickly and called out, “Next!”

The woman stood there fuming, rubbing her wrist, her face shifting through shades of red. Finally, she spat, “Psycho.”

“A freaky, genderless psycho!”

With that, she stormed off in frustration.

Ruan Yu: “……” Damn it.

While Shen Fangfei was away, the usually silent cameraman finally spoke up to ease the tension:
“Not bad, you’ve got quite the grip.”

Ruan Yu muttered, “Yeah, well—I’ve turned into a handsome tomboy anyway. Gotta live up to the image.”

Meanwhile, in the director’s control room where the live feed was being monitored, a rare silence fell.

The main screen was split into ten windows—each guest had two dedicated camera angles—but somehow, Ruan Yu had a way of drawing every single gaze to her footage alone.

“That girl’s some kind of influencer, right? She’s got a bit of name recognition. Should we cut this part out?”

Guan Hai replied, “This kind of buzz? No reason to waste it. We’ll just blur her face out in post when we edit the final cut.”

…

Back at the filming site, Ruan Yu felt like she was going to die.

She and several makeup artists hadn’t had a single moment’s rest, tirelessly applying and retouching makeup for the massive crowd of extras on set.

Ruan Yu had been standing outdoors in the freezing winter night for hours. At first, she worried someone might recognize her, but soon enough she was too numb to care.

Every face in front of her blurred into one. Her hands didn’t even feel like her own anymore.

They finally wrapped up near midnight.

Exhausted like a dog, Ruan Yu followed Shen Fangfei back to the hotel in silence.

An assistant came by with the next day’s call sheet:
“Please be on set at 5 a.m. tomorrow. Thank you for your hard work.”

Shen Fangfei sighed and asked, “That means getting up at four. Can you manage?”

“Yeah.” Ruan Yu rubbed her face, smudging her makeup.

Shen Fangfei glanced at her. “Your skin used to be pretty fair. Why’d you go out of your way to darken it?”

Ruan Yu replied matter-of-factly, “Well, my idol is Bao Zheng—righteous, dedicated, professional. And his skin tone? Iconic.”

Mama… she thought, once I finish filming this show, I swear I’ll be worthy of an Oscar. Truly.

Shen Fangfei: “……” I actually believed that for a second.

Over the next three days, Ruan Yu followed the film crew’s brutal schedule—off work near midnight, back on set by four or five in the morning.

The first day, Shen Fangfei kept pace with her. By the second, she had already been reassigned to the lead actor’s makeup team and returned to a normal work schedule. Since the lead actors’ makeup rooms were off-limits to the cameras, the cameraman simply kept following Ruan Yu instead.

During a break, Ruan Yu gave the camera a forced smile:
“When I first joined this show, I thought I was the heroine of Mission: Impossible. Turns out I’m actually a nominee for China’s Top 10 Most Hardworking Labor Models. Please vote for me! Daxiong will continue to fight another day!”

Director team: “……”
Here we go again—classic drama queen commentary.

The other guests were doing well enough; except for Lu Han, no one had been exposed or eliminated yet.

Ruan Yu noticed that the others seemed to be getting specific tasks from the producers—each more bizarre than the last.

For example: Qiu Xi had to make ten passengers laugh in one day and get tipped, or lose her day’s earnings.

Jiang Xingchun had to dance a viral routine after delivering food orders—he was nearly recognized by fans.

He Changyuan had it even crazier—a civilian girl started visiting his street magic show daily, repeatedly trying to confess her love. Terrified, He pretended to be a deaf-mute magician. But the more he dodged, the more persistent she became. Ratings gold.

As for Lu Han… still slogging away at the construction site. He’d gone completely silent in the group chat. For all they knew, he might not have made it.

---

He Changyuan: [We’ve all gotten tasks. Why hasn’t Ruan Yu?]
Ruan Yu: [Because I’m already suffering enough.]
Ruan Yu: [Also broke.]
Jiang Xingchun: [Hahahahahaha.]

---

By the fifth day of filming, Ruan Yu looked at the 250 yuan left in her wallet and cried actual tears.

Unlike the others, who earned money through daily gigs, Ruan Yu only had the 500 yuan of startup cash the show gave her. She had to budget like crazy.

Meals? She mooched off the film crew.
Late-night snacks? Instant noodles.
Coffee? Only cheap instant mixes.
Even when her idol Ji Linhao released a new magazine, she had to fight the urge to splurge. In the end, she shakily bought just one copy.

Despite pinching every penny, she couldn’t fight the outrageously high prices inside the film city. Her money vanished like water through a sieve.

Ruan Yu was so broke she could cry like a kitten.

Oh well—live one day at a time.

To everyone’s surprise, she was holding up incredibly well under pressure. Even in these conditions, she hadn’t once complained about being tired.

The director team was watching with growing fascination.

“Should we give her some tasks too? Use it as a chance to give her more funds?”

“Yeah, good idea. Something simple—like a cycling challenge around the film lot. Let the on-site camera crew deliver it tomorrow.”

Not just the director team—even Shen Fangfei was starting to pity her.

They finished filming early that evening and returned to the hotel together.

As they entered the lobby, Shen Fangfei couldn’t help but ask, “Didn’t Mr. Chen offer you a paid contract? A normal person wouldn’t be this stingy.”

“Yeah, I’ll get paid at the end of the month. Gotta stretch what I’ve got for now,” Ruan Yu replied with a pained smile.

Truth be told, she had no idea what her salary even was.

But she had a feeling… she’d probably never live to see that paycheck anyway. Haha.

The elevator doors opened just as they entered the lift area. Shen Fangfei quickly hit the button to hold it, still talking.

“Anyway, assistant jobs usually pay low at the start. As long as you can stick with it—”

The elevator doors opened fully.

Ruan Yu looked up—and nearly lost her soul.

Standing inside was none other than Shao Li, the portly personal assistant who worked for Duan Lin!

Then she slowly turned her head to look next to him.

Sure enough, Duan Lin stood tall in a long black coat, his nearly 190cm figure statuesque and commanding. His aura radiated through the small space like icy starlight.

Those black eyes were locked onto her.

Ruan Yu internally screamed: Oh shit.

So that’s why there were three times as many crazy sasaeng fans crowding outside the hotel today.

Shen Fangfei, oblivious, was still speaking:
“In our line of work, the only way to keep going… is love—”

Love is like the blue sky and white clouds—clear and endless, until a sudden thunderstorm crashes down.

There’s no place to hide, and it always catches you off guard!!

That line became the only background music looping in Ruan Yu’s head.

After who knows how many days of having her rival blocked, she unexpectedly ran into him again—right in the middle of filming a disguise-themed reality show—barely escaping disaster.

Truly, a cursed fate. Ironic and inexplicable.

---

Author’s Note:
Ruan Yu: Production team, just kill me already.
Duan Lin (smiling): 🙂