Chapter 27: Still Filming?

After being rejected by Aimu, Shen Baizhou didn’t overthink it and immediately went to see Feng Guilan. Teacher Feng was a veteran actor at the company, known for his solid acting skills. Yesterday, he had discussed with Wang Xiaopang and Zhang Xiaomei, and everyone thought Feng Guilan would perfectly handle the role of the “Murderous Old Lady.”

“小Shen, my health hasn’t been great lately. I may need some time to recuperate,” said Old Lady Feng apologetically, leaving no room for argument. “I won’t participate in your drama—just film it well!”

“Alright then, Teacher Feng. Please take care of your health,” Shen Baizhou said, having no choice but to bid farewell.

At that moment, ding ding—a message came from Fang Kuan.

“Brother Zhou, I took a day off today and won’t go to the company. Some family matters have come up. I won’t be able to make the schedule for The Tuner, so I won’t participate. Maybe we can collaborate another time~”

“Ah, okay. Take care of your family matters first. Let me know if you need help…” Shen Baizhou replied.

After all that, he still hadn’t recruited a single actor. He couldn’t help but shake his head—now even the leads had to be reselected. What kind of luck was this? Scanning the actor department, he noticed everyone was deliberately avoiding his gaze. Actors who should have been filming at this time had already started; those sitting at their desks clearly had no projects.

His eyes landed on Jin Xueli sitting in the corner—a newcomer who hadn’t received any roles since joining the company. Acting skills? Uncertain. Appearance? Fine. Looks like he had no choice but to take the lead himself and gradually adjust things.

He approached Jin Xueli, but to his surprise, even Jin refused.

However, being a newcomer, Jin’s caution wasn’t fully developed, and he couldn’t help but speak honestly:

“Bro, it’s not that I don’t want to act—I’m just afraid of being blacklisted…”

“Blacklisted?” Even if Shen Baizhou were a little slow, he understood immediately.

Returning to his newly assigned workstation in the southwest corner of the 16th floor, he found Wang Xiaopang and Zhang Xiaomei looking frustrated, shaking their heads.

Yesterday, the two had applied to join Shen Baizhou’s team, and he had immediately agreed, giving them positions as assistant directors. As they moved their desks to the 16th floor, they had excitedly discussed creative directions and planned which departments to recruit from today.

“Brother Zhou, Mao Yi from the camera department said he won’t come. He was the one who approached us yesterday…” Wang Xiaopang grumbled.

“And the props team? They didn’t assign a single person to us, saying everyone’s schedule is full—but they were clearly just playing on their phones at their desks…”

“The makeup team too. Guo Miao backed out, saying he had to reshoot something for A Date to Remember, but that show is already finished…” Zhang Xiaomei sighed. “Brother Zhou, I guess Huang Liang has blacklisted us.”

“Letting you join my team yesterday might have caused trouble for you,” Shen Baizhou said, shaking his head.

“How shameless can they be? Brother Zhou, such a great script!” Wang Xiaopang cursed. “These people don’t care about the company’s interests. If they don’t follow orders, they blacklist you. This isn’t creativity—this is forming factions!”

“I remember the company has a rule: if there aren’t enough internal leads, you can apply for outsourcing funds,” Zhang Xiaomei said stubbornly. “If they don’t cooperate, we can find someone else, right?”

“True, but the prerequisite is forming a proper team first,” Wang Xiaopang explained. “You need at least one responsible person for each aspect—camera, actors, makeup—before you can apply. Even if Huang Liang approves the funds, we don’t even have a decent cameraman, so how can we form a team?”

“The cameraman is the biggest problem,” Shen Baizhou frowned. “Other things can be managed somehow, but without a competent cameraman, it really won’t work…”

The three looked grim. This was a movie, after all; poor cinematography was practically suicide. Forget borrowing equipment—the blacklist meant they couldn’t even film themselves. Buying a professional camera? Impossible. Shen Baizhou only had 12,203 yuan in total, of which 10,000 was grocery money given by Su Hongdou…

They fell silent. Shen Baizhou sighed: “I’ll go get a cup of coffee.”

After staying up two nights in a row, yesterday was the first full sleep he had, yet he still felt drowsy. At the coffee machine in the company’s lounge, he prepared a latte for himself.

Suddenly, someone approached from the side, placing a coffee cup beside him…

Turning, Shen Baizhou saw it was Gu Chen.

“What’s the plan?” Gu Chen asked quietly, not looking at him. Both held their coffees in a casual stance. “Still planning to film?”

“Yes,” Shen Baizhou replied.

He could leave now, sell the script to another media company, and make some money—but then his dream of directing would be over. No company would let a zero-experience rookie like him direct. Yet here, at this company, he had no team and nowhere to go.

“I happen to have a friend who’s recently unemployed. His photography skills are decent. He should agree to finish the project first, then get paid,” Gu Chen said, scanning to make sure no one was around. Without looking up, he added, “Shen Baizhou, do you want his WeChat?”