Chapter 56: President Ji’s Visit to the Set

“Are the newcomers really this ignorant of the rules these days?” Yang Zhisheng’s eagle-like eyes fixed on Xiao Chi, his expression unfriendly. He sneered with disdain, “Should we start calling you Director Xiao now?”

The bustling set instantly fell silent, as if the shutter button of a camera had been pressed. For a brief moment, the area was dead quiet, and soon, whispers began to ripple through the crowd.

The condemning gazes from all directions were like arrows shot at Xiao Chi. If it had been anyone else, they would have likely turned bright red and scurried away with their tails between their legs, but Xiao Chi remained composed, sitting firmly in the storm, ignoring the unfriendly stares from all sides.

Xiao Chi didn’t blush or pant, and naturally stood up. “Sorry, I didn’t know this seat was taken.”

He turned to Pei Fang, who had been smiling warmly, and thanked him, “It’s alright, whether I sit or not doesn’t matter. But I appreciate you telling me this is a place to rest.”

Pei Fang, stunned, started to speak but was interrupted by Yang Zhisheng, who waved his hand impatiently. “Enough. Everyone should get back to work!” Yang Zhisheng said with a hint of annoyance. “I’ve brought plenty of newcomers on board, don’t think that just because someone is backing you, you can act recklessly. Once you’re here, you follow my rules. Everyone here is working hard, not to pamper some rookie. I’ll make myself clear—if you’re not willing to work, get lost.”

He cast a subtle glance at Pei Fang and continued, “I’m not just talking to the newcomers. Some of the old hands are the same. They don’t do their jobs properly but are always looking for trouble. It’s better for them to leave early, or I won’t show any mercy.”

Pei Fang, feeling awkward, gave a forced smile and kept quiet.

Xie Ting, who had been watching the scene, turned his attention to the group, chuckling lightly as he handed Yang Zhisheng a cigarette and lit it for him. “Director Yang, Xiao Chen and I have worked together before. He’s not a rude person. It’s his first time on set, and if he doesn’t know the rules, just teach him. By the way, no one’s had breakfast yet. I’ve asked someone to buy some snacks, everyone come try some.”

The assistant immediately set out a variety of snacks and drinks on a folding table.

Since it was Xie Ting’s gesture, Yang Zhisheng didn’t refuse. He grunted and took a drag from his cigarette. The tension dissipated, and he relaxed a little, saying, “Thanks to King Xie, we can take a break now.”

At this moment, assistant Qin Huai hurried back, carrying a bag of water and snacks and a small folding chair under his arm. He was clearly still processing what had just happened, his face pale with worry. He quickly pulled Xiao Chi aside to a quieter corner to sit.

After a brief moment of tension, the atmosphere in the studio returned to a warm, pleasant one, as if the minor conflict had never happened.

In the break area, Lu Sheng crossed his arms, observing the scene with a cold gaze. His manager, chuckling bitterly, shook his head. “Looks like there’s no need for us to worry, Xie Ting had already thought of everything.”

With no one else around, he muttered quietly, “That Pei guy is really stupid. Does he really think Director Yang can’t see through him? No wonder he’s been stuck as a side character all these years. The little schemes he’s trying—besides Xiao Chen, I’m sure even the janitor knows about them.”

Lu Sheng laughed softly. “I actually think Xiao Chen doesn’t seem as innocent as he acts.”

The manager dismissed this with a wave. “A pretty face is all he’s got. He knows how to cling to the rich and powerful, and that’s all that matters. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

Yang Zhisheng was the type who couldn’t sit still. After taking a few bites, he pulled the assistant director over to inspect the progress on set.

Xie Ting, with a cigarette in hand, found Xiao Chi enjoying his breakfast. He smiled, seeing that Xiao Chi didn’t seem in the least bit bothered by the public reprimand he had just received. Leaning casually against a pillar in the corridor, he said with a grin, “Looks like I was overly concerned, coming here to comfort you.”

Xiao Chi looked up from his bowl of congee, his nose slightly wrinkling. “The people here are so petty. They’re making such a big deal over a chair.”

Xie Ting stubbed out his cigarette, tossing it into the ashtray, and sat down beside him, casually fiddling with a lighter. “What you don’t know is that the chairs in the studio are usually brought by the crew themselves. You can’t just sit anywhere, especially the director’s chair. To you, it may just be a chair, but to others, it represents identity and status.”

Xiao Chi nodded, although he only partly understood. He glanced outside and asked, “Then why did that person let me sit there on purpose?”

Although he was unfamiliar with social etiquette, Xiao Chi wasn’t naïve.

Xie Ting followed Xiao Chi’s gaze, then quickly averted his eyes and lowered his voice. “Because he originally thought your role was already his for the taking. But, you see, until the contract is signed, everything is still uncertain. He doesn’t have the guts to confront you directly, so he can only resort to petty tricks. He’s not worth your attention.”

Before they could discuss it further, the director’s voice was heard, calling for the lead actors to start their rehearsal. Xie Ting nodded to him and said, “It’s your first day. Take some time to get used to it. I’ll leave you to it.”

Assistant Qin Huai, who had been quietly observing, watched Xie Ting’s departing figure with a complex expression. He leaned toward Xiao Chi’s ear and whispered, “Brother Xiao, are you and King Xie… this close?”

“Huh?” Xiao Chi stood up with his bowl in hand, ladling some porridge while glancing toward the camera. “I guess so.”

The female lead, Lin Miao, had arrived, surrounded by a crowd of people, laughing and chatting like a princess at the center of attention. When she saw Xie Ting, she immediately hooked her arm around his, leaning intimately against him, chatting and laughing together.

Time was limited, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, the actors quickly changed into their costumes and stood in front of the camera.

Yang Zhisheng immediately called for a scene full of emotional conflict. The female lead believes her lover is dead and is on the verge of collapse emotionally. In the next moment, her lover reappears, and the emotion flips from overwhelming sadness to joy. This scene is heavy on emotional transition and dialogue, which tests both acting skill and command of lines.

The lighting, camera positions, props, and set design were all in place, and the set fell into complete silence.

Xiao Chi finished his breakfast quickly, standing in the hallway and watching the scene. Among the busy crew, he seemed especially relaxed.

The assistant director noticed him and walked over with the script, pulling him aside to the rest area in the hallway.

“Xiao Chen, right? There’s no scene for you today. We brought you here these past few days mainly to let you observe and learn from the professional actors. Liu Bing told me about your situation, and I promised him I’d look out for you. Make sure to read the script thoroughly, especially the lines. Director Yang places a lot of importance on that. We don’t have professional voice actors for this film.”

“No scenes today?” Xiao Chi sounded a bit disappointed, but his eyes quickly lit up again. “When will I have one? I’ve already memorized the lines.”

The assistant director, a short man with small eyes, glanced at Xiao Chi from head to toe, skeptical. “Memorized them? You only got the revised script a few hours ago. Don’t talk too big, young man.”

Xiao Chi wanted to explain but remembered Liu Bing’s advice, so he closed his mouth.

“Well, pay close attention to Xie Ting and Lin Miao’s scene. Director Yang won’t relax his standards just because you’re a newbie. If you keep messing up, it won’t look good on anyone.”

Just as he was speaking, Lin Miao entered her “deep sadness” state. She was dressed in simple white robes, her messy hair hanging as she knelt beside a coffin. The contrast of her pale face, red eyes, and the dark coffin made her look even more fragile.

The camera zoomed in on her, and her lips trembled, tears welling up in her eyes. She was about to deliver a long monologue about her memories of her lover and the overwhelming despair she felt, contrasting the sweetness of their past happiness.

Director Yang, watching through the monitor, saw that Lin Miao stuttered and froze on her line.

It was just a rehearsal, but Yang Zhisheng raised his brow and, without looking up, spoke directly: “Do it again!”

The assistant director, scratching the top of his short hair, turned to Xiao Chi and smiled. “See? Even experienced first-tier actors forget their lines sometimes.”

Lin Miao reviewed the lines a few more times, getting back into character. With tears in her eyes and a distraught, unfocused expression, she cried out, “…Do you remember those days? We were so young… there was a famine in our hometown… even— even the field mice were—”

She choked and couldn’t continue.

Yang Zhisheng’s patience wore thin. “Miss Lin, please.”

Lin Miao pouted in protest and collapsed onto the coffin. “I only slept for three hours last night, just got off the plane, and haven’t even adjusted to the time zone yet. Who knew I’d have to do this right away?”

Yang Zhisheng sighed and had no choice but to say, “Try again. After that, you can take a break, alright?”

Xie Ting gently comforted, “Just this one scene, hang in there. If it’s too much, we can have the assistant hold up a cue card.”

Director Yang glared at him, “Stop suggesting nonsense. How could you look around like that?”

“I was just making a joke,” Xie Ting replied.

Lin Miao took a moment to gather herself and, on the third attempt, finally managed to get through the lines. Xie Ting, dressed in ragged clothes stained with blood, staggered toward her, looking as if he had crawled out of a pile of corpses.

The camera followed closely, capturing his deeply sunken eyes. His gaze lingered on her for a long time, as if he were staring into a pitch-black sea. When he looked at her with such tenderness, it was enough to make anyone lose themselves in that depth.

Lin Miao was no exception. She stared blankly at him, her lips trembling, but after a long pause, she forgot her lines.

“Cut!”

At this point, the tension in the air was palpable. Everyone felt awkward. Yang Zhisheng, frustrated, tugged at the little hair he had left and, regardless of Lin Miao’s status, scolded her thoroughly.

Outside the crowd, the assistant director smiled wryly. He was about to speak to Xiao Chi when, turning around, his small eyes suddenly widened in surprise.

Xiao Chi stood there, his eyes filled with tears, staring into the air as though his lover were standing right in front of him. His gaze was filled with surprise and a hint of fear, as if he were afraid the wind might blow away the very breath of the moment.

“Is it you? Did your soul hear my plea? Is that why you’ve come to find me?”

The assistant director froze, quickly flipping open the script. Was Xiao Chi reciting the female lead’s lines?

“I think about you day and night. You promised me you’d come back safely from the battlefield…”

Xiao Chi continued, completely absorbed in the moment, speaking to the empty air as if he were performing the entire scene of the female lead.

The assistant director’s eyes widened like copper bells, stunned. “How do you know the female lead’s lines? You’re not the female lead!”

Xiao Chi snapped back to reality, sniffing and quickly stopping the tears, as though an invisible dam had closed. He casually replied, “I didn’t memorize the female lead’s lines.”

The assistant director, confused, asked, “Then you…?”

“I’ve memorized everyone’s lines.”

The assistant director stared blankly, speechless. “A complete newcomer? A reality show singer? No knowledge of acting? Is Liu Bing messing with me?”

—

At the Tianlu Film Base parking lot, a black flying car slowly parked in its designated spot.

The car door slid open automatically, and Ji Chenxuan got out from the backseat. He turned to Zhou Tong and instructed, “Wait for me here.”

Zhou Tong reminded him, “You have a meeting this afternoon. Should I call Liu Bing and have Mr. Xiao come out?”

The parking lot was bare of trees, and the blazing sun hovered overhead, making it feel as though summer had arrived early.

Ji Chenxuan, dressed in a casual suit, unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, revealing a small section of his collarbone. He looked surprisingly more relaxed than usual, with an air of casualness about him.

He shook his head and smiled faintly. “I want to give him a surprise.”