Chapter 57: Flirting

The scorching sun hung high in the sky, and the crew, drenched in sweat, were busy adjusting the suspended equipment. After three attempts, the scene was finally barely passable. Yang Zhisheng lit a cigarette and placed it between his lips, constantly waving his hand to fan himself, clearly irritated.

While the assistant director was still trying to figure out whether Xiao Chi had any acting talent, Lin Miao reluctantly clung to Xie Ting for some comfort, and only after a few more exchanges with the crew did she finally leave. Her assistant followed her closely behind, holding an umbrella and carrying her bag.

The audition didn’t go smoothly, and Yang Zhisheng was a bit annoyed. His voice was louder than usual as he sent Lin Miao off and immediately moved on, directing Xie Ting and Lu Sheng to continue.

Lu Sheng played Xu Mengqing, an invader with a strong sense of conscience and principles. When he first appeared, he was both handsome and ruthless. Throughout the war, he experienced many joys and sorrows, and finally, after gaining enlightenment, he chose to commit suicide.

This role was full of inner conflict, and if played well, it could be striking, if not, it could easily backfire.

Originally, Lu Sheng thought the male lead’s image would suit him better, but with Xie Ting around, he knew he had no chance of competing.

The second male lead was a compromise for him, but what surprised him was that the originally minor third male lead had managed to increase his screen time to the point of competing with Lu Sheng.

A movie has strict time constraints. If one character’s screen time increases, it must be reduced elsewhere. With the male and female leads already fixed, there wasn’t much room to cut from them, so the reduction had to come from the supporting male roles.

Thinking of this, Lu Sheng couldn’t help but feel frustrated.

Outdoor Scene. Two cameras followed their movements.

Having changed into their costumes, Lu Sheng fastened a long sword to his waist. He rode a gentle mare, its coat pitch black, except for a small patch of white hair on its forehead. Although he had practiced horseback riding, he wasn’t particularly skilled. Fortunately, the scene only required a long shot, so he didn’t need to perform any complicated actions while on horseback.

The camera followed his profile.

Xie Ting, dressed in black, his clothes stained with blood, exuded a murderous aura. He held a spear, its tip digging into the ground by a few inches. As he pulled it out, a stream of dirt and grass flew up with it.

He calmly watched as Lu Sheng approached, and Lu Sheng returned his gaze with an icy expression.

Xie Ting’s eyes, which were usually full of tenderness, now carried a chilling intensity that could freeze anyone in their tracks.

He reversed the spear, accelerating toward Lu Sheng. The spear tip swept across, aiming to knock him off his horse!

As the icy tip of the spear closed in, Lu Sheng instinctively tilted his head to dodge. Even though he had the high ground, Xie Ting’s aura of superiority pressed down on him, making him feel completely dominated.

“Cut!” Yang Zhisheng shouted angrily, “What are you dodging for? It won’t hurt you! Do it again!”

Lu Sheng, having made the rookie mistake of overreacting, flushed slightly. “Sorry, I wasn’t ready.”

After two more takes, Xie Ting’s arm was nearly sore, but they finally got it right.

Yang Zhisheng glared at the monitor, took a long drag from his cigarette, and muttered, “Isn’t today supposed to be an auspicious day? Why is everything going so wrong?”

The assistant director approached with the script, fanning him. “Should we keep going with the auditions?”

Yang Zhisheng waved him off impatiently, “No more auditions. The main cast has already gone through it. What’s the point? It’s so hot today, I’m about to die of heat, and now I’m just getting pissed off.”

The assistant director glanced toward the hallway and hesitated. “Isn’t there still one person left to audition?”

“You mean Xiao Chen?” Yang Zhisheng lazily glanced up and muttered, “I’ve had enough to deal with today. Let me off the hook for now. Maybe next time when I’m in a better mood, I can keep my temper in check.”

The assistant director wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Don’t be so hasty. What if… he actually has some talent?”

“Heh. If he doesn’t drag things down, I’ll be thanking the heavens,” Yang Zhisheng said, eyeing him suspiciously. “You didn’t take something from him, did you?”

“No!” The assistant director rolled his eyes. “It’s just an indoor scene, so I had them change into costumes and do their makeup. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look and get a feel for things, right?”

Yang Zhisheng reluctantly agreed.

The assistant director quickly signaled to others to change locations. The indoor set was ready, the cameras were in position, and the lighting was set. Just as they were ready, Xiao Chi walked out of the makeup room, dressed in his costume.

At this moment, Liu Bing and the producer returned to the set. When Xie Ting saw them, he walked over to greet them, extending his arm to drape it over Liu Bing’s shoulder. “If you’d been a second later, your sweet little baby would have walked right into trouble.”

Xie Ting had worked up a sweat under the sun, his arm feeling hot, and Liu Bing’s neck was slightly warmed by the touch. Hearing Xie Ting’s words, Liu Bing was momentarily stunned, his brows furrowing. “What now?”

When did he and Xiao Chen become so familiar?

“It’s nothing too serious… oh, here he comes,” Xie Ting dropped his arm and whistled playfully at Xiao Chi, who had just finished his makeup.

The bustling room fell silent the moment Xiao Chi appeared.

The people coming and going unconsciously slowed their steps. Some, unsure of what was happening, followed everyone’s gaze. Even Yang Zhisheng, who always wore a stern expression, was momentarily lost for words. Only when the ash from his cigarette fell and burned his finger did he snap out of it, letting out a hiss of pain.

Xiao Chi was playing the character of ^[1]“Gu Meng” (顾梦) can be translated as “Dream to Recall” or “Reverie”Gu Meng. True to his name, Gu Meng’s life was like a dream—glorious at times, tragic and humiliating at others, and filled with heart-wrenching moments, battles, and bloodshed. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call it a sweeping saga.

Gu Meng and the male lead, Fang Hua, were childhood friends and adoptive brothers. Gu Meng, born into a wealthy family, fell from grace and became an actor. Years later, when they reunited, his former friend had become a renowned actress, surrounded by countless admirers who showered her with money.

Yet behind the glamour was the pain of a lowly position and the hardships of a chaotic world. After enduring much suffering and oppression, Gu Meng, having nothing left, lost his voice, shed his costumes, and threw himself into the war. When he met Fang Hua again, he had become a feared general, known for his ghostly appearance. Under his sword, countless enemies were slain.

Xiao Chi, dressed in the traditional dan costume, slowly walked onto the stage. His long black hair cascaded like a waterfall, his makeup elegant and beautiful. The blush at the corners of his eyes resembled peach blossoms blooming in the early spring breeze. In the dim lighting, his delicate features exuded a breathtaking beauty.

He was untouchable, impossible to gaze upon directly.

Xie Ting stared at him, unintentionally letting out a soft sigh, his expression unreadable. Liu Bing stood frozen for a moment before quietly retreating to the door, ultimately saying nothing.

After a while, Yang Zhisheng cleared his throat and muttered, “His image does fit the character, but I wonder if he can control his voice. If not, we’ll have to dub it…”

The assistant director snapped out of his trance. “Isn’t he a singer? Maybe he can handle it.”

“A pop singer and an opera performer are two very different things. If he can’t do it, we’ll just have to make him lip-sync…”

Yang Zhisheng waved to the others to take their positions. Eager, he sat down behind the monitor and gave the signal. The camera lights flickered on.

This scene was one in which the male lead, years later, sees Gu Meng again on the stage. The two of them, separated by a crowd of people, exchange a silent gaze.

In an instant, Xiao Chi was in character.

The layers of satin fabric of his costume fell smoothly as he moved. His pace was steady and calm, as he stood still, almost as if he had stepped into a living, breathing painting.

He swept his gaze to the bottom of the stage. Even though he wasn’t looking at anyone specifically, it gave everyone the eerie feeling that their hearts were being pierced.

Yang Zhisheng and the assistant director stared fixedly at the monitor, silent, until Xiao Chi began to sing, at which point they both widened their eyes in astonishment.

The delicate, nuanced voice, full of rich, rounded breath, melted like cold frost under the scorching sun, settling all the surrounding chaos and restlessness, flowing quietly and steadily.

The assistant director slapped his forehead. “Why does this feel so familiar…?”

After a long pause, Yang Zhisheng’s face was filled with disbelief. He slowly said, “He’s imitating Zhou Yong’an’s performance in Dream of the Play. Although it’s just an imitation, for a newcomer, the first time on stage, to capture it so perfectly—I’ve never seen anything like this before…”

As they spoke, Xie Ting stepped into the shot, the camera focusing horizontally, capturing every subtle change in his expression.

His steps slowed more and more, finally halting several paces from the stage, like an insurmountable chasm between them. According to the script, he was “drowned in the surging crowd.”

This scene had no dialogue at all, relying entirely on their exchanged gazes.

Xie Ting gazed deeply at the character on stage. It was shock, it was confusion, but in this moment, there was also something different, something shattered within his eyes.

“Cut!” Yang Zhisheng shouted, “It’s good! That’s a wrap!” He rubbed his hands together, a little excited. He hadn’t expected much, but the result exceeded his expectations.

Even the small bit of dissatisfaction with Xiao Chi from earlier in the morning faded from his mind.

The crew members let out a collective sigh of relief and began to pack up. It wasn’t until the camera lights turned off that Xie Ting came back to his senses. Seeing that Xiao Chi hadn’t yet left the stage, he leaned against the railing with a smile and looked at him appreciatively.

“I was ready to test for an entire day, but you’ve surprised me again.”

Xiao Chi, however, felt indifferent. “It’s okay.” He shook his head, causing the ornaments in his hair to tremble slightly.

Xie Ting extended his hand, like a chivalrous knight offering his protection. “Be careful coming down. Don’t trip on your costume.”

But Xiao Chi seemed to notice something, his eyes lighting up. He used one hand to support the railing and lifted his skirt before jumping off the stage, jogging toward the door with a light, joyful step, like a returning wild goose.

Xie Ting turned in surprise, and then he saw Ji Chenxuan by Liu Bing’s side. His long, curled lashes fluttered, his lips parted slightly before pressing into a thin line, his eyes revealing a mix of understanding and a sigh of helplessness.

Noticing that Liu Bing’s gaze lingered slightly on him, Xie Ting met his eyes with a playful wink before walking away leisurely.

Xiao Chi, still in costume, stood there quietly as if he were a nobleman, but once he moved, his aura immediately took a dramatic shift, wild and free.

When Ji Chenxuan entered the studio, he was nearly struck dumb by the sight of Xiao Chi on stage. He stood at the door for a long time, silently watching.

Seeing Xiao Chi and Xie Ting exchange a “tender gaze” felt like a punch in the gut. When Xiao Chi ran toward him, so bright and joyous, it instantly made all the other people irrelevant, banished from his line of sight.

“You’re here?” There were two large curtains at the door, blocking most of the view, and the crew was busy packing up the equipment. Xiao Chi glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to this corner for the moment.

Before Ji Chenxuan could respond, Xiao Chi quickly countered, “Don’t tell me you just happened to pass by? This place is far from anywhere near Huanyi.”

“Of course not.” The usual excuse had been seen through, but Ji Chenxuan remained unfazed, calmly lying. “I’m here to inspect an investment project.”

“???” Xiao Chi hadn’t expected that response. He wrinkled his nose, saying nothing more.

Ji Chenxuan found his little expression amusing and couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “Just teasing you. I came specifically to see you. Are you happy now?”

Xiao Chi immediately smiled, his expression straightforward and bright, completely unpretentious. His eyes curved into crescents, shining like stars.

“I knew it.”

Ji Chenxuan felt a sudden impulse to kiss him, but with people coming and going around, he restrained himself. “How was your first day? Are you settling in? Did anyone make things difficult for you?”

Xiao Chi rolled his eyes slightly and mysteriously replied, “Everything is under control.”

“…” Ji Chenxuan held back his laughter. “That’s good, then.”

From Ji Chenxuan’s perspective, who could bear to be angry with such a cute darling?

A faint red light flashed quickly through the gap between the curtains.