Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 77

When Ran Lin arrived at the set, he didn’t see Gu Jie. After getting his makeup done, he found Gu Jie already sitting at the edge of the set, cooling himself with a handheld fan.

The week had been all sunny days, and the temperature was gradually rising. It wasn’t extremely hot yet, but it was getting stuffy. Gu Jie wasn’t bothered by the heat, but he sweated easily, which affected his appearance on camera, so he started carrying a fan around three days ago and used it whenever he wasn’t filming.

Ran Lin, wearing Di Jiangtao’s faded green T-shirt, which made his complexion look paler, had makeup applied to make his eye sockets look sunken and give off a decadent vibe. The only way to tell if he was filming or resting on set was by his eyes—dull and guarded while filming, but lively and spirited once the director called cut.

Now, with that look in his eyes, he quietly approached Gu Jie’s chair from behind and then slapped his friend’s shoulder vigorously. “Good morning!”

Gu Jie jolted, loosening his grip and dropping the fan onto his lap. He quickly picked it up again, checking that the blades weren’t damaged by his muscular thighs, then looked up, annoyed. “Aren’t you childish.”

Without much thought when he slapped, Ran Lin suddenly realized he had become more unrestrained with people he was close to, almost returning to his mischievous youth. Pondering over this change, he inadvertently noticed a beautiful girl talking to Director He not far away.

The girl was dressed in a light blue striped shirt and denim shorts. The hem of her shirt was fully tucked into her shorts to reveal her slender waist and long, attractive legs.

Having been with the crew for over a month and a half, Ran Lin didn’t remember such a person in the crew. She was definitely not an actress, as apart from extras like elderly women, the drama had no significant female roles yet. The only female supporting role had also been vacated due to the original actress pulling out at the last minute…

Hold on.

Could this be the replacement for the female supporting role?

<Dyeing Fire> was essentially a man’s drama, with the storyline revolving around four men—officer Xiao Gu, the young sociable Di Jiangtao, the small store owner Ying Feng, and Lao Zhang, who was inexplicably targeted by Ying Feng.

Jiang Xiaoxiao, the daughter of Di Jiangtao’s landlord, was the only female character in the drama. When she accidentally discovers the “mysterious investigation” going on between her tenant and officer Xiao Gu, she volunteers to join, becoming an unofficial member of the investigative team.

Initially, this role was to be played by a certain second-tier female artist. Though a supporting role, she was the lone female character in this predominantly male drama. While her screen time couldn’t compete with the main male actors, her unique presence, if well portrayed, could be striking.

However, due to the continual delays in the shooting schedule, she had to withdraw, leaving the director scrambling to find a replacement. Either the director’s preferred choices were unavailable or the available actresses didn’t meet the character’s or director’s requirements. It was only last week that Gu Jie mentioned the director had been recommended a non-professional newcomer by a friend.

However, Gu Jie’s exact words were that the director wasn’t too satisfied with the newcomer, but the role was supposed to start shooting in early May, and it was already late May. They had adjusted all possible scenes without her to the front of the schedule, and the crew couldn’t wait any longer. Despite his dissatisfaction, he hadn’t outright rejected her and was still hesitating.

Ran Lin had always trusted information from Gu Jie, given Gu Jie’s tight relationship with Director He and his no-nonsense nature.

“Is that Jiang Xiaoxiao?” Instead of guessing, Ran Lin decided to ask his friend directly.

Following Ran Lin’s gaze, Gu Jie noticed the “newcomer” on set for the first time but quickly recognized her. “Yes, that’s her. Director He even showed me her photo to get my opinion.”

“What did you say?” Ran Lin was curious.

“She’s beautiful, but not quite what I imagined Jiang Xiaoxiao to be.” Gu Jie recalled the conversation from a week ago, and seeing the actress in person only reinforced his assessment.

Ran Lin understood.

He and Gu Jie had discussed this when they saw Director He troubled over the choice for Jiang Xiaoxiao. They had casually talked about what kind of person should play her.

Both had leaned towards “quirky and spirited”, not out of any agreement but because that’s the vibe the script’s Jiang Xiaoxiao gave off: a daring and quirky girl.

And this girl before them, while beautiful, was a far cry from “quirky and spirited”. Her beauty was more radiant and seductive. With shoulder-length wavy hair, fair skin, and a tall and curvy figure, her simple casual attire did little to diminish her allure. Her beauty was immediate and undeniable, the kind that didn’t require close inspection, which was why both Ran Lin and Gu Jie noticed her despite being engrossed in their conversation.

Ran Lin remarked, “Now that she’s here, it must mean Director He finally approved of her.”

“Probably didn’t have a better choice,” Gu Jie analyzed objectively. “Every day after the shooting starts costs money. If they can’t finalize an actress, the director will bear all the responsibility for any delays. The producer has given him a lot of freedom, so he has to consider the producer’s interests too.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think the director was speaking through you just now.” Ran Lin swore he could hear the director’s sincere frustration in Gu Jie’s words.

Gu Jie sighed. “If you were dragged out for tea and venting sessions by the director after wrap-up every other day, you’d understand.”

Ran Lin joked, “I’ll leave such arduous tasks to the leading man.”

Gu Jie was about to protest that their drama was essentially a double lead when he heard a soft voice. “Hello, Gu Ge, Ran Ge.”

Both turned to see the girl who had been talking with the director had made her way over to the actors’ resting area and was standing about a meter away, politely greeting them.

One meter was a comfortable distance, neither too close to make unfamiliar people awkward nor too far to feel distant and cold.

Ran Lin and Gu Jie almost simultaneously stood up.

“Hello.” Gu Jie spoke first, straightforwardly. “Just call us by our names.”

Ran Lin immediately followed. “Hello.”

Face to face at close range, the actress’ “beauty” was even more intense. Dressed in a fresh and simple style, she still resembled a blooming rose, especially with those smiling eyes that seemed shallow in laughter yet somehow captivating.

Ran Lin was sure the girl was trying to charm them. Unfortunately, she was facing Gu Jie, who was too blunt for such subtleties, and himself, who was genuinely disinterested in girls.

“My name is Qi Luoluo,” the girl introduced herself confidently. “I’m playing Jiang Xiaoxiao. Director He asked me to familiarize myself with the set environment today, and I’ll officially join the shoot tomorrow. I’m a newcomer with not much acting experience, but I promise to work extra hard. I hope Gu Ge and Ran Ge can be forgiving and offer lots of guidance!”

Just as she was about to bow to her “seniors”, Gu Jie hurriedly interjected, “No need to be so formal. We’re all part of the same team here, like a family. And I’m not much older than you; Ran Lin might even be younger than you, so don’t keep adding ‘Ge’.”

Ran Lin wasn’t sure of the girl’s exact age.

But noticing the fleeting “complex feelings” in her pretty eyes, Gu Jie’s comment about Ran Lin possibly being younger might have hit a nerve.

Seeing the conversation about to freeze due to Gu Jie’s bluntness, Ran Lin quickly intervened, “Qi Luoluo, Jiang Xiaoxiao, just by the names, it seems like you and the character are fated*.”

*Clarity: He’s referring to the meaning of the names playing off how their surname and first name are basically opposites. Qi & Luo(luo) = Up & Down, while Jiang + Xiao(xiao) = Stiff & Smile.

Qi Luoluo smiled. “Director He said the same.”

……

Di Jiangtao walked into the small store, making the already cramped space feel even tighter. He pulled out a crumpled ten-yuan note from his track pants and placed it on the counter, listlessly. “Two bottles of beer.”

Ying Feng, always welcoming customers, asked with a smile, “Cold or room temperature?”

Di Jiangtao glanced at him lifelessly. “It’s hot as hell outside. Who would drink room temperature beer now?”

Ying Feng wasn’t offended, as this young man had always been like this, as if everyone owed him millions. Rumor had it that he had been “inside” and had just been released. Anyone could chat in the small store, but Ying Feng couldn’t differentiate between truth and fiction. However, it was none of his business.

The moment Ying Feng turned to get the beer from the fridge, Di Jiangtao’s gaze shifted from listless to piercing. He watched Ying Feng’s back as if it contained all the answers to the mysteries.

Ying Feng quickly returned with the beer, turning around.

In an instant, Di Jiangtao’s eyes reverted to their listless state. As Ying Feng handed him the change and beer, Di Jiangtao yawned out of sheer boredom.

“Take care.” Ying Feng watched as Di Jiangtao took the change and beer and left. As the young man walked away, a flicker of confusion passed through Ying Feng’s eyes, followed by a long moment of contemplation.

“Cut, good take!”

Following the director’s cue, the actor playing Ying Feng, Qiu Ming, let out a sigh of relief, while Ran Lin, who had already walked out, immediately returned with the beer and placed it on the counter, pretending to be serious. “Boss, I’d like to return these.”

Qiu Ming: “Who gave you the courage to return things?”

Ran Lin pointed to a small sign on the counter. “Doesn’t it say, ‘Seven days, no reason’ here?”

Qiu Min was speechless. “Can’t you scam more sophisticatedly? It reads, ‘No credit required’. How did you read three words into four?”

“I’m asking if you two are done with work yet.” Gu Jie, who couldn’t wait any longer, barged into the small store.

All of this afternoon’s scenes were here, so before Ran Lin’s scene, it was Gu Jie and Qiu Ming’s scene. After finishing, Gu Jie didn’t leave, waiting loyally outside for his friend, not knowing the wait would be in vain.

The three men joked and laughed as they left the small store. Ran Lin saw Qi Luoluo, who had been observing all day, talking to the director again, not sure if she was seeking advice or reporting her findings.

The director, as always, was good-natured and listened intently, occasionally offering some advice.

Modern dramas require much less makeup for male actors, typically just changing back into their clothes and washing their faces with makeup remover. It’s much more convenient than historical dramas. In about ten minutes, Di Jiangtao reverted back to the bright young man, and together with Gu Jie and Qiu Ming, the trio hooked arms and prepared to go for some good food.

That was when Liu Wanwan came over.

Ran Lin was about to tell her she didn’t need to follow and could go back to the hotel to rest, but when he saw Liu Wanwan’s hesitant expression, he had a bad feeling.

“Wait a moment.” Ran Lin told his friends and then stepped aside with Liu Wanwan.

Liu Wanwan didn’t waste time. “Ran Ge, there was a Weibo exposure this afternoon saying Han Ze changed his agent, and the rhythm was very obvious.”

Ran Lin frowned. “Changed his agent? That’s old news.”

Liu Wanwan explained, “Xi Jie suspects it’s a self-staged act by him. Since the drama version of <Chronicles of Winter> is about to air, he wants to stir up some news.”

Pre-airing hype wasn’t unusual in the entertainment industry, and typically, these things wouldn’t concern Ran Lin. But if this was indeed a maneuver by Han Ze’s team and they chose to publicize the agent change, it was a sensitive issue. “He’s not implying the change was because of a disagreement with me, is he?”

Liu Wanwan replied, “No, it’s just marketing accounts that are leaking the news, and he hasn’t responded yet.”

“Oh…” Ran Lin wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or more anxious.

Liu Wanwan continued, “But Xi Jie is worried that it might spiral into something more troublesome, so she wanted me to give you a heads-up. You don’t have to respond to anything; just focus on filming. She’s keeping an eye on the situation and will handle anything that comes up.”

With the agent’s instructions so comprehensive, all Ran Lin could do was nod in agreement. “Understood.”

Gu Jie and Qiu Ming, being somewhat oblivious, assumed Ran Lin was just discussing something with his assistant and didn’t pry further. As soon as Ran Lin rejoined them, they continued their quest for delicious food.

Because Ran Lin was preoccupied with the gossip, he was somewhat absent-minded throughout dinner. Finally, back at the hotel, he could scroll through Weibo in peace to see exactly what Han Ze was up to.

He didn’t need to search for specific keywords; when he opened the trending list, “Han Ze changes agent” and “Han Ze’s <Chronicles of Winter>” were already in the sixth and seventh spots, respectively.

Changing agents isn’t usually a big deal to the general public compared to, say, a celebrity relationship reveal, which would likely trend higher. Moreover, with “Han Ze’s <Chronicles of Winter>” also trending, those familiar with the industry could easily spot the promotional intent.

But most Weibo users, looking for a bit of entertainment unless they’re fans, don’t delve deep into why something is trending; they’re just there for the news.

Ran Lin clicked on the “Han Ze changes agent” trend first. The top post was the original exposé from a major marketing account with millions of followers—

[Entertainment Seven Princess: Has Han Ze dropped his long-time agent? With <Chronicles of Winter> airing in June, Han Ze has gone through all sorts of hardships in its production. Recently, Princess received a tip-off that Han Ze has replaced his agent, Ms. Wang, who has been with him since his debut, and <Chronicles of Winter> was one of the projects she secured for him. According to sources, the reasons behind the agent switch are complex and not straightforward to disclose… [Read more]]

Ran Lin clicked to read more, but it was all vague insinuations about the complexities behind the agent change, concluding with three central ideas:

First, what could have led Han Ze to replace his agent from debut?

Second, there had been rumors about a romantic relationship between Han Ze and his agent—could this change be due to a breakup?

Third, regardless of the reasons behind the agent switch, as Han Ze has gone through many hardships filming <Chronicles of Winter>, he still deserves support. The show airs in June, and Princess will be watching.

Following this post were similar hot posts from other marketing accounts, all essentially reiterating the same points and each featuring a photo of Han Ze at the airport with arrows or red circles highlighting Wang Xi nearby.

Ran Lin wasn’t sure when the photo was taken, as it was a hurried paparazzi shot providing little information other than that it was taken at an airport, likely in spring or autumn. Given the clothing, Wang Xi, although blurred due to the photo’s focus on Han Ze, was distinguishable as a neatly dressed, professional woman.

The Weibo comments under “Entertainment Seven Princesses” had already garnered over six thousand messages. Half were from onlookers eating melons, and the other half were fans of Han Ze, with most joining the rhythm to develop wild speculations and guesses of all kinds. The most popular few comments essentially represent several mainstream opinions—

[Hokkaido’s White Lover: Changing agents is nothing more than disagreements over future career planning, unequal profit sharing, or dissatisfaction with the agent’s professional capabilities. The poster is leaning everything towards love, which is ridiculous. Why would Han Ze not choose among many young beauties and go for someone older? What’s he after? 😔]

[Not enough melons: Every time there’s a drama about to air, there’s bound to be a round of hype beforehand. It’s routine. But it’s the first time I’ve seen using a former agent for hype. Han Ze has really started a new genre. 😂]

[Cold Water and Wood: Among the popular comments, those saying Han Ze is hyping things up, please think a bit. To hype up scandals with his former agent, he must be really out of options—it’s all harm and no good! And the rhythm in this article is too obvious. The blackening doesn’t have any technical content. 😒]

[Breeze at Dusk: Han Ze is signed with an agency, not operating his own studio. Changing agents would still require the company’s decision, so why is everyone guessing there’s a grudge between Han Ze and his former agent? Can’t it be an internal company issue? 🤔]

[Shining Ze Ze: <Chronicles of Winter> starts airing on 6.3, 6.3, 6.3. Important things need to be said thrice. Please pay more attention to Han Ge’s dramas, judge his character by his works to see what kind of person he is. Understanding him through his works is more direct and real. 🙇]

Although the comments were full of wild speculations and many floors were either discussing or quarreling joyfully, it all stayed within the normal range of gossip. Without more information from marketing accounts, whatever the netizens chat or dug into was all just castles in the air, with no real harm. Moreover, Ran Lin originally thought someone would dig up the “former agent Ms. Wang” who was now leading him, but it seemed that didn’t happen. Everyone was basically following the rhythm of the marketing accounts, guessing towards “May-December romance*”.

*A relationship between two people where there is a significant age difference.

Liu Wanwan said that Xi Jie thought it was all directed and acted by Han Ze himself.

But having looked at it, Ran Lin thought the trending topic “Han Ze’s <Chronicles of Winter>” might have been orchestrated by Han Ze’s team, but the agent change might really be an unforeseen disaster, just coincidentally happening at this time. Or perhaps Han Ze’s team saw it breaking out and simply rode the wave to buy the hot search for “Han Ze’s <Chronicles of Winter>”.

There was no other reason.

Just like the comments under the marketing account, if Han Ze really wanted to create hype, he shouldn’t rely solely on love scandals, as it would be very damaging to him and not worth the loss.

If it were any other content, Ran Lin could still discuss it with Wang Xi, but now the speculations were about the two’s “ambiguous relationship”, and it wasn’t appropriate for Ran Lin to discuss with Wang Xi. Even if she and Han Ze really had something, it was all in the past. Back when Wang Xi was still leading Han Ze, he didn’t clarify things with his agent, and there was even less need to do so now.

Idly scrolling until past eleven at night, seeing no new content and that the heat over changing agents was also slowly dying down, in contrast to the constant flow of official releases about how hard Han Ze had worked shooting <Chronicles of Winter>, Ran Lin logged out of Weibo and went to wash up and sleep.

The following day was overcast with intermittent rain.

When Ran Lin arrived at the set, it hadn’t started raining, but the sun was hidden. A wind rising under the cloud cover brought a hint of coolness. All of the day’s scenes were to be shot inside a “rental house”. By the time Ran Lin, with makeup done, reached the set, Qi Luoluo, already styled, was waiting there.

Transformed by the stylist’s skill, she shed her usual glamor for a girl-next-door look. Wearing jeans and a white T-shirt printed with black letters, her hair simply tied into a ponytail. The stylist also toned down her bright complexion with a slightly darker foundation, so as not to clash with the film’s color palette or the male lead’s skin tone.

“Ran Ge, good morning.” Qi Luoluo greeted him respectfully as soon as she saw him.

Ran Lin was a bit overwhelmed but accepted the respectful address since she insisted on using it, replying as a “senior” might. “Good morning. How are you feeling about today?”

“A bit nervous,” Qi Luoluo admitted, sticking out her tongue.

“No problem,” Ran Lin reassured her. “The director is easygoing. As long as you’re serious and put your heart into it, it’ll be fine.”

Ran Lin didn’t actually know how good this Qi girl’s acting was and could only offer polite words.

They stood in the “bedroom” set while the crew was busy preparing in the “living room” outside, adjusting lights, and finding the right angles for shooting. The space was limited, and it was going to be a physical scene with Ran Lin and Gu Jie grappling, followed by Qi Luoluo joining in, which made it easy to slip up.

“What are you chatting about?” Gu Jie entered, still looking dashing in casual clothes.

Before Ran Lin could speak, Qi Luoluo replied, “I get chatty when I’m nervous, and unfortunately, Ran Ge was caught by me.”

“You picked the right person,” Gu Jie teased. “He’s the most considerate and attentive of all the male actors here.”

Ran Lin was surprised. “So I have such a high reputation in your heart?”

Gu Jie looked at him seriously. “If you’d help me stretch or do sit-ups, your reputation would be even higher.”

Ran Lin was unamused and refused without a second thought, “No way.”

Ever since the last time he almost got flipped over by Gu Jie’s leg, he’d stayed away from such perilous acts of kindness.

“What stretching? Can I help?” Qi Luoluo asked, eyes wide.

Ran Lin was at a loss for words.

Gu Jie felt a bit awkward. He could joke around with Ran Lin, but it was different with a female actor he wasn’t close to, so he instinctively looked towards the “living room”, hoping they’d finish setting up soon.

Perhaps the crew heard Gu Jie’s silent plea as a staff member peeked through the doorframe, announcing that shooting was about to begin.

Ran Lin and Gu Jie breathed a sigh of relief and quickly headed out.

Qi Luoluo shrugged and followed swiftly.

The first scene didn’t include Qi Luoluo—just Ran Lin and Gu Jie in the room. The scene was about Xiao Gu, having a rare day off, visiting “Informant Di” on set, leading to a fight when words failed. Specifically, Di Jiangtao, known for his temper, strikes first, and Xiao Gu, initially dodging, eventually restrains him when Di Jiangtao seems out of control.

Gu Jie, skilled in combat, and Di Jiangtao, a brawler, made for a scene that didn’t require martial arts choreography. The more realistic and grounded, the better. So, the director let them improvise after a couple of run-throughs.

Ran Lin, who hadn’t really fought much in his life, found this improvisation challenging. His limbs felt foreign as he moved awkwardly, unsure how to approach Gu Jie.

Gu Jie, visibly frustrated, pushed him hard.

Ran Lin, concentrating on mimicking the motions, stumbled back against the wall, wincing at the pain but managing to stay upright.

“What the…” Ran Lin’s first word came out almost as a yell, but realizing where he was, he subdued his anger. “What are you doing?”

“Fighting,” Gu Jie retorted with a glance. “What else? You expect a hug?”

Gu Jie’s demeanor was cold… No, not Gu Jie, but Xiao Gu, the character disdainful of Di Jiangtao.

Ran Lin lowered his eyes, brewing a moment, then suddenly lunged forward, pushing Gu Jie hard!

His move mirrored Gu Jie’s earlier action—an eye for an eye.

Gu Jie, with a sturdier stance, only stepped back half a step before smiling broadly, teeth gleaming, “Keep going.”

Ran Lin complied, pushing harder.

This time, Gu Jie didn’t retreat but instead grabbed Ran Lin’s wrist, pulling him into an arm lock in a swift motion.

The intense twist caused sharp pain in Ran Lin’s shoulder. He instinctively struggled, but Gu Jie held firm. In desperation, Ran Lin elbowed backward.

Gu Jie dodged too late, the blow landing partially, loosening his grip. Ran Lin broke free, putting some distance between them, both panting and facing off.

Gu Jie watched him with a scornful sneer, then silently mouthed his lips.

Ran Lin’s eyes widened in disbelief. Was this guy cursing him?!

Though he knew it was just a rehearsal, his emotions flared. Ran Lin charged again, embroiled in a messy scuffle.

Eventually, they ended up on the ground. Ran Lin was caught off-balance and tumbled down.

Gu Jie, still holding his arm, cushioned the fall, then mounted his lower back, pinning both arms and stopping any further resistance.

As his shoulders ached increasingly, Gu Jie finally got off, looking expectantly at the director. “Director He, how was it?”

Director He nodded approvingly. “I like it.”

Ran Lin, sore all over, couldn’t muster the energy to comment on their “routine”. Was this some kind of exercise?

“Another round?” Gu Jie flexed his shoulders, eager as if the previous bout was just a warm-up.

Ran Lin shook his head like a rattle drum. “I think we’re ready to shoot for real.”

Another round, and he might not be able to get up.

“Alright,” Gu Jie said, looking slightly disappointed, before turning to the director. “We’re ready.”

Director He looked towards Ran Lin for confirmation.

Ran Lin gave a thumbs up and a resilient smile.

“Scene XX, <Dyeing Fire>, take 1…”

Click!

The clapperboard sounded the start. Di Jiangtao, standing in front of the window, turned and pushed Xiao Gu forcefully!

It was a repeat of the previous rehearsal, in the cramped room filled with the dull sound of grappling, representing a restrained policeman and a frenzied youth.

Finally, when Xiao Gu got Di Jiangtao pinned down, twisting his arms behind his back, Di Jiangtao desperately turned and shouted, “Let go of me! What right do you have to arrest me?”

He had turned with all his might, but in reality, he couldn’t see Xiao Gu behind him, only shouting towards the dimly perceived shadow and the air.

Xiao Gu frowned, about to give a lecture, when suddenly a knocking sound echoed from the entrance hall.

Tap, tap.

The casual rapping made the metal security door resonate, startling both men inside, who instinctively looked towards the entrance.

“Cut, pass—”

Gu Jie immediately let go and got off Ran Lin.

But Ran Lin lay there, unable to move for a while—Gu Jie had been too forceful, nearly causing dislocation with any weaker resistance.

“Are you okay?” The director walked over, squatting down to pat Ran Lin’s back gently.

“I’m fine.” Ran Lin gave another strong smile, then justified his inaction. “Isn’t there another take right after? I just stayed put to keep the position consistent to avoid continuity errors.”

Director He, not only good-tempered but also expressive, nodded in approval. “Good, you’ve got spirit!”

Watching the director walk back to the monitor, Ran Lin suddenly felt the aches and pains were worth it.

The set and decor remained unchanged, so the director, not wanting to waste time, sat back down at the monitor to continue.

Gu Jie remounted him, repositioning his arms behind his back with much less force than before, and Ran Lin tensed his body, portraying a sense of subdued indignation…

Click!

As the clapperboard sounded again, the voice of the landlord’s daughter, Jiang Xiaoxiao, rang from outside. “Don’t pretend you’re not home. I heard you!”

The two men inside maintained a baffled state.

Suddenly, the sound of keys in the door followed, and quickly, the security door opened with Jiang Xiaoxiao entering the hallway, grumbling, “I’m not as easily fooled as my mom. You haven’t paid your rent and…”

Her complaint stopped abruptly as she took in the scene in the living room.

A woman at the entrance, two men in the living room, a few meters apart, still in an awkward position.

Xiao Gu, in casual clothes, didn’t immediately signal to Jiang Xiaoxiao that he was a policeman. All she saw upon entering was one young man pinning another to the floor.

“Um…” Jiang Xiaoxiao swallowed, her mouth twitching slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Cut—”

Director He called for a cut, but it wasn’t satisfactory.

Nevertheless, Gu Jie quickly got off Ran Lin to prevent exerting too much pressure for too long, considering his own weight.

Ran Lin sat up, stretching his upper body.

The scene was short, with Jiang Xiaoxiao entering to demand rent, puzzled by the sight, meant to bring a touch of humor to the awkward moment. Therefore, the delivery needed to be precise.

Clearly, her performance hadn’t been quite up to par.

Not only the director, but even Ran Lin felt her delivery was a bit stiff and unnatural.

Since the movie mostly used live sound, with dubbing reserved for scenes with excessive background noise or other issues, the director was particularly meticulous about the tone and feel of the dialogue.

After the cut, Qi Luoluo immediately ran to the monitor to listen to the director’s guidance.

It was understandable for her to be slow getting into character on the first day, and her attitude was commendably proactive.

However, after seven or eight takes without success, even Ran Lin was feeling the strain.

It wasn’t mental fatigue but physical exhaustion; the contorted posture was taxing, and even without Gu Jie applying any force, the twisted position was torture on the joints.

Though Gu Jie wasn’t experiencing the same physical discomfort, retaking the scene numerous times was also trying for him.

Sensing that continuing this way was futile and unwilling to settle for any of the previous takes, the director decided to skip this scene and move on to the next.

However, perhaps influenced by the difficulties of this scene, Qi Luoluo’s performance in the subsequent ones wasn’t up to par either. By the time they wrapped up for the night at 10 p.m., they had barely managed to shoot the planned scenes, leaving two, including the rent collection and a later confrontation, for the next day.

Even with the director’s patience, the delayed progress was disheartening. The usual cheerful atmosphere was gone, leaving him brooding silently behind the monitor.

Qi Luoluo apologized repeatedly throughout the day, clearly anxious and feeling terribly guilty with each NG. But mere regret wasn’t enough to improve the performance, leaving everyone in a quandary.

After removing his makeup, Ran Lin and Gu Jie shared a ride back to the hotel. As the car started moving, Gu Jie rolled down the window and sighed into the night air.

“I should be the one sighing.” Ran Lin massaged his shoulders, despairing. “I can hardly feel my arms.”

Gu Jie turned from the night view to Ran Lin, asking seriously, “Do you think she’ll suddenly get it tomorrow, and everything will go smoothly?”

Ran Lin pondered carefully before responding, “It seems unlikely.”

Gu Jie’s head drooped, disheartened.

Ran Lin now understood Gu Jie’s earlier comment—the director wasn’t pleased with the new actress.

This “wasn’t” was probably about to escalate to “wasn’t very”.

From what Ran Lin knew of the director, even with tight schedules, he wouldn’t completely lower his standards. They must have auditioned, and Qi Luoluo’s performance then was probably just passable, enough to proceed given the time constraints.

Yet auditions and actual shooting were different, and with the added pressure of the first day, it was likely Qi Luoluo was more nervous, leading to a day’s work that left much to be desired.

With a hope that “tomorrow will be better”, Ran Lin returned to the hotel.

Thoroughly showering away the fatigue, he dried his hair and went to bed by 11:30 p.m. Fortunately, he had cut his hair shorter to fit the timeline of about half a year after release from prison. Simple drying sufficed for now—by July, when they would shoot scenes right after his release, his hair would be cropped very short, so he cherished these moments with longer hair.

Settling into bed, Ran Lin reached for his phone on the pillow to message his lover, only to find a new message waiting in WeChat, sent while he was showering, from Lu Yiyao—

[About Han Ze’s situation, don’t respond.]

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