“Lan Che, why did you change the lines and the plot again? Just now, were you trying to…” Hong Zidong’s face was bright red. He spoke incoherently, as though the rest of the sentence were impossible to say aloud. “You know… that?!”
Lan Che said, “Sorry, Director Hong. Teacher Yue’s acting was too good. I got carried away for a moment.”
Everyone’s body jolted.
Lan Che—a man whose acting could be written into textbooks—had called a washed-up nobody “Teacher.”
Yue Han’s expression did not look good either, but not because he was angry. He looked confused, mixed with bewilderment and a little blankness.
Chen Zhao assumed Yue Han was too deep in character. He praised him. “Brother Han, you were amazing! That acting was incredible! If that aired, you’d definitely win an award!”
He didn’t dare dream of international awards, but a domestic award was possible.
At the mention of awards, Hong Zidong’s expression abruptly changed.
Hong Zidong sighed. “Lan Che, come with me.”
Only after Lan Che left did Yue Han fully relax. He grabbed Chen Zhao’s arm, his fingertips trembling continuously.
“Brother Han, what’s wrong? Still not out of character?”
“Mm. Give me a moment.”
Yue Han’s voice was saturated with exhaustion. Chen Zhao supported him as they walked aside.
Only Yue Han knew how difficult it was to act opposite Lan Che at such close range. Lan Che’s normal performance already carried pressure strong enough to frighten people. When he exploded emotionally, the force of his presence was even more overwhelming.
Simply meeting his eyes felt like standing before a towering snow-covered mountain at the instant an avalanche began.
Yet while feeling that crushing difference between them, Yue Han experienced unprecedented exhilaration.
He wanted to act. He wanted to keep acting.
At any cost.
It was only through that obsession that he had forcibly endured the invisible pressure and caught Lan Che’s performance.
Yue Han had never felt anything this fiercely boiling. It was as though a raging fire rolled through all the blood in his body, violent enough to blow open the top of his skull.
This was the first time his heart had ever beaten so violently for acting rather than some other reason.
“What do you think?”
“Yue Han’s acting is very good. Several times, I almost couldn’t catch what he gave me.”
Hong Zidong looked shocked. After a few seconds, he asked, “Seriously?”
Lan Che said, “I’m not exaggerating at all.”
This had been a two-person scene. Situations like this tested both actors’ fundamentals most severely. The slightest weakness from either side would make the image ugly.
Yet Yue Han—a pretty face famous for terrible acting—had displayed such powerful expressiveness. It was genuinely unexpected.
“I don’t know why the entertainment industry calls him a pretty face,” Lan Che said with a faint pull at the corner of his mouth. “At that level? A pretty face? Ha.”
Hong Zidong rubbed his temples. “You know what the entertainment industry is like now.”
This was the age of traffic. Compared with acting ability, the public cared more about an entertainer’s appearance and crafted persona, then their personal character.
It was almost ridiculous. For an actor, acting ability should have come first, yet it ranked fourth.
TV dramas relied on cutout compositing. Actors relied on doubles. Fans were terrified their favorite male or female idol might get a scrape. The moment a scene involved the slightest suffering or effort, they shouted for a stand-in.
If an actor personally performed a fight scene, marketing accounts would turn “dedication” into a promotional talking point.
Doing one’s basic job had somehow become a bonus point.
That was the current entertainment industry.
“I’ll tell you directly, Lan Che. Xu Xingzhe cannot play Fu Xun. Nobody except Yue Han can play him. Yue Han is Fu Xun.” That was Hong Zidong’s main purpose. “I want to replace him.”
The conversation between Lan Che and Hong Zidong lasted roughly ten minutes. Hong Zidong came out of the lounge first. Xu Xingzhe sat in a chair, deathly pale.
When he saw Hong Zidong, Xu Xingzhe forced a smile. “Director Hong…”
Hong Zidong raised a hand to stop him. “Rest today. Come tomorrow to sign the contract.”
Because Xu Xingzhe had been dropped into the production at short notice and the schedule was extremely tight, many procedures were unfinished. They had only roughly negotiated his pay and obtained a preliminary signature. One final step remained.
“…Tomorrow?” Xu Xingzhe froze.
“Mm. A few parts of the contract need to be changed.” Hong Zidong relaxed his brows slightly and used a soothing tone. “Come look tomorrow. If you think it works, sign. If you think it doesn’t…”
“I’ll try my best to accommodate you.”
Even after returning to the hotel, Xu Xingzhe’s head remained muddled. He was so absent-minded that he tripped over a blanket and fell to the floor.
Xu Xingzhe cannot play Fu Xun.
Nobody except Yue Han can play him. Yue Han is Fu Xun.