Strangely enough, the three of them hadn’t done anything deliberate at Ci’an Temple; they simply bowed to the Buddha statues whenever they encountered them and listened from afar to a brief chanting of Buddhist scriptures. Perhaps due to the temple’s inherent solemnity, they actually felt a faint sense of awe.
Fortunately, internet access was not widespread back then, and the entertainment industry’s environment was relatively healthy, so they didn’t need to make their outings overly exaggerated. With conventional attire, they could blend in with ordinary people and enjoy a carefree stroll.
Undisturbed, they peacefully underwent a spiritual cleansing. Both Yunjun Ye and Irene shed their earlier restlessness and flamboyance, while Angie remained as she always was, showing no discernible difference on the surface.
When they stepped out of the temple gates and descended the mountain back to the streets, the evening lights were just beginning to twinkle, yet none of the three had any desire left to visit the night market.
“Where to now?” Shi Ruirui asked while driving. From the moment the three of them boarded the van, Shi Ruirui hadn’t asked any questions and simply headed straight toward the city center. With no one mentioning the next destination, she had to take the initiative to ask.
The three exchanged glances, none of them speaking immediately.
“That Ci’an Temple really seems magical. My mind feels so peaceful right now, I don’t even want to go join the hustle and bustle of crowded places for a while it’s amazing,” Irene said with an expression of disbelief as she looked at the passing night scenery outside the window.
“Didn’t you say we were going to the night market tonight? Suddenly changing your mind?” Yunjun Ye looked at Irene, merely harboring the intent to tease her and relieve the quiet atmosphere inside the carriage.
“Night markets are mostly about greasy, meaty food. Coming right out after paying respects to the Buddha, eating meat somehow makes you feel guilty inside,” Irene said without a hint of concealment.
“Tsk, you have the potential to enter the Buddhist gates,” Yunjun Ye joked, quickly bringing the topic to a close. “Then we won’t go. Let’s just head back to the hotel.”
“Teacher Angie, what do you think?” Yunjun Ye turned her gaze toward the calm and composed Angie.
Angie looked at the two of them, smiled faintly, and answered softly, “Let’s head back then.”
“I think I’ll be able to get a really good night’s sleep tonight,” Irene said lazily, leaning back against her seat.
“The way you say that makes it sound like you couldn’t sleep well before…” Bored, Yunjun Ye opened her mouth to retort.
“After taking this trip, I feel like I can thoroughly calm down even when filming.”
“Then how were you filming the past two days?”
Angie remained silent, quietly watching the two bicker back and forth. She couldn’t help but sigh inwardly, youth was truly wonderful.
After enjoying a break of several hours amidst their busy filming schedules, the crew members returned to the set brimming with boundless energy, including Yunjun Ye and Irene.
The moment the mercury lamps flared to life, Yunjun Ye felt as though she were living entirely within Angie’s doting gaze. It was a kind of tender indulgence resembling the affection of a wife toward her husband or child infused with deep respect, gentleness, and infinite devotion.
Yunjun Ye reveled in the tender warmth bestowed by Angie within the scene. Adhering to the principle of reciprocity and following the emotional progression outlined in the script, she reciprocated with the passion and deep affection expected of a husband.
Neither side deliberately held back. The thrill of dueling in acting rippled between them, forging an indescribable tacit understanding.
Seeing the two leading actors becoming increasingly in sync, directors Yin Yongquan and Han Deyu took it all in and wore happy smiles.
It was truly rare to find a “male” and female lead with such exceptional chemistry. Regardless of whether it was because they were both actresses refusing to be outdone and thus matching wits on stage, or simply the spark of superior acting where each pushed the other to excel, as far as the directors were concerned, the results were all that mattered: captivating acting, exquisite and visually pleasing frames, and deeply moving drama. That was the ultimate goal. What was more, this level of coordination would invisibly shorten the production timeline. From any perspective, it was something to celebrate.
Whenever there was downtime, people would frequently spot Han Deyu strolling around the filming set, periodically watching the dialogue scenes between Angie and Yunjun Ye with a smile so wide his eyes vanished.
“Should we put the major indoor scenes on the schedule? Once these scenes are wrapped up, we can move on to exterior shoots the season is just right,” Yin Yongquan said to Han Deyu, who was sitting nearby, as he looked over the storyboard drafts in his hand.
“Sure. You’re the expert when it comes to scheduling; just arrange it as you see fit,” Han Deyu replied in high spirits. He didn’t care which scene was filmed after which; his only concern was completion and quality. Whatever settings Yin Yongquan requested, he would allocate the funds to arrange them. If Yin Yongquan wanted to shoot exteriors, he would promptly organize the vehicles and logistics without a moment’s hesitation, offering his full support.
True to their word, come the evening wrap-up, both Angie and Yunjun Ye received their call sheets for the following day, prominently featuring the wedding ceremony and the bridal chamber scenes.
The two glanced at the call sheets, exchanged a knowing look, and shrugged indifferently.
Before the schedule change, both had already memorized their lines and familiarized themselves with the settings for these two scenes. They were no longer strangers to the material, so shooting them at any point wouldn’t cause major disruptions.
When the interior set was draped in auspicious, vibrant reds and illuminated with festive lanterns, Angie finally felt a flutter of nervousness in her chest. Having acted for so many years and filmed more than a few wedding sequences, she somehow felt a strange tension today.
With the red bridal veil lowered, Angie’s vision was blocked. Holding the red silk coupling ribbon, all she could see directly ahead was a patch of dark flooring spanning twenty or thirty centimeters. With the groom standing at the other end of the ribbon completely out of sight, she closed her eyes and quietly awaited the director’s command.
“Action!”
Beneath the veil, Angie instantly transitioned her expression. Even though she was out of the camera’s direct line of sight, her fundamental professionalism as an actress allowed her to dive straight into character.
Guided by the red silk, Angie followed the groom’s pace into the grand hall.
Since the scholar possessed neither parents nor family, and the female lead was a Daoist practitioner descending to the mortal realm to undergo trials, the wedding took place in a hall devoid of parents or matchmakers, assisted solely by a few close friends of the bride. The ritual itself was simple: they bowed to heaven and earth, and following the mutual bow between the couple, the lifting of the veil would mark the completion of the ceremony.
Just as the groom’s face was about to come into view within Angie’s line of sight, suppressed chuckles broke out among the crew members off-camera one after another. Tense with concentration, Yunjun Ye’s hand jerked, causing the veil to fall back into place.
“Hahaha!” Seeing this, the people off-set burst into laughter all at once, as if collectively struck by a hilarious acupoint.
Yunjun Ye couldn’t help it either and broke into a grin.
“Cut!” Yin Yongquan’s face filled with fury. His gaze grew chillingly cold as he looked at the few crew members still standing on the sidelines muffling their smiles. He had anticipated that some crew members might break character and laugh, but he hadn’t expected so many to react this strongly.
“I’m sorry, Director.” Knowing full well she shouldn’t have laughed along, Yunjun Ye felt her face flush bright red, especially since the thought of herself playing the groom marrying a bride struck her as rather amusing.
“Take a break, readjust your state, and we’ll shoot again in a moment,” Yin Yongquan said gently to the actors under the cameras, shedding his harshness toward the crew.
Irene stood by, supporting Angie, and laughed so hard she clutched her stomach upon seeing Yunjun Ye’s embarrassed plight.
Angie lifted her veil and looked at the people still trying to suppress their laughter on set, then at Irene who was doubled over laughing uncontrollably right beside her and finally at Yunjun Ye’s blushing face. A slight, amused curve touched the corners of her lips.
“Is it really that funny?” Yunjun Ye stepped out of the camera’s frame, walked over to a few people still holding back their chuckles, and asked with a beaming smile.
“It’s alright, it’s alright.”
“Alright? You’re still struggling not to laugh?”
“Hahaha, seeing two beauties get married it’s a first in my life, hahaha,” someone in the crowd laughed while explaining.
Hearing this, Yunjun Ye’s laughter subsided. In their eyes, this was just two girls getting married, which meant the problem lay with her own performance.
Clearly playing the role of a male scholar, yet no one in front of the camera viewed her as one—meaning the audience wouldn’t be drawn into the illusion of the story either. This was undeniably a massive failure in her acting.
Why hadn’t Angie broken character and laughed? Didn’t she realize she was participating in a wedding ceremony with another girl?
Yunjun Ye turned around to search for Angie’s figure. Seeing Angie maintain her customary gentle, smiling expression, seemingly unaffected by everyone else’s uproarious laughter, Yunjun Ye’s heart sank heavily.
It seemed she truly hadn’t immersed herself in the role.
During a break in filming that day, when Yunjun Ye had been chatting casually with Yin Yongquan, the director had dropped subtle hints that while her acting was outstanding and visually impressive on the surface, there was still vast room for deeper exploration.
At the time, Yunjun Ye hadn’t thought much of it, simply assuming Yin Yongquan was being demanding in hopes of achieving the absolute best results.
Now, however, she suddenly understood. To a director as sensitive to the lens as him, merely executing the form to perfection and creating a pretty picture fell short when the characters lacked a living soul.
Outsiders couldn’t tell the difference, but insiders could sense it instantly.
Had Angie truly immersed herself in the role? Was she genuinely able to cast aside all distracting thoughts and view herself as a husband?
Until they took their positions for the next take, Yunjun Ye still hadn’t fully adjusted her mindset.
“Hey, how does it feel to take a wife?” Irene ran up to Yunjun Ye, poking her head forward with a mischievous grin.