After entering December, Shanghai’s winters were always damp and bitterly cold.
Fortunately, the outdoor summer scenes had already been rushed to completion earlier, and for the actors, not having to film in thin clothing in this kind of miserable weather was a stroke of luck.
The weather forecast predicted snow that week, and Director Zhang had specifically moved the snow scene shoot to the day it was supposedly going to snow.
But in the memories of Ding Yuxi and Yu Shuxin, both locals, it almost never snowed in Shanghai during winter—and even when it did, the snowflakes were so stingy with their appearance fee that they charged by the second.
Sure enough, on the day of the snow scene shoot, the sky was overcast, a light drizzle pattered down for a while, and then nothing more.
The props department had long since prepared snow machines. Several machines were switched on, sending fine flakes tumbling down, while the prop masters adjusted the angles of the snow outlets to ensure the snow would drift precisely onto the filming area.
When the assistant director saw that the adjustments were about right, he called out, “Quiet on set!” Everyone began to get into position, finding their designated spots.
“Stand by!” Each crew member prepared for the shoot.
Today’s scene—the male and female leads kissing under the first snow—was being directed by Ding Yuxi himself. He sat in the director’s chair with an air of calm composure, but inwardly, he was restless.
He put down his thumb, which he had been gnawing on nearly to the point of bleeding, and silently cursed himself for getting nervous over nothing. It wasn’t like he was the one filming a kiss scene.
The prop masters exited the filming area, and Yu Shuxin and Zhouchuan came in from their break. Ding Yuxi glanced at the several feeds on the monitor—the two of them seated on the riverside bench under the night sky made for a perfect composition.
“Cam,” Ding Yuxi said into his walkie-talkie, signaling the cameramen to start recording.
“Roll,” the cameramen replied in booming voices. This take would be shot from three angles. The crew remained silent as official recording began, with only the faint hum of the snow machines breaking the quiet.
“Action!” Ding Yuxi called out through the director’s megaphone, his gaze fixed intently on the monitor.
To perfectly capture the dizzy, tipsy state of the female lead, Yu Shuxin had deliberately downed a can of beer before filming.
Her tolerance for alcohol was admittedly mediocre—after barely half a can, her fair cheeks flushed with a faint rosy tint, making her skin look as smooth and delicate as fine white jade. It was the kind of sight that softened one’s heart and made you want to reach out and pinch her cheek.
Yu Shuxin pouted slightly and let out an “mm,” refusing Zhouchuan’s suggestion to go home like a child throwing a little tantrum.
Just then, the artificial snow began to fall—first a few scattered flakes, then gradually growing denser.
Yu Shuxin nailed the delayed reaction of someone who was drunk. Only as the snow thickened did she seem to wake from a dream, lifting her eyelids to see the snowflakes dancing through the air. She let out a delighted “Wow!”
Then, unable to contain herself, she stood up and spread her arms wide: “It’s snowing!”
She slowly spun in a circle, catching the falling snowflakes, and said to Zhouchuan, who had also risen to his feet, her face brimming with joy: “This is the first snow of this winter.”
Zhouchuan watched her innocent, carefree expression, the corners of his mouth lifting involuntarily. He smiled at her with doting affection, his gaze as gentle as water, as if the two of them were the only people left in the world.
Following the script’s blocking, Yu Shuxin suddenly stumbled as if losing her footing and tumbled into Zhouchuan’s arms.
As this scene unfolded, three cameramen stood beside them filming, capturing a side profile close-up of each and a close-up of the male and female leads locking eyes.
Yu Shuxin smiled at Zhouchuan and said, “Teacher, here’s some snow for you.”
Zhouchuan found it amusing to watch this little fool who was so drunk she couldn’t tell north from south anymore. He gently coaxed her, “How about we go home to watch it, okay?”
At this moment, Yu Shuxin’s cheeks were flushed crimson, as if she were so drunk her eyes could barely focus.
Her gaze drifted from Zhouchuan’s eyes to his lips, and then she stood on her tiptoes, slowly leaning closer, and gently pressed her lips to his.
Zhouchuan’s face was full of astonishment. For a moment, he was at a loss, passively allowing Yu Shuxin to kiss him.
After kissing for a little while, Yu Shuxin seemed satisfied, then pulled back and squinted at him with a smile.
At that moment, Zhouchuan reached out and pulled her tightly into his embrace, kissing her back possessively.
Snowflakes drifted down in flurries, like a soft veil shrouding the couple deeply in love, time itself frozen in that instant…
Ding Yuxi watched the monitor with a calm expression, only calling cut after capturing the shot he was satisfied with.
“Cut!”
Hearing that “cut,” Yu Shuxin sprang out of Zhouchuan’s arms as if she’d been poked with an acupuncture point.
Filming by the Huangpu River at night, the biting cold wind seemed to bore straight into her bones. Yu Shuxin shivered violently, her voice trembling as she wailed, “Someone give me a jacket! I’m freezing to death!”
Xiao Yang, who had been waiting nearby, rushed over first to stuff a hot water bottle into her hands, then swiftly helped her into a thick down jacket.
After hugging the hot water bottle for a while to warm up, Yu Shuxin sneakily crept over to the large monitor and cooed sweetly at Ding Yuxi, who was reviewing the footage: “Director Ding, how was that last take?”
Ding Yuxi tilted his head slightly, catching a faint hint of rose fragrance. She really was like a little rose blooming in the cold winter night. “Mm, it’s good.”
Yu Shuxin blinked her eyes. “Should we do one more for safety, just in case?”
Ding Yuxi shook his head. “No need.” With that, he set down his walkie-talkie, casually picked up the director’s megaphone beside him, and called out loudly to the entire set: “That’s a wrap! Great work, everyone!”
Hearing this, a huge smile immediately bloomed on Yu Shuxin’s face, and she shouted, “Long live Director Ding! Finally, time to rest!”
At that moment, Ding Yuxi let out a helpless chuckle, then lowered his head and began quietly tidying up the things in front of him.
As he organized various props and documents, he looked up as if casually, and gently reminded Yu Shuxin: “It’s cold today. Remember to drink some ginger tea to ward off the chill when you get back. Don’t catch a cold.”
Yu Shuxin was about to tell him about her birthday party next Friday, but hearing this, she suddenly felt a bit deflated. She really hadn’t misjudged him.
This…
Cen! Tral! Air! Con! Di! Tion! Ing!
She deliberately cooed at Ding Yuxin with a teasing lilt: “Director Ding is so thoughtful. Are you this caring toward everyone?”
Ding Yuxin was caught off guard by her sudden question, puzzled as to why she would ask such a thing out of nowhere. He thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully: “Of course not. I only do this for people I care about.”
Hmph, who knows how many people he claims to care about—I bet there’s no shortage of “dear sisters” either!
Yu Shuxin grumbled inwardly, but on the surface she said casually, “Next Friday evening, I’m celebrating my birthday at Chunting Hall. Are you free to come?”
This was asking what she already knew. Director Zhang had always been reasonable and considerate, having long ago arranged the filming schedule so that there would definitely be no night scenes on the female lead’s birthday.
As long as the daytime filming went smoothly, they could wrap up early, so Ding Yuxi would certainly be free that evening. At this moment, Yu Shuxin deliberately asked this way, wanting to see exactly how he would respond.
Ding Yuxi’s expression remained unchanged, but for some reason, his heart began pounding uncontrollably.
For Yu Shuxin, her birthday should be a very important day, right?
By inviting him, did it mean she already counted him as a friend she’d celebrate birthdays with?
Yet he said, “I should be free.”