At this moment, for the commercial celebration event, the Little Freesia Studio was still conducting emergency rehearsals.
Since the previous collaboration between Ran Jiu and Yu Lai hadn’t been particularly outstanding, they decided to stick with the yuri drama that Ran Jiu was accustomed to dubbing. Partnering with her this time was her junior apprentice, Li Weilin.
From the first few takes, Ran Jiu, already familiar with the script, delivered her lines fluently, with precise tone and emotion.
Li Weilin, being her first time recording, was quite nervous and stumbled over her lines several times.
Suddenly, Li Weilin felt a wave of unease, afraid of being looked down upon or considered too clumsy. She had worked so hard to get in, and now, with her thoughts in disarray, she rushed through several beats ahead of time.
A flush of shame spread across her face, and her hands trembled as she gripped the earphones, overwhelmed by tension.
Ran Jiu didn’t blame her. While reciting her own lines, she took advantage of the recording breaks to silently mouth the words “don’t be nervous” to Li Weilin.
Gradually, Li Weilin calmed down and immersed herself in the emotions Ran Jiu conveyed.
This recording session happened to cover the emotional climax of the drama, where the two characters in the story were enveloped in an ambiguous and enchanting atmosphere, their lines filled with the sweet whispers of lovers.
During the recording, Ran Jiu’s gentle confessions and profound gazes stirred Li Weilin’s heart, making her feel as if her blood vessels were about to burst.
As the two of them gradually found their rhythm, they finally completed the recording on the seventh take.
After finishing, the sound engineer leaned on the workstation and nodded appreciatively, “Much better than the previous program, and the emotions were spot-on.”
The two scriptwriters also breathed a sigh of relief—they wouldn’t have to search for new ones anymore.
Wei Feng still found it unbelievable. “Xiao Jiu, every time you record something like this, you inexplicably gain a certain spark.”
Yu Lai chimed in, “Xiao Jiu has a unique way of immersing herself. Haven’t you noticed that in every drama she dubs, she’s always the one leading the emotional charge?”
Wei Feng seized the opportunity to joke, “That’s why no one in our studio can handle you. It’s better for you to handle us.”
Xiao Zhi, ever the diplomat, praised both sides equally. “Weilin has been working really hard. Among the newcomers we’ve recruited, she has the most potential. Even before partnering with Xiao Jiu, I saw her rehearsing her lines over and over again. She didn’t even go back at noon yesterday. She’s a very dedicated young lady.”
Ran Jiu also nodded sincerely and said, “I’ve recorded this script before, but Linna worked much harder than I did. You really put in a lot of effort.”
At this moment, Li Weilin blushed deeply, shaking her head like a rattle drum, the two script papers in her hands tightly rolled up and clenched.
She wasn’t without her own motives. Before this, she had taken advantage of the studio’s resources to listen extensively to Ran Jiu’s audition recordings. She had to admit, as someone who had taken on many commercial dramas, Ran Jiu truly mastered both the emotions and the character portrayals.
As a long-time fan of the voice-acting circle, the key was that just listening to Ran Jiu’s cool and clear voice could conjure up countless images in her mind. Sometimes, her admiration and curiosity toward Ran Jiu were barely contained—she longed to get closer to her, yet at times, she also harbored ambitions to surpass her.
Upon learning she would be partnering with Ran Jiu, Li Weilin had been so excited for two days straight that she couldn’t sleep. When she entered the recording booth, she even felt overwhelmingly fortunate, as if her feet were floating without touching the ground. Especially when she heard Ran Jiu’s cool yet deeply affectionate confessions, she felt that even if it was just part of the drama, it was absolutely worth it.
Li Weilin stammered, “It’s… it’s still senior sister who matches better. I couldn’t get into the mood at first, but thanks to senior sister comforting and guiding me.”
Ran Jiu listened without much emotion, still smiling faintly.
Xiao Zhi squinted her eyes encouragingly, “You both did great.”
The sound engineer over there waved, saying there were still a few segments Li Weilin needed to go in and re-record. If the final effect was good, they could directly use it as the performance program.
Li Weilin hurriedly nodded and was about to go in, but suddenly stopped in her tracks. She turned back and looked at them shyly, “Senior sister, does our studio have any extra voice-acting festival tickets now?”
“Ah?” Xiao Zhi was genuinely taken aback for a moment, then quickly reacted, “The organizers did leave me a few tickets. Wei Feng took one for his girlfriend, so there should still be two left.”
Li Weilin quickly waved her hands, though her eyes were full of anticipation, “I… I just need one. I have a roommate who really likes Lord Ting and wants to come listen.”
After she took one, Xiao Zhi still had one left in her hand. She thought for a moment and handed it to Ran Jiu, “I originally wanted to save one for my husband, but he said he’s not interested in these things—that they’re just games for young people. It really annoys me.”
Ran Jiu expressed understanding, “There’s a huge gap between people inside and outside the circle. Some find comfort in voices, while others can’t even tell the difference. Don’t make it hard on your husband.”
As she spoke, she couldn’t help but feel a bit amused, because at times like these, she always became surprisingly eloquent. Yet at other times, she would feel just as lost.
Things that others could see through clearly, she herself couldn’t.
If only everything in the world could be simpler.
Xiao Zhi agreed, recalling the distant past, “That’s true. I’m practically an old fan from the early days of the voice-acting circle. Back then, there were only a handful of CV actors and hardly any radio dramas. People actually thought the lines spoken by actors on TV were their own voices, haha.”
Ran Jiu also smiled lightly, the corners of her lips curling slightly, with a shallow dimple on her left cheek.
Xiao Zhi hinted meaningfully, “Take it quickly. This one’s for you. In case there are any kids around who want to go, you can use it to win them over.”
Ran Jiu was about to say she didn’t need it, but then, as if thinking of something, she still took the ticket. “Thank you, Sister Xiao Zhi.”
Rehearsal went on late into the night. When she returned home, the living room light was on, and Rong Ting’s bedroom door was open. The sound of keyboard tapping could be heard.
What a diligent little gray rabbit.
Perhaps hearing the noise, the tapping paused for a moment before resuming.
Ran Jiu felt a bit puzzled. Usually, when she came back, the little gray rabbit would run out to greet her.
Just thinking about it, why did she feel this inexplicable sense of loss?
The next moment, “Ran Jiu?”
She inexplicably felt relieved.
Rong Ting walked out of the bedroom and asked as usual, “Have you eaten?”
Ran Jiu truthfully replied that she had. Since work ended late that day, Xiao Zhi had treated them to a crayfish street stall, so she wasn’t hungry now.
But her heart still felt much warmer, and the corners of her eyes lifted slightly.
“Oh.” Rong Ting stood there without moving, as if she still wanted to ask something.
“What’s wrong?”
Rong Ting thought for a moment, “Um, our school is having a voice-acting celebration in a couple of days. I heard many famous CVs will be attending. Are you going to participate too?”
Ran Jiu raised a slender eyebrow. “So in your eyes, I’m already considered famous?”
Her question instantly flushed Rong Ting’s face. She recalled secretly browsing Ran Jiu’s Weibo, filtering photos by date, tracing her every trace, and even searching for her videos on Bilibili—it all felt as if she had been seen through.
“Well, since the event is at our school, I was just curious,” Rong Ting said, feigning seriousness. “I don’t know much about your circle, but I think you’re really impressive.”
“Impressive in what way?”
“Like there are videos of you on Bilibili, your fans leave lots of comments, and…” She seemed to draw a blank.
Without logic, the conversation couldn’t go on. Rong Ting stammered for a moment before giving up. “Never mind, I was just asking. Anyway, I can show you around campus when you come. The gym can be tricky to find.”
Only then did she notice the deepening smile at the corner of Ran Jiu’s lips. It dawned on her that Ran Jiu had visited their school many times—how could she possibly not know where the gym was?
Ran Jiu gracefully offered her an out. “No worries, there’ll be a shuttle service.”
Rong Ting nodded dejectedly. “Alright.” She turned to go back to working on her thesis.
“Roommate,” Ran Jiu called out.
“Hmm?”
Ran Jiu spoke in flawless Cantonese: “Nei hou dak yik ah!” (You’re so cute!)
Rong Ting didn’t understand a word and was utterly confused.
What was there to be proud of?