19
Director Zhang’s film was titled Green Love Story. In the original book, after its release, this film relied on word-of-mouth acclaim to achieve a comeback, winning several major awards. Guan Xin, through this film, won the Outstanding New Actress award at one major ceremony and was nominated for Best Actress at another.
And all of this came to her because of Shen Shiqing. Yet, the one she loved was Gu Qiwen. She couldn’t refuse Shen Shiqing’s help, but at the same time, she felt deeply guilty toward Gu Qiwen.
Later, Gu Qiwen married the original owner. With the original owner’s help, he gradually gained power and influence, and combined with the Qi family, after the original owner’s four fathers died one after another and the original owner herself was gone, Gu Qiwen formally rose to power and learned about Guan Xin and Shen Shiqing.
Guan Xin tearfully confessed everything to him. Of course, Gu Qiwen forgave her, and then began to contend with Shen Shiqing.
Jiang Mian: “…”
Reading this plot gave her goosebumps. The original author had put in considerable effort and writing to ensure the male and female leads could end up happily together.
Green Love Story was primarily set in a past era. It tells the story of a young man from the city who comes to a village deep in the mountains to volunteer as a teacher, meets the female lead, and they fall in love. Eventually, due to national policies, he returns to the city.
Before leaving, he tells the female lead he will come back to marry her. She waits for twenty years. Only when they meet again does she realize the missed chances and misunderstandings between them. The male lead has become seriously ill and has never married. After twenty years apart, the female lead marries him, and finally, the male lead dies in her arms.
The female lead’s parents died early, so she lives with her uncle’s family. Her uncle has two sons and a daughter; another mouth to feed means another burden. Her uncle’s family treats her poorly, but the female lead remains optimistic and loves life. Like a blade of grass growing by a wall, she struggles to rise against the wind.
The female lead’s cousin, the second female lead, also falls in love with the male lead. After the male lead leaves the mountains and returns to the city, he often writes letters to the female lead, but her cousin secretly intercepts them, so the female lead never receives a single one.
The female lead waits for the male lead to marry her, never marrying, and ends up serving her uncle’s entire family. By this time, her cousin has already married into a neighboring village.
Because the family’s conditions are poor, the two girls have always shared a room. The intercepted letters are all hidden under a floorboard. When the female lead cleans the room, she finally discovers their existence.
Jiang Mian’s first scene takes place twenty years later. The female lead, Li Wanjing, discovers the letters under the bedboard and goes to confront her cousin, Li Wanrong.
The confrontation scene was set in Li Wanrong’s home after her marriage. Twenty years have passed. The fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl in the prime of youth has entered middle age. The makeup artists work wonders, transforming Jiang Mian and Guan Xin into village women through their craft.
However, since the female lead never married, her long hair was still braided into two thick plaits, a style she has kept unchanged. Although not as beautiful as in her youth, she looks much better than Li Wanrong.
Li Wanrong, now married with three children, has a bloated figure and a sallow complexion. Guan Xin was tall and slender, and to portray the bloated figure, she wraps layers of clothes around her waist to appear heavier. Then, with the help of the makeup artists and stylists, she perfectly fits the image of Li Wanrong.
Twenty years ago, the two were equally beautiful, fresh young girls. Twenty years later, the married Li Wanrong has aged, becoming no different from the other village women. The unmarried Li Wanjing has retained that girlish quality, though she looks much more weathered.
Twenty years have passed. Even if Li Wanjing knows the truth, so much time has gone by that it’s too late to change anything. Li Wanrong was fully aware of this, so she acts brazenly, even going so far as to mock Li Wanjing for her delusions.
In this scene, Jiang Mian and Guan Xin have roughly the same amount of dialogue. The key was which of them can control the rhythm of the scene. Will they be evenly matched, or will one completely dominate the other?
The director and crew are still setting up the area and making adjustments. The actors wait nearby, ready to start filming as soon as the director calls action.
Jiang Mian was holding a small bowl of watermelon shaved ice made by Xie Siyuan, eating it bite by bite. Xie Siyuan truly deserves his reputation as one of her Film Emperor Dad’s three personal nutritionists—his skill was undeniable. She’s wearing her costume, which wasn’t breathable, and the weather was muggy and hot. One mouthful of the cold watermelon shaved ice was incredibly refreshing.
She’s sporting two thick braids. Her fair, smooth skin was completely covered by a dull foundation applied by the makeup artist, wrinkles have been painted on her face, and even her hands have been treated.
Even so, she still looks beautiful.
Tang An’an thinks to herself that Jiang Mian has a beauty that radiates from within. Even if the makeup and hairstyle deliberately make her look plainer and older, they can’t hide her inner brilliance.
She had thought the previous celebrity she assisted was beautiful enough, but now she realizes there’s always someone more beautiful.
Seeing Tang An’an just standing there, Jiang Mian gestures for her to sit down. “Why are you standing?”
When Tang An’an assisted her previous celebrity, she almost never had a moment to sit down. The woman was constantly ordering her around. Jiang Mian barely asks her to do anything, which actually feels strange to her.
She sits down. After a moment, she says, “I just saw Guan Xin with her assistant, running lines over there.”
Jiang Mian responds with a noncommittal “Oh” and continues eating her shaved ice, also pulling out her tablet to play a game. The signal in the mountains was a bit unstable, so she can only play offline games.
Tang An’an hesitates, then says, “Mianmian, do you want to run lines with me?”
The second female lead was being so diligent and serious. And from Tang An’an’s years of experience in the entertainment industry, she senses that Guan Xin’s demeanor—rather than merely wanting to act well and perform at her best—actually seems aimed at completely crushing Jiang Mian in their scenes together.
It’s an intuition, the kind unique to women.
Jiang Mian looks up at her. “Don’t you trust me?”
“No, not at all.” Tang An’an quickly shakes her head. Although Jiang Mian looks confident, Tang An’an hasn’t seen her studying the script much, so she can’t help but worry.
Jiang Mian smiles and looks back down. She seems to be playing a game, but in her mind, she has already split into two little figures rehearsing the scene. This was a skill she learned in a secret realm of the cultivation world, after surviving a desperate situation by the skin of her teeth.
If one’s cultivation level was high enough, this skill can be used to create avatars. In her previous life, Jiang Mian could create up to six at once, each possessing seventy percent of her original strength.
Without this ability, she wouldn’t have been able to kill several great demon lords, each of whose power was no less than the Mahayana stage.
In this world, this skill has become nearly useless. It can only create two little figures in her mind to help her practice—better than nothing.
“Xiao Jiang,” a voice says. “The scene after next is between our characters. Do you want to run lines together?”
Jiang Mian looks up. The speaker was Yu Ran, who plays the male lead.
Yu Ran was an experienced actor, her senior in the industry. Calling her “Xiao Jiang” was neither too distant nor too familiar—he has a good sense of boundaries and doesn’t come across as off-putting.
Yu Ran has been in the industry for many years, always hovering in the middle range without ever truly breaking through. It wasn’t until the success of Green Love Story that his career slowly began to gain traction.
In the original book, after Yu Ran finished filming Green Love Story with Guan Xin, he developed feelings for her. But learning that she had a boyfriend, he kept those feelings hidden.
Later, when people online attacked Guan Xin, he would always appear at critical moments to support her, becoming a good friend to her within the industry.
However, his role in the story was pitifully small. He appeared only a few times before disappearing entirely—the original author probably forgot they had written him.
As a result, Jiang Mian’s impression of Yu Ran was: one of Guan Xin’s admirers, one of countless cannon-fodder male supporting characters.
“Teacher Yu,” Jiang Mian says politely, turning off her game, and agrees to his request.
Yu Ran has been in the industry for many years. Although he hasn’t achieved massive fame, he has his own insights when it comes to acting.
For a newcomer, running lines with a senior before official filming was a great opportunity. Many veteran actors, relying on their own understanding of acting, won’t easily run lines with their scene partners or offer them guidance. They just focus on finishing their own parts.
Jiang Mian was currently a newcomer, and Yu Ran was her senior. Logically, if anyone should initiate running lines, it should be Jiang Mian going to Yu Ran. Yet Yu Ran came over to offer first. Clearly, it was a kind gesture. When someone extends kindness, Jiang Mian naturally accepts it.
Yu Ran had expected Jiang Mian to approach him to run lines, but when she didn’t come, he thought she might be shy as a newcomer, so he took the initiative.
He also figured that as a newcomer, Jiang Mian might lack some nuance in handling her character. If he noticed any issues while running lines, he could offer pointers and help her out.
Although he wasn’t hugely famous, his acting skills were solid—otherwise Zhang Zhixin wouldn’t have handpicked him as the male lead.
He loves acting and enjoys the joy it brings him during filming. Therefore, he also hopes his scene partners will be in the best possible state, so that together they can deliver an exceptional performance.
However, after running the scene with Jiang Mian, Yu Ran was surprised. Their run-through went very smoothly, even giving him the feeling that they were actually filming for real.
“Xiao Jiang, have you acted in anything before?” Yu Ran couldn’t help but ask after they finished.
Jiang Mian shook her head.
Neither the original owner nor herself had ever formally acted in anything before. So, it wasn’t a lie.
Yu Ran said appreciatively, “You did very well just now.”
As a newcomer, she couldn’t be so immodest as to simply accept the praise. Jiang Mian said humbly, “I wouldn’t dare claim to be good in front of you, Teacher Yu. It was your lead that helped me get into character so quickly.”
Yu Ran smiled. This girl might speak humble words, but the confidence in her eyes was unmistakable. The industry really could use an infusion of fresh blood.
On the other side, Guan Xin, having finished running lines with Zheng Xiaoyu, walked back. She immediately saw Jiang Mian and Yu Ran chatting and laughing together with their scripts in hand, this made her steps faltered.
As the second female lead, she also had several scenes with Yu Ran. Not only did she have a scene with Jiang Mian today, but also one with Yu Ran. Earlier, she had gone to Yu Ran to request running lines, and he had happily agreed.
But after they finished running lines, he said to her: “Xiao Guan, that part just now—you were overacting a bit.”
Guan Xin’s face instantly flushed bright red. She had originally believed she would get the female lead role and had immersed herself in studying the female lead, Li Wanjing. Now, having been assigned the second female lead, Li Wanrong, she felt a knot of frustration and was determined to perform well.
She carefully reviewed and memorized each scene, mulling them over in her mind. She had thought that after running lines with Yu Ran, he would praise her. Instead, she received that assessment. She felt both ashamed and upset.
Fortunately, after pointing out the problem, Yu Ran also mentioned her strengths, which made her feel a bit better.
Yu Ran was her senior and trusts his critique, so when he said she was overacting, she took that point to heart and reflected on it carefully, concluding that he was right.
So she pulled Zheng Xiaoyu aside to run lines in a quiet spot, determined not only to crush Jiang Mian in their first scene together but also to impress everyone with her performance.
Yet upon returning, she saw Yu Ran and Jiang Mian laughing and talking, both holding scripts—clearly just having finished running lines together.
Was Yu Ran being so friendly and amicable because Jiang Mian was the female lead?
Or—her gaze fell on Jiang Mian, had she used her money to buy something again?
Guan Xin felt a knot in her chest. But the angrier she became, the calmer she stayed. She looked away and didn’t glance back in their direction.
The director finally finished his adjustments, and had the actors took their places.
In the courtyard, Guan Xin, holding a basin full of clothes, looks at the envelopes in Jiang Mian’s hand. She raises her hand to wipe the sweat from her face and gives a mocking smile. “Oh, so you finally found out?”
Jiang Mian looks at her and says nothing.
Guan Xin puts down the basin, wipes her hands on her oversized clothes to dry them, and approaches Jiang Mian, circling around her. “Look at yourself now. Don’t you think about it—Song Yun’an is a city man. He’s going to take the college entrance exam while you’re just a village girl from the mountains. Are you worthy of marrying him? I was just cutting off your wishful thinking early.”
Jiang Mian looks at Guan Xin—at her sallow complexion, her bloated figure, and the meanness lingering on her face, and suddenly wasn’t angry anymore. She hurls all the letters at Guan Xin. “If I’m not worthy of him, then are you?”
She turns and takes two steps, then stops and looks back, smiling. “Besides, at least I haven’t married anyone yet, have I?”
“Cut!” Director Zhang shouts. “Guan Xin, what’s wrong with you? React!”
Guan Xin’s expression changes. “She just threw the letters…”
Director Zhang said impassively, “Jiang Mian’s improvisation was very good. As an actor, reacting to your scene partner is instinct. Your movement just now was also an improvisation on your part. Jiang Mian responded to it. Why couldn’t you?”
Guan Xin bit her lip. She had merely made a blocking movement; Jiang Mian had taken a direct action. The nature of the two was different but she knew—on this point, she had lost. She had indeed been startled by Jiang Mian’s sudden act of throwing the letters, causing her to react a beat too late. She hadn’t responded in time.
“I’m sorry, Director. It was my fault.” Guan Xin took a deep breath and honestly admitted her mistake.
However, momentum was a fickle thing: the first attempt carries the full force, the second was weaker, and the third was exhausted.
Guan Xin had intended to crush Jiang Mian, but she had fallen behind right from the start, been scolded by the director, and all in front of so many people. Due to a combination of factors, this scene ended up being shot three times.
Throughout those three takes, Director Zhang made no critical comments about Jiang Mian’s performance—clearly, he was satisfied.
The reason it took three takes was entirely due to Guan Xin.
Afterward, Director Zhang called both of them over to the monitor. He played the playback and, in front of Jiang Mian, pointed out Guan Xin’s mistakes.
This was his film. Regardless of who the actors had backing them, if they were in his production, they had to follow his requirements. He wouldn’t lower his standards just because someone had connections. When it came to acting, he always called it as he saw it.
Good was good. Bad was bad.
Guan Xin’s eyes reddened. Her fingernails dug viciously into her palms, but on the surface, she maintained the appearance of a humble student taking instruction. Seeing this, Director Zhang softened his tone somewhat. “This is your first time acting. It’s normal to have shortcomings. You’ll improve with experience.”
“As for you.” Director Zhang turned to Jiang Mian, who also assumed an attentive, humble posture.
Director Zhang studied Jiang Mian carefully. He began to wonder whether Qin Jingrun had been coaching this girl privately. Jiang Mian’s performance in this scene had exceeded his expectations.
For actors he appreciated, Director Zhang didn’t skimp on praise. He patted Jiang Mian on the shoulder and smiled. “Good. Keep it up.”
Jiang Mian didn’t need to say anything—just standing there obediently, Director Zhang’s reaction and those few words were enough to slap Guan Xin in the face.
The way people looked at Guan Xin made her face burn. She wished she could crawl into a crack in the ground.
She gritted her teeth fiercely. It was only one scene. She had merely been caught off guard by Jiang Mian.
What could one scene prove?
There was still a long time ahead. She absolutely could not, because of one mistake, admit that she was inferior to Jiang Mian.
After finishing her scene with Guan Xin, the next scene was with the male lead. Jiang Mian had already rehearsed with Yu Ran beforehand. When official filming began, neither of them had any issues. They got it in one take.
Consequently, the looks people gave Guan Xin grew even more meaningful.
Jiang Mian had acted with her; because of Guan Xin’s problems, it took three takes. But with Yu Ran, she got it in one. Who was stronger and who was weaker was plain to see.
“Mianmian, I made some mung bean soup. Would you like some?” During a break, the third female lead, Chen Xueyi, voluntarily came over to chat. There were only three young actresses in the production. She didn’t want to bother with Guan Xin—she just instinctively disliked her—so she opted to befriend Jiang Mian instead.
“Thank you.” Jiang Mian accepted it. Reciprocity, after all. She offered a cup of the watermelon shaved ice Xie Siyuan had made.
Chen Xueyi took it. Comparing the two, she felt her own bowl of mung bean soup was rather shabby. But noticing that Jiang Mian hadn’t hesitated at all to drink the soup, her favorability toward her shot up.
Jiang Mian quietly observed Chen Xueyi.
Chen Xueyi was the supporting actress who played Li Wanrong, the second female lead, in the original book. She had a significant amount of screen time and constantly caused trouble for Guan Xin. Eventually, due to Shen Shiqing’s interference, her scandals were exposed—some true, some false, mixed together—forcing her to leave the entertainment industry.
But that wasn’t all. Later in the original story, a major award that should have gone to Chen Xueyi ended up in Guan Xin’s hands because of Shen Shiqing.
Bitter with resentment, Chen Xueyi tried to drug Guan Xin to expose a scandal, but of course, she failed.
After that, once she had been forced out of the entertainment industry, Shen Shiqing had someone drug her instead. The original book didn’t describe this in detail, but in the end, Chen Xueyi’s fate was very bad, though at least she was still alive.
Chen Xueyi noticed that Jiang Mian’s gaze seemed somewhat… sympathetic? She looked down at herself, puzzled.
Chen Xueyi had been in the industry only a short while, having played only a few minor supporting roles. Her family wasn’t well-off. She had entered the entertainment industry with only one goal: to make money!
Jiang Mian withdrew her gaze. According to the book’s description, Chen Xueyi was a vicious supporting character who envied and hated the female lead. In short, the better the female lead was, the more malicious Chen Xueyi was—which was to say, most of the supporting female characters in the book served to highlight the female lead’s kindness, resilience, and innocence.
Chen Xueyi’s eyes were clear, and her features were bold and beautiful. She really didn’t seem like the character described in the book. Perhaps her personality would change later due to the female lead’s influence, but for now, she seemed like a bright, unguarded young woman with no hidden schemes.
“Your performance just now was amazing. Everyone was captivated,” Chen Xueyi said. “Can I come and run lines with you in the future?” She was direct and straightforward.
“Of course.”
Jiang Mian quickly grew familiar with Chen Xueyi. Through her, she learned that Guan Xin, after finishing work each day, would immediately return to her room and continue studying the script, annotating it, sometimes even asking Chen Xueyi to run lines with her. She was like a woman possessed.
“I often hear her assistant insult her,” Chen Xueyi said, completely baffled. “They don’t get along in private, yet Guan Xin keeps her as her assistant. And the assistant dares to bad-mouth her boss. I just don’t get it—why does she keep employing her?”
Chen Xueyi had come to the mountains alone. Her company hadn’t provided her with an assistant, and she certainly couldn’t bear to spend her own money to hire one. So, she was particularly curious about the relationship between Guan Xin and Zheng Xiaoyu.
Jiang Mian smiled but said nothing.
Zheng Xiaoyu was someone Shen Shiqing had arranged for Guan Xin.
Although Shen Shiqing wasn’t a good person, he was a wealthy, handsome “dominant CEO” type. Naturally, many women were attracted to him.
Knowing about Guan Xin’s relationship with Shen Shiqing, wouldn’t Zheng Xiaoyu be jealous?
“Let them be. We’ll just focus on acting well ourselves.” Jiang Mian was picking wildflowers by the roadside to make a flower crown, speaking casually.
When she finished, she placed it on her head. Chen Xueyi was stunned. “Mianmian, you’re so beautiful.”
Jiang Mian wasn’t wearing her costume. She had on a simple, elegant long dress. Her long hair hung loose. Wearing the beautiful flower crown and standing there with a gentle smile, she looked like an innocent, unworldly spirit who had descended to the mortal realm.
Chen Xueyi couldn’t find adequate words to describe her. All that remained was awe.
Director Zhang had been preparing Green Love Story for a long time. After several days of filming, the main cast finally took their promotional stills. Once they were ready, the official Weibo account released the images and announced the film’s lead actors.
As a renowned director, Director Zhang’s films always drew significant attention. Those who followed his news knew he had been working on Green Love Story. Now that the official announcement was out, everyone was curious about who the female lead would be.
When they saw her, it turned out to be a new face. This was standard for Director Zhang, so no one was surprised.
But on second look—wow, this newcomer was pretty.
The entertainment industry was a looks-oriented field. Being good-looking often brings some advantages.
“Based on her looks, I think she’s going to be famous.”
“The still looks completely makeup-free. Her beauty is no joke.”
“Seeing her, I’m reminded of first love.”
“Hey? Does anyone else think that at first glance, she kinda resembles Brother Qin???”
…
That casual comment sparked a fierce online argument.
Because the official Weibo account needed to tag the actors, Tang An’an had registered a Weibo account for Jiang Mian. But after Jiang Mian reposted the official announcement, a wave of people immediately flooded in and started cursing her out without saying anything else.
Most of them said that Jiang Mian looked nothing like Qin Jingrun, that she should behave herself and not try to ride his coattails for attention, otherwise his female fans would tear her apart.
Jiang Mian: “…”
She had done absolutely nothing, and now she was taking the blame?
But she had barely taken on this blame when, less than half an hour later, things changed because of a repost from Qin Jingrun.
Her Film Emperor Dad, stealthily using his rarely active Weibo account, reposted Jiang Mian’s promotional still and commented: “She does look quite a bit like me.”
Fans: !!!
**