“Cut this take is a wrap!” Li Hang clapped her hands, glancing at her watch. “It’s time for rations! Everyone, take a break!”
Clap clap Song Jin lifted her weary hands and gave herself two small claps, signaling to her brain that it could finally detach from the character. Chen Mingxi tilted her head slightly, teasing, “Song Jin, playing at coaxing yourself again?”
“What do you mean ‘coaxing myself’? I’m giving myself a round of applause, alright?!” Song Jin reached out toward Chen Mingxi’s ears and clapped loudly and repeatedly, determined to deafen her.
“You’re so childish.” Chen Mingxi gave her a gentle shove. “Want to grab a bite together after changing clothes?”
“Sure, sure.” Song Jin nodded repeatedly. Li Hang had mentioned there would be her favorite sour soup rice noodles tonight; she had to go try some no matter what.
“But let’s skip changing the clothes for now. We’ll just have to change back again in a bit anyway. It’s a hassle to keep fussing with it.”
“That works,” Chen Mingxi agreed.
Chen Mingxi tilted her head slightly and noticed a silent figure behind Song Jin. She called out, “Wen Yu, do you want to join us?”
Wen Yu froze for a moment. Her gaze wavered between the two before finally settling on Song Jin, as if she were seeking her permission.
Song Jin raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. “If you want to come, just come.” Why was she staring at her? Did she think she’d actually say no?
That would be a total lack of emotional intelligence.
Besides, she didn’t seem to find Wen Yu all that repulsive.
The three of them walked toward the cafeteria side-by-side. Along the way, Chen Mingxi took the lead in livening up the atmosphere while Song Jin handled the responses, her frequency so high it was as if she were afraid the conversation might hit the floor. As for Wen Yu, she maintained her quiet persona, though it was unclear what she was thinking. However, whenever the two chatted about something funny, the corners of Wen Yu’s mouth would still lift slightly, showing she was clearly listening.
“Hey, Sister Li said we’re off this weekend. Do you guys have any plans?” In the line, Chen Mingxi stood sideways between Wen Yu and Song Jin, talking incessantly to find a topic.
Anyone who had worked with Li Hang knew her habit: she’d give you a slap, then a sweet date, and then hit you with the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms. She usually gave a small break during the first week of official work to help with the transition, but after that, it was hard to say if there would be any rest days at all.
“Me? I’m seeing a friend on Saturday, and I have to accompany my mom to a charity gala in the evening. For the rest of the time, I’ll probably be a ‘corpse’ lying at home,” Song Jin said after a moment of thought.
In this weather, even a dog wouldn’t want to go outside, so she naturally felt the same.
“I see—what about you, Wen Yu? Are you staying home too?”
Wen Yu shook her head and answered honestly, “The company arranged two announcements/gigs for me.”
The implication was that she wouldn’t have time either.
Chen Mingxi couldn’t help but hiss, her face looking like she had a toothache. “How come you both have work to do? Am I the only one with a gap this weekend?”
Song Jin burst out laughing and offered some comfort: “Cherish your free time now. Once Li Hang helps you level up your career, your work will be piled high like a mountain every day.”
“I’m dying to be famous/hot.” Being famous meant having money; who would refuse more money?
The cafeteria ladies were very fast, and it was soon the three of them’s turn. Song Jin took the bowl handed to her, thanked them politely, and then reached into the nearby storage box to grab three sets of utensils before finding a suitable spot to sit in the back.
The noodle broth was a golden yellow, garnished with millet chili and white sesame seeds. The fish melted in the mouth, and the rice noodles, which had soaked up the broth, were chewy and delicious. Song Jin took a large slurp. Whether it was from the heat or the spice, a warmth rose from the bottom of her stomach that made her nose tingle.
“Sigh, I wonder if we can get off work early tonight.” Even while eating, Chen Mingxi’s mouth wouldn’t stop. Her peach-blossom eyes flickered. “I feel like you two are so good at filming; every take is a one-shot wrap.”
“Who? I just got stuck for five whole takes; you probably didn’t see it,” Song Jin said leisurely. If it weren’t for the meal break, they’d likely still be stuck.
“And even if everyone gets it in one take, Sister Hang won’t let us off early,” Song Jin used her chopsticks to clip a piece of fish, nearly failing on the first try. “In her eyes, a one-shot wrap only shortens the production cycle; it doesn’t mean the daily working hours are reduced.”
“Heavens, no wonder they say following Sister Li helps you ‘rise’ in the industry. With this work intensity, reaching the top is well-deserved.”
Song Jin: “In a sense, working under her really does make it easy to ‘ascend’ (fly to heaven).”
Except the flight is straight to the Western Paradise.
Seeing that Wen Yu hadn’t spoken, Chen Mingxi threw a topic her way to keep her from getting bored: “Oh, right, Wen Yu! I heard Sister Hang say your car broke down last night. What happened with that?”
“It’s still going through insurance,” Wen Yu replied, then explained the whole story. “When Xiao Zhang came last night, she hit a traffic light trying to avoid a dog that suddenly darted out. The front of the car was completely wrecked. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt, just a bit shaken up. I gave her some time off.”
“Hiss—I see.” Chen Mingxi’s eyes widened. “No wonder I didn’t see your assistant this morning.”
After hearing the whole process, Song Jin’s movement of ladling soup paused for a second. She slowly blew away the steam from the soup and asked after a while, “Then how are you getting back tonight? Did you pick up a new car?”
“No, I don’t drive,” Wen Yu said. “I’ll just take a taxi for the next few days and wait until Xiao Zhang has rested enough.”
“Huh? Does your company not send someone to pick you up?” A question mark appeared over Chen Mingxi’s head.
That shouldn’t be right. Given Wen Yu’s status, even if the company was being inhumane, the treatment shouldn’t be this poor?
It sounded even worse than her own…
“I refused,” Wen Yu said flatly, offering no further explanation. She clearly didn’t want to talk much about it.
Song Jin glanced at her.
The tension in the frontal muscles caused her brows to knit slightly; looking down, her mouth twitched outward for a fleeting moment after answering.
Song Jin had studied quite a bit of psychology for this role. If she wasn’t misinterpreting these expressions, the signals being sent were those of rejection/repulsion.
Chen Mingxi wanted to ask more, but Song Jin beat her to it: “It’s not safe to take a taxi alone at night. Why don’t you just come with me? It’s on the way anyway.”
“What’s the situation? You even know where she lives?” Chen Mingxi immediately caught the key phrase.
“What of it? Your Sister Li even told you her car broke down; didn’t she tell you anything else?” Like the fact that she had driven her home.
The surprise on Wen Yu’s face was even greater than Chen Mingxi’s. She had thought that yesterday was just a one-time thing because Song Jin couldn’t bear to watch her struggle, but she never expected her to lend a hand again.
“Will it be too much trouble for you?”
“It’s fine. Just think of it as hailing a ride from me.” Song Jin curled her lips into a smile, then, remembering something, added, “But let’s get this straight—I’m not picking you up for free. I want some compensation.” As she spoke, her left thumb and index finger rubbed together quickly, giving the universal sign for money.
“What do you need me to do?” Wen Yu immediately put down her chopsticks. The look in her eyes as she watched Song Jin was so serious it was almost searing. Song Jin was momentarily stunned by that focused gaze for two seconds before fishing her line out of her linguistic system: “I need you to run lines/rehearse with me.”
Before they worked together, Song Jin had always heard people say Wen Yu’s acting was good, but she had always assumed it was just internet hype or fans’ rose-colored glasses—at most, just some “natural spirit.” But after these few days of collaboration, Song Jin had to admit that the praises online were true.
Wen Yu’s mastery of acting was profound; one-take wraps were just the simplest manifestation of it. From a major movement down to a tiny look in her eyes, everything was a design based on her understanding of the character. When acting alongside her, Song Jin could clearly feel how Wen Yu crushed her in terms of voice, stage presence, form, and expression.
Fine, saying “crushed” might be an exaggeration, but Song Jin truly felt she wasn’t as good as her.
Wen Yu nodded: “Okay, I promise you.”
“Okay—I promise you.” Jiang Huaiyue looked up at the neon sign above her head with a frown, speaking through gritted teeth.
Li Hang loved using natural light and avoided shooting “day-for-night” unless absolutely necessary. So, at this moment, Song Jin and Wen Yu skipped the scene of investigating the child that needed to be filmed during the day and took advantage of the rain stopping to film the night scene.
This scene involved Chu Yun and Jiang Huaiyue staking out a regular haunt of Huang Tianqi’s mistress, Chu Xuxu, in order to investigate her.
And that place was the most famous bar in Linjiang.
Before making a move, Chu Yun had someone dig into Chu Xuxu’s relationships. After summarizing the characteristics of her exes, she concluded: this person liked both women and men, especially those who were beautiful, wealthy, and gave her the cold shoulder. Her greatest hobby in life was “melting icebergs” and then watching them sink/obsess over her.
Chu Yun watched Jiang Huaiyue while making “tsk tsk tsk” noises: “Big iceberg, do your best.”
Jiang Huaiyue glanced at her sideways, tugging uncomfortably at the short skirt she was wearing before stepping into the bar.
The lights in the bar were dim, and a crowd of people was dancing wildly to the rhythm in the center of the stage. There weren’t many people at the bar counter. Two bartenders wearing black masks that only revealed their eyes were chatting and laughing with customers. One of them, being sharp-eyed, spotted Jiang Huaiyue and immediately straightened up to greet her: “Hello, what can I get for you?”
Jiang Huaiyue had spotted Chu Xuxu from a distance and found a seat neither too far nor too close to her, her tone indifferent: “Do you have any recommendations?”
Chu Xuxu looked back casually and saw Wen Yu sitting at the bar. She was wearing a cold-shoulder, halter-neck little black dress. A leather choker was tied around her slender neck, with an attached silver chain flowing down her exquisite collarbones like water.
Jiang Huaiyue’s hair had been meticulously curled before leaving, and her face even sported heavy makeup she would never normally touch—all the work of Chu Yun. It was unknown what she had studied during those five years, but her technique was incredibly skillful.
Chu Xuxu couldn’t help but look a few more times, her gaze tracing Jiang Huaiyue from her brows and eyes all the way down to her chest, which rose and fell slightly with her breathing. She licked her lips, stood up, and walked over. Upon smelling the faint scent of Jacques Henry on her, her interest in Jiang Huaiyue increased a few notches.
Chu Xuxu familiarly wrapped an arm around her shoulder from behind, her hair falling neither too light nor too heavy onto Jiang Huaiyue’s bare shoulder. She whispered into her ear: “I think the ‘Midnight Rose’ is quite good.”
Feeling the other person’s breath, Jiang Huaiyue instinctively tilted her head to the left. Under the alternating light and shadow, she could vaguely see the smooth abdomen beneath the other’s crop top.
Jiang Huaiyue’s expression turned stern.
At the same time, Chu Yun, sitting in a booth watching the situation from afar, lowered her head to take a sip of plain water.
The prey had taken the bait.