Yan Qi was utterly bewildered.
He Songjun smiled and said, “It seems I need to break my habit of skipping words when I speak.”
Ah!
Yan Qi slammed his head down to look at the script, discovering that the line he was supposed to say was “No need for guidance,” but what he had just blurted out was a line from two sentences later the one immediately followed by an intimate scene!
He was suffocating.
“I miss you, I want to see you, so I came,” Fang Zhouji said with a cryptic smile. “I can tell Little Yan is so full of longing that he even wants to skip the two lines of dialogue in between.”
Little Yan almost knocked his forehead against the tabletop.
“Actually, don’t say that, Little Yan delivered that line quite stunningly,” an older actor sitting opposite chimed in with a laugh. “Hidden within the banter was an undercurrent of sharpness and anger, yet it was also full of deep meaning. You really nailed the tone.”
“You flatter me, you flatter me.” Little Yan’s ears were billowing with rolling heat; he couldn’t force a smile.
The older actor was Zhou Yi, a veteran from a theater background with a rich acting career, countless accomplishments, and an impeccable reputation. He was a highly respected artist in the industry, both for his professional merit and moral integrity. His teasing and praise could be considered a form of intercession for Yan Qi.
Fang Zhouji gave a hum and a laugh. “Enough. Let’s not keep our Little Yan waiting too long—continue.”
Everyone quickly reined in their emotions.
Yan Qi gulped down some water, took two deep breaths, and quickly tossed his embarrassment and awkwardness to the back of his mind, refocusing to continue the reading.
Bed scenes rely more on atmosphere and context; it wasn’t as if they were going to film every “wild” word spoken between the sheets, so even though this section was long, the dialogue was sparse and was quickly skipped over. Yan Qi let out a silent sigh of relief and soon settled his mind.
After the reading ended, Fang Zhouji dismissed the group to their respective lounges for an hour and a half of dinner, after which they would walk through a few scenes and take some preliminary makeup photos.
Song Xueyan returned to his lounge and drank some water to soothe his throat.
His lounge was in a corner. Usually, if there was no need, nobody would be walking past outside; it was the quietest spot. Therefore, when a series of stealthy, thief-like footsteps appeared outside, he noticed them almost immediately.
If you know a person well enough, you can recognize their footsteps—a form of favoritism from the senses toward those who are familiar.
“Uh…” Song Xueyan gripped his water cup.
The person outside was still hesitating.
Song Xueyan waited for about half a minute. When the person didn’t knock, he simply walked lightly toward the door. Unexpectedly, the person outside suddenly turned and left.
Listening to the footsteps fade into the distance, Song Xueyan stood still, pursing his lips and frowning for a good while. He tilted his head back to finish the rest of his water, threw the paper cup, and it landed in the trash can with a dull, irritable thud.
Just as he turned around, those familiar footsteps approached from afar, once again becoming clear right outside the door.
This time, the person outside was exceptionally decisive a knock, followed by, “Teacher Song?”
Song Xueyan gave a muffled cough and said, “Come in.”
Yan Qi entered, carrying a chubby, round bucket-cup. He peeked at the coffee table a short distance away. “You aren’t eating?”
Song Xueyan said, “My agent is coming soon, and the food will arrive with him.”
“Alright, well, this is for you.” Yan Qi placed the round cup on the table. “I saw you drinking a lot of water; is your throat uncomfortable?”
Song Xueyan’s fingers tightened; he didn’t reach for the cup. “What is this?”
“Pear water with rock sugar. It’s not too sweet; it’s for your throat,” Yan Qi said, then paused, intentionally distancing himself. “Xiao Bing made it. He likes you, he’s been thinking about you, so he specifically begged me to come and curry favor for him.”
Song Xueyan didn’t call his bluff and played along. “Then thank him on my behalf. If there’s anything good in the future, I’ll keep him in mind too.”
“What does he have to be kept in mind for—” Yan Qi closed his mouth under Song Xueyan’s gaze. After a few seconds, he added dryly, “It’s just a bowl of sugar water, nothing smaller than that; no need to keep him in mind.”
“Sugar water may be small, but the sentiment is not.” Song Xueyan reached out to unscrew the lid and took a sip right in front of Yan Qi. “There are so many people in the crew; why is he the only one thinking of me?”
Yan Qi was busy pondering how to take back the “good Samaritan” label when he remembered how nobody had shaken Song Xueyan’s hand earlier and how Song Xueyan had sat there in isolation.
He was famous, chased by thousands of fans, yet so unpopular on set. Was it because Song Xueyan’s personality was cold and people couldn’t be bothered to associate with him? Or was his brilliance too blinding, making people wary?
Sigh.
Perhaps because he found it delicious, Song Xueyan drank several mouthfuls of the sugar water. His Adam’s apple rolled, and his fair, slender neck looked strangely pale under the incandescent lights.
At the sight, Yan Qi’s forbearance dropped from five points to seven, but it wasn’t easy to directly poke at someone’s bitter circumstances, so he hinted subtly: “Teacher Song, in your opinion, how does one film a good play?”
Song Xueyan didn’t understand why Yan Qi suddenly asked this. “The script is the blueprint and must be solid. The director is the master builder whose vision must be farsighted and comprehensive, mastering both the big picture and the small details. Each team and group must cooperate and achieve perfection. From the lead to the extras, everyone must do their part to move every brick and tile; only then is it possible to achieve a good play.”
“Yes, cooperation is necessary, everyone pulling in the same direction. But putting others aside, let’s talk about the group of actors themselves.” Yan Qi guided him step by step. “Teacher Song, in your view, what constitutes a good acting cast?”
Song Xueyan looked at Yan Qi twice and, under his supposedly encouraging gaze, said: “First, don’t break the law or commit crimes that cause trouble for the crew. Then, one must have the determination and attitude to film this play well. Next, one must thoroughly digest their role and have a sense of awe for the character and the script. Finally, try to be harmonious and friendly, and don’t stir up any trouble.”
“Exactly, Teacher Song, your analysis is very reasonable.” Yan Qi gave him a “you are teachable” look. “Now let’s talk about that ‘finally.’ In your opinion, how can actors be harmonious and friendly, how”
Song Xueyan placed the bucket on the table, and Yan Qi took the hint and shut his mouth.
“Between all this testing and leading, what exactly do you want to say?” Song Xueyan turned merciless. “Speak plainly; if not, get out.”
Damn, so arrogant!
Yan Qi’s cuteness and consideration died instantly. He leaned against the water station. “Do you know why everyone doesn’t shake your hand? Logically, they should greet you first, then pay attention to a small rookie like me, but they don’t give a damn about you. One person might be a fluke, but everyone, old and young, who came today acted like that. Think about it yourself why?”
Song Xueyan understood.
He looked Yan Qi up and down and followed up: “What is your high opinion?”
Seeing that he was still willing to listen to advice, Yan Qi’s tone softened. “I know you have the strength, like an isolated island, but even an island needs to rely on water. When the waves come, you at least have to glance at them. The entertainment circle is a circle made of people. If you treat everyone like this, what if one day you fall on hard times? If people team up to fight you, I’d like to see what you’ll do.”
When the executive director spoke to Song Xueyan, he was gentle and light; when a small assistant set a cup of water down for him, he looked them in the eye and said, “Thank you, sorry for the trouble.” He didn’t look up to anyone, nor down on anyone; he treated everyone the same. Flattery and hypocrisy didn’t stick to him, and he wouldn’t engage in backroom dealings.
Honestly, Yan Qi admired Song Xueyan’s temperament.
But upon further thought, what if something happened to Song Xueyan one day? What if the people he had treated coldly united to bully him? Actors and celebrities were one thing, but the deadly ones were the capital—like Huaying Media, or some old perverts who wanted to sleep with Song Xueyan but failed. Song Xueyan’s path had been smooth so far, but bullying the weak and fawning over the strong was common in this circle. Would he be able to take it?
“You are a proud person; I suppose you haven’t been forced to swallow much bitterness since you were a child. I have also treated you coldly, and even criticized and mocked you,” Song Xueyan said, stroking the jade beads on his wrist. “If I fall on hard times, will you also step on me?”
“Don’t look at me as that kind of person!” Yan Qi said disdainfully. “I usually pay back grudges on the spot. Didn’t I trip you that day?”
“Fair enough.” Song Xueyan nodded and picked up the pear water again. “Speaking of which, you should be more careful about your social interactions in the circle than I am. Because you are just a rookie a rookie who snatched a big pie right after debuting. How many eyes are staring at you, drooling over this pie? When you meet people in the circle who hold resources but aren’t reasonable, will you bow and scrape, licking their boots with a sweet smile?”
Yan Qi sneered: “That’s impossible.”
Song Xueyan teased him intentionally. “Why?”
“I have a backing.” Yan Qi was open and honest. “Can’t you tell I’m super rich? The MS top-floor suite card, a luxury motorhome better than the top stars, using ten pots by myself what kind of family background is this! Also, aren’t you friends with Yangle-ge? Didn’t he tell you my brother is Yu Jingchen?”
He sighed purely. “Sorry, the internet mocks me as a capitalist’s prince. Although my father passed away early, theoretically speaking, it’s not wrong.”
Song Xueyan held back his laughter. “I thought you didn’t want to borrow the wings of your family and wanted to fly on your own.”
“The wings are on them, but they cover my head. I can fly myself, but when I accidentally fall, they will still pick me up.” Yan Qi reached out, pointed vaguely at the tip of Song Xueyan’s nose, and squinted threateningly. “By the way, if you dare to mess with me, you’re finished.”
“I am truly terrified… oh.” Song Xueyan finished the sugar water, stuffed the bucket back into Yan Qi’s hands, reached out, and pushed him toward the door. “Prince, go back to the palace and rest; you still have to work for your brother later.”
As he was about to step out the door, Yan Qi clung to the doorframe, turning around and almost bumping into Song Xueyan’s head. He coughed, shifted half a step back without leaving a trace, and complained: “You didn’t wash the cup after drinking the sugar water. How delicate can you be?”
Song Xueyan hadn’t answered the question he’d thrown him earlier, but he wouldn’t ask again because Song Xueyan’s answer was already expressed in that rhetorical question.
Song Xueyan felt no shame. He said calmly, “The Prince has already served me several times; I am indeed quite delicate.”
“Your skin is quite thick.” Yan Qi was incredulous. “Do you want me to go fill you another cup?”
Song Xueyan thought for two seconds. “If I drink more, I won’t be able to eat dinner. Bring me another one when we walk through the scenes later.”
Yan Qi’s eyes widened: Fuck! Worthy of being a friend of that Fu person—your skin thickness is about the same. And just because you tell me to bring it, I will? Do you take me for a Prince or a eunuch? You really have no self-awareness—
Song Xueyan looked at Yan Qi for two seconds, his tone three parts warmer than usual. “Thank you.”
Yan Qi: “You’re welcome.”