“Brother Song, maybe you should take a break and look at the script later.”
Seeing the dark circles under Song Xun’s eyes and how seriously he was still working, Xiao Deng felt indignant on his behalf.
The production team, noticing how everyone was turning against him, worried he might bring negative attention to the show. But since the contract was already signed, they couldn’t just propose termination outright, so they only said they agreed to continue filming.
However, once the controversy died down and public opinion shifted, the production team eagerly came running back to invite him to return.
Song Xun was long accustomed to such fickle behavior—people stepping on you when you’re down and praising you when you’re up. He could actually understand the production team’s position. Though it was a bit distasteful, it was driven by profit considerations, which was understandable. Besides, he himself still wanted to earn the money and gain more visibility. It was a case of mutual benefit.
He hadn’t slept well these past two days. Staying at Yan Jiayu’s place, the guest room bed was comfortable and soft, but he just couldn’t get used to it, tossing and turning all night.
Song Xun planned to find another place to live. Even if paparazzi weren’t currently staking out his home, the location was already exposed, making it unsafe to stay there.
But he couldn’t find anything suitable.
Either the locations were too remote, or the rent was too high. Still, he thought, finding a rental couldn’t be rushed. Yet, continuing to stay at Yan Jiayu’s place wasn’t really appropriate either. He had offered to pay rent, but Yan Jiayu retorted, asking if Song Xun looked down on him. After some back-and-forth, Song Xun still felt he was taking advantage.
It was all quite vexing.
As soon as he entered the filming location, Song Xun headed straight to Zhu Lisheng’s set.
A crowd of people was bustling around, preparing.
Seeing him arrive, Zhu Li waved him over.
“Song Xun, come here.”
The others tactfully made way. The spotlight fell on Zhu Lisheng’s face—lined with wrinkles, wearing sunglasses, his mouth naturally downturned, giving him a stern appearance.
Song Xun stood respectfully before him.
“You wanted to see me?”
Zhu Lisheng nodded, skipping any small talk, and asked if he had read the script. After receiving an affirmative reply, he continued,
“This time, everything is randomly selected. We won’t know how difficult it is until we start shooting. Everyone else is pretty much ready. You don’t have any problems, do you?”
This put Song Xun squarely on the hot seat.
He had only received the script last night.
And he had come first thing this morning.
If everyone else was prepared and he didn’t perform his part well, wouldn’t all the blame fall on him?
This script didn’t just involve their group; there were also many non-trainee actors. Their group had actually ended up with minor roles—limited screen time. But the real challenge was performing their parts well without overshadowing the leads.
Song Xun’s mouth twitched. Could he really say he had problems? Steeling himself, he shook his head. “No, I don’t have any problems.”
Zhu Lisheng sized Song Xun up, and seeing no sign of hesitation, nodded. He then called for the camera and lighting crews to get ready.
Mu Heng and An Chu had already changed into their costumes. As they passed by Song Xun, Mu Heng gave him a slight nod. Song Xun smiled back before heading backstage to change as well.
The first scene only involved Mu Heng and An Chu, who played minor lackeys in a martial arts sect.
Both wore black, close-fitting outfits, but Mu Heng was taller and leaner, the form-fitting clothes accentuating his slender waist.
An Chu was slightly shorter. Their styles were somewhat similar, but Mu Heng had a more youthful air, fitting the image of a wandering swordsman better.
“Scene One, Take One, action!”
Zhu Lisheng held a megaphone, while Song Xun sat beside him, both watching the camera.
“Buzz.”
The forest rustled, bamboo leaves drifting down with the wind.
Two factions, each led by a somewhat bandit-like figure, glared fiercely at each other. At the slightest disagreement, weapons were drawn.
Blades flashed and swords clashed as the underlings on both sides fought fiercely.
“Cut!”
Zhu Lisheng looked at the footage and shouted in dissatisfaction.
Song Xun hadn’t yet noticed the problem. After all, the scene and the accompanying music fit perfectly, complementing each other well.
“An Chu, come here.”
The person called by name paused for a moment, put down the prop sword in his hand, and jogged over.
“Teacher Zhu, what’s wrong?”
Zhu Lisheng frowned and gestured for An Chu to watch the playback.
“Here, you should step forward faster. The enemy is charging at you—why are you still posing slowly?!”
“I, I…”
An Chu lowered his head awkwardly. He was used to playing the lead role, or at worst, the second male lead. He had never played an extra before.
“And here, what’s with your footwork? Didn’t the martial arts instructor teach you? It’s so light and flimsy—how can you play a swordsman like that?”
The martial arts instructor was utterly wronged. They had conducted systematic training for these actors days in advance and emphasized the importance of gestures and footwork.
The movements had to be crisp and clean, with absolutely no hesitation or sloppiness.
If they were sluggish, the final shot would look unappealing.
An Chu nodded, indicating he understood, and walked back dejectedly.
Zhu Lisheng disliked anything that disrupted the filming progress. Impatiently, he picked up the megaphone again. “Scene one, take two, action!”
Even though Zhu Lisheng had explained clearly, An Chu still didn’t grasp it. In fact, he didn’t understand how to avoid stealing the spotlight from the leads.
The two leads were the faction leaders, and the close-up shots were reserved for them. The extras only needed to create an intense atmosphere, without any unnecessary movements or lines.
“Cut, cut, cut!”
“An Chu, did I not explain clearly enough? You’re just an extra, an extra, understand?! Why did you suddenly run to the other side? What were you trying to do?”
An Chu’s face turned pale with fright.
Mu Heng glanced at him. Both he and An Chu are playing underlings in the same faction, and according to the original setup, they were supposed to stay together. Yet during the shoot, An Chu had suddenly run to the opposing faction and stayed close to the lead actors.
“If you can’t act properly, we’ll replace you!”
With Zhu Lisheng’s words hanging in the air, An Chu dared not entertain any more whims.
He obediently followed his script.
But the results were still unsatisfactory. In his nervousness, he even forgot several movements.
Although he was just an extra with no close-ups, when a group of extras gathered together, one wrong move could ruin the aesthetic of the entire shot.
“Cut!”
Zhu Lisheng completely lost his patience. “Step down. Let Song Xun take over.”
“Me? But Teacher Zhu, I haven’t read An Chu’s script.”
Song Xun had originally been observing and learning from the sidelines, but now he was inexplicably called to step in.
“You’ve watched it three times already. You know what to do. Go.”
He had been watching attentively, perhaps because Zhu Lisheng had pointed out the issues several times, making him pay extra attention to An Chu’s scenes.
An Chu could hardly believe he had been replaced. He was extremely unwilling, “Teacher Zhu, please give me another chance. I promise, I’ll definitely do better next time.”
Zhu Lisheng had already given him three chances. Three strikes and you’re out—he didn’t want the entire filming schedule to slow down because of one individual, so he didn’t offer An Chu another opportunity. “Step down.”
Everyone else on the set was watching him. How could he possibly have the face to stay? He glared fiercely at Song Xun before leaving the set.
What does this have to do with me? If you have the guts, glare at Director Zhu!
Song Xun knew he wouldn’t dare. How could he afford to offend Director Zhu? It wasn’t like he planned to quit the entertainment industry tomorrow.
After changing his clothes and barely adjusting his makeup, Song Xun stood in the exact spot An Chu had just occupied.
“Scene one, take four, action!”
Well-trained, the two gangs worked together seamlessly, yet neither gave an inch, making it impossible to determine a winner.
As the situation intensified, the leaders dismounted their horses and ordered their subordinates to retreat beyond two trees. It seemed the final showdown would have to be settled between the two of them.
Though the subordinates were reluctant to let their leaders take such risks—who knew if the enemy had laid hidden traps—they had no choice but to obey the command and step back.
“Clang!”
Two long swords gleamed coldly as they clashed. The two fought fiercely, the biting cold wind sweeping through, stirring up a light drizzle.
The chill seeped into their bones.
“Cut! That’s enough for now.”
“Mu Heng, you did well. Mo Yi, you too.”
Mu Heng had spent years as an extra, so he was all too familiar with how to handle such scenes. As for Xia Moyi, though she mostly played lead roles, her strength lay in her willingness to listen and her reluctance to show off in inappropriate situations.
“As for Song Xun, you were adequate, but I don’t think that’s your true potential.”
“You flatter me, Director.”
Zhu Lisheng saw right through it—Song Xun hadn’t dared to fully immerse himself in the role.
The filming schedule was tight. After finishing this scene, Song Xun immediately changed clothes and moved on to the next.
It wasn’t until late into the night that he finally got a break.
Song Xun slumped weakly into a chair, completely drained.
“How are you holding up? Are you okay?”
Mu Heng walked over and handed him a bottle of opened mineral water. Song Xun muttered a “thank you” and took a few big gulps.
He hadn’t worked for a few days and was struggling to adjust to the intensity.
“Have you sorted out your situation?”
“Yeah, it’s all taken care of. There’s nothing about me on the hot searches anymore.”
Mu Heng nodded, pulled out his phone, and opened Weibo. A scandal about a male actor’s infidelity was prominently trending.
But Song Xun already knew he had been used as a scapegoat.
“My agent told me their company deliberately used me to cover up this news. No wonder public opinion flipped overnight. Well, I was just the sacrificial lamb.”
The other entertainment company played dirty, buying a flood of articles and even hiring trolls to flood Liu Fumin’s livestream, which is why the scandal gained so much traction and refused to die down.
The actor in question wasn’t some unknown minor celebrity either—he was famous for being a devoted husband and family man. The infidelity scandal was a direct slap in the face to that image.
“Though I heard there’s no solid evidence yet. Sister Xuan is still hesitating about whether to divorce him.”
Mu Heng and Hu Minxuan were artists from the same company, and they got along quite well because Hu Minxuan was warm-hearted and often helped newcomers.
Hu Minxuan and Zhao Song had been in a relationship for nine years and married for four. Having come this far, without direct evidence, she probably couldn’t bear to let go.
Song Xun didn’t care about the state of their marriage. Since this Zhao Song liked to use others as shields so much, he might as well experience what it felt like to be the one shielding others. Picking a fight with him was like kicking an iron plate.
Lost in these thoughts, Song Xun drifted off.
Mu Heng waved a hand in front of him, waiting for him to snap back to attention before asking, “I heard from your assistant that you’re planning to move recently? Why not stay at my place? I have an extra room, and it’s quite spacious. It’s not far from your company either.”