As Fei Yangyao pushed the door open and stepped inside, he was taken aback. This teacher looked surprisingly young, about the same age as him.
He hadn’t known in advance who the teacher would be.
He remembered that the original novel never mentioned any character taking on the role of an acting instructor, so as long as the teacher wasn’t a named character in the novel, it didn’t matter who she was.
However, she was wearing a mask, and he was also wearing one. Between the two of them, the room couldn’t even make up five facial features. It looked more like a secret organization holding a covert meeting.
He silently roasted the situation in his heart, then sat down across from the teacher and said, “Hello, teacher, I’m Zhao Jinfei. I thought I’d be taught by some elderly professor. I didn’t expect you to be so young. This is totally different from what I imagined!”
Because the name Fei Yangyao was too well-known in South City, he had no choice but to borrow the identity of one of his subordinates, Zhao Jinfei.
After all, in South City, “Fei Yangyao” was synonymous with arrogant playboys. It didn’t matter if that reputation crumbled in front of Jiang Anran—it was already beyond saving. But in front of strangers, he had to maintain the act.
There was a theory that every person in the world was separated from any other stranger by no more than six degrees. And South City was just one city. Even though this teacher didn’t play any major role in the novel, he still had to be cautious. Who knew what important characters she might be connected to?
“Mr. Zhao, you flatter me. You can just call me Miss Liang. I’m only a few years older than you. No need for ‘teacher this’ or ‘teacher that.'” Her alias was Liang Xuejin.
At first impression, “Zhao Jinfei” seemed pretty decent to her. Out of mutual respect, she didn’t use her real name either and introduced herself with the stage name she used in the entertainment industry.
Back then, in order to keep people from knowing she was the Princess of the Xiao family from South City, she had entered the entertainment industry under the name Liang Xuejin.
“Alright, Miss Liang. So when do we start?” Fei Yangyao got straight to the point.
“…” She hadn’t expected this “Zhao Jinfei” to actually be this respectful toward his teacher. Her impression of him improved further.
After all, though she was giving a private lesson, most of the students she encountered were rich second-generation types. They weren’t there to learn acting—they were more interested in pickup techniques. Some even wanted to learn how to do PUA!
“No rush. First, I need to ask—why do you want to take this class?” Xiao Luobing fixed him with a sharp gaze.
She wanted to know his true motive. If it was really for acting, then she would absolutely make it worth the lesson fee and do her best to teach. But if it was just for fun or, worse, to chase girls, then she had nothing more to say—he could get lost.
No matter how tight things got financially, she would never stain her former dreams just for a few lesson fees. If need be, the company’s growth could stall for a while.
“Huh? There’s a pre-class quiz?” Fei Yangyao was dumbfounded. He groaned inwardly. He’d never attended tutoring classes as a kid, nor hired a private coach as an adult. This caught him completely off guard—he hadn’t prepared anything. This story is hosted at novelping(.)com.
Why was he taking this class?
Because he had transmigrated into a novel and needed to play the role of “villain Fei Yangyao”?
If he said that, he’d be treated like a lunatic and thrown into a psychiatric hospital.
“Miss Liang, can I… not say?” Fei Yangyao looked troubled.
“No. Whatever the reason, you must say it. If not, I won’t teach the class. But don’t worry, you don’t need to explain in detail—just give me the general idea. I won’t leak anything, you have my word.”
Xiao Luobing thought to herself: That’s just what I say. If the reason doesn’t satisfy me, I never promised I’d continue teaching.
Since she was being so insistent, Fei Yangyao had no choice but to vaguely say, “To better portray a certain character.”
“Are you an actor?”
“Yes!” Fei Yangyao had never doubted this point.
Even though he wasn’t an actor in his previous life, since transmigrating, he had been acting day and night. His workload could probably surpass that of most professional actors.
“Oh, so you’re here to improve your performance for a specific scene? Then tell me more about this role.”
Seeing that she believed him, Fei Yangyao went with the flow and briefly described the character of “villain Fei Yangyao”: “I’m playing an arrogant, spoiled villain. His key traits are: he’s a simp for the goddess—this is his highest priority, he values contractual obligations, has a terrible reputation, and eventually turns dark after the goddess and protagonist get together…”
Of course, he left out any traits that would obviously hint at his identity.
“I see. And what’s the issue you’re facing?”
“How should I put it… I feel like I didn’t play it well. The female leads saw right through me. One of them even said, ‘Your expressions and words might deceive, but the tenderness in your eyes can’t.’ Miss Liang, did you hear that? She said I wasn’t ruthless enough—what kind of nonsense is that?”
“And the goddess said my attitude toward her didn’t feel like a simp, more like a stiff wooden puppet.”
Fei Yangyao was still a little angry as he spoke. He could understand what Jiang Anran said, but the blame from Gu Xiyue really wasn’t his fault. They’d only just met for the first time at that point!
She thought for a moment, then added, “Alright, let’s pretend I’m your goddess. Reenact that scene where she called you a ‘puppet.’”
“Okay.”
Fei Yangyao skipped the details that might give away his identity and recreated the scene exactly as it happened. He explained Gu Xiyue’s lines to Xiao Luobing so she could match the original setting and play along.
After all, he genuinely wanted to know where he’d gone wrong.
Thirty minutes later. (To avoid padding, refer to Chapter 7 for the reenacted scene.)
“…” Xiao Luobing pressed her forehead with one hand, exhausted. She finally figured out what the issue was. “You really did look like a puppet. When you looked at the goddess, your eyes were empty and lifeless. It didn’t feel like you were looking at the goddess—it was like you were looking at a stranger.”
Even with masks on, the eyes are one of an actor’s most important tools. Xiao Luobing could tell just from his eyes—he hadn’t gotten into character at all!
“Uh…” Fei Yangyao was speechless.
When he first transmigrated, he thought this was just a fictional world and assumed he only needed to follow the script. He didn’t expect the characters to be so vivid and real—if he slipped even a little, he’d be met with instant negative feedback.
But something still didn’t sit right. Even if his performance was lacking, Gu Xiyue shouldn’t have reacted that strongly.
It was like she’d been holding in frustration for a while already.
That wasn’t my fault!
“Do you perhaps feel nothing toward this goddess character?” Xiao Luobing asked, instantly catching on. This was a common mistake made by both new and seasoned actors. When they liked the script or the role, the performance would come alive with sparks. But if they didn’t feel anything for the role, their acting would be stiff and emotionless, making it torture for the entire crew.
“That’s true. I just don’t feel anything. I can’t imagine what I should feel toward her.” Fei Yangyao believed he had already done his best. But he couldn’t imagine emotions that didn’t exist.
“Then try imagining her as your girlfriend.”
“Teacher, I don’t have a…” Fei Yangyao had lived two lives and was still emotionally clueless.
“…Sorry.”
She offered a half-second of silence for his nonexistent girlfriend, then brushed it off and continued, “Then which female character do you feel something for?”