“Everyone, perk up! Once we finish this last scene, we’re done for the day!” Wang Shilin’s rough voice echoed across the set. The crew, who had been looking drained moments ago, instantly snapped to attention.
Contrary to his refined appearance, Wang Shilin’s voice was thunderous—loud enough that even from a distance, everyone could hear him clearly. The cast and crew were already hardened by long days on set; they didn’t need a megaphone—just his commanding voice was enough to pull everyone back to focus.
At his shout, everyone straightened, motivated by the thought that once this scene wrapped, they could finally clock out. Just one more take, and they’d be done.
Not long after filming, as the makeup artist pressed him into the chair for touch-ups, Yu Junqing suddenly realized all eyes seemed to be on him.
He felt puzzled. What was going on? He hadn’t even started filming yet. Yu Junqing’s face betrayed his innocence—he had just finished shooting. Why was the makeup artist already forcing him into a chair for touch-ups? Could it be his turn again so soon?
The makeup artist, noticing he had probably spaced out again, chuckled. “Caught you dozing off again. The director said—once this scene’s done, you can leave!”
Yu Junqing blinked in confusion as the brush swept across his face. Leave already? He was exhausted—why bother touching up makeup if he could already go home?
“What scene is this?” Yu Junqing asked out of habit. No one answered, and he remembered—Xiao Yitong hadn’t followed him. Without his assistant, it was a bit inconvenient. He wondered if Rui Ge could arrange to have Xiao Yitong brought over. If that gossip-king face could blend into the crew, it would save him a lot of worry, at least sparing him the headache of deciphering relationships between actors—like Yun Qi and Fang Sheng. The two assistants had cornered themselves in a secluded spot, talking trash about him, and it was easy for someone listening in to catch every word.
After finishing the touch-ups in a daze, the makeup artist quickly packed up. Her work was basically done for the day, and she could leave once everything was set.
Yu Junqing finally perked up. He realized—once this scene wrapped, he could go home! Feeling the sticky residue on his face from the makeup, he thought he might be having trouble breathing. He still couldn’t understand how female stars could step out with full makeup every day—they must have nerves of steel.
He glanced at Wang Shilin, who was studying the script intently. Yu Junqing’s gaze wandered twice before his head throbbed.
The past few days of working with Wang Shilin had been grueling. While domestic productions often rush schedules to cut costs, Wang Shilin’s relentless, all-in approach to filming was on another level—like a supercharged, devilish work pace. No wonder the crew looked lively now—they’d probably collapse after dinner and a shower.
“Why are you standing there? Come over—don’t waste time!” Wang Shilin barked, having finished reviewing the script.
Yu Junqing loosened his aching shoulders and moved over.
After several days on set, he had started to get used to entering a scene quickly. As he walked, he reviewed the scene in his mind—it was the second day after Luo Xu had found Luo Er. The previous night had been a drunken mess, and his wife had stormed off angry, leaving Luo Xu and Luo Er in a pitiful mess. It was one of the bleakest moments in the story for Luo Xu.
Understanding why the makeup artist had smeared so much substance on his face, Yu Junqing’s expression slowly shifted. His shoulders slumped slightly, back curved, eyes clouded with drunken despair, and his pallid face radiated hopelessness at life’s monotony and cruelty—he became Luo Xu in the flesh.
Watching Yu Junqing approach, Wang Shilin immediately recognized his state. The transformation into character required little effort, and he felt immense satisfaction. No wonder his father valued him so highly—such talent was envied by many. Few actors could slip into a role so seamlessly. Even abroad, this level of natural immersion was rare.
In this scene, Yu Junqing would face Fang Sheng for the first time.
Fang Sheng’s character was the opposite of Yu Junqing’s—suited and handsome, effortlessly charming. As a former model, his presence was commanding, easily outshining Yu Junqing in looks. Many female staff couldn’t take their eyes off him, creating an almost zoological spectacle. Meanwhile, Yu Junqing, in his disheveled and tragic state, barely garnered a sympathetic glance.
Despite being a model, Fang Sheng’s acting was competent, though he lacked Yu Junqing’s innate ability to dive deep into character. Still, his role matched his persona, making it relatively easy for him to perform.
Following the script, Fang Sheng’s character began to show subtle signs of intimidation. Others might not notice, but he could feel the depth of Yu Junqing’s immersion—so convincing it was almost frightening. He realized that if he too lost the line between fiction and reality, it would mean total immersion—but being swept along by someone else’s performance wasn’t necessarily satisfying.
“Cut! That’s a wrap!” Wang Shilin shouted. The camera captured everything well enough, so no retakes were needed. Tension eased, and casual chatter about dinner plans filled the set.
Yu Junqing, slow to exit character, looked up to find most of the crew already gone. He rubbed his face, realizing he might have forgotten his makeup remover. The heavy makeup would make it a challenge to clean later.
“Use this—it’s what I usually use. Natural, gentle on the skin, and removes makeup well,” a hand offered. Looking up, he saw Fang Sheng. Surprised, Yu Junqing thanked him and took the bottle.
Fang Sheng, seeing no negative reaction, relaxed. Acting alongside Yu Junqing, he always felt slightly uneasy—he lacked natural talent and had to rely on study and mimicry. Despite appearances, his fame didn’t guarantee him lead roles. Directors were sharp, and roles demanding real skill often eluded him. Watching Yu Junqing, Fang Sheng felt both envy and admiration.
Even without innate skill, he had forged his path. With Wang Shilin’s film, he landed a solid supporting role—a commendable feat. His gaze returned to Yu Junqing, who now washed his face, enjoying relief from the sticky makeup.
Raising his head, droplets on his long lashes, Yu Junqing’s pristine profile appeared younger than his age. Fang Sheng’s eyes flickered with admiration—he had never seen him like this before.
He thought, if Yu Junqing had not had a company push, he still might have struggled to break through. Recently, Yu Junqing had switched to the trending RQ company after disputes with his agent, securing roles that matched his talent, though this project alone didn’t make him a star.
Fang Sheng noticed Yu Junqing didn’t even need a towel to wipe his face and handed him a tissue, speaking softly, “Wipe the water—this weather isn’t good for your skin.” His deep, mature voice had undeniable charm.
Yu Junqing, puzzled, waved it off, using his hand instead.
Fang Sheng, undeterred, slipped his hands back into his pockets.
“Since today’s our first collaboration, how about dinner together?” Fang Sheng asked, smiling politely.
Yu Junqing studied him with mixed feelings. Something about him seemed off. Early in the shoot, it might not have mattered, but now, with assistant gossip lingering in his mind, he hesitated. Assistants and actors usually stood on the same side. Fang Sheng’s assistant had spoken harshly before—why now act as if nothing had happened?
Yu Junqing rubbed his temples, disliking these political calculations.
Fang Sheng, unaware his assistant’s remarks had reached Yu Junqing, repeated the invitation.
Yu Junqing, alone on set without his own assistant, offered an excuse: “Sorry, I’m on a diet, skipping dinner. Maybe next time.” His character required a gaunt appearance, making the excuse plausible.
Fang Sheng shrugged, feigning disappointment. “Alright, then after wrap, we’ll see about it,” and lightly patted Yu Junqing’s shoulder.
“Fang Sheng!” a sharp female voice rang from the doorway. Yu Junqing winced.
The woman’s dramatic tone reminded him of a hysterical scene. He watched Fang Sheng appease his assistant, and they finally left laughing together. Yu Junqing found it baffling—if Fang Sheng’s assistant had feelings for him, why approve of his relationship with Yun Qi?
Hearing last night’s assistant gossip still nagging in his mind, Yu Junqing felt his mental capacity depleting. If only Xiao Yitong were here, he could calmly analyze the situation. He silently prayed thrice for a versatile assistant, and for Rui Ge too, lamenting the terrible food on set.
Meanwhile, Bo Rui was surprised. “Really? He’s signed already?”
“Yes, boss. With our help, Star Entertainment couldn’t resist. Xiao Yitong is just an assistant—it was easy to get him over. They didn’t resist.” Huang Qian bragged, ignoring his past headaches.
Getting Xiao Yitong was simple; the real challenge was managing the process cleanly. Contracts were tricky, and for such effort, it might be easier to recruit a star. Huang Qian’s mind briefly wandered to risqué imagery, replacing his previous thoughts of a pure actress, before smacking his head—he shouldn’t indulge in such thoughts.
“Good. How many remain unsigned?” Bo Rui asked, restraining his urge to scold Huang Qian for his foolish chatter.
“Achoo!” Liang Xin sneezed, glancing at the tightly closed CEO office and the pile of shirts on his desk. He felt like he hadn’t slept properly in a week due to the boss.
Huang Qian silently lit a mental row of candles for his team sneaking glances at him dialing the boss.
“Report, boss. We’ll complete the task promptly,” Huang Qian assured, ignoring the chaos.
Bo Rui hung up, indifferent to the mess, focusing instead on the beef in his pot. The chunks were large, bathed in rich broth, releasing an irresistible aroma. He had risen early for this.
He wanted a surprise for the Big Treasure. Considering the role demanded weight loss for authenticity, he anticipated she’d shed more pounds before filming concluded. Bo Rui smiled, thinking the beef would be perfect for her—if he ate it, he might just end up carrying her from the set.
Focused despite his wandering thoughts, Bo Rui handled the beef expertly. The reddish-brown pieces, still steaming, promised a flavorful meal. He raised an eyebrow, satisfied—this portion should be enough for her.