After the manager left, the day before officially joining the cast, Lu Chenghe arranged for an assistant to help Zuo Ning. The assistant was a young man in his early twenties with a cute, baby-like face. When he smiled, his eyes curved into crescents. Upon seeing his smile, Zuo Ning couldn’t help but grin along with him.
Zuo Ning initially thought this boy named Yang Shun was about his age, but to his surprise, Yang Shun turned out to be almost twenty-six. That youthful baby face really shaved off a few years, causing Bei Xiao to joke relentlessly that it felt like one adult taking care of two kids.
Despite Yang Shun’s baby face, his work capabilities were undoubtedly top-notch. Whatever Zuo Ning intended to do, Yang Shun had already taken care of it beforehand. Especially when it came to social connections, he handled everything impeccably. Within just half a day of joining the crew, Yang Shun managed to mingle and network with numerous assistants of the other cast members who had been filming for a while.
Whenever Yang Shun reported to Zuo Ning or reminded him of important matters, Zuo Ning couldn’t help but marvel at the difference between a major CEO and an ordinary person. Just anyone from Lu Chenghe’s side seemed to exude jaw-dropping competence.
Although Zuo Ning could go home daily following the regular filming schedule, he often found himself texting Lu Chenghe. In the past, he had to bottle up any gossip he overheard in the crew, but now he could finally communicate and exchange thoughts with Lu Chenghe. Whenever he spotted something intriguing, he couldn’t resist sharing it with him.
Even though Lu Chenghe delegated tasks to others, he felt that Zuo Ning’s habit of texting was even more clingy than if he were staying in a small room all day. At some point, gossip started circulating about the boss being in love. Who else but the power of love could make a boss glance at his phone to send messages even during meetings?
As for Zuo Ning’s performance in the cast, it exceeded his initial expectations. He had braced himself to be scolded by the director every single day, thinking he was a total newcomer who hadn’t even formally started school yet. However, Lu Chenghe really knew him well and chose a perfect role for him, albeit a “decorative” one.
The drama was a grand xianxia production, naturally involving some emotional, tragic romances between immortals and humans. Zuo Ning played the third male lead, an upper god, stunningly handsome, ethereal, often standing in white robes by the fiery-red Wangchuan River, gazing at the images of the human world reflected on the stones.
In the story, the male lead’s past life identity was that of his close brother. The two once endured trials together, became gods, and carved out a place for themselves in the Ninth Heaven. However, the opportunity to ascend and become a supreme god only came once every thousand years. In the end, the male lead chose to reincarnate and train anew, giving this rare chance to his brother. It wasn’t until his ascension as a supreme god that the brother discovered his former companion had opted for the path of reincarnation. Since then, he waited by the Wangchuan River, hoping to see his brother return from reincarnation.
The second male lead in the story is the typical character who competes with the male lead for the female lead. He sacrifices a lot and resorts to various schemes to win her over, making viewers simultaneously angry and fond of him. It’s a vibrant and dynamic character design. As for the third male lead, played by Zuo Ning, most of his scenes involve exquisite outfits and standing around waiting. Each time he sees his brother, now in the human world, facing great danger through the mirror of the mortal stone, he can’t help but intervene. As an observer, he bears witness to the heart-wrenching love triangle between the three characters.
In the end, the female lead, due to various reasons, is on the verge of death, and the male lead naturally sacrifices himself to save her. Unable to bear seeing his brother’s hard-earned immortal fate ruined after several reincarnations, the third male lead expends all his divine power to bring the female lead back to life.
In the end, the second male lead left in heartbreak, the male and female leads achieved their happy ending, and the Wangchuan River left without the waiting figure.
Throughout the drama, the role played by Zuo Ning required him to look beautiful and ethereal without intense emotional fluctuations. As the director mentioned before, completing the whole drama with just his face was entirely possible. Of course, if he could deliver more expressive eye emotions, that would be ideal. But even if he ended up as a blank-faced “decorative vase”, it would still suffice.
Perhaps due to his own shift in perspective, Zuo Ning couldn’t help but feel that the third male lead and the male lead had an incredible bond. So Zuo Ning often asked Lu Chenghe to accompany him to rehearse under the guise of needing practice for their scenes together.
In the drama, Zuo Ning mostly acted opposite a stone. Although post-production would add some visuals to the stone, during filming, he was facing an ordinary, unremarkable big stone. If he didn’t take the time to cultivate some feelings, the performance would truly be devoid of emotion.
However, Lu Chenghe, having also read the script, didn’t indulge Zuo Ning’s antics. Instead, he tossed a large pillow to him and said, “Just pretend this is the stone. Face it, cultivate your emotions, and find your feelings.”
Zuo Ning puffed up in frustration, glaring at Lu Chenghe. “You don’t support my career at all! You don’t even have lines. Just rehearse with me for a bit! If I really have to act opposite something hard and lifeless, it’s going to be so awkward for me!”
Lu Chenghe poked the pillow he had given Zuo Ning. “This one is soft.”
Expressionless, Zuo Ning stared at Lu Chenghe. “Are you cracking cold jokes now?” With that, he flopped onto the bed, rolling around and wailing, “So many people will be watching me! And I have to act with full emotion opposite a stone! If you don’t help me get into the right mindset, I’ll end up with take after take full of NGs. Are you really okay with my debut role being branded as a blank-faced decorative vase? Waaaah, Lu Chenghe! Chenghe, Chenghe!”
Lu Chenghe winced at the noise and said, “If you don’t know how to act it, go find a teacher. Or I can hire a personal teacher for you to coach you scene by scene until you’ve practiced it thoroughly.”
Zuo Ning shoved Lu Chenghe’s laptop off his lap and rested his head on Lu Chenghe’s thighs, looking up at him. “I don’t want a teacher. I want you to rehearse with me!”
Lu Chenghe finally gave in, utterly exasperated. “Fine, how do you want to practice?”
Grinning cheekily, Zuo Ning pulled out the script and crossed his legs, sitting right in front of him. “You act it out first and show me how to interpret this scene. I feel so stiff just staring at the stone. I don’t even know what kind of expression I should use here.”
Lu Chenghe picked up the script and lightly tapped Zuo Ning on the head with it. “Who’s the one acting—you or me? Haven’t you heard the saying ‘every trade has its expertise’? I can help you with your lines, but trying to get the ‘feel’ from me is just impossible. I’m not all-knowing, you know!”
Without missing a beat, Zuo Ning retorted, “How could that be? In my eyes, you’re omnipotent!”
Lu Chenghe gave him a sidelong glance, grabbed the script, and skimmed through it. He then marked a few key passages where emotions were most evident. “Focus on these first. Once you’ve internalized them, the emotions will naturally come through.”
Zuo Ning didn’t look at the marks Lu Chenghe had made on the script. Instead, he set it aside and tugged at Lu Chenghe, making him look directly at him. As Lu Chenghe raised his head, he was met with those clear, glass-like eyes, their gaze so focused that his own reflection was mirrored within them. Lu Chenghe was momentarily stunned.
In that brief instant, the pure and clean expression in Zuo Ning’s eyes began to subtly shift. Something seemed to ripple beneath the surface—reserved, restrained—stirring a faint sense of heartache in those who saw it.
Lu Chenghe had no idea what Little Pudding was trying to convey. He simply found himself lost in those eyes, a faint ache inexplicably rising in his chest, as though compelled to reach out and smooth the ripples within them. It wasn’t until he actually did, when those mesmerizing eyes closed, that Lu Chenghe finally pulled himself out of that uncontrollable emotion.
Before he could dwell on the subtle shift in his feelings, Little Pudding grabbed his hand, laughing mischievously. “So, how was it? Did you feel anything? I practiced that for ages in front of the mirror!”
Without thinking, Lu Chenghe asked, “What emotion were you trying to express?”
Hearing this, Zuo Ning’s enthusiasm instantly deflated, and his disappointment was palpable. “It’s waiting, obviously. Everyone says the eyes are the windows to the soul. I’ve watched so many talented actors who can express all kinds of emotions through their eyes. Even Xiao Yang said I nailed it and that it was really moving. Why can’t you feel it? Was he just encouraging me?”
Lu Chenghe instinctively asked, “You practiced like this with someone else?”
Zuo Ning didn’t give it much thought. “Yeah, I pulled him in to rehearse with me. Otherwise, if I went straight onto the set, I’d be dead in seconds. I thought I’d gotten pretty decent at it—at least to the point where I could express some emotions with my eyes. But clearly, I’m still not quite there. Oh well, I guess I’ll just quietly be a handsome face.”
Lu Chenghe ruffled his hair and said, “You’re already very good. Just now, you had something going.”
Zuo Ning chose to interpret Lu Chenghe’s words as consolation. He wrapped his arms around Lu Chenghe’s waist and buried his head in his embrace, mumbling, “Why did I choose to put myself through this? I thought it would be easy, but acting is actually so hard. I swear, I’ll never laugh at someone else’s awkward performances again. This is genuinely difficult.”
Lu Chenghe gently stroked his hair without saying anything. Nothing in life is truly easy. If something appears effortless, it’s often because unseen hard work has paved the way. Though it was challenging, if Little Pudding wanted to pursue this path, certain hardships were inevitable.
That night, despite normally sleeping soundly, Lu Chenghe had a dream. In the dream, he saw a pair of beautiful eyes gazing intently at him. Although the expression carried a smile, the emotions within were heartbreaking. Lu Chenghe stared back. In the dream, Little Pudding looked at him with the same intensity. He opened his arms, attempting a hug like he always would, and Little Pudding, as always, smiled warmly and leaned into him, clinging affectionately.
But moments later, Little Pudding tilted his head back to look at him, smiling through tears that began to spill from his eyes. He seemed to whisper Lu Chenghe’s name softly.
Lu Chenghe’s chest tightened with a pang of emotion. Feeling an ache in his heart, he lowered his head to cradle Little Pudding’s face and slowly leaned in to place a tender kiss on his eyelids.
Lu Chenghe woke abruptly from the dream, before dawn, exhaling a shaky breath. Beside him, Little Pudding remained in human form, curled up childlike, facing him. Lu Chenghe turned his head to quietly observe him for a while before reaching out to lightly brush his fingers across his brow and eyes.
