“Me?”
Lin Zhu had just been stifling a yawn. He quickly swallowed the last bite of his chocolate bar and made a polite protest. “Uncle Wei, I’m not a professional—”
“No need,” Zheng Yi cut him off coldly before he could finish, his tone dripping with challenge. “Running lines with an outsider throws off the performance. Acting with a non-pro is just going to mess up the scene. If you’re really worried about the result. Why not have FIlm Emperor Zhong run lines with me instead? I don’t mind…”
“—I’ll go.”
Lin Zhu changed his reply mid-sentence. He scooped up the script with one hand, pushed himself off the set piece, and hopped lightly over the mess of props piled up all over the place.
Zheng Yi’s gaze sharpened in an instant, cold and sharp as a blade, locked onto him.
Lin Zhu acted like he didn’t see it at all. He cracked a wide grin back, showing a neat row of white teeth.
He also wanted to act opposite Zhong Yao!
He has never acted opposite of Zhong Yao!!
Back then, the young master of the Lin family — who’d once single-mindedly wanted to chase Zhong Yao into the entertainment industry — had only made up his mind to become Zhong Yao’s agent because of that scandal.
Lin Zhu flexed his fingers, brimming with excitement, his drowsiness from overeating was blown away in an instant.
Ever since he’d met Zheng Yi, he’d never once had a peaceful day. Just looking at the guy made his temper itch to flare. Zheng Yi almost blew up on the spot, but his agent waved and gestured frantically, panic all over his face. Glancing sidelong at Wei Geping, Zheng Yi barely forced his anger back down.
“He’s just an agent. What could he know about acting?”
Zheng Yi didn’t take him seriously at all. He narrowed his eyes, smoothed his expression, and readied himself, waiting for Lin Zhu to start the lines.
Lin Zhu flipped through the script a few times, tossed it aside, and slowly unfastened his shirt cuffs as he lowered his head.
“Mr. Zhan…”
The moment he opened his mouth, Zheng Yi’s eyes flashed with surprise. His eyelid even twitched involuntarily.
Lin Zhu’s tone was casual, his movements looked ordinary, yet there was a gleaming sharpness in his eyes. A clear, proud nobility that seemed to flow out of him with every gesture.
He really wasn’t a professional, but he wasn’t exactly an outsider, either.
He’d grown up crawling around sets as a child extra. When Lin Zhu first faced a camera, Zheng Yi was probably still in elementary school. Later, Lin Zhu had become a devoted fan of Zhong Yao’s, chasing him for over a decade. He planned his whole path around following Zhong Yao into the industry.
Though his college major wasn’t acting, his family had hired three acting coaches in a row. Coupled with the fundamentals he’d built up since childhood, when it comes to professional acting skills, Lin Zhu wasn’t on Zhong Yao’s level, but he was no weaker than Zheng Yi.
Besides, he had one more cheat code up his sleeve.
“I’ve taken a liking to something here.”
Lin Zhu spoke the line at an unhurried pace, tilting his head with a lazy smile. His amber eyes glowed under the lights like a cat ready to pounce.
“Are you going to hand it over?”
He hadn’t even read this script that carefully. But just that one glance he’d exchanged with Wei Geping had laid bare the entire nuance and expectation the director wanted for this scene.
Whether a drama succeeded didn’t just depend on the actors, it depended hugely on the director’s aesthetic sense and how well they could coach.
Wei Geping’s temper was so infamous because while his aesthetic sense was top-notch, his ability to communicate it was “questionable.” When actors failed to match the tone he had in mind, he’d blow up on them without mercy.
A director like that needed extremely perceptive actors who are extremely insightful, able to rely on metaphysical-levels of non-verbal communication like magic. That’s why the Sichuan Film Crew has always been very cautious when selecting actors.
Lin Zhu, however, was free from such restrictions.
Three seconds was more than enough to read what he needed for a short audition like this.
Feeling perfectly justified in scaring his opponent a bit, Lin Zhu tipped his chin at Zheng Yi, slotting himself seamlessly into the role he was playing.
Zheng Yi’s eyes contracted. He stared in shock, momentarily stunned by the gleam in Lin Zhu’s eyes. For a beat, he actually couldn’t recite out his line.
Two seconds ticked by. The assistant director’s voice cut in without mercy: “Cut!”
Zheng Yi snapped out of it, whipping his head around. “Wait! I didn’t even get my line out. It started too fast, I wasn’t ready—”
“You couldn’t keep up with an agent, what more do you want to be ready for?”
Wei Geping only wasted anger on people worth the trouble. Someone like Zheng Yi didn’t even deserve the effort. He just waved dismissively. “Out. If you want to learn from a real senior, sit over there and watch. Use your head more, flap your mouth less. All these young actors nowadays… always so hot-tempered…”
Zheng Yi stood frozen, his face cycling through green and white, teeth clenched so tight they might crack.
His agent hurried over, tugging at him, trying to get him out. But Zheng Yi stood rooted at the door like he’d grown into the floor, eyes locked fiercely on Zhong Yao.
Zhong Yao raised an eyebrow, inclined his head politely at Wei Geping, then rose and stepped around the props. Walking straight toward Lin Zhu, who was still standing there in the middle of the set.
The moment he stood up, the aura was nothing like Zheng Yi’s performance just now.
He’d only come out today for a quick errand. Zhong Yao was dressed in simple casual wear, no styling, no makeup. Yet every step he took radiated an effortless, flowing grace. He wove through the crew with a calm, elegant poise, heading for Lin Zhu.
Deep in his dark eyes glimmered a mild warmth, and a faint smile. Clearly, he’d seen right through his agent’s little tyrant streak, but he looked equally determined to indulge it to the end.
Lin Zhu, still halfway in character, felt his heart pounding like a drum. Yet he still tipped his chin up with exaggerated arrogance, blatantly meeting Zhong Yao’s eyes head-on.
“What does the young master want?”
Zhong Yao’s voice sounded — a deep, rich tone that fell unhurriedly into Lin Zhu’s ear. His tall, elegant frame leaned slightly forward against the backlight, lowering until he was close enough that Lin Zhu could feel his breath, a smile in his voice as he murmured at his ear. “Young Master, whatever you want, Zhan will provide.”
The little bamboo shoot was braised on the spot.
He played the extra of a spoiled young master from the glittering foreign concessions. He only appeared this once, coming in deliberately to cause trouble under someone’s instigation, only to be smoothly placated by Zhan Yuan and leave. From then on, he regarded Zhan Yuan as his teacher and idol whom he worshipped all day and night.”
Zhong Yao had stepped right in to pick up where Zheng Yi’s scene left off.
If he’d had his phone on him right then, Lin Zhu would have messaged his big brother a hundred times screaming “Gege!!’, then rolled around on the floor a hundred more, run fifteen laps around the house, and eaten five buns in a row.
Barely holding onto a shred of awareness through the haze, Lin Zhu could hear his own heartbeat. He could even hear Zhong Yao’s breathing, so close it felt too clear.
Too bad that they were still in the scene.
Fortunately, Lin Zhu was still in-character.
People sense’s sharpened when they’re nervous. Lin Zhu, sticking to the script, startled backward as if spooked, face flushing as his eyes darted around, catching the director’s deeply meaningful ‘just as expected’ look.
Lin Zhu felt he could win thirty more games of mahjong for Director Wei.
“Young Master, go in and take a look around. See what catches your fancy, whatever you enjoy… just tell me.”
Zhong Yao slid an arm around his shoulders. Those normally cool, deep eyes now holding a shade of playful ease befitting the character. In Lin Zhu’s clear amber eyes, he stirred up a teasing spark, smiling as he gently nudged him forward. He straightened and called out, voice calm. “Everyone, enjoy yourselves. Whatever happens outside has nothing to do with us. The world can turn upside down for all I care. Let them make their noise!”
Lin Zhu’s job was done. He slipped out of frame and turned back to look.
Those pitch-dark eyes were perfectly clear, sharp as a mountain spring in thaw.
Zhan Yuan was a complex character — an outrageously spendthrift second-generation heir on the surface, a hidden savior sheltering the poor and displaced beneath. The games and extravagance he put on for show never fully masked the compassion and sorrow at his core. Even at his most reckless, he stayed clear-headed yet burdened.
Zheng Yi hadn’t shown any of that.
The difference was painfully obvious.
The assistant director called “Cut!” then couldn’t resist praising them twice before quickly packing up the camera.
Zheng Yi looked utterly defeated. His agent managed to whisk him away before anyone could point fingers or gossip too loudly. Meanwhile, people crowded around Zhong Yao to offer congratulations. The casting director dutifully produced the contract, chasing after him to negotiate. The script supervisor handed over the shooting schedule. Everything had been ready for ages, so the follow-up went smoothly and fast.
Lin Zhu, the actual official agent, was the only one caught off guard and pushed aside by the crowd. No matter how high he hopped trying to squeeze back in, he couldn’t break through.
Zhong Yao, signing a few contracts, sensed something was off. He looked up, eyes brightening with a small smile. He politely excused himself from the crowd, parted them like water, and pulled Lin Zhu up to stand at his side.
“I have an agent,” Zhong Yao said, perfectly serious, not a trace of teasing in his tone. “If there’s anything to discuss, please speak to my agent. I’ll follow his arrangements completely.”
He said it so earnestly it didn’t even sound like a joke. As soon as the words left his mouth, he stepped back half a pace, making room for Lin Zhu.
Lin Zhu’s heart thumped twice, hard. Instinctively, he looked up.
He met that dark gaze, warm and moist with a quiet smile. Lin Zhu’s eyes stung, his chest rising and falling twice before he broke into a dazzling grin.
Zhong Yao handed him the stack of contracts.
Lin Zhu, bursting with pride, tiptoed up a bit, puffed out his chest, and took them all deftly in his arms. By the time he’d gathered them up, a hand appeared in front of him.
It was holding two hotel room cards.
Lin Zhu looked up. Director Wei Geping, brazen as ever, slapped the cards right on top of the stack of contracts in Lin Zhu’s arms.
“Check in tonight. We’ll talk about contracts later.”
He hadn’t even gone to Zhong Yao’s house yet!
The production team’s efficiency was so over-the-top that Lin Zhu couldn’t believe it. “But we didn’t bring anything—”
“Pack later. The production budget’s enough. Just go buy whatever daily stuff you need. If that’s not enough, I’ll reimburse you both myself.”
Director Wei, lavish and domineering, waved his hand, gesturing for the two of them to obediently go check in at the hotel.
“We’ve been waiting two months for you two. Zhan Yuan’s scenes start filming tomorrow morning. Tonight’s the only time to settle the paperwork. Figure it out yourselves.”
Liar!
Director Wei obviously just wanted to trick him into playing mahjong tonight!
Lin Zhu didn’t believe it for a second. He bristled, ready to call him out right then and there. Wei Geping turned and glared at him, asking, “You want to negotiate or not?”
Lin Zhu knew when to yield. He straightened up and gave in immediately, “Negotiate.”
Director Wei, finally satisfied, waved for the set assistant to lead them to the hotel. Surrounded by the crew, the pair was ushered out in a lively procession.
T/L:
fun fact! This chapter’s title is “谈不谈？” which translates more literally as “Negotiate or not?”.
It’s also the line Lin Zhu said in the first chapter, but I translated it as “If we add another 500,000, will this negotiation continue?” because of the difference in tone: Director Wei (a senior) was glaring at Lin Zhu (a junior) vs. Lin Zhu (a junior) negotiating a deal with Manager Zhang (a senior).
