“I’m also a fan of NO.1.”
“And you’re my bias.”
Every word echoed in her ears. Of course, Rong Guang had no reason to refuse.
The front-row tickets were originally meant to be reserved for certain important figures who would be on camera, to be used for the final remarks.
For the farewell ceremony, Rong Guang had only planned to save two tickets—one for her grandma and one for Chacha.
Now there was one more person, which wasn’t a bad thing at all. In fact, it made Rong Guang even more expectant.
After Chu Feiliang left, those two sentences seemed to circle endlessly in Rong Guang’s ears.
From time to time, she would recall Chu Feiliang’s delicate features and perfect smile as she said those words.
Rong Guang let out a series of silly giggles, unable to stop herself from hugging a pillow, burying her head in it, and rolling around wildly on the sofa.
Once she’d had her fill of craziness, Rong Guang panted softly and fixed her gaze on the bottle of perfume on the living room coffee table.
Chu Feiliang had never answered the question she’d asked earlier.
She figured it probably involved some confidentiality agreements. Before an official announcement for an endorsement deal, Chu Feiliang couldn’t reveal anything.
So, Rong Guang decided… tomorrow, she would go downstairs and buy some more of the body wash Chu Feiliang endorsed from the convenience store, just in case she ran out.
Although she hadn’t told her, Chu Feiliang had left a bottle of perfume before she left, enough to last her a good half a year.
The perfume Chu Feiliang used wasn’t a commercially produced product but a handmade item ordered from an old artisan in Provence.
Rong Guang clutched the palm-sized bottle in her hand, not bearing to spray it. She just brought her nose close and gently sniffed the nozzle.
As the delicate and fresh scent filled her nostrils, Rong Guang felt as if she were in a trance, seeing a graceful and slender figure behind a layer of gauze, seeming both near and far.
Some scents can instantly transport a person back to the most profound moments in their memory. What appeared before Rong Guang’s eyes was the figure of Chu Feiliang.
The aroma of the kitchen in the afternoon, the fresh scent of grass and trees in late autumn, even the unique smell of a road under construction—all could instantly take a person back to that moment in time.
Rong Guang’s lips curved into a gentle smile, her eyes seeming to sparkle like stars.
She opened the cap and dabbed a single drop on the tip of her nose. The fragrance that bloomed was rich but not cloying.
This action seemed a bit obsessive, much like how Rong Guang had once ordered a life-sized body pillow of Chu Feiliang and placed it on the other side of her bed… something she couldn’t really tell anyone about.
That night, Rong Guang slept especially soundly.
The next morning, when she arrived on set with the crew car, Rong Guang looked around and squatted down next to Zhang Nanchuan.
The scent always arrived before the person. Without turning his head, Zhang Nanchuan called out, “Xiao Chu is here.”
Rong Guang’s eyes curved as she smiled. “Director Zhang, it’s me.”
Zhang Nanchuan was surprised. He turned to look at Rong Guang, sniffed the air, and then said, “You’re…?”
“Teacher Chu gave it to me yesterday.” Rong Guang couldn’t wait to show it off, like a child presenting a treasure. She took out the perfume, waved it around, then put it back in her bag, saying, “I used it right away today.”
In reality, actors on set generally didn’t wear perfume.
Working from morning to night, it was almost impossible for anyone to avoid breaking a sweat and feeling sticky. The smell of sweat mixed with perfume was not pleasant.
Those who could still wear perfume every day were usually incredibly meticulous, both inside and out—the kind of meticulous that meant they were willing to sacrifice rest time to shower frequently. Chu Feiliang was probably one of these exceptionally meticulous few.
Hearing this, Zhang Nanchuan laughed. “You’re certainly one of a kind.”
Rong Guang laughed too. “Yes, I’ve heard… I heard before that when Teacher Chu gives gifts, she gives jewelry to women and watches to men… no exceptions, and the gift corresponds to their status. You won’t find a second person in the world who’s received her personal perfume.”
Zhang Nanchuan nodded and said with a smile, “You’re quite proud of it. I once tried to help my old… ahem, ex-wife. I wanted to get two bottles from her but couldn’t. She said the old master can only produce a few bottles of essence all year. The output is limited, so there isn’t enough perfume to make, let alone give away. And here you are, getting a whole bottle directly from her.”
“It’s that precious?!” Rong Guang was astonished.
She knew from her past life that the perfume’s production was very rare, and even its price had always been a mystery.
“Not exactly precious,” Zhang Nanchuan said, propping up his chin. “It’s mostly been mythologized by the industry. Let’s say you wear this perfume today. Even with its mythologized price, with your current status, how much could it possibly be worth?”
Rong Guang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How could someone be so sharp-tongued? “Director, your skill at putting people down is truly on another level.”
“Anyway, you won’t take it to heart.” Zhang Nanchuan gave a hearty laugh and patted the top of Rong Guang’s head. His broad palm wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable. “I don’t have to mince words with you.”
Today, Zhang Nanchuan’s attitude towards her seemed exceptionally good.
Rong Guang’s thoughts raced. She said, “You seem to be in a good mood today?”
“Mhm,” Zhang Nanchuan didn’t hide it from her. “I’m about to launch a star of tomorrow. Who wouldn’t be happy? As a director, these are the things we strive for.”
Rong Guang waved her hands, repeatedly saying she wasn’t worthy of the praise.
Zhang Nanchuan looked at her and smiled. “Mao Xiaosong was taken to the police station last night. The impact was severe, and he’ll probably be sentenced. Jiang Ruyi’s face is ruined. She got a secondary infection, and her whole face is a mess. It won’t heal anytime soon. All her scenes have been pushed to the very end. If she doesn’t get better, we’ll have to replace her when the time comes. In a few days, we’ll have to go pick some potential replacements who can take over the role.”
Rong Guang froze. Why was Zhang Nanchuan telling her all this?
Seeing the hesitation on Rong Guang’s face, Zhang Nanchuan dropped his pretense, rubbing his hands together. “Do you know anyone else like you? Cheap and effective, beautiful with good acting skills, someone who can turn decay into magic?”
Rong Guang: “…………”
She weighed how she should react.
Then she squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth, “Thank you for the high praise, Director, but among the people I know, there really isn’t a second one.”
“That’s a real shame.” Zhang Nanchuan pouted. Although he was just joking, he looked genuinely disappointed.
Rong Guang rolled her eyes, picked up her stool, and went to wait for her scene under the awning.
Not long after Rong Guang left, Chu Feiliang appeared beside Zhang Nanchuan.
This time, Zhang Nanchuan didn’t call out. He looked back first, then gestured for Chu Feiliang to sit.
Chu Feiliang glanced at Rong Guang’s pouting back, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “How did you manage to make her angry?”
Zhang Nanchuan cherished talent. In a short period, his relationship with Rong Guang had improved considerably.
Hearing this, he chuckled too. “It’s nothing, just joking with the kid. About casting for Jiang Ruyi’s role… you want to come with me to scout for it?”
“Alright,” Chu Feiliang agreed readily. “I’ve been cooped up on set these past few days, it’s getting stuffy.”
Zhang Nanchuan frowned, glanced at Chu Feiliang’s expression, and asked, “How have you been lately? Is your appetite okay?”
Chu Feiliang waved her hand. “I’m fine, I know my limits.”
Hearing this, Zhang Nanchuan didn’t press further, only saying, “If you can’t handle it, just say the word. I’ll give you a week off.”
Chu Feiliang nodded and gave a soft ‘mm’.
An autumn breeze blew, and the atmosphere between the two became a little quiet.
She suddenly remembered something, and her expression brightened. She said with a smile, “The little one promised me a ticket to her farewell concert in December, a front-row VIP seat.”
Zhang Nanchuan pouted. “I don’t get what’s so interesting about you people chasing after a young girl, screaming your heads off all day…”
“I got one for you too.” Chu Feiliang tapped the table. “It’ll mostly be the second unit filming then. We could take a few days off and go see it together?”
Zhang Nanchuan cleared his throat and said with a sidelong glance, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to go out and relax.”
Chu Feiliang chuckled softly, crossed one leg over her knee, and pulled her jacket tighter around herself, her expression momentarily serene.
After the opening, there weren’t many major scenes between Rong Guang and Chu Feiliang. After all, she was just a supporting character now, and the drama’s structure was grand, not simply focused on romance.
“Your performance in the last scene we shot was excellent.” When Zhang Nanchuan switched back to work mode, his expression was all seriousness. “Wen Mou’s innocence and clarity successfully made Ji Zheng let go of his suspicions about Ji Ying, and it also earned Wen Mou a small place in Ji Zheng’s heart.”
At this point, Zhao Xiuqi couldn’t help but feel speechless.
He said with a laugh, “I really don’t know what these emperors were thinking. At their advanced age, how could they still have those kinds of feelings for a young girl who could be their granddaughter…”
“In actual history, Ji Zheng was still selecting concubines at sixty.” Zhang Nanchuan was quite respectful towards Zhao Xiuqi. After all, Zhao Xiuqi was more than ten years his senior, an elder in the industry, and his status and position demanded respect.
Zhao Xiuqi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He shook his head. “Alright, I’m just old. You continue.”
“But on the other hand, Ji Zheng knew that Ji Ying liked Wen Mou. He felt that Wen Mou would become Ji Ying’s only weakness, a weakness that would completely remove Ji Ying from contention for the throne forever. He also knew he didn’t have long to live, so he didn’t plan to touch Wen Mou, even intending to let her grow.” Zhang Nanchuan paused, then continued, “So, in the end, he set up a trap to make Ji Ying disappear logically, clearing the path for the future emperor.”
And this trap was the most brilliant scene in the entire drama, The Eldest Princess.
At that time, enemy forces suddenly invaded. The emperor dispatched Ji Ying, who was already not in her best state after losing Wen Mou, to provide reinforcements.
He falsely reported the number of invading enemy troops, sending thirty thousand soldiers to die with Ji Ying.
To be safe, he also secretly dispatched fifty thousand soldiers as a backup, in case Ji Ying really managed to survive and win against the odds. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time a miracle had occurred with Ji Ying.
And at that time, Wen Mou had already become Jiang Wenmou again.
After learning that Ji Ying was heading into a death trap, she buried her father who had died of illness and decided to come out of seclusion to save Ji Ying.
It was here that Jiang Wenmou died, and Ji Ying, completely weary of court disputes, chose to retreat into the mountains and forests.
But the place she chose had long been fated—it was the secluded home where Jiang Wenmou and her father had once lived, and also the deep mountains the emperor had once told the Grand Chancellor he would never set foot in as long as he lived.
Rong Guang nodded, then said, “This part… is it considered the Eldest Princess’s romantic storyline?”
“It is,” Zhang Nanchuan rubbed his chin, “but it isn’t.”
“Ji Ying was destined to die alone. Her entire life was a legend. After she left, the new emperor of the Li Dynasty began to be constrained by the old court officials at every turn. He had no regent minister to assist him internally, and no divine general to aid him externally. Beset by troubles from within and without, even his own heaven-sent talent was useless. He ultimately died on the battlefield while leading his own troops.” As Zhang Nanchuan spoke about the parts that interested him, he grew more and more excited. “The old emperor was brilliant his whole life, but because of a moment of confusion and extremism, he gambled the entire future of the Li Dynasty on Ji Ying alone.”
“Success because of Ji Ying, failure because of Ji Ying. The greatest pity is that the emperor had been in a high position for too long and was too paranoid. He bet on the wrong path,” Zhao Xiuqi nodded.
Because he was playing the emperor, Ji Zheng, he had a deeper understanding and feeling for the character.
“Exactly.” Zhang Nanchuan rubbed his hands. “This is the core theme of The Eldest Princess. One person can make a dynasty, but one person can also destroy it. In the grand scheme of things, everything is preordained.”
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