Because Chu Feiliang had gotten into the car, Chacha slowed down considerably. She no longer dared to be as eager as before, wanting to test out the incredible drifting skills she hadn’t used in years.
Chu Feiliang squinted, her body relaxing as she leaned back. She took a deep breath and said, “Breathing in some fresh air really is comfortable. I was just watching from my car, and Chacha was driving quite fiercely. Why did you slow down after I got in?”
Without turning her head, Chacha held the steering wheel with exceptional poise and said with conviction, “I have to ensure the passenger’s safety. My Sister Guangguang has first-class reflexes in a crisis. If I drove into a ditch, she could get us both out safely. I can’t risk your life, so I can’t drive so fiercely.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” Chu Feiliang nodded in agreement. She glanced at the rising sun and said, “Let’s take a nap. Chacha, drive slowly. No one will dare to dock your pay even if we’re late. You’ll still get your full attendance award.”
Zhang Nanchuan was a very shrewd man.
He knew that words alone couldn’t get everyone to the set on time, so he established a full attendance award.
Of course, the actors didn’t care about the five hundred yuan for full attendance, but the staff members in their teams did. In this day and age, earning money was not easy.
Moreover, Zhang Nanchuan had said that as long as you were a staff member registered with the crew, regardless of whether you had a full or partial contract, you could get the money as long as you were on set.
And to encourage everyone’s motivation, Zhang Nanchuan also offered performance bonuses, the detailed breakdown of which the finance department would report to him.
No matter how little the actors needed that five hundred yuan, they couldn’t cut off the source of income for so many people under them, so they had no choice but to wake up early along with everyone else.
Because of this, the production had been running for nearly two months. Aside from a minor incident with a freeloader in the production services department, everything else was proceeding in an orderly fashion. The progress was fast, and everyone was highly motivated.
Even Chacha could receive the five-hundred-yuan monthly full attendance subsidy.
She didn’t have a salary at the moment, but Rong Guang gave her two hundred yuan a week for pocket money, and the money for breakfast, textbooks, and clothes was provided separately. She lacked almost nothing in her life, so Chacha was very content.
Although her personal savings weren’t much yet, she was considered a high school student with some assets at school!
When they arrived, it wasn’t actually late. There were still over five minutes before the final check-in time.
Chacha hurriedly returned the car and went to sign in for herself and Rong Guang. Wang Lujie, who had been curiously following her to see what she was up to, was at a loss for whether to laugh or cry. “What are you in such a hurry for?”
Chacha put down the pen very seriously, her little face flushed with two patches of red. “Sister Guangguang said that it’s okay to be lazy occasionally, but you must do what you can. Otherwise, over time, you’ll become indolent. You can’t set a bad example or seek special treatment, otherwise it’s not fair to others.”
This string of words made even an adult like Wang Lujie feel a bit ashamed. She used to work under Chu Siyue at the company. Due to a recent personnel shuffle and the fact that Chu Feiliang had just joined the cast and was short-staffed, she had been temporarily transferred over.
For someone like her who had reached a certain status, the finance department could always find the most suitable reason to pay her the full attendance bonus, regardless of whether she was late or absent.
So Wang Lujie nodded, thought carefully about her recent behavior, and said, “Yes, indeed. I’ve been lazy.”
With her good deed done, Chacha held her head high and trotted back towards Rong Guang.
Wang Lujie picked up the pen. The staff member in charge of registration smiled and said, “Don’t underestimate Chacha. For such a young girl, she lives with more clarity than who knows how many adults.”
Wang Lujie smiled. “Isn’t that the truth? So many people seem to regress as they get older. Where do I sign?”
“Here.” The staff member pointed to a spot and watched as Chacha went to the nearby convenience store, bought two Alpenliebe lollipops, and walked away happily.
It was only when Wang Lujie signed that she noticed Chacha’s handwriting was surprisingly elegant and full of character. For someone so young, it was truly rare.
She didn’t understand calligraphy, but she had seen a lot of it.
Of the two Chu sisters, Chu Siyue practiced more hard-pen calligraphy, while Chu Feiliang had started practicing with a brush in her teens to clear her mind, focus her attention, and calm herself down.
Having seen the sisters’ handwriting so often, and comparing it to the chicken scratch from the company’s finance department, Wang Lujie could tell what looked good and what didn’t. She was a bit dumbfounded now, saying, “Look at all this chicken scratch…”
The staff member took a look and chuckled too. “After Chacha signs, many people behind her stare at her handwriting for a long time. Every one of them has talked about going home to practice their penmanship again.”
Wang Lujie took a picture of the sheet, shook her head with a smile, and said, “What were they all doing before?”
The filming schedule was tight. Before shooting began, Zhang Nanchuan made a special trip to wander over to Rong Guang’s area.
Rong Guang was happily eating breakfast at that moment. They had woken up very early, but she and Chacha couldn’t resist. They both dozed off on the sofa for half an hour, so they hadn’t had time to eat.
Seeing Zhang Nanchuan approach, Rong Guang put down her spoon and pointed to the steamed buns beside her. “Director, would you like some?”
“No, thanks.” Zhang Nanchuan waved his hand, looking at Rong Guang with a curious expression. “You seem to be in pretty good shape?”
“I’m fine,” Rong Guang smiled, swallowed the food in her mouth, and pursed her lips. “I was nervous last night, but that’s about it. I’m not a kid who just debuted. I see how you’re protecting me, and Teacher Chu directly stepped in to handle everything for me. There’s no need to wallow in self-pity over some online trolls whose authenticity is questionable. If I did that, I’d be letting everyone down.”
Her words made Zhang Nanchuan’s eyes redden a little.
Something suddenly tugged at the middle-aged man’s fragile and sensitive heart. With red eyes, Zhang Nanchuan’s thoughts drifted elsewhere as he patted Rong Guang’s head and said, “Good child.”
Chacha nudged her head over and mumbled, “Uncle Nan, pat my head too.”
The wave of emotion that had just washed over Zhang Nanchuan was completely dissipated by Chacha.
He chuckled and ruffled Chacha’s hair a couple of times. “My, how many years has it been since I patted a little girl’s head? Is Chacha’s hair this soft?”
“Yeah, I didn’t get enough nutrition when I was little,” Chacha thought for a moment and said. “My grandpa said I used to have a thick, black, and very coarse head of hair. Then for some reason, it got softer and softer, and started turning yellow. It was probably due to poor nutrition.”
Rong Guang lovingly stroked Chacha’s hair. Indeed, Chacha’s hair was very difficult to manage. In her past life, she had given Chacha the best of everything to eat, but her hair hadn’t darkened much over seven or eight years. It was still soft with a light color. She was even afraid Chacha would go bald.
Fortunately, their Chacha was good-looking enough to pull it off; she would look beautiful even with a shaved head like a nun.
Chacha shook her head, thought for a moment, and said, “But having less hair is easy to wash and saves time. A quick rub with a towel and it’s dry. Sister Guangguang has so much hair, it takes half an hour to blow-dry in the winter.”
Rong Guang subconsciously touched her own head and sighed melancholically.
If it were possible, she really would want to give half of her hair to Chacha.
“Alright, finish eating and get ready. Today is a major scene,” Zhang Nanchuan said, not forgetting his duty as the head director after the pleasantries. He stated mercilessly, “Wen Mou’s story ends today. Get your emotions ready.”
Rong Guang nodded, understanding why Zhang Nanchuan had made this special trip.
Many directors didn’t actually film according to the script’s chronological order; they mostly shot out of sequence. After all, filming according to a timeline was almost impossible. Many scenes involved transitions between exterior and interior locations. If they were really rushing to meet a deadline, they might even have to change locations in a single day, and no one could stand running back and forth like that.
In most cases, they would stay in one place, finish filming all the scenes there, and then move on to the next location.
If there were reshoots, they would just go back. With fewer people and less equipment needed, it wasn’t as much trouble.
And major scenes were often saved for when all the actors had a deeper understanding of their characters and could better grasp their joys and sorrows.
Like today’s scene.
It was only when Rong Guang studied the script up to this point that she realized just how much she had underestimated Zhang Nanchuan. Or perhaps it wasn’t an underestimation, but that her initial high estimation had been miscalculated.
When she auditioned for Wen Mou, it was indeed a scene where an assassin tried to kill the Eldest Princess.
But not long ago, Rong Guang learned that this assassination attempt was actually orchestrated by Wen Mou herself.
She had recovered her memories and realized her unspeakable and doomed feelings for Ji Ying. So, she could only choose to escape, to prevent herself from becoming a burden in Ji Ying’s life.
And her identity meant she could never stay by Ji Ying’s side.
From the very beginning, this was a trap she had set to extricate herself.
Before filming began, Rong Guang read it over again.
After a while, she muttered to herself, “No wonder Wen Mou was called a little strategist of her time. How old was she then? A teenager? To be sought after by several countries at that age, and to be able to influence the fate of a nation, her intelligence is so high…”
Chacha leaned her head over, rubbing against Rong Guang’s shoulder, and muttered just as quietly, “Sister Guangguang, I skipped grades too!”
Rong Guang turned her head and expressionlessly poked Chacha’s forehead. “Your teacher has called me three times in the last two months. Even over a screen, it’s still a parent-teacher conference. Every time, she asks if I pulled strings to let you skip grades, since you haven’t passed a single exam. Be good, study hard, and don’t fall behind.”
Chacha pouted. “I was nervous in a new environment. I’ll definitely catch up next year.”
“Next year you’ll be in your second year of high school,” Rong Guang said. “I mean what I say. If you fail again, I’m hiring a tutor for you and making you repeat the year.”
Chacha wilted, saying pitifully, “Okay.”
Rong Guang stood in her position, still mulling over the emotions Wen Mou should be feeling in the script.
The script only had a few rough, formulaic action cues: sorrowful, pause, sit down… and so on.
The more detailed aspects, down to the micro-expressions, had to be conveyed through the actor’s own understanding and feelings.
Chu Feiliang glanced back at Rong Guang, and after a moment, she gave the director an “OK” sign.
Zhang Nanchuan knew the two were more or less ready. He nodded and notified the entire crew to prepare for the official take.
“The Eldest Princess, chapter sixty-four, scene one, take one—action!”
In the dead of winter, snow fell everywhere outside the window. The world was a vast expanse of white, punctuated by the occasional sound of wind, making everything seem exceptionally desolate.
Amidst a wisp of rising smoke, Ji Ying was writing something on paper with a brush.
Her wrist moved fluidly, occasionally pausing as if in thought, before the brush fell again a moment later.
Wen Mou stood half a step behind her, her gaze fixed on the vibrant red plum blossoms outside the window.
After a while, Ji Ying set her brush aside, seemingly tired from writing. “Move the brazier closer. Why is it so cold this year?”
Wen Mou lowered her eyes and replied softly, “Yes.”
The brazier was moved closer, and warmth enveloped them both. Ji Ying let out a breath and stretched her hands out to warm them.
After a moment, she looked at the silent Wen Mou, who had returned to her spot behind her, and said, “Ever since we returned from Phoenix Cry Mountain, you haven’t been quite right. What’s wrong? First time on the battlefield, were you scared?”
Wen Mou shook her head, her gaze inscrutable.
However, the moment she looked up at Ji Ying, her eyes were filled with innocence again. Her tone lightened a bit as she said, “I wasn’t scared at all, just feeling sleepy lately. What did you write?”
“Come here.” Ji Ying beckoned to her. “Your voice has sounded off these past few days. I’ve summoned the imperial physician today, it’s a good chance for him to take a look at you.”
Wen Mou took the opportunity to take her hand and walk towards her.
Just then, Ji Ying pulled with force, drawing Wen Mou into her arms. She turned her head, chuckled softly in her ear, a corner of her lip curling up with mischievous intent. “Didn’t you want to know what I wrote? I wrote love words.”
Wen Mou froze, her gaze once again avoiding Ji Ying’s, falling to the paper. “You’re too good to me…”
“Isn’t it only right that I’m good to you?” Ji Ying buried her head, resting it on Wen Mou’s shoulder, and took a deep breath, chuckling softly. “What incense have you been using lately? It smells like when I first met you.”
“I don’t know,” Wen Mou shook her head. “It was in my bundle. I just saw it and lit it.”
“Mm, it smells nice.” Ji Ying seemed to have had her fill of the scent and finally lifted her head. “Father said I’ve been too impetuous lately and ordered me to copy the Analects ten times… Go wait for me over there. When I’m done, I’ll take you to the hot springs.”
Wen Mou answered with a low hum and stepped back.
But at that very moment, disaster struck!
An assassin dropped straight down from the shadows of the rafters, the tip of his sword aimed directly at Ji Ying. He was incredibly fast, and he was not alone!
Wen Mou gritted her teeth. After a moment’s hesitation, she only had time to draw the short blade from her robes and meet the attack head-on without dodging.
In the clash of short weapons, the glint of a blade was already before her eyes. Wen Mou squeezed her eyes shut, her hand suddenly seeming to lose its strength. She fell straight towards the ground but was caught midway by a pair of hands that steadily caught her, twirled the blade in a flourish, and returned the short sword to her grasp.
In that single motion of evasion and attack, Ji Ying had completely turned the tide of the battle in a very short time. She was even in the mood to say to Wen Mou, “How many times have I taught you to concentrate when facing an enemy?”
Wen Mou came back to her senses, her gaze complicated.
Ji Ying only thought she was being defiant, chuckled lightly, and even scraped her cheek.
However, in an instant, she raised her short blade again and re-entered the fray.
But accidents always come a step faster.
The moment Wen Mou’s peripheral vision caught a glint of cold light, her entire body was already in front of Ji Ying.
The glint of an arrow from outside the window, accompanied by the ‘whoosh’ of it breaking the wind and the dull thud of a long blade entering a body, finally, the world fell silent.
The guards of the princess’s residence finally arrived, rushing in to apprehend the several unsuccessful assassins.
However, the captured assassins had already crushed the poison hidden under their tongues and committed suicide.
Wen Mou had been pierced through the heart by an arrow and simultaneously stabbed through the abdomen by a sword.
The feeling of weakness in her body grew more severe, and the large patches of wetness gradually turned from warm to cold.
It was only then that she saw the helplessness, the panic, and even the somewhat dazed expression on Ji Ying’s face beside her.
“Princess…” Wen Mou called out.
But in the noisy room, her voice seemed so faint.
Yet, with just that one call, the eyes of the Ji Ying beside her finally focused. Her lips were drained of all color as she staggered towards her, holding Wen Mou tightly in her arms.
“So cold…” Wen Mou frowned, unconsciously burrowing into Ji Ying’s embrace.
The bleeding intensified.
The warm blood touched her palm. Ji Ying held out her hand and looked at the bright red color. Finally, she let out a sound that was almost a wail of grief, shouting, “Imperial Physician! Summon the Imperial Physician!”
The imperial physician was already waiting in the side room, as he was supposed to treat Wen Mou today. Seeing the little maid’s deathly pale face, his heart sank, knowing that something terrible must have happened.
“Quick!” Ji Ying, covered in blood, her eyes crimson, said to the imperial physician who was being carried in by the guards.
The imperial physician naturally knew the situation was urgent. Before he even hit the ground, he threw himself forward, his trembling hands reaching for Wen Mou’s wrist.
“Don’t bother.” Wen Mou pulled away.
“Both wounds… are fatal.” Wen Mou forced a smile that was more painful than crying, her expression agonized. “I’m not going to make it.”
“Don’t talk.” Ji Ying gritted her teeth, looking at Wen Mou in her arms. The words were practically squeezed from between her teeth. “This princess orders you to live.”
“Then I’m truly sorry.” Wen Mou closed her eyes, finally letting out the sob she had been holding back. As blood trickled from the corner of her lips, a stream of tears fell from the corner of her eye. “I’ve broken my promise.”
The imperial physician took two steps back and knelt on the ground, his face filled with sorrow. “Princess… my condolences.”
The injuries were too severe; her last breath was only a matter of time… It was beyond saving.
Everyone in the room froze.
The head steward and the maids in the residence who were usually close to Wen Mou all knelt on the ground, their faces streaked with tears and snot, none of them daring to look up.
The cold wind howled outside, carrying the fragrance of the red plum blossoms from the courtyard, which made Ji Ying tremble.
She silently lifted the person from the floor, her steps staggering yet firm as she walked towards the inner chamber.
Finally, she placed the blood-soaked Wen Mou on the bed and wiped the blood from her face and hands.
The candlelight in the room crackled, but now, there was no one left to watch the tip of the scissors and mutter as they trimmed the wick.
It was only then that Ji Ying finally took Wen Mou’s hands, which would never again be clasped, buried her head in her palms, and began to sob, her back shaking, her cries muffled and hoarse.
She didn’t even dare to cry loudly, afraid that the servants outside would hear her vulnerability at this moment.
Zhang Nanchuan, his eyes red, cleared his throat and raised the megaphone. “Good, very good—cut!” Rong Guang opened her eyes.
The final shot was a close-up of Chu Feiliang’s back. The camera wasn’t on her face at all, otherwise the director behind the camera would have clearly seen the visible tear tracks that had not disappeared from her face.
She rarely heard Chu Feiliang cry.
To be precise… aside from when she was acting, she had never seen Chu Feiliang cry at all.
Chu Feiliang once told her, “After acting for so many years, my tear ducts have practically atrophied from crying. Where would I have any tears left for real life?”
Even on set, she and Chu Feiliang had filmed many crying scenes together.
In all different ways, with all different expressions.
The death of a loved one, separation from a dear friend, the joy of finally reaching the pinnacle of glory after a decade of struggle, even the reunion after many years, mixed with the bitterness of countless surrenders to fate and the unwillingness to yield… they had done it all.
But never before had it been like this, such a desperate parting of life and death.
Even though she knew there was a chance for them to meet again, in that moment, the plot was a merciless torment for Ji Ying herself.
Ji Ying didn’t know that Wen Mou was Jiang Wenmou.
So she didn’t know that Wen Mou hadn’t actually died.
Her palm gently clenched, but she didn’t say anything or even make a move, giving Chu Feiliang more than enough time to get over that wave of emotion.
Zhang Nanchuan also called out at the right time, “Actors, calm your emotions! Change of set, change of set, who’s in the next group?!”
A large crowd followed Zhang Nanchuan to another location. The actors whose names were called all left the ranks of onlookers, each with red eyes, to prepare.
Zhang Nanchuan glanced around, scratched his head, and said helplessly, “Forget it, take a half-hour break!”
None of them would listen to his advice, insisting on watching, saying they had to learn from a major scene on the spot.
Learn what?
They all took it to heart.
The more you watch directly on set, the more easily you get carried away by another actor’s rhythm.
He could already imagine that if they filmed directly today, no matter what the content was, these people would deliver their lines with the same life-and-death intensity.
As expected, the actors, who were usually overjoyed to hear about a break, were listless this time.
After saying “Thank you, Director” in twos and threes, they each found a place to sit down in their own groups.
They were still discussing the scene between Chu Feiliang and Rong Guang.
When Zhang Nanchuan looked back again, he saw that Wang Lujie had already opened an umbrella and was escorting Chu Feiliang back to her car through a less crowded area.
Chacha was also bustling around Rong Guang with a pack of wet wipes, wiping here and there, scurrying around like a little hamster.
Rong Guang was a little nervous and asked Chacha, “Did you see where Sister Chu went?”
“To her car,” Chacha answered crisply. After wiping Rong Guang clean, she gathered the blood-stained tissues into a trash bag, pointed to a corner, and said, “Should I take you there, Sister Guangguang?”
“Take me over to have a look,” Rong Guang’s voice also sounded a bit muffled. Wiping her tears with a wet wipe only made them wetter, so she gave up. “I’m a little worried.”
What she feared most was that an actor who got too deep into a role would develop a negative association with the other actor in the scene.
Rong Guang didn’t want to film a drama only to have Chu Feiliang want to cry every time she saw her afterward, and then decide to avoid her altogether.
That would be too great a loss for her.
Crying was crying, and getting into character was getting into character, but she absolutely could not forget her purpose and conviction for joining the cast.
Chacha said “Oh,” looked left and right at Rong Guang’s sleeves, and finding no clean spot to grab, she picked up a corner of Rong Guang’s dress that wasn’t stained with blood, pinching it with her fingers. “I’ll take you to have a look.”
Rong Guang took a deep breath and was led by Chacha to the RV.
Wang Lujie was squatting outside the RV; she hadn’t gone up at all.
As Rong Guang got closer, Wang Lujie helplessly threw up her hands and said, “Bad timing. Don’t go up. Xiao Chu isn’t in a good state right now, going up will only make things worse. Give her some time to adjust on her own.”
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