Recalling everything that had just happened, Rong Guang still felt unbearably ashamed and indignant.
Could it be that because she was eighteen again, her body had automatically switched on the sleep schedule and quality a teenager needed?
On the way here just now, the dream she had was quite… wonderful.
So much so that Rong Guang had no doubt that if she and Chu Feiliang hadn’t been sitting but lying down asleep, what might have happened would have left her too ashamed to ever show her face in this crew again!
What was a drunken kiss that cut off a video call? What was hugging an arm and drooling in her sleep!
If it came to the real thing, Chu Feiliang had never seen anything like it in her life!
Zhang Nanchuan coughed twice, pulling back everyone’s attention, which had drifted with the arrival of Chacha and Ye Zi. He said, “This time, rather than calling it a table read, let’s consider it a collective discussion for everyone. You all have the scripts. A day is enough for a rough read-through, no need for detailed study. Just as I said before—if you have any differing opinions, you can all bring them up.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
But from their expressions, it didn’t seem like anyone was taking it too seriously.
Zhang Nanchuan noticed, but there was nothing he could do.
Rong Guang had read the script long ago.
The overall main plot was fine. In fact, the tension and meticulousness of the story gave Rong Guang a considerable surprise—in the entire decade since 【The Eldest Princess】 first aired, no other drama could surpass it, which was enough to prove how classic this show was.
In her past life, whenever she saw the title 【The Eldest Princess】, she would be reminded of her grandmother who had died because of her. Therefore, this show was practically the only one Chu Feiliang had ever filmed that she had never watched.
Now that everything was starting over, being able to film such a good script was something Rong Guang cherished deeply.
The vast majority of newcomers have a very common problem: they ‘don’t dare’.
But in fact, there are many times when only a newcomer possesses the sharp intuition that has long since vanished in veteran actors.
This is because at this stage, they aren’t yet inside the game, not yet assimilated by one similar production crew after another. Thus, they can see the bigger picture more clearly and offer different opinions.
And these opinions are often, at times, piercingly accurate.
Rong Guang was still looking down at the character profile in her script.
Due to the unique nature of her character, the profile section spanned two full pages for clarity, complete with numerous explanations drawn from the main script.
Jiang Wenmou, twenty-eight years old, known as the ‘Little Zhuge of her time’.
She was the disciple of the contemporary strategist and statesman, Grand Chancellor Jiang Huai, who was also a founding father of the dynasty. Moreover, she was Jiang Huai’s only biological granddaughter.
As the sole direct descendant of a founding father of the Li Dynasty, Jiang Wenmou’s life was nothing short of legendary. And because Jiang Huai had kept her in seclusion for a long time, in an era where three kingdoms vied for supremacy, there was even a rumor: “He who wins Wen Mou, wins the world.”
The other character Rong Guang played, Wen Mou, was Jiang Wenmou in her youth.
A youth full of unexpected events.
At eighteen, Jiang Wenmou went up a mountain to gather herbs for her long-secluded grandfather, but she carelessly fell off a cliff. Afterwards, in a daze, she was unexpectedly found and taken in by the Eldest Princess.
The part Rong Guang was about to start filming began right from here.
“Simple, straightforward, naive to the ways of the world, often makes wild boasts…” Rong Guang’s finger tapped on the personality column for Wen Mou, feeling rather helpless.
Perhaps to ensure Rong Guang would purely immerse herself in the role of Wen Mou, the director, wanting to prevent her from knowing too much about Jiang Wenmou, hadn’t given her the full script. But Rong Guang had more or less guessed it anyway.
Jiang Wenmou could be called a genius, and as a genius, she was invariably proud, even conceited.
Twenty-eight. In ancient times, this was already a very mature age.
When it came to the ‘genius’ archetype, there were only so many personality traits one could express.
“Any thoughts?” Chu Feiliang’s voice suddenly rang out, interrupting Rong Guang’s train of thought.
Rong Guang looked up, seeming a bit lost at being so suddenly asked a question by Chu Feiliang. “What?”
Chu Feiliang lifted her chin, gesturing toward the script.
In this part, the two of them had a great many scenes together.
You could almost say that wherever Chu Feiliang appeared, Rong Guang was certain to be following behind her—after all, the term ‘personal handmaiden’ wasn’t for nothing.
Rong Guang had seen a line of description in the script: “To see Wen Mou is to see me in person. Even His Majesty must bow his head in respect.”
From this, one could see just how much weight the person Wen Mou held in the Eldest Princess’s heart.
Rong Guang pressed her lips together, shook her head, and said, “For now… I don’t have too many ideas yet.”
The script was too one-sided, after all. It only gave her a portion, and that portion practically boxed the character in.
Besides… none of the main actors had said anything yet. If a minor supporting actress like her came out now saying she had ideas, what good would it do other than make everyone think she was trying to add scenes for herself?
So Rong Guang pressed her lips together, shook her head, and looked a little disappointed.
She couldn’t answer Chu Feiliang’s question now, and she wondered if Chu Feiliang would be disappointed in her.
However, to her surprise, Chu Feiliang reached out and gently patted her on the head.
Rong Guang froze, subconsciously raising her head.
“That’s right,” Chu Feiliang said with a smile.
Perhaps because Rong Guang’s expression looked too much like a little puppy that hadn’t received any praise, she reached out a finger and gently hooked Rong Guang’s chin.
Rong Guang dazedly reached up and touched her own chin.
Chu Feiliang raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I have a dog at home. My hand moved too fast, couldn’t help it. My apologies.”
“It’s, it’s okay.” Rong Guang shook her head, her face blushing.
She only felt that the spot Chu Feiliang had touched seemed to have a ball of fire burning all the way to her heart. She even… felt an urgent desire to scratch it fiercely.
After finally suppressing that itchy feeling, Rong Guang tentatively asked, “Teacher Chu, what about you? Do you have any ideas?”
“Me?” Chu Feiliang smiled, not answering Rong Guang directly. Instead, she gently tossed her script onto the table.
The sound wasn’t loud.
But Rong Guang still subconsciously looked up, watching everyone’s expressions, worried that someone might pay too much attention to the small stir Chu Feiliang was causing.
Only then did Rong Guang realize that, not far away, Zhang Nanchuan and Sun Yuzhi had actually been watching them the whole time.
Seeing Chu Feiliang put down the script, both of them straightened up in unison and stopped what they were doing.
The people who were still reading aloud with great emotion also fell inexplicably silent, and those who were still reading to themselves were interrupted by the people next to them.
After noticing Director Zhang’s gaze, everyone looked blankly in Chu Feiliang’s direction.
What was happening?
Chu Feiliang reached out and tapped the script, completely unbothered by so many people staring at her. She just said slowly, “Director Zhang, who are you trying to kid with this script?”
Zhang Nanchuan was taken aback, not expecting to be called out so directly by Chu Feiliang.
His expression was a little strange, but it didn’t look like anger. Faintly, there was even a hint of… excitement?
Zhang Nanchuan suppressed the expression that was about to spill across his face and asked eagerly, “What are your thoughts?”
“Thoughts?” Chu Feiliang shook her head, indicating she had none.
Then, she pointed at Rong Guang and said, “Even our little friend here, who is so good at expanding on a topic and whose impromptu performance stunned you, has been boxed in by you to the point of having no ideas. What ideas could I possibly have?”
“The character you’ve given us this time is so perfect she’s about to float away.” Chu Feiliang finally looked down at the script in her hands. Only then did Rong Guang notice that all the places marked with red ink were precisely the parts Chu Feiliang was now refuting as ‘perfect’.
So much content… all of it needs to be changed?
Rong Guang blinked, clutched her little notebook tightly, and craned her neck in anticipation.
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