Reject?
The word made Rong Guang’s head spin. She shot up in a panic, shaking her head repeatedly. “No, no, no, how could I? I would reject anyone but you. Of course it would be great to follow each other…”
Chu Feiliang remained standing there, holding her phone, her face clearly saying: If you don’t follow me, any excuse you make is just a lie.
Rong Guang frowned, speaking pitifully, “I’m not lying to you. My own account is really under the company’s complete control. I only know the username, not the password.”
Actually, she knew it.
But the timing was a bit sensitive.
It wouldn’t be long before she had the right to terminate her contract on her own terms. Plus, she was currently in the eye of a storm. Weibo was the only social platform for direct contact with celebrities. If one day she accidentally slipped up while scrolling through Weibo, it could easily trigger a boycott from netizens against the entire NO.1 group, and it might even affect Chu Feiliang.
She could already imagine the headlines: “Chu Feiliang Follows Rong Guang,” which would surely be followed by things like “Just How Powerful is Rong Guang’s Backing?”
That was a situation no one wanted to see.
Moreover, many endorsement and advertising contracts now explicitly stated the clause “requires the artist to cooperate by sharing on Weibo.” If Rong Guang didn’t have control over her own Weibo, she wouldn’t be able to secure many of those deals.
Companies weren’t stupid. They wouldn’t give endorsements to a star with no prospects who wasn’t being promoted by their company. It would be a waste of money with no investment or return.
So, it was only natural that her Weibo was taken over by the company. Tang Yuan had been arguing her case with them recently, but she didn’t know what the progress was yet.
With so much going on lately, she herself was running around in circles, so Rong Guang hadn’t bothered her with this small matter.
She never expected Chu Feiliang to suddenly bring up following each other today…
Besides, following Chu Feiliang with her main account right now would undoubtedly cause trouble for her.
Rong Guang looked at her phone screen, afraid that she would miss the best opportunity and that it would be a long time before she had another chance to follow Chu Feiliang back.
She had been secretly following Chu Feiliang for a long time, but only on her side account. Her main account involved too many things, and she currently had no say in the matter.
If she could follow Chu Feiliang back…
Rong Guang couldn’t help but think back to the night in her past life when she and Chu Feiliang had followed each other.
She barely slept that night, grinning foolishly at the four words “Following Each Other” all night long. She even secretly took a screenshot and saved it carefully on a portable hard drive.
Chu Feiliang looked at Rong Guang’s pitiful expression, nodded, and said, “Understood.”
Just as Rong Guang lowered her head in disappointment, Chu Feiliang said, “What were you just scrolling through? Chacha’s account?”
Rong Guang’s head snapped up, her eyes sparkling as she said, “It’s my own personal account. No one knows about it. It’s just a side account with not many followers.”
“Oh.” Chu Feiliang nodded and raised an eyebrow. “That’ll do. Come on, follow me.”
Rong Guang was stunned. “You…”
“Don’t worry, I don’t mind that you have few followers.” Chu Feiliang handed her phone to Rong Guang, stretched, and squinted at the scenery outside the window. “They’re almost ready out there. Be quick.”
Only then did Rong Guang frantically search for her own name in Chu Feiliang’s Weibo search bar.
Chu Feiliang smiled at the interface and said, “This looks a little different from the ‘Follow’ in my memory. How did it become ‘Follow Back’?”
Rong Guang’s face flushed red, but she was teased into telling the truth. “I… I’ve been secretly following you for a while. I was too embarrassed to say. If I followed you first, then when you follow me it’s ‘Follow Back,’ not the ‘Follow’ icon… You don’t usually post much on Weibo anyway.”
“Mm,” Chu Feiliang nodded. “I don’t usually post on Weibo. Occasionally, the studio will post some bonus pictures. I post more on Moments, but I’ve set it so many people can’t see them.”
Rong Guang paused, then a wave of secret joy washed over her heart—many people can’t see them, but she can!
This realization made her incredibly happy!
“Alright.” After watching the yellow “Follow Back” turn into a gray “Following Each Other,” Chu Feiliang put her phone away with satisfaction. She looked at the thick, artificial snow on the steps outside, couldn’t help but frown, and said, “Teacher Rong, put in some extra effort today. If we can get it in one take, let’s get it in one take. Just do me a favor, it’s too hard on the knees.”
Rong Guang glanced at the scene outside, pursed her lips, and said, “Okay, I’ll do my best.”
Today’s scene was also centered on the two of them, but it wasn’t a scene they shared. Instead, they were in two separate stages, one at the top and one at the bottom, filmed simultaneously with long shots.
For the sake of realism, using a body double was out of the question. Chu Feiliang had to take a step, kowtow, and repeat, all the way from the mountain gate to the temple entrance at the summit.
Her knees were already not in the best condition. What actor didn’t have some old ailments? If they had to go back and forth today, it would be real suffering.
Rong Guang couldn’t help but say, “Why don’t you… wear some knee pads?”
Chu Feiliang’s reaction was exactly the same as before. She shook her head naturally and said with a smile, “I won’t.”
Then she turned to Rong Guang and said, “What did you say on the way here?”
Rong Guang thought for a moment, then smiled as well. “Right… Don’t do things you’ll regret.”
When one was truly and completely immersed in a role, props would undoubtedly pull an actor out of character.
If you were wearing knee pads, even if you were kneeling in a world of ice and snow, you wouldn’t feel the pain, and thus you couldn’t perceive that feeling of despair, let alone portray it well.
Not to mention that after Chu Feiliang knelt all the way to the mountaintop, there would be many close-up shots of her knees. Just the presence of onlookers was enough to prevent her from taking any shortcuts.
Once a photo was leaked, the impact on her future would be immense.
Rong Guang took a breath as she spoke. Just then, a crew member came to call for them, so she put away her phone and said to Chu Feiliang with a smile, “I was wrong.”
Chu Feiliang shrugged. “It’s fine, I’m not blaming you. Let’s go.”
The new crew member looked back and forth, not understanding what had just happened between the two, but it seemed like neither of them was angry.
…If you’re not angry, why say “I was wrong”?
Chacha, holding her learning device, ambled out from the next room and said with a sigh, “You don’t understand, you don’t understand.”
When the two arrived, Zhang Nanchuan was coordinating with the props team to finish the final setup.
He looked back at Chu Feiliang and said, “I’m giving you a heads-up. If we don’t get this scene right today, we might have to do it all over again. You know me, if I’m not satisfied, I will absolutely not let it pass.”
Chu Feiliang nodded in agreement and smiled. “I know. Even if you let it pass, I wouldn’t be willing. I won’t joke around with my own future. If the film is ruined, the audience will curse me, not you. It’s not worth it.”
Zhang Nanchuan smiled.
The pressure from the props department instantly lessened. Rong Guang looked at the green screens being set up everywhere, rubbed her hands together, and said, “It’s actually not so bad. After all, it’s a real location. There’s enough snow, so post-production should be able to handle it.”
As long as one was willing to spend the money, there was nothing that couldn’t be done.
“You two have been on set for a while now. I don’t need to say much about the characters’ psychological states. Xiao Rong’s grasp of Jiang Wenmou has exceeded my expectations. Today, I won’t give you a formulaic lecture. For the first take, try it on your own, go with your first instinct,” Zhang Nanchuan said, his breath already turning into a white mist. The temperature was indeed very low.
Rong Guang nodded, her nose red. “Understood.”
The person with the hardest job in this scene was still Chu Feiliang.
She was wearing only a simple robe, the kind where you could faintly see her collarbones, with just a not-so-thick wind-breaking cloak over it.
Before heading up the mountain to her position, Rong Guang looked back at Chu Feiliang and couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Teacher Chu, be careful.”
Chu Feiliang was taken aback.
The warm yellow light from the props department shone on Rong Guang’s face, making her whole person seem very gentle.
Hearing this undisguised concern from Rong Guang’s lips, for a moment, Chu Feiliang seemed to feel a stir in her heart.
Chu Feiliang smiled, nodded slowly, and said, “Okay.”
On the entire journey from the Princess’s residence to Green Mountain Temple, Ji Ying was almost completely unconscious.
“It has come to Our attention today that Lu Xi Commandery has been invaded by enemy bandits. We… are deeply concerned. We hereby order the Eldest Princess Ji Ying to lead troops to its aid. You must annihilate the enemy forces and display the might of our Li Dynasty…”
The imperial decree still echoed in her ears, yet Ji Ying’s eyes were now filled with only another sentence.
“Princess, in the great hall, this servant seemed to see the figure of Wen Mou… but her eyes looked much gloomier than Wen Mou’s, and her body was frail. She couldn’t even hold a kneeling position for long, looking sickly and weak, and she seemed not to recognize this servant.”
That was the informant she had placed by the Emperor’s side, who served him daily.
She had said with her own mouth that she had seen Wen Mou.
But it seemed it wasn’t her.
And Wen Mou’s body was currently placed in Green Mountain Temple, ten li outside the city, well-preserved in a coffin made of black ice to ensure her body would not decay.
The horse gradually slowed, stopping at the mountain gate not far from Green Mountain Temple.
Ji Ying dismounted. A young monk who had been sitting on a large black rock guarding the temple gate took a few steps forward. His face was devoid of sorrow or joy. He put his palms together and said, “Peace be with you, Princess.”
Ji Ying returned the Buddhist salute and asked in a low voice, “Little Master, are you here… to wait for me?”
“Yes.” The young monk bowed, glanced at Ji Ying, and then said, “Before my master left, he said that a distinguished guest would ascend the mountain today. If the guest has a request in her heart, she must kowtow with every step up the nine hundred and ninety-nine heavenly steps.”
Ji Ying turned her head to look.
In the vast expanse of snow, an endless white mist rose from the mountains. The lit candles of Green Mountain Temple were faintly visible within it, yet they seemed to flicker as if in another world, not the mortal realm.
She tossed the horsewhip in her hand onto the horse’s back. The horse passed through the mountain gate on its own, taking a small forest path up the mountain by itself.
Ji Ying’s lips twitched into a mocking smile, directed either at herself or at those heavenly steps. She said, “And what if I don’t?”
“Then it depends on whether you, the benefactor, can let go of the obsession in your heart.” The young monk said calmly, “If you can let it go, this humble monk will lead you up the mountain.”
Ji Ying was silent for a moment, then suddenly let out a soft laugh, yet her face was filled with endless sorrow, as if she were about to burst into tears the next second.
Her eyes were red-rimmed. She glanced at the dark forest path, then lifted her robes and knelt heavily upon the snow-covered steps. “I’ll kneel.”
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