The costume photos were released the night before the opening ceremony.
By early morning, they had already taken five trending spots on social media.
“Two were pre-arranged by the production team; Xingguan sponsored one,” Duan Ming explained while monitoring his phone. “The rest are organic… We’ve finally made it onto trending topics through sheer merit.”
Liang Xiao smiled. “Recently New Year’s Eve has been in post-production promotion—it’s riding that wave.”
“Riding any wave is fine,” Duan Ming said cheerfully. “At least it’s not fan-controlled trending topics anymore; we’re actually breaking through to a broader audience.”
Liang Xiao’s costume photos featured three outfits: one of a spirited young marquis, one of a valiant young general, and one final outfit for his character’s journey to the frontier.
When shooting the third set of photos, the screenwriter tried to suggest wrapping him in rags for authenticity but was mercilessly vetoed by Director Jin. Instead, they added makeup effects for injuries and used the cloud brocade combat outfit for his final scene heading to battle.
The third set received the strongest reaction.
The bloodstained young general covered in wounds only made his sharp features more striking—a dazzlingly fierce presence that left viewers breathless with awe.
With Yun Lian’s execution scene already released as groundwork for public interest, discussions about how Yun Lang would suffer injuries or bleed again in this series trended online—even though none of these plot points had been revealed yet.
Liang Xiao was studying his script when he overheard this and leaned over to take a look: “Why is there a hashtag called #Time-TravelingYunBrothers#?”
“It’s part of your character branding,” Duan Ming explained confidently. “Next time you take on another modern role with the surname Yun, we’ll have trending topics like ‘The Three Legendary Yun Brothers Across Time.’”
Liang Xiao: “…”
Feeling pleased with himself, Duan Ming patted Liang Xiao on the shoulder and went off to make him a cup of coffee.
Tomorrow was opening day with two scenes scheduled for Liang Xiao.
The crew believed that if filming went smoothly for these first scenes after burning incense for good luck at the ceremony, then everything would proceed well for the rest of production. However, if there were issues during these initial takes, Director Jin might get angry enough to make Liang Xiao write out ten copies of his lines every night as punishment.
Moreover, with reporters present tomorrow—likely in large numbers—the pressure would only increase.
The production manager had agreed to allow reporters full access during the first three days of filming. With cameras following them constantly during this period, minimizing mistakes was crucial.
Period drama dialogue was much harder than modern scripts. Liang Xiao had been chewing on walnuts given by President Huo all day while memorizing two densely packed pages of lines without pause.
Duan Ming handed him coffee: “Take a break; clear your mind.”
Liang Xiao put down his script: “No need.”
Duan Ming was surprised: “Are President Huo’s walnuts really that effective?”
“No,” Liang Xiao replied after downing two gulps of coffee and shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter if I rest or not—it’s not even my brain anymore at this point.”
The assistant sitting nearby burst out laughing after choking slightly while scrolling through trending topics.
Duan Ming wanted to scold them for their schadenfreude but couldn’t hold back himself either. Trying hard to control his expression, he patted Liang Xiao’s shoulder lightly: “…You’ve worked hard.”
Duan Ming pulled the assistant back a bit and looked at Liang Xiao, who was pressing the script on top of his head: “Is this some new way of memorizing scripts?”
“Osmosis memorization technique,” Liang Xiao said dejectedly. “By putting the book on top of my head, due to the concentration gradient, knowledge will diffuse from the high concentration in the book into my low concentration head…”
Duan Ming couldn’t hold back anymore. He pinched the assistant, using the assistant’s sudden cry of pain to cover up his own laughter that lasted for quite a while.
Liang Xiao was truly at a loss, his mind a complete mess. He closed his eyes for a moment with the script covering his face, then sighed deeply as if heaven was abandoning him, and rubbed his throbbing temples vigorously.
Duan Ming helped him by wringing out a towel: “Didn’t you already memorize it all?”
“Brother Duan, you don’t understand,” Liang Xiao took the towel and wiped his face. “Memorizing the script before filming is like cramming before an exam.”
Duan Ming looked puzzled: “What do you mean?”
“The content you’re memorizing doesn’t matter anymore,” the assistant chimed in empathetically, holding his arm and raising his hand. “What matters is the act of memorizing itself.”
Liang Xiao nodded: “At times like these, memorizing becomes a ritual. By sacrificing my brain, I’m praying that all my guesses during the exam will be correct…”
Duan Ming listened in bewilderment: “Does it work?”
“No,” Liang Xiao replied. “The next day I almost fell asleep during the exam.”
Duan Ming: “…”
Liang Xiao and the assistant unexpectedly found common ground. They high-fived as fellow sufferers and Liang Xiao picked up the script again.
Useless as it may be, if there’s a next time, he’d still try to memorize as much as possible.
Duan Ming rarely saw Liang Xiao in the mood to talk about his past, so to give his brain a rest, he temporarily confiscated his script: “Didn’t you do pretty well in your art school entrance exam?”
“Pretty good among art school applicants,” Liang Xiao sighed. “Thinking back now, I might have had a slightly skewed concept of what constituted a good score.”
He had never attended regular school and applied through a social pathway. His entire concept of scores came from that one month of forced tutoring in Jiangnan.
The person tutoring him had told him he needed to score at least 600 points.
“…” Duan Ming: “Is that just a ‘slight’ misunderstanding?”
Liang Xiao was also perplexed: “I’ve been wondering about that too…”
Back then, after leaving Jiangnan, young Liang Xiao had run all the way to the capital. After settling down, he secretly did two mock exams and ended up crying after seeing this supposedly minimum required score.
After taking the actual college entrance exam, young Liang Xiao checked his own answers and felt so devastated that he almost went south to find manual labor the very next day.
…Then he received a call from the Communication University.
After starting school and receiving a scholarship, his life gradually got back on track. Liang Xiao also slowly learned about the score requirements for various schools, finally correcting his misconceptions.
“The person you mentioned,” Duan Ming cautiously asked, “Is that the one you saved in Jiangnan…”
Liang Xiao: “Brother Duan.”
Duan Ming quickly changed his wording: “The one who forced you to study.”
Liang Xiao nodded.
Duan Ming had always been wary of this old acquaintance of Liang Xiao’s, who seemed like a soulmate without actually being one. Now, thinking carefully, he actually felt somewhat relieved: “That’s fine then… This friend of yours doesn’t seem too bright either.”
Probably just another bookworm who only knows how to study, maybe doesn’t even know how to say something nice.
Not qualified to be a rival to their President Huo who can cook.
Liang Xiao was taken aback: “Why?”
“He wanted to teach you to score 600 points.”
Duan Ming couldn’t understand: “Was he crazy?”
Liang Xiao: “…”
Duan Ming took the script off Liang Xiao’s head and put it in his arms, patting his shoulder.
He switched the ceiling light to a desk lamp, closed the door, and left, dragging the assistant along.
–
The next day, the crew officially began filming.
Jin Zhenbo had many rules. He chose 6:18 AM as an auspicious time to start. He led a group of sleepy main actors and staff members to diligently burn incense, and each person added a shovel of soil to the tree that had been planted in advance for the crew.
The first scene to be shot was Yun Lang lying on the roof, teasing the young prince who was studying below with chestnuts.
Yun Lang was technically of the same generation as the young prince, but he had started his education a few years earlier and had also begun martial arts training early. From a young age, he had always been the one others could only look up to, and as he grew older, he still maintained his arrogant and unruly temperament.
The young prince was the same age as him, but slower to mature. He had just been scolded by his teacher for not memorizing his lessons well and was walking out with his head down.
The first scene was of utmost importance, and the entire crew was fully focused.
The set was quiet, reflectors supplemented the natural light, and the camera dolly moved forward steadily.
Liang Xiao, hiding his safety harness, lay flat with a pocket full of small stones, looking bored.
The young prince took a few steps when suddenly a small stone landed by his feet.
The young prince looked up and recognized him: “Yun Lang, what are you doing?”
Liang Xiao lay on the roof, looking particularly uninterested: “I’ve finished my studies, and my martial arts are too good.”
The young prince: “…”
Liang Xiao felt that even he found these words too provocative. He sighed: “I’ve finished all my coursework, completed my calligraphy practice, and the essay I submitted to the teacher today got highest marks.”
The young prince: “…”
Liang Xiao propped himself up, sitting up nimbly, resting one arm on his knee and leaning forward along the eaves: “That new horse your father got is not bad. When are you going to bring it out? Let me ride it for a couple of rounds.”
The young prince, embarrassed and angry: “You–”
The young prince had nothing more to say to him and turned to leave. Just as he was about to take a step, another stone landed precisely where his foot was about to fall.
The young prince was already upset, and now being picked on for no reason, he frowned tightly: “Yun Lang, don’t rely on your natural talent–”
The roof was well-equipped. Liang Xiao grabbed a cloth to casually wipe his hands, then with a flick of his wrist, something hit the prince’s forehead with a thud.
The young prince instinctively caught it, wincing in pain. He was about to explode in anger when he looked down and suddenly paused.
It was a freshly steamed, peeled, soft chestnut.
“So stupid,” Liang Xiao sighed. “Which part of ‘let me ride it for a couple of rounds’ don’t you understand? Next time, I’ll explain it to you first, okay?”
…
In the drama, although Yun Lang was spoiled enough to run wild, he rarely truly bullied others. Sometimes when he was in a good mood, he would casually help those unremarkable princes and royal grandchildren who were often ostracized and bullied.
But it was just casual help.
Yun Lang himself was naturally talented and couldn’t understand why some people still couldn’t comprehend things even after such thorough explanations. He would often lose patience before fully explaining things to others, hastily writing a long explanation and slamming it on the table before running off to practice martial arts and swordsmanship.
According to the plan, this scene was only supposed to be shot until Yun Lang jumped down from the roof to stop the prince.
Liang Xiao was particularly skilled with the wire harness. He lightly stepped on the glazed tiles of the palace roof, his figure slightly shifting before he gracefully glided down, steadily blocking the young actor playing the young prince.
The palace scenes had especially high requirements for youthful charm. Liang Xiao had an advantage in his looks, daring to pass as underage outside. He had also deliberately worked on his gaze before filming, adjusting his entire aura to pure clarity.
The actor playing the young prince was a fresh graduate from a professional acting school, still somewhat inexperienced. Following the script, he instinctively took a step back, slightly deviating from his position, and was about to turn his back to the camera.
The camera for this scene was fixed, and if an actor made a positioning mistake and turned their back, the entire segment would need to be reshot.
The staff at the side changed their expressions, their hearts skipping a beat.
Director Jin’s expression suddenly darkened as if a storm was approaching. Just as he was about to call cut, Liang Xiao’s white fan snapped open with a swoosh.
“Three rounds,” Liang Xiao blocked him with the fan, smilingly bargaining and seamlessly guiding him back to his mark. “Next time when your teacher scolds you, I’ll crouch outside the window and shout that there’s a fire…”
…
It was a close call.
The first scene passed smoothly, and the entire crew breathed a sigh of relief. Director Jin’s face finally cleared up.
The young actor who played the young nobleman came down, realizing he had almost made a mistake. Scared and breaking out in a cold sweat, his face turned pale: “Thank you, Teacher Liang…”
“No need to call me teacher,” Liang Xiao smiled. “It’s nothing.”
The assistant director was still shaken: “The first scene of shooting, a mishap would not have been a small matter.”
The producer nodded: “Director Jin’s expression was already off. If the first scene had to be NG’d, we might have had to start from scratch for the whole week.”
The young actor’s face turned another shade paler.
Liang Xiao said in a slightly hoarse voice: “Don’t scare him.”
Acting isn’t just about putting on costumes and reciting lines. One needs to work with the camera, cooperate with the crew, and only when this foundation is thoroughly polished can one add personal interpretation.
Even with natural talent, it’s inevitable to make some mistakes when first transitioning from theory to practice.
“No rush, take it slow,” Liang Xiao received a hint from the producer and patiently played the good cop. “You’ll get the feel of it later.”
The producer added timely: “It’s all about polishing scene by scene. The better the actor, the more they need to summarize and improve. When Liang Xiao first debuted, he had an even harder time than you.”
The young actor’s face turned from white to red. He bowed deeply with a flushed face and ran back to attentively listen to the acting coach about the next shot.
“Students nowadays are a bit overconfident. It’s good to polish them and bring them down to earth,” the assistant director remarked, suddenly curious. “By the way, what was Liang Xiao like when he first debuted?”
The producer didn’t know either and turned to Liang Xiao: “What were you like when you first debuted?”
Liang Xiao: “…”
The better the production team, the more skilled they are at making things up.
Liang Xiao watched as the producer started fabricating on the spot, feeling a sense of admiration: “When I was his age, I went through the same… Actually, the pressure was much less.”
When Liang Xiao debuted, there weren’t such grand productions. The crew’s departmental roles weren’t even clear. They would just set up and start shooting, churning out subpar work and letting everything pass.
By a twist of fate, he ended up honing his acting skills in a bunch of low-budget productions.
“When you were his age, you were flying in the air on wires,” Director Jin came over and mercilessly exposed the truth. “Because one circle wasn’t round enough, we spent half an hour just to make you do it again.”
“…” Liang Xiao stammered: “You have a really good memory.”
Jin Zhenbo didn’t actually have a good memory, it’s just that any director would have a deep impression after being worn down for half an hour like that: “You said at the time that I was the most excellent director you had ever seen in your life.”
Liang Xiao coughed once, quickly trying to salvage the situation: “You still are–”
Jin Zhenbo: “I had dinner with Song Qi a couple of days ago.”
Liang Xiao: “…”
As the most excellent director Liang Xiao had ever seen in his life, Director Song was quite proud and spent half the dinner boasting to his old friend about his keen eye for talent.
The first scene went smoothly, putting Jin Zhenbo in a good mood. He didn’t bother to argue further and signaled the various departments to adjust and prepare: “After we finish shooting, there’s a promo video to film. Just record a few casual daily snippets.”
Liang Xiao didn’t dare to speak and obediently nodded.
Director Jin waved his hand, called over a few assistant directors to mobilize the extras, and left.
–
Perhaps there really was some special buff for the first scene, as the next few scenes that were shot also went unexpectedly smoothly.
By the end of the day, the entire crew had worked together harmoniously and performed exceptionally well. They only had to NG twice due to objective reasons and completed the scheduled tasks early.
“Take a breather,” Duan Ming stood guard at the door, watching Liang Xiao come out after changing clothes and removing his makeup. He handed him a cup of hot milk tea. “There’s a program crew that wants to follow us and film a few vlogs, asking us to cooperate.”
Liang Xiao’s costume was thin, and to show off his figure and enhance the slender frame of youth, he couldn’t wear extra layers underneath. He had been freezing on set all day and hadn’t warmed up yet.
Liang Xiao held the milk tea to warm his hands, thought for a moment before connecting the vlog with the “daily snippets” Director Jin mentioned, and nodded: “Okay.”
Duan Ming frowned: “This can’t go on… How about putting on a couple of heat packs tomorrow?”
“Not convenient,” Liang Xiao took a sip of milk tea. “With these wide-sleeved robes, they might fall off easily.”
He wasn’t filming in cold weather for the first time. Seeing Duan Ming’s worried expression, he smiled: “It’s fine. I’ve filmed skiing scenes in even colder conditions.”
Duan Ming didn’t want to say more, so he handed over a hot water bottle for Liang Xiao to keep warm: “Go take a hot shower quickly.”
Liang Xiao nodded and left the rest area, greeting the filming crew responsible for following him.
This type of program crew specifically focuses on film sets, producing entertainment news and quick reports. In recent years, following trends, they’ve also expanded from simple promotional footage to daily vlogs of actors.
Liang Xiao had heard about this from Director Jin and was prepared. He chatted with the crew all the way back to the hotel. Just as he was about to open the door, his hand suddenly paused.
Duan Ming was startled: “What’s wrong?”
Liang Xiao held the door, silent for a moment, then smiled: “It’s nothing.”
Liang Xiao turned back, politely asking: “Is it okay to stop recording here?”
Being allowed to follow and film was already rare, and many wouldn’t even agree to cooperate. The director was surprised but quickly nodded: “Of course.”
The vlog content wasn’t meant to be long anyway. The director signaled the cameraman to turn off the equipment, shook hands with Liang Xiao, and left with the crew.
Duan Ming hadn’t recovered: “What happened?”
“Brother Duan, contact the production team,” Liang Xiao said. “Someone has been in the room.”
Duan Ming was stunned for two seconds, then his expression suddenly changed.
An artist’s private space is particularly important. Unless there’s a cleaning sign, no one is allowed to enter randomly. The hotel is near the filming location and has hosted shoots multiple times, so they should know the rules.
“How did you notice?” Duan Ming lowered his voice. “Who was it? Do we need Xingguan to handle this?”
Liang Xiao looked at him for a while: “…Brother Duan.”
Duan Ming frowned: “What?”
“I could tell someone had entered because the hotel door lock is old-fashioned. The handle has been turned, and its direction doesn’t match how it was before.”
Liang Xiao: “I couldn’t even score 600 points, deducing this much is already my limit.”
“…” Duan Ming: “Can you not hold a grudge?”
Liang Xiao sighed: “It’s hard to let go…”
Duan Ming felt a headache coming on. He covered Liang Xiao’s mouth and met his eyes, feeling his heart sink.
Duan Ming removed his hand without speaking.
After the incident years ago, Liang Xiao seemed normal, still carefree about eating and sleeping. When he got better, he ran around film sets to earn money, appearing even more relaxed than them.
Although he developed a habit of not being able to rest easy without someone guarding him for two years, it had gradually become less noticeable over time.
When Duan Ming was sharing his hardships with the butler back then, he didn’t realize… Even after five years, Liang Xiao still pays attention to these details every time he opens a door.
Duan Ming was silent for a moment, then analyzed: “It’s either paparazzi or obsessive fans.”
It’s not uncommon for strangers to enter artists’ hotel rooms.
Especially now that Liang Xiao is newly popular, with high attention but not enough deterrence, and his fan base not fully stabilized, it’s prime time for such incidents.
Duan Ming: “They probably installed a hidden camera, or snuck in to take photos, maybe took something… We don’t have anything to hide anyway.”
“It should–”
Duan Ming looked at his expression and struggled to say: “It probably isn’t… an inducer.”
Liang Xiao smiled and shook his head, not moving forward.
Duan Ming: “Should we… go in and check for you?”
Liang Xiao shook his head: “Betas can’t smell pheromones or inducers.”
Duan Ming said softly: “Should we contact President Huo?”
Liang Xiao smiled, hugging the hot water bottle: “It’s not a big deal…”
Duan Ming was silent for a while, no longer insisting. He nodded: “Let’s go, we’ll inform the production team… We’ll stay somewhere else.”
![After losing all his wealth, the ancestor rose from his coffin [BL]](https://www.freenovels.net/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/Your-paragraph-text-1.png "After losing all his wealth, the ancestor rose from his coffin [BL]")
