Chapter 431

Student Student Mai Mai's life on the set wasn't as wonderful as she'd imagined.

It was all because she had hummed to Bai Liang that she was already grown up and shouldn't be treated like a child anymore.

Then Bai Liang said he accepted her statement.

But before she could even feel happy, she suddenly realized—she truly wasn't being treated like a child anymore.

She was being treated like a beast of burden.

"Student Student Mai Mai, go buy some fruit to eat."

"Student Student Mai Mai, remember to order meals—money's all in your hands."

"Don't forget to share it with the rest of the crew—you go, and it'll help boost your favor with them."

"."

Since she held the "financial authority," Bai Liang handed her all the "friend fees" he'd scammed, saying that for this period, all expenses between them would be under her control.

Being the one in charge~

At first, Zhao Jinmai liked this idea and felt motivated.

But soon reality left her stunned and exhausted—"being in charge" was such a hassle!

On top of that, she still had to study—Bai Liang would randomly quiz her—and she also had to delve into her role, read the script, and Bai Liang would quiz her even more.

Every day she was utterly "busy," and after work she got randomly quizzed nonstop.

She couldn't help wondering—was her brother deliberately bullying her? Was this how it was for others too?

Bai Liang: Huh! A properly grown-up young lady? That's just the start—she still has to "overtime" at night.

That's real "random quizzing."

There you go~ This is what adult life is like~ Still want to grow up?

Zhao Jinmai's mouth was still tough—she was grown up! Not a child anymore!

And she kept living like a beast of burden.

Bai Liang: Only children insist they're not children. Properly grown "old women" shamelessly claim they're still under eighteen.

But giving Zhao Jinmai more things to do wasn't bad.

That way, this little girl wouldn't sit around bored, staring at him drooling.

Zhao Jinmai didn't start filming until the third day after joining the crew, because the script had just been revised.

After reading two revised versions, she actually wanted to play the original one instead.

The character Liu Mei was the daughter of Liu Wenyao, a wealthy Shanghai merchant and trustee of Zhendan University—a pure fiction with no historical prototype.

Originally, the storyline between Chen Yannian and Liu Mei was a typical tale of a poor boy and a rich girl secretly falling for each other.

Their first meeting was a clash of wills.

Liu Mei's entrance was arrogant and domineering—she insulted others from the start, treating the two "poor scholars" with extreme condescension, tossing money down from the second floor like scattered flowers, without even saying sorry.

Wasn't this just the classic trope of the male and female leads initially disliking each other—or bonding through conflict? Very idol-drama style.

But after revision, it became even more "classic"—one phrase could describe Liu Mei!

The ideal image of a progressive new-era woman of that time.

After meeting Chen Yannian, Liu Mei didn't have to develop a romance—she could simply become an awakened new youth.

In fact, the crew had debated extensively over whether Chen Yannian needed romance to embellish him, to highlight his "Dao heart."

Some thought he should have it.

Because historically, Chen Yannian was seen by others as a "puritan."

In daily life, he didn't care about food or clothing, never spoke of women, and thought only of how to revitalize the revolutionary cause.

He was the ultimate Sigma male of that era.

It's not that such people didn't exist—but audiences might not accept a character this perfect, this unwavering, almost not human.

Without the family bond thread, Chen Yannian's character would've been a castle in the air.

At the same time, the acting difficulty for the actor would skyrocket.

The more noble, glorious, and righteous the role, the harder it is to act!

For example, in the previous mega-hit "In the Name of the People," Lu Yi's Hou Liangping was instantly crushed into dust by Zhao Dehan, played by Hou Yong.

As other characters entered one after another, it felt as if everyone except the blond-haired kid was somehow better than him.

To be precise, it wasn't that Lu Yi acted poorly—his acting wasn't that bad—but the character made audiences dislike him intensely.

He was essentially "dragged down" by the role and took a lot of flak.

If this year's hit "The Longest Day in Chang'an" had female characters who all overshadowed the female lead, each more distinctive than the last,

then "In the Name of the People" had male characters who all seemed more likable than Hou Liangping—even the viral memes all belonged to the male supporting roles.

Like "Cosmic Heart" Sun Liancheng, "Half a Move Ahead of Heaven" Qi Tongwei, "Didn't Spend a Penny" Zhao Dehan, "Don't You Dare Be Awesome" Zhao Ruilong, not to mention the deep impression and favor the Handong F4 left on viewers.

Hou Liangping was left with only "ringing the bell."

He was directly on the same track as Chen Qingquan's "learning foreign languages."

The crew was also worried that such a lofty, noble character design might be unacceptable to audiences—don't end up giving Chen Yannian the same treatment as Hou Liangping.

Bai Liang: That's not necessary.

Actually, he's quite suited to playing noble, glorious, and righteous roles.

Because in real life, he always makes others feel and believe—he truly is a good person.

Even a "shuangzi" could be "redeemed" by him.

A true human little sun standing there, radiating warmth and light from within, is incredibly convincing.

Moreover, Chen Yannian's character has an invincible highlight scene—once that scene plays, the character is fully "deified."

Yet what truly convinced the producers that the script revisions were fine wasn't Bai Liang's portrayal of the character.

His performance was, of course, flawless, but Zhao Jinmai was a complete surprise.

Playing a progressive young woman posed little difficulty for Zhao Jinmai; she's already considered a child prodigy in the industry.

And as for the initial scenes of the wealthy young lady, no explanation was needed—her spoiled demeanor was spot-on, having played similar roles before.

But after she was truly drawn in by Chen Yannian's idealistic radiance and couldn't help moving closer to him, her gaze began to change.

There was just a hint of suppressed emotion, but mostly it was a firm, resolute determination to stand beside him, to become his equal.

The directors studied it for a long time, then lavished her with praise.

Yes, yes, exactly—that's the effect we wanted.

A sense of restrained control, yet still faintly perceptible.

Love.

Extraordinarily subtle, but that tiny thread was enough.

It never stole the spotlight; under that historical backdrop and idealistic radiance, it was perfectly balanced.

Many modern audiences strongly criticize the "falling in love" scenes in dramas.

People often complain that screenwriters have nothing else to do but make characters fall in love.

They have to fall in love over everything.

Let's drag "The Climbers" out again for another beating—"The Love on Zhufeng" counts as a kind of milestone.

They can climb Zhufeng and still find time to coo with their girlfriend; how come you can't even reply to a message while gaming?

But love itself isn't wrong—it could even be said to be one of the most beautiful human emotions.

What audiences truly despise is love that's forced into every scene, unrelated to any real purpose.

So what feeling does Zhao Jinmai's portrayal of Liu Mei evoke?

She deserves it.

From wealthy young lady to progressive new-era young woman, she followed Chen Yannian's steps.

One could call her: comrade.

"Brother, the director praised me again today for my acting!"

Watching Zhao Jinmai dash up to him, preening, Bai Liang stood up, opened the RV door she had shut, then lazily yawned: "Well done~"

Zhao Jinmai's big eyes rolled around—partly because she disliked his tone; his praise was too half-hearted!

On the other hand, she tiptoed over and quietly shut the RV door again.

But Bai Liang, with his back to the door, seemed to have eyes in the back of his head: "Open the door. The vehicle needs ventilation."

"Your RV already has an air purifier."

"Ah~ You don't understand. Only natural wind feels right."

Is that so?

Zhao Jinmai pouted and opened the door again, thinking: every time I come here, he opens the door.

It makes it seem like I'm the one polluting the air inside.

I'm clearly a sweet, soft, fragrant girl.

Bai Liang: It's entirely my fault—I have stinky feet, I fart, I don't brush my teeth, I don't bathe, I don't change my underwear.

Zhao Jinmai: Really? I don't believe you~ Let me smell!

Of course, she dared not even joke aloud—she only whispered such thoughts in her heart.

If she were truly to get too close, she wouldn't dare it either.

If Bai Liang didn't understand why the director praised her every day, he might as well not have his super brain.

He'd made a mistake—he never imagined this role would let Zhao Jinmai play herself.

The look the directors loved—Liu Mei gazing at Chen Yannian—well, here it is, identical.

Zhao Jinmai's private gaze at Bai Liang is exactly like that.

In truth, she's grown up; compared to her clearly underage, childish appearance during "The Wandering Earth," she now has the look of a young woman.

A babyish roundness is slowly fading, her whole frame beginning to slim and stretch.

Hmm—her height hasn't increased much; she's still a tiny thing beside Bai Liang.

But when she clings to him on his RV, playfully flirting as she always has, it now makes his heart skip a beat.

The milky scent has faded; now there's a faint, different fragrance—slightly sweet.

She is at the peak of youthful bloom.

This phase will likely last two to three years, then gradually mature, faster or slower.

"Brother, what are you thinking about? I called you twice and you didn't hear."

"Thinking about you. I'll talk to the director later and consolidate your scenes—since they're all opposite me, let's finish them sooner."

"I'm not really in a hurry! Really! My grades are definitely good enough for the Central Academy of Drama—I might even get first place!" Zhao Jinmai hurriedly declared.

She even leaned forward, as if ready to raise a finger and swear to prove it.

She thought her brother wanted to send her back to school. She didn't want to go to school~~

Looking at the girl before him, sweet and soft as a little cake, Bai Liang was merciless: "No, unless—"

"I'll agree to anything! I'll do anything!" Zhao Jinmai blurted out.

The moment she finished speaking, she got a light tap on the head.

"Ow~"

"I haven't finished yet," Bai Liang sighed at her, as if she were a goldfish, "unless you don't go to this year's Golden Rooster Awards."

"Golden Rooster Awards?" Zhao Jinmai only then realized—yes, the awards ceremony was coming soon.

Although she hadn't been nominated, attending with the "The Wandering Earth" crew was certainly no problem.

"I want!"

"Say it fully."

"I want to go to this year's Golden Rooster Awards."

"Fine, I'll go negotiate with the director—wait for my good news~"

After saying this, Bai Liang set off with majestic authority, as if he'd throw a tantrum the moment the director dared to refuse.

The little girl watched him with awe, but half a minute later, she suddenly realized something.

Wait—

Even if you go to the Golden Rooster Awards, you can come back and keep filming afterward—no one says you have to finish shooting before the Golden Rooster Awards!

This is what a sneaky, cunning adult is like—damn it!

So when Bai Liang returned victorious, he found a puffed-up little hamster sitting cross-legged on his sofa, arms crossed.

"What's wrong?"

This time, Bai Liang moved closer and poked Zhao Jinmai's shoulder.

But the girl ignored him, even turned her body away, using her posture to say: I'm mad~

Fortunately, little girls this age are incredibly easy to soothe.

Bai Liang didn't even bother thinking up a decent excuse—just scratched the itch, and the little girl cracked on her own.

After she playfully slapped him in embarrassment, the matter was dropped, and soon Zhao Jinmai asked him if he wanted ice cream~

Bai Liang: Of course I do!

Right now! Let's go buy some~

Thus, the two were fully "reconciled," and only then did Bai Liang come up with a decent reason.

"After the Golden Rooster Awards, I still have to promote 'Chang'an Twelve Hours'—Liu Mei's scenes are mostly with me; if I'm not there, you can't shoot, so we need to hurry."

"Big brother, I'm sorry—I thought you wanted to get rid of me quickly," Zhao Jinmai said, feeling guilty.

Bai Liang: Heh~ That's exactly what I thought.

But facing the little girl, he chose to shamelessly lie: "How could I? Having you around is so joyful—you're like a little joyfruit."

"Really?"

"Really really~"

Bai Liang felt describing her as a "joyfruit" was perfectly appropriate and unstrange.

His grandmother used to call him a joyfruit.

Then—

While eating ice cream, Zhao Jinmai scrolled through TikTok on her phone.

The very first video she clicked was a clip from Chen Kun's 'Dragon Gate'!

Zhang Xinyu, playing Empress Wan, said right away: "My darling, my joyfruit~"

Hearing that, Bai Liang nearly spat out his ice cream.

No—

He quickly looked at Zhao Jinmai and saw the strange expression on her face.

She wanted to laugh but held it back—clearly trying to suppress it.

But her eyes betrayed her completely—radiant with delight!

Bai Liang couldn't help glancing at her phone—the clip was amusing, stitching together Chen Kun's past roles.

'Tiansheng Changge' had some significance—even though it bled Mango TV dry, it provided tons of material for 'Snowy Sword in the Wind.'

Ever since the male-oriented 'Qing Yu Nian' exploded as the top drama, another major IP, 'Snowy Sword in the Wind,' naturally drew massive attention.

The two most talked-about candidates were Chen Kun and Bai Liang.

But neither had taken the role.

Chen Kun's age was already a factor, and he'd just ruined 'Tiansheng Changge'—casting him now was truly unlikely.

As for the top contender, Bai Liang—well, he had no availability.

Though the producers had approached him several times, offered eye-popping sums, and even insiders had inquired, seemingly hoping he'd take the role.

When Sister Yanzi told him this, she teased him: "The Little Princess of Beijing's Circle personally picked you!"

At the time, Bai Liang hadn't caught on: "Guan Xiaotong?"

Sister Yanzi: Guan Xiaotong is a joke compared to her.

The female lead had already been decided early: Li Gengxi—the Little Princess of Beijing's Circle, the strongest resource girl among the new generation of the entertainment industry!

Even Liu Haocun with his old-boy network might not outmatch her in this regard.

Her team naturally hoped Bai Liang would join—they'd sent plenty of acquaintances to persuade him.

But Sister Yanzi said: Who cares if she's a princess or a noblewoman? Our little Bai brother doesn't play that game.

Yet this seemed to signal that the resource-girl war in the entertainment industry was truly beginning.

The post-00s young actresses were officially entering the arena.

Many online discussions had asked: What comes after the traffic era?

Answer: The fully automated era.

"Student Student Mai Mai, are you a resource girl?"

"Huh?"

Zhao Jinmai looked utterly confused: Me? I only got fifty thousand for 'The Wandering Earth.'

Bai Liang: Hmm, looks like she isn't.

"Before the Golden Rooster Awards, there's the Starry Sea Youth Actor Program—come with me."

"Brother, I'm not part of that plan," Zhao Jinmai said softly.

"No worries, you'll be in it next year." Bai Liang rubbed his chin, figuring that since he'd been recommended by someone last year, it wasn't too much to recommend someone else this year, was it?

Anyone with objections could take it up with him.

"Then this time—"

"I'll take you to meet the resource-backed youngsters of our generation."

(End of chapter)