Chapter 737

A few Bread Vans pulled into the set; this is where they shoot TV dramas—Bai Lang thought that if it were this, maybe heading south would have prospects? Yet on further thought, does this world really have Hengdian? Even the people are ambiguous, and the film city might not be the same as before. Indeed, as a major hub for China‑produced TV dramas, movies and other cultural products, there is also a huge film city in the Capital (Jingcheng)'s far suburbs.

This time it's a TV drama set in the Republic era, probably either anti‑Japanese or spy warfare; Bai Lang didn't even bother to learn the plot, he'd just work once on site. He was assigned a long robe, presumably to play a passer‑by walking around, with no lines, only a simple route. "Damn, this really fucking stinks, how long has this costume not been washed?"

Bai Lang mutters while dressing; that's the advantage of an extra—only the outward look needs to be passable, whether it's worn or not doesn't matter because the camera rarely focuses on extras. After getting dressed, Bai Lang squats to the side, hands tucked in his sleeves, looking like a scoundrel. The extras are just an assistant director with a few people, roughly mapping out their walking routes and telling them not to break character.

Bai Lang squats to the side to watch the leads and supporting actors; the lead is expressionless, and the moment Bai Lang sees him he feels the man looks familiar, reminding him of the professional spy‑drama star Yang Mougang. As for the female lead and female supporting role? Probably all traffic‑star celebrities. The male supporting actor is certainly a traffic star, because he looks an androgynously handsome young man, making Bai Lang think of the various cross‑dressing masters.

Anyway these people are all big‑time, each with their own nanny car and a whole entourage; filming drags on, normally it should start at nine in the morning. Bai Lang arrived at the set a little after six, but the actual shoot didn't start until after ten, damn. Being late doesn't matter; Bai Lang is paid by the day—ordinary extras are the same.

The problem is that the NG (no‑good takes) are the issue—supporting actors are all traffic stars, at least that's what Bai Lang heard from other extras; the director can't really wash his face, since the producer brought them in. It's the extras who suffer, walking back and forth repeatedly, the performance getting increasingly unwatchable, but it's a divine drama, so the look of the extras doesn't matter.

Bai Lang's appearance is heroic, making him stand out among the extras and giving him a strong presence; every hand raise and foot lift exudes aura. "Alas, I am that kind of man," Bai Lang sighs to himself, not interested in mimicking Zhou Xingxing's self‑expression, "I'm not an actor." He simply walks in order, but during the NG takes the cameraman unintentionally shifted focus twice onto Bai Lang's back silhouette.

From the front, Bai Lang can act like a sneaky scoundrel, deliberately suppressing his presence; his heroic looks can be hidden by lowering his head or turning his face away, but his back has no such trick—the proud, towering silhouette is unmistakably striking. Stealing the scene with his back, he might be the first in the country to do so.

The director, of course, doesn't handle the camera; the assistant director directs the scene. They obviously don't notice Bai Lang's transcendent brilliance, only commenting that the cinematography is off today. So the supporting actors take the chance to slack off, pushing their lack of acting to the limit—while the lead is relatively earnest, though his expressionless face still doesn't show much skill.

Bai Lang secretly chuckles; he finds it amusing rather than mocking. He knows that everything has its own profession—he's a professional war‑general and martial‑arts master, certainly not a professional actor. In the context of those few people, his performance would probably not be any better than theirs.

"I remember acting schools include the experiential school and the method school? Oh and there's also a performance school; I consider myself a master with no school." Bai Lang feels unusually relaxed in this world—perhaps he isn't a serious person in most worlds. After a few NG takes they have lunch; each extra gets a boxed meal, and when Bai Lang opens his he sees a big meat portion, a small meat portion, and a vegetable dish—really not great food.

Bai Lang knows that the logistics people are mostly relatives who can skim money, so the boxed meals being merely mediocre rather than rotten is already a pleasant surprise. Bai Lang scoops the rice in a few bites, leaves the vegetables untouched because they don't suit his palate—at his level of martial skill he doesn't need to absorb qi from food. qqxδnew

"Sigh, is today's aesthetic all about sissy‑type?" Bai Lang watches their performance in the afternoon, sighing inwardly and feeling a bit embarrassed—"Being an actor is really miserable, reciting these lines and doing these acts; if it were me I'd already have a three‑bedroom, one‑living‑room place." He is now a multi‑functional extra, playing everything from passer‑by to soldier—a single extra with many bit parts.

The pay is the same; at this point it's sixty yuan a day, actually a bit more, but the crew chief takes a cut.

Anyway Bai Lang just wanders or stands near the leads and supporting actors, listening to NG after NG; fortunately the director later decided to avoid NG as much as possible, so even the most awkward takes were done in one go, greatly lowering the standard. The extras were relieved, no longer having to walk back and forth repeatedly; after six in the evening a vehicle took them back to the Capital (Jingcheng) (Capital (Jingcheng) (Jingcheng)) Film Academy gate, and everyone dispersed with a laugh.

"This job is terrible, a dozen‑plus hours for sixty yuan…" Bai Lang mutters while stretching his long legs to run back. "What good food does the Capital (Jingcheng) have? Just buy two donkey‑roll sweet‑mouth treats and that's it!"

The next day he didn't get selected, and Bai Lang thought the job was completely unreliable, but feeling too lazy to look for work, he just went to the library to read. He was delighted to find that this was ordinary history: the late Han Three Kingdoms had no Bai Lang or White Jade Pillar, the late Sui had none of him, and the Ming Dynasty had no Bai Shaobao. Bai Lang let out a long sigh; now he didn't have to worry about playing himself.

The Capital (Jingcheng) is full of scoundrels, including some characters dubbed "old cannon." These people exude the foul stench of the Capital (Jingcheng)'s deep‑rooted, sky‑reaching patterns, and Bai Lang wants to rob them outright—there's a little old man in a cotton jacket and a small hat, fiddling with two walnuts, his mouth oily as he laughs at people. But Bai Lang has observed that this guy owns a courtyard house within the Second Ring, likely hiding plenty of valuables; if a thug had Bai Lang's abilities, that old man would never see tomorrow's sun.

On the third day he still wasn't selected, so Bai Lang simply went to browse Panjiayuan. He wasn't looking to pick up any bargains—he only had 1,800 yuan on him, useless for any loot. Moreover, the place is swamped with fakes, selling more than buying, so finding a real bargain would be a miracle. Bai Lang came to broaden his horizons; after all, he's spent so long mixing in the ancient world and has held high‑official posts for a while, so he does have some perspective.

At Bai Lang's level, he naturally can't tell genuine from fake; he just looks around. There are also ancient weapons here, a niche collection, and Bai Lang pays special attention to them…