Chapter 100: Pick Any, Choose Any

The sound of doors slamming echoed.

The two people in the front seats of the black Toyota business van got out one after another; the driver, seeing the towering, muscular Li Luo glaring at him, swallowed hard: “How dare you talk like that?”

Step back.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Step back again.

“The road was slippery.”

As Li Luo advanced step by step, his words grew weaker with each sentence.

“Pay up right now!”

He’d only eaten half his fill; Li Luo, irritated, extended his hand: “Five yuan.”

“Alright, alright.”

The woman in the passenger seat took off her sunglasses and walked over, impatiently pulling out a fifty-yuan note and waving it in front of him: “Here, take ten more. Xiao Wu, hurry up and get the luggage—don’t just stand there staring.”

“Five yuan!”

Li Luo extended five firm fingers.

“Hey.”

The woman frowned sharply: “Are you looking for trouble?”

“Rich person?” Li Luo stepped forward, raising an eyebrow in mockery: “Why not pull out five hundred and impress me?”

“You—”

Her Qishi was crushed; she opened her mouth, then coldly pulled out another five-yuan note from her wallet.

Li Luo snatched the money.

He placed it firmly into his pocket.

With the money in hand, he didn’t head toward the hotel—he turned to look at the people getting out of the van. What a sight. After all these years in the industry, he’d never seen such a polished actor.

Two assistants flanked her on either side.

The driver kept unloading bags and suitcases.

After stepping out, the actress didn’t even glance his way; she lifted her chin and clicked into the hotel on high heels.

The woman who just gave him money was either an assistant or an agent, now scurrying after her.

Even with sunglasses on, Li Luo recognized the actress.

Han Xue!

This actress was low-key.

So low-key that everyone in the world knew she was low-key.

She clearly had some background—no wonder everyone around her was so arrogant.

But dig deeper.

She wasn’t nearly as impressive as people made her out to be.

The actress in The People’s Name was truly impressive—she’d never promoted her family background at all.

That’s what real low-key meant.

Li Luo rolled up the plastic bag, gathered the fallen donkey meat buns, tossed them into the trash beside him. He was here to act and earn money; whether or not she had connections meant nothing to him.

With women like this, keep your distance.

Dragging his suitcase, Li Luo headed straight for the hotel lobby’s actor check-in desk.

But the tree wished for stillness, yet the wind wouldn’t stop.

“Are you done yet?”

The woman from earlier saw Li Luo walking straight toward them and immediately scowled: “What do you want? If you keep this up, I’ll call security!”

Han Xue turned her head.

Her large sunglasses covered half her face; her expression was unreadable.

The registration staff all turned to look, unsure what was happening.

“Hello.”

Li Luo walked past them without pause and smiled at the crew member seated behind the desk: “I’m actor Li Luo. I called this morning—have my rooms been arranged?”

“What documents do you need?”

“Senior Li, welcome.”

The staff member froze for a moment, then quickly stood up: “No need, no need—we’ve already prepared everything. Here’s your stuff.”

After a flurry of hurried activity, he handed over the room key and other items.

If they didn’t recognize the lead actor,

the crew would be worthless!

“Thank you.”

Taking the items, Li Luo strolled calmly toward the elevator.

“Who’s that?”

As his figure disappeared into the elevator, Han Xue’s agent hurriedly asked.

Actors, big and small, were as countless as hairs.

She didn’t know them all, especially newcomers.

“Li Luo.”

The staff member calmly sized up the group before him, wearing his standard smile: “Zhang Danfeng. The male lead.”

Today’s events were truly amusing.

A supporting actress.

Arrived with three or four people.

The male lead, came alone, strolling lazily.

Between the two of them,

it seemed some conflict had already occurred.

The drama hadn’t even started filming, and already there were juicy rumors.

Upon hearing he was the male lead, the agent’s body swayed slightly. He earned over a million per drama—had she just insulted him with fifty yuan?

Bastard.

He’s the lead actor—why’s he chasing after five yuan?

Who does that?

Han Xue lost all her earlier nonchalance; she removed her sunglasses and stared at her agent. The room fell silent.

“Ding dong~”

Hearing the doorbell, Li Luo wrapped a towel around himself, then stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair.

He left the master bedroom and entered the living room.

He passed the display shelf with vases and plants, then opened the door: “What is it?”

His words cut off abruptly.

The three people outside also stepped back; Han Xue and her agent stared at Li Luo’s muscular upper body, unsure where to look.

He’d just showered; faint steam still rose from his skin.

The scent of male pheromones washed over them.

The driver swallowed hard—thankfully, there’d been no physical fight. With his build, he wouldn’t even be worth a single punch.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Li Luo ran his fingers through his hair and wiped off the water droplets: “Sorry, I was just showering.”

This was pure theater—Han Xue’s eyes flickered with panic.

She’d never seen anything like this.

“Mr. Li, I’m terribly sorry.”

The agent forced a smile and offered the item in her hands: “Xiao Wu drove too recklessly earlier—I’ve already reprimanded him. This is a small token of apology. Please don’t take offense.”

In both hands she held a food box.

Inside was a tempting steak, garnished with a few cherry tomatoes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Li Luo.”

The driver bowed deeply beside her.

“No problem.”

Li Luo waved his hand.

He wasn’t actually angry at the driver—just making him pay for the donkey meat buns was enough.

He just disliked the agent’s haughty attitude; now seeing her suddenly grovel, he found it quite amusing.

“By the way.”

The agent smiled even wider and introduced: “This is our Han Xue.”

“Dantai Jingming.”

Li Luo took the food box and flashed eight white teeth: “Hello, Han Xue. We have many scenes together—please give me your guidance.”

“Let’s learn from each other.”

Han Xue, now composed, delivered her polite lines with ease.

What a coincidence.

This woman no longer acts as aloof as before.

After exchanging a few polite remarks, the group who came to apologize quickly left.

He returned to the room.

Li Luo casually tossed the steak into the trash.

Who knows if there might be some saliva or something on it? Never let your guard down.

After a brief day of rest, Li Luo faced his character portrait shoot.

The photo studio was set up inside the hotel room; he put on the costume provided by the crew and picked up a prop sword, posing in various stances.

The costume design was thoughtful.

It included various robes with Ming Dynasty features, as well as fur-lined coats with a steppe aesthetic.

Most were primarily in solid colors.

The style was also quite realistic.

Of course, this makeup and costume style had its drawbacks—if your features weren’t striking, you’d easily look rustic and unflattering on camera. Fortunately, he had no such concern.

In front of the lens, he still exuded an air of distinction.

The character portrait shoot was finished.

Actors with available schedules gradually joined the cast.

Few were familiar to him.

For him, most of the actors in this drama were unknowns.

Zhang Jiayi counted as one.

A senior from Beijing Film Academy, a method actor, with notable works like The Snail House and The White Deer Plain.

Also, Kou Zhanwu, who had played numerous supporting roles—Nezha in Spring Light Shines on Zhu Bajie, Ma Ye in Wolf’s Fang—this time portraying Zhou Shanmin in The Shadow of the Floating Sword.

His face was earnest, yet carried an inexplicable humor.

They met in the hotel gym; seeing Li Luo practicing boxing, Kou Zhanwu, a graduate of the Beijing Martial Arts Team, couldn’t resist joining in with a long fist routine.

His movements weren’t as fluid.

But they were full of power.

Li Luo immediately invited Kou Zhanwu to spar; the two played back and forth with great energy.

After boxing, they drank.

With shared interests, Li Luo naturally made his first friend on the set of The Shadow of the Floating Sword.

Over the next week, all actors already on set stayed busy; essential horseback riding and physical training were underway in full swing, though how effective they were was another matter.

At least there had to be some appearance of preparation.

It was rare to find someone like Zhang Zhongzhi who could lock actors into long-term group training.

The female lead remained absent.

Since The Return of the Princess became a hit, her schedule was packed; she likely wouldn’t make it on the first day of filming, so they’d have to shoot while waiting.

Before long, it was January 10th.

That evening.

Outside, the wind howled bitterly; inside, it was warm as summer.

“Boom!”

Li Luo slammed down four Aces and grinned at the beautiful female classmate now dressed in a T-shirt and tiny shorts: “Doubled again? Don’t gamble away your fare home.”

“It’s just sixteen bucks.”

Bian Xiaoxiao rolled her eyes, tapped the table to pass: “Can’t start today. You don’t seem worried at all.”

“Exactly.”

Huang Shengyi also passed.

Yesterday, Huang Shengyi texted saying she hadn’t seen the opening ceremony and asked if Li Luo could come along. Since it had been over a week since he’d eaten meat, he readily agreed.

But he never expected Bian Xiaoxiao, who had already finished filming, would come along too.

The afternoon’s opening ceremony was postponed due to equipment malfunction.

It had to be pushed back temporarily.

With sudden free time, Li Luo took the two out for a stroll—first admiring the snow at Zhuozhou’s Twin Pagodas, then treating them to a hearty meal at a donkey meat restaurant.

Naturally, he kept them overnight.

They played Landlord in the hotel room.

“What’s there to worry about?”

Li Luo tossed out his last pair of threes, swiftly shuffled the deck: “That’s the producer’s, director’s, and investor’s headache. By the way, how’s your drama He Xiang going?”

“Exhausting.”

At this, Bian Xiaoxiao couldn’t help complaining: “Carrying a baby all day—I’m too tired to lift my arms.”

“I play a young widow, constantly stared at by lecherous eyes on camera.”

“The pay is ridiculously low.”

“At least you have a role.”

Huang Shengyi glanced at Li Luo, picking up Bian Xiaoxiao’s thread: “Even if the pay’s low, you’re still earning. Be glad.”

This guy promised me something and then went silent.

Now he’s starting a new drama.

And he’s the male lead.

That’s why she brought Bian Xiaoxiao along today—to help cover for her, and to use Bian Xiaoxiao as a reminder that Li Luo had promised her something.

“Shengyi, go get a bottle of whiskey from the bar!”

Li Luo calmly dealt the cards, continuing: “There’s frozen cola in the fridge—mix it with the whiskey, the taste will be better. Let’s celebrate properly tonight.”

“Celebrate what?” Huang Shengyi put down her cards and stood up.

“I’ve taken on another drama.”

The two women’s eyes lit up; he spoke slowly: “It’ll start filming around October. I’ve negotiated with the investors—after the two female leads, all the other female supporting roles.”

“If you think they suit you, pick any one.”

“What do you mean, ‘pick any one’?”

Huang Shengyi stammered, unable to believe what she’d heard.

Beside her, Bian Xiaoxiao covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes brimming with delight—she hadn’t expected such a huge piece of good news out of nowhere.

All her effort was worth it.

Li Luo now takes on big productions.

Any major supporting role would outshine the female lead in her low-budget drama.

These are shows that air repeatedly on major TV networks.

Don’t underestimate that.

Even graduates from the top three academies usually need to spend years in small troupes, acting in dramas that may never even see the light of day.

Slowly building up for two or three years—or even longer.

Only then do they get a chance at major roles.

“It means exactly what it says.”

Li Luo dealt the last card and flashed the two women his white teeth: “Once the script’s ready, I’ll show it to you. No matter how small the part, pick whichever one you want.”

“But I’m warning you—no lead female roles!”

Wu Dun had personally agreed to that.

He’d traded it for a friend’s discount, so he spoke with full confidence.

The two women stared into his eyes, their gazes sparkling like stars.

This guy is so handsome!

The idea of being able to pick any supporting role—they’d never even heard of such a thing. How close must he be to the investors to pull this off?

“Amazing!”

The two women exchanged glances and screamed in unison.

Then they both lunged at Li Luo.

They pinned him to the sofa, showering his face with kisses like rain.

Li Luo’s loud laughter echoed through the entire suite.

This called for celebration.

“I’ll get the drinks.”

Huang Shengyi bounced excitedly toward the bar, her long white legs full of energy.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

Leaning close to Li Luo’s ear, Bian Xiaoxiao spoke urgently: “But since you’ve been so impressive, I’ll indulge this bad boy of yours.”

Leaning close to Li Luo’s ear, she spoke in a soft, excited tone, quickly saying: “But since you’ve performed so well, I’ll grant this big bad boy of yours.”

She gently bit his ear.

Before Huang Shengyi returned, she sat back down, perfectly composed.

Before Huang Sheng returned, she sat back down with solemn seriousness.

Li Luo chuckled.

He sat up straight.

That little scheme of yours? Better not mention it!

He simply walked over to the fridge, quickly pulled out a large bottle of cola, a thermos of cold water, some plastic cups, and several trays of frozen ice cubes. Though this wasted good liquor, the aftertaste was unforgettable.

The two returned to the sofa.

Looking at the rectangular bottle in Huang Sheng’s hand, Bian Xiaoxiao asked curiously: “What kind of liquor is this?”

“Johnnie Walker Blue Label.”

Li Luo slammed the ice cubes into the thermos, took the whiskey, and opened it: “Over six hundred a bottle—I forget the exact price.”

Hearing that price, Bian Xiaoxiao licked her lips.

Amber liquid poured into the thermos with a splash; its rich, complex aroma spread rapidly through the air. In moments, the whiskey—worth several hundred yuan per bottle—was emptied entirely.

Then he added ice-cold cola.

Crystal-clear ice cubes churned with creamy white foam, endlessly reflecting the faces of the three of them.

Thank you, Old Brother 1979, for the 500 coins! Appreciated!