Chapter 105: Come On, Eight Lines

This woman has a bit of a greedy appetite.

Two days ago, Li Luo caught her sneaking eats of donkey meat and teased her that eating like that would soon turn her into a fatso.

At the time, Fan Bingbing crossed her arms and proudly declared she was at most a little chubby.

Thinking of the woman’s future fat buttocks, Li Luo couldn’t help but say, “Little chubby is good—why not change your name to Fan Xiao-Chubby from now on?”

She was furious then.

Now, out of nowhere, she brings it up again.

“Li Luo.”

Fan Bingbing rolled up her sleeves and hitched up her skirt: “Today I’m going to make you remember this.”

Under He Qun’s helpless gaze, she charged forward with flimsy fist and leg motions; the two circled the white horse twice before Fan Bingbing’s assistant cleared his throat loudly, putting an end to the little farce.

She caught her breath.

Then she shot Li Luo a petulant glance and swung herself onto the horse.

She’s shot plenty of historical dramas.

Fan Bingbing has enough skill for this.

Once she was seated, Li Luo, grinning inside, neatly stepped into the stirrup and settled onto the small double saddle.

He reached his arm around her side and took the reins.

The saddle was indeed double, but right now it was practically the same as holding her in his arms—except Fan Bingbing’s princess attire was far too thick to feel any softness.

“How’s it feel?”

Li Luo made no big movements, just let the white horse turn in place twice.

It’s like riding a motorcycle—the rider can speed however he wants, because he’s in control; the passenger panics to death.

The upcoming scene requires Fan Bingbing to sit in front.

Honestly, the speed sensation will be stronger; she needs time to adjust.

“No problem.”

As her body bounced with the horse’s gait, Fan Bingbing took a deep breath: “Go ahead—but don’t you dare do anything reckless!”

They’d known each other for over a week.

She’d begun to understand Li Luo’s personality—he sometimes liked to joke.

Even though his arms fully enclosed her, the horse’s swaying made her nervous, so she quickly warned him not to act up.

“Ha~”

Li Luo gave the reins a light flick and let out a soft call.

The horse exhaled a puff of mist.

The white horse ambled forward at a leisurely pace.

The speed was little different from walking; the two of them and the horse swayed slowly toward the nearby forest.

The man was handsome and dashing; the woman was cold and alluring.

Fan Bingbing wore a red gown that stood out vividly against the snowy landscape; Li Luo was dressed as a swordsman, and the long sword hanging beside the horse’s neck swayed gently.

They didn’t need any acting at all.

The two looked like ancient scholar and beauty, stepping through a time barrier into this world.

Before them lay pristine snow, wreathed in mist.

After riding a distance.

Only the sound of hooves clattering echoed.

Breezes drifted in from the mountains.

Fan Bingbing felt no cold at all—his chest behind her was warm enough.

The ground was uneven, her body rising and falling with the horse’s motion, yet she no longer feared—the arms wrapped around her waist were strong, and even through thick fabric, she could feel their power.

“How did you learn this skill?”

After riding a while, she couldn’t help asking: “I know many actors who ride horses, but none compare to you.”

“Ride more.”

Li Luo held the woman in his arms, recalling one of her films, and sighed: “Maybe I’ve got some talent—I can do a few tricks on horseback too, but I’ll show you sometime.”

“Okay.”

She didn’t know what he meant, but Fan Bingbing still agreed wholeheartedly.

She blinked, then bit her lip and asked:

“Am I really fat?”

“Not fat.”

Li Luo tugged the reins, glancing around: “A little chubby isn’t bad at all. Besides, if you don’t eat more meat, how will you have the energy to lose weight?”

“Right.”

Fan Bingbing nodded firmly.

“Wrong.”

Then she suddenly realized: “Hey, you’re so mean!”

“Giddy-up.”

Li Luo kicked the horse’s flanks and let out a low call.

The white horse shifted from stillness to motion.

It broke into a trot ahead.

The sudden speed startled Fan Bingbing; she instinctively leaned back, letting out a soft cry: “Slow down, slow down—I’m scared!”

It turned out fear and delight were separated by only a thread.

In the forest.

Soon Fan Bingbing’s joyful shouts rang out.

After all, she spent her days filming—rarely did she get a chance to play freely; Li Luo took her weaving between pine trees in a game of weave-and-turn.

Of course, he didn’t dare do anything too wild—it wasn’t a professional race.

Still, the sensation of darting left and right among the trees sent her adrenaline soaring; she’d always had a tomboyish streak, and her bell-like laughter never stopped.

After getting familiar for a while, they returned to the set.

Li Luo leapt off the horse and waved: “Get down—there’s more riding today.”

On TV, only a few minutes of footage appear.

In filming, it often takes hours, even days.

“Got it!”

Fan Bingbing’s expression was delighted.

She’d truly had fun!

But her clothes were far too loose; as her sleeve swung, it accidentally caught the horse’s long ear.

Such minor disturbance wouldn’t frighten the horse.

Still, it snorted twice, took two steps forward, and as Fan Bingbing stood with one foot in the stirrup, the slight sway shifted her landing point.

Watching the red robe fall toward him,

Li Luo instantly reached out and caught her smoothly.

Whether from the wind or not, Fan Bingbing’s delicate cheeks flushed faintly pink; she’d been behind him earlier and he hadn’t noticed, but now she landed right in his arms, face to face.

He stared, eyes wide.

“Hey!”

Fan Bingbing’s blush deepened under his gaze; she cleared her throat:

“Can you put me down now?”

“Soon.”

Li Luo didn’t let go; he gently lifted her with his arms: “Not bad, not bad—guess you’re about a hundred and…”

“Mmm~~~”

Before he finished, her mouth was clamped shut by a cold palm.

Under her murderous glare, he blinked rapidly, signaling he wouldn’t say the weight.

“If you dare say it—”

After landing, Fan Bingbing clenched her tiny fist and threatened: “I’ll make you pay!”

Amid Li Luo’s laughter, the two walked the horse toward the set—no one would say anything about the lead actors taking a ride; they were following the director’s orders to relax.

Shouts echoed across the set.

Crew members prepared the preliminaries; cameras stood planted in the snow, and crane arms rose high.

Soon they’d ride this white horse along a fixed route, fleeing.

In addition, the crew had laid a ten-meter-long makeshift track on the ground for close-up shots.

The cameramen couldn’t ride alongside them.

They had to use clever tricks.

“Perfect timing.”

He Qun spotted them returning and tapped the fake horse on the track table: “This is almost ready. In half an hour, we’ll shoot your scene of talking while on horseback.”

“Got it.”

"No problem, Director."

The two exchanged a glance and began adjusting their working posture.

Half an hour passed quickly; Li Luo stepped onto the wooden table first, then pulled Fan Bingbing up, and both sat together on the bizarre-looking fake horse.

It was called a wooden table.

In reality, it was a wooden platform with wheels underneath.

They weren’t the only ones on top.

A cameraman had already crouched in front, his large lens pointed straight at them.

There was no shortage on the left either.

Director He Qun preferred dual-camera shooting; he often used two cameras to film the same scene from different angles simultaneously, making the final edited footage appear richer.

"Director."

Li Luo flicked the reins, noticed something was off, and quickly raised his hand: "Bring on some wind—this horse’s mane isn’t moving at all, it looks fake!"

"We’re riding a horse—our hair should be messy too."

"It needs to flutter~"

Medium and long shots didn’t matter.

But for close-ups, everything had to be carefully considered—at this distance, even a single hair on the face could be seen.

"Li Luo."

After their earlier playful moment, their distance had drawn even closer; Fan Bingbing leaned back slightly: "I’ve figured it out—aren’t you the one who doesn’t get blown by the wind?"

It wasn’t scolding—more like teasing.

"It’s filming."

Li Luo smiled and tightened his arms: "If you’re cold, lean back more—I promise I won’t mind."

"Pfft~"

A faint smile appeared on Fan Bingbing’s lips.

At He Qun’s signal, crew members quickly brought over two fans and blew strongly toward the two seated on the fake horse; as their hair fluttered, the sense of speed instantly emerged.

The test was fine; they immediately turned off the fans.

Fan Bingbing couldn’t help shivering.

To say she wasn’t cold?

That was a joke.

"Let me explain."

He Qun clapped his hands and stepped forward to rehearse: "Next, you two escape from the Golden Knife Camp. Yun Lei, while nervous, wants to turn back and check if the pursuers are following."

"Due to the horse’s swaying, Zhang Danfeng accidentally kisses Yun Lei on the cheek."

"Pay attention to emotion."

He looked at the lead actress in front, continuing: "You must convey that sense of confusion and shyness, but your movements can’t be too large."

"Understood, Director."

Fan Bingbing confirmed she was ready.

"As for you."

He Qun paused, then turned to Li Luo: "Your eyes should be flustered, but you must pretend calmness."

"Use your lines to ease the awkwardness."

"Got it!"

Li Luo gave a thumbs-up.

Instructions complete.

He Qun returned behind the monitor.

The assistant director began clearing the set for final filming preparations.

Fan Bingbing began breathing steadily, entering her performance state; as the set fell silent, she heard Li Luo behind her muttering something.

But she couldn’t quite make it out.

Curious, she strained her ears to catch the sound.

"He Ba Tiao."

"Must get exactly eight takes."

"Play to your strengths—don’t slack off now."

Listening closely, Fan Bingbing finally understood what he was muttering; she was both angry and embarrassed, gritting her teeth: "Get serious, or I’ll pinch you!"

"Hahaha."

Li Luo kept his expression calm, speaking seriously: "You’ve got sharp ears—I was praising Director He’s craftsmanship."

"Sss~"

His thigh was pinched hard; he finally shut his mouth.

Fan Bingbing withdrew her fingers, satisfied, but her eyes couldn’t help glancing toward He Qun.

"Actors ready."

"Pushers, don’t move too fast."

"Fans, on."

"Action!"

Wind howled; crew members bent low and slowly pushed the wooden platform along its track. Under the gaze of two cameras, the two seated on the prop horse mimicked riding motions.

Sitting on the motionless prop, they shook violently, like they were having seizures.

Li Luo even seriously tugged the reins.

The scene looked extremely funny.

But the footage on the monitor appeared remarkably real—not only the horse’s mane, but even their hair fluttered with the wind.

Because the wooden platform moved along the track.

In the low-angle shot, the trees in the background slowly receded.

The sense of speed was perfect.

Both stared intently ahead, brows slightly furrowed, as if deeply worried about their situation.

Fan Bingbing blinked, turned back with a look of concern.

Rhythm.

Li Luo instantly matched her performance rhythm.

He shifted his body, his lips touching her delicate cheek in a flash.

"Eep!"

Fan Bingbing gasped, her eyes darted toward Li Luo for less than a second, then quickly turned back, her expression clearly flustered.

Li Luo clenched his jaw, a hint of embarrassment in his eyes.

"Cut!"

The call rang out; both stopped moving.

"One more take."

Hearing He Qun’s familiar phrase, Li Luo barely held back a laugh.

He wasn’t deliberately trying to take advantage—he just found it hilarious that things had turned out exactly as he’d predicted.

"I didn’t mess up!"

Seeing Fan Bingbing turn back, he quickly explained: "I nailed the timing perfectly."

"I know."

Fan Bingbing pressed her lips together and said nothing more.

"Again."

"Pay attention to emotion."

"One last take!"

True to his nickname, Director He shot exactly eight takes before finally nailing the shot; each time, Li Luo precisely kissed Fan Bingbing’s cheek.

The entire crew watched, envious beyond words.

Sister Jin Suo.

He’d made her flustered too.

Snowflakes slowly drifted down from high above, adding poetic charm to the filming scene.

Amid this gentle fluttering, time quietly slipped into early March.

The Zhuozhou scenes were mostly completed.

The crew became busy, packing up to head to Yinchuan for the next phase of filming.

At this time, however, Li Luo parted ways with the crew.

The premiere of The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber was imminent; Wu Dun, seeing the drama’s outstanding performance on Wandao, decided to hold a grand premiere launch event—and as the male lead, he naturally had to attend.

After months of hard filming last year, the moment of reward had finally arrived.

Thank you to Laoge 1979 for the 500 coins!

My cold worsened yesterday—I just couldn’t hold on.

Only one update today.