Chapter 6: Smiling Like a Flower

Although the producer works behind the scenes.

But Zhang Da Hu Zi is different.

His outgoing personality and distinctive appearance have made him more famous than many actors.

Especially after producing a series of Jin Yong dramas, he nearly became a household name—though his fame isn’t that great yet, industry insiders can still easily recognize him.

Amid the stunned gazes of the extras.

Li Luo walked calmly toward the black Cherokee with the wooden sword in hand.

The man was indeed a celebrity.

But he carried the confidence of a transmigrator.

Just be neither humble nor arrogant.

No need to grovel or lick his boots.

“Hello.”

He stopped, nodded to the baseball cap man, then smiled and greeted Zhang Da Hu Zi.

Not just the extras.

He himself was also confused—what could this man possibly want with him?

“Do you know who I am?”

Zhang Da Hu Zi’s eyes scanned Li Luo repeatedly.

Not particularly tall.

Convenient for acting with female actresses.

Good-looking yet with a touch of youthfulness, highly suited to the role; even more rare was that cold gaze just now—he expressed the exact emotion Zhang needed.

“I know.”

Li Luo paused slightly, then nodded: “Director Zhang, hello.”

He didn’t know how to address him.

But calling him “director” was certainly fine.

“Are you one of the extras here?” Zhang Da Hu Zi’s expression grew even more satisfied as he began to inquire: “I saw you just now perform a few sword techniques?”

Not just the extras—even minor actors would stumble over their words when they saw him.

This kid’s interesting.

“Yes.”

His heart pounded hard; Li Luo continued: “That’s the Wudang Seven-Star Sword Art. I’ve practiced it for a while.”

Zhang Da Hu Zi changed the subject: “Do you know Lin Pingzhi?”

At these words.

Li Luo’s grip on the sword hilt tightened, veins bulging.

He wasn’t a fool—this kind of big shot wouldn’t waste time chatting with a lowly extra.

Apparently, the lucky cola he drank yesterday had finally kicked in.

Lin Pingzhi.

He of course knew who that was.

The most protagonist-like supporting character in The Smiling, Proud Wanderer, burdened with a blood feud, who ultimately castrated himself to avenge his family, transforming from a chivalrous hero into a ruthless, desperate man doomed to suffer but unable to die.

If he remembered correctly,

this Jin Yong drama, which relied entirely on its peers for contrast yet saw its reputation surge, was released within these past two years.

“I know.”

Li Luo’s voice was dry: “I’ve read the book—The Smiling, Proud Wanderer, right?”

As he spoke, a faint blush rose on his face.

No matter how calm his mindset,

anyone would feel emotional under such circumstances—Li Luo was no exception.

He stared intently into Zhang Jizhong’s eyes, his expression tense.

He had thought about his future path before: with his fist techniques and sword art, plus the system’s boost, he’d planned to slowly transition from extra to stunt performer, build a reputation, then seek other opportunities.

Now, was he about to leap three levels at once?

Thinking of this,

his heart pounded like a drum.

This reaction made Zhang Da Hu Zi stroke his beard and nod approvingly—this was the normal response one should have.

“I don’t like wasting words.”

Zhang Da Hu Zi waved his hand, bluntly saying: “I’m preparing to film The Smiling, Proud Wanderer. I think you’re perfect for the role of Lin Pingzhi. Interested?”

He’s an extra—fine.

Explaining the script, helping actors understand their roles, that’s part of his job anyway.

Besides,

sometimes an actor’s natural fit to the role matters more than pure acting skill.

There’s a saying: playing oneself.

His forehead throbbed.

Without hesitation, Li Luo accepted.

What was there to hesitate about? Even if they asked him to play Lu Dayou to entertain monkeys, he’d say yes—it’s a named role, infinitely better than a background extra.

Experience is a key to the door.

With a credit for playing a famous role in The Smiling, Proud Wanderer, future auditions would treat him with far greater respect.

Through Zhang Da Hu Zi’s introduction, Li Luo learned the baseball cap man was the producer of The Smiling, Proud Wanderer.

He also accepted the man’s business card.

After clarifying a few details, the Cherokee drove off.

Even after the dust settled, Li Luo still felt dazed—he pinched his thigh hard, snapping himself back to reality.

“Luo Ge.”

At that moment, a soft voice called: “Smoke?”

Liu Er shuffled over with a sly grin, holding out a Hongta Mountain cigarette with both hands—no trace left of his earlier mockery.

After a brief hesitation, Li Luo smiled and took it.

“Click.”

Before he could move, Liu Er quickly lit the lighter, cupping the flame carefully in his palm to offer it.

He gripped the cigarette, then glanced around.

When had it happened?

The other extras had all gathered around.

They stared at him with pure excitement, their eyes filled with nothing but envy—not a trace of jealousy—smiles blooming like flowers all around him.

Who doesn’t know Zhang Da Hu Zi?!

Not just them.

Even the director of this very production might not even get a word with him.

No matter what happened, one thing was certain:

Li Luo had really gone too far.

Everyone had seen what just happened—dozens of eyes burned with heat, fixed on the business card in his hand; for them, this was nothing less than a ladder to heaven.

Now, not even teasing—

just talking to him a few words might become a talking point for life.

This wasn’t an exaggeration.

In Hengdian, you never know what dreamlike thing might happen.

“Thank you.”

He patted Liu Er’s shoulder and smiled: “But my throat’s a bit itchy—I’ll smoke another time~”

The light taps sent shivers through the other man’s body.

He quickly joined in with a sycophantic laugh.

“Hahaha.”

The sight made Li Luo burst into loud laughter.

The extras didn’t know why he was laughing, but laughing along was definitely safe—ten-odd men looked at each other, their laughter nearly echoing across the sky, softening even the cold wind.

A major producer had noticed a lowly extra.

And left him a business card.

Word was, the guy was handsome—probably caught his eye for his ass.

Another rumor claimed the kid had swung his sword, a flash of cold light, and his sword qi had punctured the producer’s tire, catching his attention—he was supposedly some martial sect’s heir.

Rumors swept through the Hengdian extra circle like a hurricane.

For a time,

people could be seen walking the streets of Hengdian carrying swords everywhere.

This supposedly true story further strengthened the Hengdian drifters’ faith—they believed one day they too could be spotted by a great director and walk the path to fame.

Meanwhile, Li Luo, who had triggered the hurricane, was now shouldering his backpack and desperately squeezing onto the green-skinned train.

After having a meal with Yu Hong.

He promptly packed his bags and returned home, ending this brief trip to Hengdian.

Before joining the production.

He could still go home and properly celebrate the New Year!