Chapter 90: Episode Recording

“Jia Jing, Jia Jing.”

“Li Luo, Li Luo.”

“Chen Xiuli, Chen Xiuli.”

In the hall specially prepared by China Television for the press conference, nearly a hundred people gathered, all holding up fan signs and chanting those three names in waves, their voices spreading like tides.

Li Luo had never experienced anything like this before and found it extremely fresh.

“Are those really my fans?”

He poked Zhang Long and pointed to a girl holding a fan sign with the character “Luo.”

Several actors preparing to go on stage stood behind the backdrop signs, waiting for the host to call them up; the most signs bore Jia Jing’s name, followed by his, then Chen Xiuli’s.

“Want the truth?”

Zhang Long smiled wryly.

Of course Wu Dun didn’t need to show up personally—his presence here to handle coordination was enough.

“The truth.”

Li Luo had a rough idea.

“Hired paid fans.”

Zhang Long spread his hands and said with a grin: “Don’t take this to heart—it’s standard industry practice.”

As the male lead, you can’t have zero momentum.

But when you truly lack popularity,

you have to use cash power!

All the Taipei promotions were indoors, and this was the only fan-meeting press event; hiring people wouldn’t cost much—just enough to create the illusion of popularity on TV.

“Your ‘The Smiling, Proud Wanderer’ is also screening here.”

Zhang Long patted his shoulder and added: “There are definitely people who like your dramas, but they might not have time to come.”

“It’s still better to hire some people.”

Li Luo wouldn’t feel disappointed—he was thrilled someone was paying to boost his popularity.

He bounced on the spot a few times, readying himself to go on.

“Please welcome Miss Jia Jing.”

As soon as the host finished speaking, the crowd’s cheers surged several decibels higher.

“Go for it.”

The actors exchanged fist bumps; Jia Jing stepped out first.

Soon after, the host’s voice rang out again: “Next is Mr. Li Luo, the actor who portrayed Zhang Wuji—please give him a warm round of applause.”

He fist-bumped Chen Xiuli.

Then tapped Zhang Long’s fist.

Amid a moderately enthusiastic applause, Li Luo took the microphone from a crew member, sprinted out from behind the backdrop, and waved cheerfully to the audience with a broad smile.

“Hello everyone.”

He stepped beside Jia Jing, stood steady, and bowed to the camera:

“I’m actor Li Luo.”

His energetic entrance and tall, handsome appearance instantly sparked cheers from the Taiwanese girls, their fan signs waving more vigorously than before.

Ninety-nine percent of those holding signs were women.

A good-looking guy had appeared.

Who wouldn’t be happy?

Another call, and Chen Xiuli stepped out as well.

Jia Jing on the left, Li Luo in the center, Chen Xiuli on the right—the three waved together toward the camera, with a massive backdrop behind them displaying the words “The Heaven and Earth Martial Gathering” from ‘The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber.’

Quickly, the host launched into a series of pre-prepared questions.

They each answered in turn.

Most were lighthearted behind-the-scenes stories and questions about ‘The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber,’ such as which woman Zhang Wuji liked best.

“Very good~”

After asking the final question, the host flipped over the next card: “What’s next? Wow—live performance! How about Jia Jing and Li Luo give us a live act?”

“Yes!!!”

The nearly hundred people were incredibly supportive, their cheers surging upward.

Their expressions were intensely excited—even the paid fans.

In the early 2000s, entertainment options were scarce.

This was the golden era for stars, and fan culture was in full swing; seeing a star perform live could make fans happy for days afterward.

“What kind of performance?”

The host stepped between Li Luo and Jia Jing and shouted to the crowd: “I’ll tell you the truth—I know the Ming Cult’s ultimate technique, the Qi-Ni Move. Let me demonstrate it for you.”

Then he began gesturing wildly with his hands and feet.

Everyone burst into laughter.

“Qi-Ni Move!”

The host stomped hard on one foot, holding the microphone and speaking rapidly: “Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, my technique has succeeded—on the left is Zhang Wuji.”

Jia Jing stepped aside, crossed her arms behind her back.

She tilted her chin slightly upward.

Just like her pose when she had disguised herself as a man on set.

“Ooooh~~~”

The crowd erupted with teasing shouts.

They knew a role-switch was coming and were eagerly anticipating it.

“And on the right.”

The host gestured toward Li Luo with one hand: “Ta-ta-ta-la~ it’s Zhao Min!!!”

Amid the stunned stares of the fan club members, Li Luo turned sideways, performed a graceful curtsy, then delicately twisted his wrist into a precise orchid finger gesture, casting a sultry, flirtatious glance.

Whatever skills you learn, there’s always a time they’ll come in handy.

When he heard about the role-switch,

he immediately decided to bring out Lin Pingzhi’s feminine grace.

This move surprised even the host—and Jia Jing hadn’t expected him to pull off such a performance; she’d thought he’d just sway his hips like a woman and be done with it!

The moment he formed the orchid finger, the entire venue fell silent.

Li Luo wondered:

Had he caused a backlash?

He was about to drop the pose when the women below finally reacted—a piercing scream erupted first, triggering a wave of chaos.

“Zhang Wuji!”

Someone didn’t know his name and shouted the drama title.

“Li Luo!!!”

Those who remembered his name.

Amid deafening screams, fan signs waved wildly in a dense storm.

These crowds naturally had a taste for danmei—otherwise, later generations of idol stars wouldn’t have embraced effeminacy; it was all market-driven.

Li Luo was already handsome, and now he presented this effeminate look.

It struck them right at their sweet spot.

Watching their ecstatic faces, Li Luo retracted his orchid finger, stepped forward with tiny, dainty steps to Jia Jing, and squealed in a high-pitched voice: “Zhang Wuji, tell me—do you really love me?”

“Hahahaha~”

The hundred women laughed together, like wind through pine trees.

Seeing Jia Jing forcibly suppress her smile, her belly convulsing as she fought to hold back laughter, they laughed even harder, collapsing into fits.

In Hong Kong and Taiwan, they don’t fear you not being outrageous.

They fear you have nothing outrageous to offer.

Unlike mainland variety shows that take themselves seriously, Hong Kong and Taiwan’s entertainment circles were wild back then—had the antics of ‘Super Wudi Host’ been aired later,

the production team would’ve been crushed!

Ignoring the crowd’s reactions, Li Luo solemnly punched Jia Jing’s shoulder: “Stop it, tell me already!”

After speaking, he stuck his hip out slightly.

The most deadly humor is serious comedy.

Not just the fans below—even Jia Jing could no longer hold back; she burst into laughter into the microphone.

Yawns are contagious, and laughter is too.

Everywhere in the press conference hall, people were doubled over with laughter, triggered by Li Luo.

Zhang Long wiped away the tears streaming from his eyes and gave him a firm thumbs-up—this effect? After the drama aired, it would be perfect!

Back and forth several times,

they finally finished performing the short segment.

The result was excellent—at least the cheers for Li Luo had grown much louder.

The press conference continued onward.

As Singapore’s representative, Chen Xiuli took the microphone and performed a song.

When it came back around, it was Li Luo’s turn to appear.

They had just filmed a wuxia movie—showing off his martial skills would be a waste; the earlier soft, feminine demeanor vanished from him as he performed a master-level long fist form, fierce and powerful.

He now displayed an entirely different charm, radiating pure masculinity.

Most people love contrast.

Li Luo loved it too, which was why, two nights ago, when he saw Xu Ruo riding a muscular motorcycle, his eyes lit up.

The women in the audience loved it too.

His clean, crisp, wide-ranging movements made them scream with excitement.

After completing all the segments, they turned their backs to the fans as a backdrop and faced the reporters for interviews—finally, the Star Fall Continent launch event for The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber was recorded.

Never mind anything else—thanks to the three of them’s energetic performances,

the scene was lively enough.

After returning the microphone to the reporters, Li Luo glanced at Jia Jingwen, who was preparing to sign autographs, and turned to head backstage.

“Li Luo, wait.”

“Can you sign my autograph?”

“Li Luo.”

“Here.”

Though the venue was noisy, he still heard those calls.

Li Luo turned and saw a group of Taiwanese girls gathered together, waving excitedly at him, their autograph books raised in unison.

These weren’t plants.

They were holding Jia Jingwen’s fan signs.

“Sure~”

Li Luo flashed a handsome smile and strode over.

Since signing for the flight attendant last time, he’d kept a low profile for a while—though he’d taken plenty of photos with extras on set, this was still only his second autograph session.

“You were so funny just now~”

One of the Taiwanese girls handed him her autograph book, beaming at Li Luo: “I’m so excited for The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber to air.”

“Thank you.”

Taking the pen and paper, Li Luo raised an eyebrow: “What’s your name?”

“Xiao Rou.”

The girl beamed even brighter.

Li Luo carefully wrote a blessing, then added his specially practiced signature.

When signing autographs, it’s best to make them flashy.

It helps avoid potential pitfalls.

And it should be simplified—quick to write, like Principal Gu’s signature, which looked like a whirlwind of fried potato sticks—full of spirit.

Xiao Rou took back her autograph book and stepped aside for the next fan.

“Wishing Xiao Rou peace, joy, and happiness every day.”

The words on the page made the girl glance at Li Luo again—he was still earnestly signing, his expression focused and handsome, making her heart pound wildly.

Her grip loosened.

Jia Jingwen’s fan sign rolled off and fell to the floor.

The press conference had ended by afternoon.

But there was no time to rest.

The three got into the car and headed straight to their next destination—high ratings and overwhelming promotion were essential; this was an era where even fine wine feared a back alley.

Not just now—future generations were the same.

If promotion was done right,

even a weight-loss movie could earn billions at the box office.

Although the promotional focus was on Jia Jingwen, Li Luo and Chen Xiuli weren’t idle either—after countless interviews, performances, photo sessions, and banquets, they returned to the hotel only in the dead of night.

That feeling was even more exhausting than filming.

After a quick wash, he barely touched the pillow before falling asleep.

Early the next morning,

the crew picked up a few more people to film a short clip, then rushed straight to the Hua Shi studio to prepare for the recording of TV Three Idiots.

They hurried into the makeup room.

Jia Jingwen stretched, then collapsed onto a nearby sofa.

This job wasn’t for anyone lacking energy—she’d been drinking until two a.m. last night and had to wake up early today for appointments; even Li Luo’s physique felt tired.

“Bring me some braised pork rice.”

She waved her arm lazily: “Forget it—I’m going to indulge. I’m eating meat!”

Arriving at the studio

didn’t mean recording could start immediately.

Makeup preparation and program flow coordination took up a lot of time.

For any variety show that appeared on TV for just minutes, hours of work were needed—unless it was a pure chat show.

The longer you stayed in the studio, the better the perks had to be.

Though they were helping with promotion and normally received no appearance fee, such things were mutually beneficial.

So some related benefits were still provided.

Food and drink were among them.

But Taiwan variety shows had very limited budgets, usually offering only basic meals.

“I’ll have braised pork rice too.”

Li Luo raised his hand to a crew member, about to continue.

“Give him two portions.”

Jia Jingwen and Chen Xiuli spoke in unison, finishing his sentence for him; they exchanged glances and burst out laughing.

After months of filming, who didn’t know who?

This guy was famous in the crew for his appetite—making countless female crew members envious and jealous.

Li Luo chuckled, picked up a red-skinned banana from the fruit platter, and ate it slowly.

This fruit,

he’d only tried for the first time since coming to Taipei.

Soft, sticky, sweet, delicious.

Before long, lunch arrived; the actors and their assistants gathered around a small table, laughing and chatting as they ate.

“Hello, hello.”

A few minutes later, the makeup room door opened, followed by an overly enthusiastic greeting: “Isn’t this the cast of The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber I’ve been waiting for? So sorry—I was just filming another segment.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

Chen Jianzhou led the way, followed by a crowd of others rushing in.

“Hello.”

“Welcome to TV Three Idiots.”

“Sister Jingwen.”

Voices of greeting filled the air.

Seeing this, the group who had just finished eating stood up quickly.

“Everyone knows Sister Jingwen.”

Chen Jianzhou stepped forward with a wide smile, extending his hand: “This is my good friend Li Luo. I’m really sorry—I should’ve come out to greet you earlier. My bad, my bad!”

Okay, how many times had they met now?

Already “good friends”!

You don’t hit someone smiling at you—Li Luo smiled and shook his hand: “Work comes first—we just got here too.”

“Good.”

Chen Jianzhou quickly introduced the others who came in: “This is Luo Zhixiang, my partner.”

“Hello, hello.”

Luo Zhixiang, with his yellow hair, also beamed, extending both hands politely: “Call me Little Pig. Welcome to TV Three Idiots.”

At this time, he was just beginning to gain some fame.

“It’s an honor to be on your show.”

Li Luo gripped the time-management master’s hand firmly, his expression serious: “Please give me plenty of guidance.”

Thank you to Sexy Little Cucumber for the 1500 coins!