Chapter 7: Scene 7: Acting Out the Script

Scene 7: Acting Out the Script

The Jinhua Popo gripped Ding Minjun's throat with deadly force, while Zhou Zhiruo pleaded beside her: "Please spare her!"

Hearing Gao Yuanyuan's line, Lai Shuiqing, sitting beside the monitor, frowned—her line delivery was weak.

Gao Yuanyuan came from advertising and modeling; she had little formal acting training, and her lines sounded mechanical, like reading from a script.

If it were only the lines, it might be tolerable—after all, The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber had a dubbing budget—but the actor's performance… Lai Shuiqing stroked his beard and kept watching.

Chen Shasha, portraying Yin Li, now still unnamed as Chen Zihan, snapped:

"Sister Zhou, this Ding woman is sharp-tongued and constantly defies you as sect leader—yet you still defend her!"

Watching Chen Zihan's performance, Cheng Chen's eyes lit up—her line delivery and expressions utterly crushed Gao Yuanyuan, the female second lead.

Zhou Zhiruo hurriedly said: "This is an internal matter of our sect, none of outsiders' business. I have received my late master's final command; though my skills are meager…"

"Cut!"

Lai Shuiqing suddenly called stop.

"This performance won't do—do it again!" (Cantonese)

"Yes, Director."

Gao Yuanyuan nodded blankly, took a moment to process Lai Shuiqing's words, then re-entered her performance state:

"This is an internal matter of our sect, none of outsiders' business. I have received my late master's final command…"

"Cut! Do it again!"

Lai Shuiqing called stop again.

"This is an internal matter of our sect…"

"Cut! Again!"

Lai Shuiqing still spoke without expression.

"Cut! Again!"

"Again!"

"Again!"

…

After about ten failed takes, the scene still hadn't passed.

The crew, especially the thin-costumed Emei Nüxia, had long grown impatient.

Even Cheng Chen, standing nearby, felt sweat on Gao Yuanyuan's behalf—this woman clearly had no talent for acting!

Lai Shuiqing's relentless, expressionless calls of "Cut!" left Gao Yuanyuan frantic; she could only look helplessly toward her agent.

But a lowly agent dared not interfere in front of the director—she could only silently share Gao Yuanyuan's anxiety.

If Lai Shuiqing would just give some acting guidance, no one would be this broken.

But he scowled in silence—no one, not even Gao Yuanyuan, could endure this torment.

Seeing everyone's impatient expressions, Lai Shuiqing finally spoke slowly: "@#￥%…"

Everyone: (⊙_⊙)?

Lai Shuiqing: …

I knew it'd be like this. Everyone keeps telling me to explain the scenes to the actors—but you don't understand a word I say, so what's the point? Saying it's useless.

Lai Shuiqing was used to these confused stares; in an era when Mandarin wasn't even fully widespread, let alone his entire Cantonese rant.

Thinking of this, he glared irritably at Gao Yuanyuan.

That glare instantly terrified Gao Yuanyuan, who had already been tiptoeing on eggshells after ten failed takes.

Tears suddenly dripped, drip-drip, down her cheeks.

Everyone saw this and panicked—how could a single glare from the director make the popular young star cry?

Her agent rushed forward to comfort her; other crew members leaned in, peering toward the center of the set; the entire crew erupted into chaos.

Lai Shuiqing stroked his beard—have actors become this fragile now? I haven't even said anything—why are you crying?

Normally, Gao Yuanyuan wouldn't have broken down from just a director's glance—but she wasn't trained as an actor, and her acting talent was mediocre.

Even if she'd played a few roles, none had nearly as much screen time as a female second lead in a TV drama.

And this was a Jin Yong adaptation—a national classic. Any misstep could be a fatal blow to her career, even end it entirely.

Already insecure, she'd just heard rumors before joining the cast.

For example, Zhou Zhiruo was originally meant for Wang Yan, recommended by Su Youpeng.

But Wang Yan had already committed to Huanzhu Gege Disan Bu and had to decline.

At the time, Wang Yan's popularity was extremely high—in 2001, her portrayal of Bai Feifei in Wu Lin Wai Shi became a classic in many hearts.

In fact, Bai Feifei's character overlapped heavily with Zhou Zhiruo's—Wang Yan was the perfect fit for Zhou Zhiruo.

Entering the set under this rumor, Gao Yuanyuan, already insecure, had her first scene ruined by Lai Shuiqing's ten straight "Cuts!"—her mindset shattered.

She even wondered: Could the director replace her mid-shoot because she was this bad?

All this pressure turned the little blossom into a leaf drifting in the wind, shedding tears on set.

Ten minutes passed quickly; Gao Yuanyuan returned to the set, having been comforted by her agent.

But her eyes were red as rabbits', her face pale, her state terrible.

Lai Shuiqing frowned—this state wouldn't work for the next scene.

"Director Lai, how about I act as your interpreter? I'll convey your instructions—would that work?"

Cheng Chen stepped forward and whispered the suggestion beside Lai Shuiqing.

Hearing Cheng Chen's words, Lai Shuiqing's eyes lit up—yes, why hadn't he thought of this?

"Cheng, you're a lifesaver. My assistant is on leave these days—could you stay by my side as interpreter until he returns?"

Lai Shuiqing spoke to Cheng Chen in Cantonese.

"OK!" Cheng Chen said with a smile.

Then a strange phenomenon occurred before everyone's eyes.

A little-known minor character whispered a few words to Lai Shuiqing that no one else could understand.

He then walked up to Gao Yuanyuan, whose eyes were red, and spoke to her in Mandarin.

"That… Teacher Gao, Director Lai says you shouldn't be too tense—your performance just now had some issues."

"You need to relax. The Zhou Zhiruo you're portraying now is different from her earlier and later stages."

"She just lost her master, and her fellow disciples have all been captured by Jinhua Popo, their lives in peril…"

Cheng Chen went on at length, mixing Lai Shuiqing's exact words with his own understanding of the character Zhou Zhiruo.

Gao Yuanyuan blinked her Kartzlan big eyes, staring fixedly at Cheng Chen, listening silently, occasionally nodding, her eyes sometimes flashing with unusual brilliance…

The entire set fell utterly silent; everyone stared wide-eyed at this bizarre scene.

A supporting actor was giving acting notes to the lead—and this guy had once been a background extra.

How could this possibly make sense? It defied logic!

At first, some looked at Cheng Chen with mockery: a background extra trying to give acting advice to a star? He must be desperate for fame.

But the more they listened, the more they realized Cheng Chen's level was far from ordinary.

Even the veteran actor playing Jinhua Popo and Chen Zihan, who had been in the industry for years, nodded repeatedly.

Watching Cheng Chen give the notes, Lai Shuiqing nodded in approval.

Although he couldn't speak Mandarin, he could understand it.

Cheng Chen's acting guidance was meticulous—he practically broke it down and fed it into Gao Yuanyuan's mouth.

Professional but not rigid; deeper and more penetrating than even Lai Shuiqing's own explanations.

This was Cheng Chen's unique advantage, forged in the trenches as a background extra, something others lacked.

"This kid's a talent, and he's not bad-looking either—aside from having no fame… hmm, I've got a period light comedy lined up; maybe let him try out for it…"

Lai Shuiqing thought to himself.