Li Feifei took a few photos as instructed by Xu Qiao and handed him the phone to look at.
In the photos, water marks on Xu Qiao’s temples and face were clearly visible. His eyes were half-closed, and his complexion and lips excessively pale, indicating obvious signs of illness.
Wrapped in a large towel from neck to toe, only a small piece of white fabric peeked out beneath the towel. It blended with the color of the white towel, making it almost indistinguishable without zooming in.
“Big Brother, why take a photo of this?” Li Feifei was somewhat puzzled, wondering if his big brother was trying to evoke sympathy.
Well, he did look oddly pitiful.
Xu Qiao raised his gaze, speaking slowly with a hint of genuine delight, “It will come in handy sooner or later.”
Better to be prepared early than late. When brought out by someone with ill intentions in the future, only then would it bear the weight of the word “evidence.”
Selecting one to upload on his Weibo, Xu Qiao added a cheering emoji as a caption, then casually set the phone aside.
Li Feifei wiped his hair with the towel, holding Xu Qiao’s hand, which felt chilly. “Big Brother, go change your clothes quickly.”
Xu Qiao rubbed his temples, finally getting up to grab dry clothes for the changing room. A chilly wind swept through on the way, piercing through the soaked white dress, making the cold seem to seep into his bones. Shivering, Xu Qiao felt a dull ache at the back of his head.
His vision darkened a bit, and his steps faltered. Leaning against the changing room door, he took a moment to catch his breath.
“Are you changing as well?” came a somewhat familiar voice from behind.
Before Xu Qiao could turn around, he tumbled down entirely.
Just before losing consciousness, that person promptly caught him, wrapping a strong arm around his waist. Xu Qiao felt his face pressed against the warm neck of the person. A scent, a blend of ginger and honeyed rum, reached his nose — spicy yet comforting.
When he woke up again, the outside of the window was pitch black.
In a daze, Xu Qiao caught a whiff of a somewhat pungent smell of disinfectant, realizing he was in a hospital room.
His wet clothes had been replaced, and the icy feeling in his limbs gradually eased. Lying under the warm blanket, Xu Qiao momentarily indulged in laziness, unwilling to open his eyes, wanting to sleep a little longer.
However, waves of “good,” “perfect,” and “unbelievable” game sounds echoed in his ears. The sounds were intentionally lowered, but once awake in the silent hospital room, they stubbornly intruded. Wrinkling his brows, he kept his eyes shut.
Thinking it was Li Feifei playing a game, Xu Qiao muttered, “Lower the volume a bit.”
The game sounds obediently quieted down. Just as Xu Qiao was about to drift back to sleep, a faint, elusive scent of perfume wafted into his nose.
Li Feifei never used perfume. With this in mind, Xu Qiao opened his eyes, and the unexpectedly familiar face of a man appeared before him. The scent, a mix of spicy ginger and sweet honey, stealthily infiltrated his nostrils.
Xu Qiao paused for a moment, then swiftly sat up.
Xu Siyi sat at the bedside, his long legs reaching the floor, adopting a relaxed posture reminiscent of someone posing for a magazine cover.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
He gazed at Xu Qiao, his lips lifting slightly. “Awake.”
“Qtfgf’r Mflofl?” We Hljb regnfsfv atf tbrqlaji gbbw, gfjilhlcu la kjr pera atf akb bo atfw. Llr ujhf rfaaifv bc We Vlsl. Ckjgf atja tf wluta cba yf ojwliljg klat atja cjwf, tf qtgjrfv la vloofgfcais, “Qtfgf’r ws jrrlrajca?”
We Vlsl gfqilfv, “Qfca ab yes sbe rbwf obbv.”
Coafg gfmflnlcu atf jcrkfg, atf gbbw ofii lcab j yglfo rlifcmf.
Recalling the faint perfume scent before losing consciousness, Xu Qiao hesitated to ask, “Did you bring me to the hospital?”
Xu Siyi nodded.
Xu Qiao paused, shifting his gaze away. “Thank you.”
Xu Siyi leaned forward slightly, his slightly elongated eyes narrowing with a smile as he gazed at Xu Qiao.
Unlike Xu Qiao’s long eyelashes, Xu Siyi’s were not particularly long but dense. His eyebrow ridge was well-defined, slightly prominent, with sharp eye contours that gave his eyes a deep and clean appearance.
Xu Qiao didn’t know what to say, but fortunately, at that moment, the sound of the doorknob being turned broke the silence, dispelling the lingering awkwardness.
Li Feifei entered, carrying porridge. Relieved to see Xu Qiao awake, she exclaimed, “Big Brother, you’re finally awake.”
Seeing Li Feifei return, Xu Siyi stood up, donned the duckbill cap and mask lying nearby, and waved to both of them. “I’ll take off now.”
As he was about to turn away, he seemed to recall something and turned back. “Do you want that role of the young Daoist?”
Knowing that Xu Qiao didn’t secure the role, Xu Siyi could easily guess that something went wrong.
Xu Qiao hesitated briefly. He wasn’t particularly bothered about not getting the role. There was some irritation, not because of missing out on the role but due to someone taking something from him. As for the character itself, he wasn’t particularly attached.
Honestly, he preferred the male lead in the Water Ghost arc, but he knew it wouldn’t be his.
Xu Qiao shook his head.
Xu Siyi glanced at him, nodded, and then walked away.
Li Feifei escorted Xu Siyi to the door, feeling like he forgot something as he watched him leave. Concerned for Xu Qiao’s health, he hurriedly returned to the hospital room.
Sitting beside Xu Qiao, Li Feifei opened the porridge cover and said, “Big Brother, you fainted because you were tired and exposed to the cold wind this afternoon. You even have a slight fever now.”
“Director Jiang said to come back to the set once you’re fully recovered, no need to rush.” Li Feifei handed the porridge to Xu Qiao, sighing. “It’s convenient to stay in the hospital for a couple of days. Let’s go back after Guan Han leaves.”
Mentioning Guan Han, Li Feifei couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
Xu Qiao took a sip of the porridge and nodded.
“This time, we really owe Xu Siyi,” Li Feifei said, then furrowed his brow. “I feel like I forgot something.”
Xu Qiao raised an eyebrow and casually asked, “Didn’t you want an autograph?”
Li Feifei’s face froze, letting out a groan. He forgot to ask for an autograph again. Twice in a row. He wasn’t a qualified fan!
When Xu Qiao returned to the set after recovering, Guan Han had already left.
Her three days as a guest star cast a strange gloom over the entire crew. Now that she had finally left, it would take some time for everyone to recover.
Jiang Wen’s expression became progressively worse each day. People dared not provoke him, being cautious in their actions, fearing a scolding from the director who was still in a bad mood.
Upon Xu Qiao’s return, many sighed with relief.
Everyone knew that Director Jiang was quite pleased with Xu Qiao. His return would undoubtedly lift the director’s mood a few notches.
The assistant director reviewed Guan Han’s scenes over the past three days, his face contorting. He sighed, “Director Jiang, the tight schedule for Guan Han, uh, affected her performance. We might have fewer usable shots…”
His tone was polite, but Jiang Wen was unreserved. “Poor performance? I think she wasn’t even trying to act properly. You call that a poor performance when it looks like crap?”
The assistant director hesitated, not daring to continue the conversation, then suggested, “Should we offer more money to bring her back for a few additional scenes?”
Jiang Wen gave him a cold glance. “I don’t want to spend another coin on her.”
The assistant director closed his mouth.
Jiang Wen paced irritably. He didn’t just not want to spend another coin on her, he even contemplated reclaiming the previously paid remuneration.
What the hell was she acting?
Regret flooded him. He truly regretted it. He spent a hefty sum, and for this performance, it was a loss, a significant one.
He had heard from other directors that some actors, leveraging their popularity, liked to exert themselves, as if not making extra demands was beneath their “big shot” status. Some signed for several days but, if unable to complete the shoot, tried various ways to get more money from the production.
He couldn’t stand her annoying habit. He was frugal. He didn’t want to give her an extra coin. Expect him to grovel, spend more money to bring her back? Dream on. He wouldn’t dare release those crappy scenes even if she begged him.
Jiang Wen rolled his eyes, finding some comfort in thinking about Xu Qiao.
Thankfully, having someone sensible and trouble-free was particularly reassuring. The money spent on Xu Qiao was well worth it.
The assistant director continued scrutinizing the footage, furrowing his brow. “Director, there are several frames where Xu Qiao’s face is visible. It’s not very obvious, but if we slow it down, it’s noticeable. Should we consider cutting it or shooting an additional scene with an obscured face?”
“No need to cut it,” Jiang Wen responded without hesitation.
“Huh?”
Jiang Wen chuckled, the laughter carrying a hint of coldness. “Cut what? This footage looks great.”
The assistant director nervously asked, “But… what if someone discovers it’s a stunt double?”
“Just one or two frames. No one will notice,” Jiang Wen reassured, patting his shoulder.
If they discovered it, so be it.
The director had spoken, so what more could the assistant director do? As he continued reviewing the footage, he became increasingly troubled. “There are too few usable shots for Guan Han, Director.”
Jiang Wen’s expression seemed resigned. “Well, let it be few.”
The assistant director hesitated, wondering if Director Jiang had given up.
Jiang Wen observed the assistant director’s worried expression. Shifting his gaze back to Guan Han’s face on the screen, he sneered. I advise you to be kind, to choose the right path.
Jiang Wen wasn’t afraid of whatever Guan Han might do to him. Over the past few years, he had been working on small web dramas, whether they made money or not, deviating somewhat from his initial purpose when studying directing. Jiang Wen had already decided that if the response to “Chatting About” was mediocre, he would change careers.
With this thought in mind, he didn’t care about potentially offending Guan Han. So what if he offended her? I’m not staying in the entertainment industry, buddy. Do whatever you want.
A production assistant approached, informing him that Xu Qiao had returned.
Jiang Wen’s expression improved slightly.
He opened Guan Han’s footage and then Xu Qiao’s scenes. He watched Jin’er’s, then the one where he acted as a substitute for Guan Han, wearing Meng Xuan’s costume.
Jiang Wen lit a cigarette but didn’t smoke. He held it between his fingers as if lost in thought. The assistant director glanced at him, sensing that something was off with Jiang Wen today. Jiang Wen had a bit of a smoking habit, but he had never smoked on set before.
“Director Jiang…?”
Jiang Wen waved his hand to indicate everything was fine, pacing back and forth, his mind filled with various thoughts.
“Chatting About” was his final chance, his last attempt to stir up ripples. If this work couldn’t create any waves, he had decided to exit the industry. Who entered this field without some ambition? However, despite the indispensable combination of opportunities and abilities, after years of ups and downs, he remained an obscure director.
Having directed numerous dramas, experience and insight were still intact. He could see Xu Qiao’s charm in the scenes, even with fewer lines. Whenever Xu Qiao appeared in a shot, even with the main leads nearby, they would pale in comparison.
It was a kind of captivating allure that firmly grasped attention, like a splash of bright color suddenly entering a black and white photo. This made Jiang Wen, against all odds, have a bit of secretive anticipation and confidence in “Chatting About,” a web drama that was originally destined to make no waves.
Jiang Wen extinguished the cigarette and made a decision.
……
Late at night, after finishing the day’s scenes, Jiang Wen asked Xu Qiao to stay. The scriptwriter of “Chatting About” stayed as well.
In the chaotic and crowded set, all the main lights went out. Only three people remained under a single incandescent bulb, creating a conspicuous halo in the darkness.
Xu Qiao saw Jiang Wen spreading the script in front of him and the scriptwriter. Jiang Wen pointed to the dog-eared pages of the script and spoke in a steady voice, “Do you know why I kept you two here today?”
Keeping both himself and the scriptwriter, and then bringing out the script, it was evident that he intended to modify his scenes. Xu Qiao’s eyes curved with a pleasing arc, his voice carrying a bit of tired laziness. “Does Director Jiang think the script needs revision?”
Ty for the chapter 💕
Thanks for the chapter! That woman will get the dish she deserves!
“Oops, we forgot to crop out your double’s face in this shot”
“Oops, we accidentally released behind the scenes videos showing your true colors”
I can’t wait 🤣
Me too ^^
It’s gonna be pie in the face awesome! 😉
Thank you for the chapter 😍 ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
Thank you for the update ☺️
Thank you for the update!
“I’m not staying in the industry, buddy. Do whatever you want.” LOVE this switch-up of reasons for a director not to give a fuck about divas. Usually they are lauded or experienced in these novels. The “you can’t end my career I’ve already prepared to bounce” take is a fun refreshing take lol.