raknovel Chapter 76 Tian Xiwei: I Died on the Spot
Chapter 76 Tian Xiwei: I Died on the Spot
In the evening, news came from the talent show.
The production team sent over the recording schedule for this week. Xu Kunkun will be performing in the second round, and he has been moved from the fourth group to the second group.
The other party did not explain the reason, but everyone understood that if the position was moved forward, the camera resources would have to be redistributed.
Xu Wen took a screenshot and sent it to Zeng Hao, adding, "The production team made the adjustment on their own initiative; we didn't request it."
Zeng Hao glanced at it and casually placed his phone face down on the table.
This is not unexpected; the production team is making adjustments based on feedback from the first round of live performances.
Whom the camera focuses on is their own judgment, and has nothing to do with external pressure.
But this judgment already reveals a lot.
He didn't reply to the message; he just left it there.
Chu Ran arrived around 9 p.m.
She had a film crew schedule, filming from 3 pm to evening, and was still wearing the crew's jacket while her own jacket was folded on top of her backpack.
My backpack was bulging, with textbooks and scripts from the Shanghai Theatre Academy crammed together, making it impossible to tell them apart.
Zeng Hao was in his office, with tomorrow's schedule laid out on his desk. Only the desk lamp was on; the overhead light remained off.
Chu Ran didn't knock. She first pushed the door open a crack and peeked in. Seeing that he didn't look up, she quietly walked in and threw her schoolbag on the sofa.
"You haven't left yet."
"Um."
She sat down at the other end of the sofa, took out her textbook from the side pocket of her bag, put it on her lap, flipped through a couple of lines, and then snapped it shut.
"Tomorrow is acting class," she said softly, "and they're going to check our acting analysis from last semester. We need to memorize it."
Zeng Hao turned to the second page of the schedule without saying a word.
She reopened the book, placed it on her knees, lowered her head, but her eyes were wandering, clearly thinking about something else.
After a while, she simply closed the book and leaned back on the sofa.
"The crew had a crying scene today," she rubbed her eyes, "and it took four takes to get it right, and my eyes are still sore."
Zeng Hao then put down the document and looked up.
The light shone from the side, and her eyes were slightly red at the corners, barely noticeable unless you looked closely, giving off a soft, resilient vibe as if she had just finished filming.
"Take a nap."
"I'm not sleeping," she shook her head, "I have to memorize things."
This time she was truly absorbed; her lips moved slightly as she silently memorized it in her mind.
Zeng Hao silently moved the lamp closer to her, letting the light cover half of the sofa, before looking down at the documents again.
She didn't say thank you, she just quietly carried it on her back.
There were no other sounds in the office except for the occasional soft rustling of pages turning.
Later, she closed the book, turned her back to him, pulled her coat over herself, and closed her eyes.
"Just ten minutes of sleep," her voice was already a little slurred. "Wake me up when it's time."
Zeng Hao glanced at her.
They neither said it was good nor bad, and continued reading the document.
She fell asleep quickly, but turned over halfway through the night. Her coat wasn't pulled up to her shoulders; it just hung loosely on her shoulders.
After Zeng Hao finished reading the documents, he glanced up at the sofa and saw that his coat had slipped down to his waist, leaving his shoulders exposed.
He got up and walked over, gently pulling his coat up to cover her shoulders, then quickly returned to his seat to continue looking at the schedule.
By the time he realized what was happening, it was already getting light outside the window, but the lamp was still on.
Chu Ran woke up on her own, her hair a little messy. She picked up the textbook that had fallen on the ground and put it on her lap. She rubbed her eyes and started memorizing again.
He didn't wake her; she woke up naturally.
After a while, she closed the book, stood up, put on her coat, and slung her backpack over her shoulder.
I walked over to his table and saw the jacket draped over his shoulder. I reached out and gently took it off, folded it twice, and placed it on the corner of the table. The movement was so quiet that it made no sound.
Then she picked up her schoolbag and walked towards the door, turning back halfway there.
"I have an acting class in the afternoon, and the teacher will take attendance."
"Um."
"I'm keeping track of the time; I should be able to make it."
Zeng Hao did not respond.
She turned around and placed her hand on the doorknob.
……
When Sister Liu sent the screenshot to the work group, Xu Wen was pouring water.
She glanced down at her phone; half the water had been poured, and the cup had almost tipped over.
I quickly put down the cup, zoomed in on the screenshot, stared at it for three seconds, and then suddenly looked up.
"Mr. Zeng."
Zeng Hao was still looking at the documents, without even looking up.
"The final payment for iQiyi has arrived," Xu Wen said, turning his phone screen up. "Sister Liu said it just came into the account, 64.87 million."
Zeng Hao put down the documents and picked up his phone to take a look.
The payment notification, amount, and timestamp were all clearly displayed, with a note stating "Final payment of iQiyi talent show contract".
He handed the phone back after reading it.
"Have Sister Liu update the accounts."
"That's it?" Xu Wen took the phone, his expression almost breaking down. "President Zeng, with this, our accounts are almost 65 million, and all you say is 'update the accounts'?"
"Um."
Xu Wen took a deep breath, stuffed his phone into his pocket, sat down in a chair, and muttered to himself, "Sixty-five million, sixty-five million, okay, just a number, normal."
Zeng Hao has picked up the documents again.
Has the schedule for the third round of recording been confirmed?
Xu Wen was taken aback: "Huh?"
"Xu Kunkun, third round."
She quickly rummaged through her bag for her schedule, flipped through a couple of pages: "The production team sent over the call sheet next Thursday."
"Um."
Xu Wen closed the itinerary, glanced at him, and said nothing. He lowered his head to reply to Sister Liu's message, muttering to himself, "Sixty-five million and the third round of recording, they are equally important to him."
Zeng Hao ignored her and continued reading the documents.
Xu Kunkun's second round of recording was in the afternoon.
Zeng Hao didn't go to the scene; he asked Xu Wen to keep an eye on things while he stayed in the office to handle matters.
At 4 PM, Xu Wen sent the first message: "The performance was more stable than in the first round. The director said 'This is good,' and I heard it."
Zeng Hao glanced at it but didn't reply.
At 4:40, the second item reads: "Just finished, the applause was longer than the first round, I timed it, seventeen seconds. There was a reporter filming the whole thing, he didn't leave."
Around 5 PM, Chen, the business manager, sent a message directly to Zeng Hao without going through Xu Wen: "Topics related to Xu Kunkun naturally climbed to number fourteen on the trending searches. We didn't invest in any traffic; it was all natural. People in the industry understand the difference between natural and purchased traffic. We are very satisfied with this result."
After reading it, Zeng Hao only replied with two words: "Understood."
Put down your phone and get back to work.
Those in the know can easily tell the difference between naturally trending topics and those that are purchased.
The purchases were made during fixed time periods, the keywords were neatly arranged, the dwell time was precisely timed, and the interaction data was obviously fake.
Naturally, it spontaneously exploded in a short period of time, with genuine emotions and debates in the comments, and the sources of reposts were scattered, without any trace of a unified push.
Chen, the business manager, posted this not to praise Xu Kunkun, but to tell Zeng Hao that the platform had accepted his choice back then.
Xu Wen came home at six o'clock and the first thing he asked as he walked in was, "Have you checked Weibo?"
"Um."
"That sarcastic post," she put down her bag, "has completely turned against me in the comments section. The one that originally had the most likes, 'Small Company Trainee,' is now full of 'I take back what I said,' and it has over two thousand likes, even more than before."
Zeng Hao calmly turned a page of the document.
"There's another entertainment account," Xu Wen continued, "one of the three that first posted negative information. Today they changed the title to 'Re-evaluating this trainee,' and the comments are all calling him a fence-sitter."
"Um."
"Do you know what's the funniest thing?" Xu Wen sat down, "Dingsheng didn't say a word today, they played dead the whole time, acting like those scandals had nothing to do with them—"
"They didn't post it in the first place," Zeng Hao said calmly. "They paid someone to post it."
Xu Wen was stunned for a moment, then realized: "Yes, that's why they can pretend they don't know."
"Um."
She pondered the logic for a moment, then suddenly remembered something, took out her phone, pulled out a screenshot, and handed it over: "By the way, after Xu Kunkun finished recording, there was a short interview. The reporter asked who discovered him, and he said, 'Our company boss.' The reporter then asked what the boss thought of him, and he thought for a moment and said, 'He didn't say anything.'"
Zeng Hao glanced down at the screenshot.
It's a short video. Xu Kunkun is still wearing his recording uniform, standing in the corridor with a serious expression. He's not complaining; he's just telling the truth.
He returned the phone and turned to the next page of his schedule.
“He’s right,” Zeng Hao said. “I didn’t say anything.”
Xu Wen put his phone away, his lips twitched, but he didn't say anything.
...
Chu Ran's message came in the evening.
It wasn't sent to Zeng Hao, but to Tian Xiwei. Tian Xiwei intercepted it and sent it to Xu Wen, who found it funny and then forwarded it to Zeng Hao.
Tian Xiwei: "Didn't you have an acting class today? Did the teacher take attendance?"
Chu Ran: "I ordered it. I rushed back just in time, five minutes to spare."
Tian Xiwei: "Five minutes to spare? Where did you come from?"
Chu Ran: "The film crew got stuck in traffic taking taxis, so we ended up taking the subway. I memorized my lines on the subway, and when I got off, I rushed straight into the classroom. The teacher called my name and I answered. He glanced at me but didn't say anything."
Tian Xiwei: What lines were you memorizing back then?
Chu Ran: "I was reciting the scene where Yu Wanyin confronts Xie Yong'er on the subway, and the old man next to me glanced at me several times."
Tian Xiwei: "Hahaha, did he think you were arguing?"
Chu Ran: "Maybe the tone of that line was a bit too forceful, and I didn't lower my voice enough."
Tian Xiwei: "Does your director have some misunderstanding about you? This intensity..."
Chu Ran: "It's alright, just this one session today, no tomorrow. By the way, how's your physical training class?"
Tian Xiwei: "My teacher said my waist isn't flexible enough, but I think my waist is quite flexible."
Chu Ran: "Your waist is indeed not flexible enough."
Tian Xiwei: "Have you ever seen my waist?!"
Chu Ran: "I saw you when you changed clothes last time."
Tian Xiwei: "...Then it's alright."
Zeng Hao finished reading the chat and put down his phone.
Xu Wen, suppressing a laugh, said, "Isn't it quite interesting?"
Zeng Hao didn't say anything and continued reading the documents.
Xu Wen put away his phone, unable to suppress the smile on his face, and lowered his head to tidy up his things.
Xue Zhijian posted a Weibo post in the afternoon, a nine-second clip of his new song, featuring only a piano intro and no lyrics.
The comments below are all asking when it will be released.
Xu Wen forwarded the message to Zeng Hao, adding, "He asked about the Spring Festival Gala distribution channels last week. Is this a pre-event promotion or just a random post?"
Zeng Hao watched the video once and then put down his phone.
It was posted casually, but the timing was good.
Regarding the Spring Festival Gala distribution channels, he had already told Xue Zhijian that "it's not now," and the other party didn't press him further.
This Weibo post shows that he is pushing the pace himself—not waiting or relying on others, but first building up the popularity of the new song, so that when the window of opportunity arrives, the popularity will follow.
This judgment is correct.
Zeng Hao replied with two words: "Understood."
At 8 p.m., Fang Qing sent an email.
Title: First Draft of the Script for "Ning An Ru Meng" - Reviewed by Director Peng Bing
The main text consists of only one line: "The director has finished reading it and said he wants to schedule a time to talk to you. You can choose the time."
Zeng Hao glanced at the title.
There were still seven unread emails in her inbox. This one was marked with bold by Fang Qing, indicating that it was an important email.
He didn't open it; he simply closed his inbox and opened the updated accounting data from Sister Liu.
The amount of 64.87 million is clear in both its source and expenditure. The next payment will be the first installment of the TV station's framework agreement, to be received within 30 days of the contract being signed.
That script email is still lying in the list, untouched.
He closed the file and picked up his coat.
……
After the variety show star segment ended, Sunshine Entertainment's financial statements changed, but the office remained the same.
The lamp, the pile of contracts, the cup of tea that had gone cold—nothing had changed.
Zeng Hao printed out the first draft of the script that Fang Qing had sent him and left it on the table for two days.
Early on the third day, Peng Bing was summoned.
"This scene in episode eleven," Peng Bing flipped the script to the middle and pointed with his finger, "is the part where Ning An leaves the palace. In the original novel, it's a single storyline, but I want to split it into two—one where she leaves the palace, and the other where Pei Wenxuan receives the news. The script is being filmed in chronological order, so revising it would be a lot of work. Do you think it's necessary?"
Zeng Hao took the page, glanced at it, and immediately said, "Change it."
"If we're going to make changes, episodes eleven through thirteen will all need to be altered," Peng Bing said. "Fang Qing's side will need at least two weeks."
"Let her move," Zeng Hao handed the script back. "Dual storylines require high editing skills. The cinematographer needs to be informed in advance, so we can't wait until after filming to make changes."
Peng Bing made a note in his notebook and turned to the next page.
"There's another question, about the male lead."
"explain."
"The role of Pei Wenxuan." Peng Bing closed the script and placed it on his lap. "I've read it through, and the requirements for the temperament are too high. It's not something just any young actor in period dramas can pull off. A good sense of camera presence, a classical air, and emotional restraint—all three must be present simultaneously. I haven't found a suitable candidate on the market. Do you have any ideas?"
Zeng Hao pushed the folder on the table over.
Peng Bing looked down and opened the app; the first page contained a photograph.
A young man, with a campus background, this isn't a professionally edited promotional photo; it's more like a candid shot of his profile. He looks to be around nineteen years old, with very clean-cut features.
"Zhang Linghe," Zeng Hao said. "Nanjing Normal University, sophomore, signed a training contract, and his schedule can be adjusted."
Peng Bing stared at the photo for a while.
"A current student?"
"Um."
"No works at all?"
"no."
"That's just like you, Mr. Zeng."
Peng Bing flipped through the pages, revealing several snapshots of the drama club's performances. The image quality was so-so, but the poses were still recognizable.
"He came from the drama club," Peng Bing said after translating. "He has stage experience, but zero on-screen experience. That's risky..."
"A sense of camera presence isn't entirely based on experience," Zeng Hao said casually. "Some things are innate. He has it."
Peng Bing looked up at him.
How do you determine this?
"Look at that profile picture," Zeng Hao said. "It was a candid shot; he didn't know someone was taking it, but the angle and the pose are perfect, not staged."
Peng Bing flipped back to the first page, stared at the photo for a long time, and remained silent.
"And one more thing," Zeng Hao continued, "He's completely free during summer and winter vacations, so his cooperation is no problem. How long is your filming period?"
"The main filming took about five months." Peng Bing frowned. "What about his school..."
"I'll handle it."
Peng Bing closed the folder, then opened it again, flipped to the page with the screenshots, and looked at it again. The stage lighting was terrible, but Zhang Linghe's presence was undeniably impressive. He wasn't tense or forced; it was as if he was born to be on stage.
"You believe him," Peng Bing said.
"He's suitable," Zeng Hao replied. "That's a different matter."
Peng Bing paused for a moment, pondered for two seconds, and then pushed the folder back.
"I want to see him."
"Um."
...
The crew of "What Kind of Act" filmed the scene today where Xie Yong'er awakens to self-awareness.
In the original novel, Xie Yong'er is the female lead of "The Devil's Beloved Concubine," but screenwriter Fang Qing added an inner monologue during the adaptation. She begins to realize that she is not the true protagonist, and that this world has more than one fixed storyline.
The scene we filmed today is Xie Yong'er's first private conversation with Yu Wanyin after her awakening.
The two stood in the Imperial Garden, one in front of the other. The lines were written with great restraint, with a lot of subtext hidden beneath, making the performance quite challenging.
After Chu Ran finished walking the first scene, she stepped out of the scene, leaned against the camera car, casually smoothed down the ends of her hair, and looked down to rummage through her backpack.
Her bag was stuffed with two textbooks from the Shanghai Theatre Academy, one on acting theory and the other on literature, along with a stack of loose scripts, so much so that the zipper couldn't be closed properly. She nudged it with her knee and managed to close it.
Yang Shanshan was also on set today, discussing location scouting for the next project with Peng Bing. She followed them for half a day, and then came over to take a look at the monitor playback.
Chu Ran neatly arranged the script, put it back, and glanced up at Yang Shanshan.
"How many shows are you playing today?" Yang Shanshan asked.
"Three matches, this is the first one."
"That project, 'Ning An Ru Meng'?" Yang Shanshan asked casually, as if mentioning it offhand. "I heard it's going to start. Has the male lead been cast yet?"
Chu Ran thought for a moment.
"I don't know, I haven't heard of it."
"Oh." Yang Shanshan turned her gaze back to the monitor. "I'll ask Fang Qing."
Chu Ran lowered her head to tidy her schoolbag again, without saying anything more, and tucked the script under her textbook, this time zipping it up tightly.
She didn't think much of it.
But that's a strange question—the casting for "Ning An Ru Meng" was handled by Zeng Hao's side, so why is Yang Shanshan asking Fang Qing?
The thought had barely crossed my mind when it was interrupted by Peng Bing's shout of "Ready!"
She put her backpack down, walked back into the scene, and stood still, waiting for filming to begin.
...
The news from Dingsheng came from Xu Wen in the afternoon.
Not one, but three, one every five minutes.
The first point: "An account under Dingsheng posted an article saying that 'a certain small entertainment company's variety show division has too much luck, and there is considerable uncertainty in its entry into the costume drama market.' It did not name the company, but the accompanying image was a screenshot from the official website of Sunshine Entertainment."
Article 2: "Two entertainment media outlets followed suit, both citing 'industry insider analysis,' changing the wording but conveying the same meaning."
The third point: "Someone in the comments section asked if I was talking about Sunshine Entertainment, and someone replied, 'Yes, it is. They rely on finding loopholes in variety shows, and they've never done period dramas before. Can they really make it?'"
Zeng Hao finished reading the three articles and put his phone down.
Dingsheng timed this perfectly. The variety show had just ended, and the period drama had just started, precisely during the weakest transition period for Sunshine Entertainment.
If the statement "I've never done it before" is confirmed, it will affect future business development and negotiations with platforms.
He did not allow Xu Wen to respond.
Now is not the time.
"Ning An Ru Meng" is still in preparation, and any response would be like revealing our hand in advance. Once the work is released, there will be no need for further explanation.
He replied to Xu Wen with two words.
"understood."
Xu Wen stared at the two words for a while, replied "Okay," put down his phone, and muttered something under his breath, but no one could hear who he was talking about.
---
Zhang Linghe had just come out of the library when he received the call.
Around 4 p.m., there weren't many people on the Nanjing Normal University campus, and the trees along the roadside weren't fully green yet.
He walked up the library steps with his backpack on his back, his phone vibrated, he took it out, glanced at the number, and answered it.
"Zhang Linghe?"
"Um."
"This is from Sunshine Entertainment. Zeng Hao asked me to contact you." It was a woman's voice on the other end, her tone flat. "There's a project we'd like to discuss with you. Are you free recently?"
"What project?"
"A period drama, male lead," the other party said. "We'll discuss the details in person. Would it be convenient for you to come over, or should we go over?"
Zhang Linghe pulled his backpack strap up a little and stood on the steps for two seconds.
It was only recently that he signed a training contract with Sunshine Entertainment.
When he signed the contract, his mother asked him if the company was reliable.
He said he'd sign it first and see.
During this period, the company occasionally sent out some training materials and asked him to attend a few small events, but they never provided him with any real resources, and he never asked for them on his own initiative.
He thought that was probably all there was to it.
And this time, a male lead was thrown right at us?
Did a pie fall from the sky?
"I'll come over," he said. "Is the weekend okay?"
"Sure, you can set the time."
"Saturday afternoon."
"Okay, see you then."
After hanging up the phone, he put it back in his pocket and walked back to his dormitory, his steps no different from usual.
When I got back to the dorm, my roommate was playing video games and didn't even look up.
"Where did you go?"
"The library." Zhang Linghe put down his backpack, sat down on a chair, thought for a moment, and said, "Oh right, I might go to Qianhu City on Saturday. There's a project I need to discuss at the company."
Only then did my roommate look up.
"What project?"
"A period drama," Zhang Linghe said. "Let's go check it out first, and come back if it's not suitable."
My roommate said "oh" and then looked down at the screen again.
"Okay, bring back some Qianhu duck necks."
Zhang Linghe responded, pulled out a chair, took out the textbooks and spread them on the table, then looked down and flipped through the books.
---
A large green plant sits on the front desk, its leaves stretching out and taking up almost half of the countertop.
Zhang Linghe's view was almost blocked when he entered the room. He took a step to the right before he saw someone at the front desk.
The corridor wasn't long, and several celebrity posters hung on both sides. He glanced at them and saw Dilraba Dilmurat, Zhang Tianai, Xue Zhijian, and a still from the drama "Diamond Lover."
He paused for a second in front of the still image, then followed Xu Wen inside.
The meeting room was at the end of the corridor, and the door was open. Peng Bing was already inside, sitting at one side of a long table, with a script in front of him, but he wasn't looking at it; he was scrolling through his phone.
Zeng Hao sat opposite him, a stack of documents on the table, looking at the top page without looking up.
Zhang Linghe came in, put down his schoolbag, and sat down opposite Peng Bing.
"You're here," Xu Wen said from the doorway. "Would you like some water?"
"No, thank you."
Xu Wen said "Oh," turned around and left, closing the door behind him, but not completely, leaving a crack.
Peng Bing put his phone in his pocket and pushed the script over.
"Look at these two pages first."
It's the scene in episode eight of "Ning An Ru Meng" where Ning An and Pei Wenxuan part ways at the ferry.
Pei Wenxuan had only four lines, but the emotional intensity was immense. He knew this farewell was likely the last, but he couldn't say it, so he could only suppress all his feelings with a simple goodbye.
Zhang Linghe read it once, said nothing, and then read it again from the beginning.
Peng Bing looked at him.
"Finished watching?"
"Um."
"The third line is, 'Have a safe journey,'" Peng Bing said. "Just this one line, we'll act it out once."
Zhang Linghe looked up at Peng Bing, then at Zeng Hao.
Zeng Hao was still looking at the documents and ignored him.
He looked away, stared at the table, and mentally went over his lines.
"May you have a safe journey."
The voice was flat, and the emotions were suppressed, but so suppressed that they disappeared, leaving an empty feeling.
Peng Bing didn't speak, but wrote something in his notebook and looked up.
"Let's do it one more time."
Zhang Linghe went over it in his mind again, and this time he didn't speak immediately, pausing for three seconds.
"May you have a safe journey."
The sound was still flat, but there was something extra underneath—not much, but definitely there.
Peng Bing put down his pen and looked at him for a while.
"Do you know what Pei Wenxuan really meant by those words?"
Zhang Linghe thought for a moment.
"I don't want her to leave."
"More than that," Peng Bing said. "He knew why she left, and he knew it would be better for her if she left, so he didn't stop her. But he didn't want to see her off, so he told her to have a safe journey and let her go first, while he stayed behind."
Zhang Linghe went through this logic in his mind and remained silent.
"Again."
"May you have a safe journey."
This time, Peng Bing did not speak immediately.
The meeting room was quiet for about five seconds, and then Xu Wen's soft footsteps could be heard walking by in the corridor outside.
"Alright." Peng Bing closed the notebook, turned to look at Zeng Hao, and said, "Okay."
Zeng Hao turned to the next page of the document.
"Um."
Zhang Linghe sat opposite, savoring the lingering impression of the line he had just spoken, and glanced at Zeng Hao.
"What do you think?" he asked.
Zeng Hao put down the documents, looked up, and glanced at him.
"As expected."
Zhang Linghe paused for a moment, pondered for a while, nodded, and didn't ask any more questions.
Peng Bing opened the script and began to talk about the filming schedule and availability.
Historical dramas demand a much higher level of improvisation than modern dramas.
The feel of classical Chinese speech is not the same as modern spoken language, and very few actors can naturally grasp it.
Experienced directors would rather choose a newcomer with no existing works but a good feel for the language than a popular celebrity with a lot of works but no right style.
Peng Bing didn't look at Zhang Linghe when he said these things; he was speaking from the script, but the meaning was clear.
Zhang Linghe listened, jotted down a few times in his notebook, and then capped the pen.
"About the school," he began, "There are two months of summer vacation, plus taking leave, so I can have about three months free. You said the main filming will take five months..."
"I'll handle the remaining two months," Zeng Hao said. "You focus on filming."
Zhang Linghe put down his pen, looked at the table, and remained silent for a few seconds.
He studied performance at Nanjing Normal University. Several of his classmates had already taken on small projects, and someone asked him if he wanted to join them, but he didn't.
It's not that I don't want to, it's that I feel the time isn't right, or rather, I'm not ready yet.
Now this project is in front of us.
Male lead, period drama, directed by Peng Bing.
"Okay," he said. "I'll take it."
Peng Bing pushed the script toward him.
"Take it back and read it. The script reading starts next week, and you need to come."
"it is good."
---
Today, the filming of "What Kind of Conduct" features the scene where Yu Wanyin discusses with His Majesty and Xiahou Dan about getting Xie Yong'er drunk and obtaining a list of useful ministers and students under Prince Duan's command.
In the original work, this part is a straightforward scheme, but the adapted version adds layers.
Both are time travelers. On the surface, they are discussing matters between the emperor and empress, but in reality, they are having a secret meeting as allies. They need to conceal their identities as time travelers while precisely finalizing the details of getting them drunk and extracting information from them. They have a very strong sense of discretion.
Yu Wanyin appeared calm and meticulous, outwardly composed, but her eyes betrayed a deep wariness of the Prince of Duan's power; Xiahou Dan, on the other hand, displayed a tacit cooperation under the guise of an emperor, seemingly nonchalant, yet every word he uttered was meant to complete Yu Wanyin's plan.
The difficulty of this scene lies in this: both actors are outwardly playing the roles of ruler and subject, but underneath they are firmly convinced of their accompliceness; both layers must be established simultaneously.
After Chu Ran finished walking the first path, Peng Bing said that the vigilance of those at the bottom was too obvious, so they should go down two more steps.
Chu Ran returned to the starting point, took off her coat and draped it over the camera cart, placed her backpack beside her with the zipper open, and the Shanghai Theatre Academy's acting theory textbook was sticking out of the side pocket. She tried to press it down, but couldn't, and a corner was still sticking out.
She stood there for a while, then her phone vibrated.
Tian Xiwei sent a message: "Have you released your final exam schedule yet?"
Chu Ran glanced down and replied, "Not yet. They said last week it would be released this week, but there's still no sign of it."
Tian Xiwei: "We've already made our moves. Guess how many I have?"
Chu Ran: "Four gates?"
Tian Xiwei clutched her phone, her voice almost deflated: "Five subjects, five subjects! Performance theory, physical training, vocal music, modern and contemporary literature, plus one elective."
Chu Ran was taken aback: "Vocal performance is also tested?"
"You bet, I'm almost dead."
"Haven't you always been good at vocals?"
Tian Xi sighed softly, "It's good, but I've been spending all this time on set, and I haven't had a chance to take care of my voice at all. Yesterday in class, my teacher asked me to warm up my voice and practice, and immediately said that I wasn't in good condition."
Chu Ran advised, "Then go back and get some rest."
"And you, what's your subject?"
"I don't know, let's wait for further notice."
Are you still on set?
"Yes, we're about to start filming."
"Okay, then you go ahead with your work, I'll continue to die on the spot."
Chu Ran turned off her phone, put it back in her pocket, tugged at her backpack strap, and turned to walk back to the shooting area.
The second thing Peng Bing did was shout "Start the machine!"
The photographer reviewed the previous footage, his eyes brightening. He maintained a composed demeanor, his emotions deep and resonant; the apparent estrangement between ruler and subject only heightened the tension of their intimate conversation.
Chu Ran stepped out of the scene, put on her coat, and went to get her water bottle.
The investor representative came again today. As usual, he wandered around the inner area, went straight to Peng Bing, and handed him a document.
Peng Bing took it and glanced at it, raising an eyebrow slightly.
It's still the same old trick of getting them drunk and getting them to talk.
This time, the wording changed; instead of calling it cuts, they called it "re-adjusting the editing order." The core scene of the two secretly discussing their plans was moved to the back, and the unrelated palace banquet scene was filmed first, followed by the discussion footage. The reason given was that "the narrative rhythm is smoother."
Peng Bing folded the document: "Article 11 of the contract states that adjusting the editing order is also considered a content change, and the main creators must give written consent."
"We're suggesting optimizing the pace—"
"It can be considered a content adjustment." Zeng Hao put down his water glass, his tone flat. "Article 11 is covered. The narrative order is part of the content, not just a purely technical adjustment. I disagree."
The investor representative swallowed back the words he was about to say, took the document, glanced at Zeng Hao for two seconds, then at Peng Bing for two seconds, silently put it away, and turned to walk backstage.
After everyone had walked away, Peng Bing lowered his voice and said, "There will be one more time."
Zeng Hao picked up his water glass and replied casually, "Let him do it."
Chu Ran, who was drinking water nearby, heard everything clearly. Without asking any questions, she closed her water glass and continued preparing for the next item.
Xu Wen sent the first message around 4 PM.
"Dingsheng has upgraded its approach. They're no longer using the 'some small company' tactic. They've directly named Sunshine Entertainment, saying that your period drama casting is suspected of using unknown newcomers, and the industry has doubts about the project's feasibility. Now three media outlets have followed suit."
4:20, second point: "Someone from iQiyi asked us if we were really going to use newcomers in our period drama. I just said it was in progress, and they replied, 'That's good, we're keeping an eye on it.' I don't quite understand what they meant, you can judge for yourself."
The third post at 4:50: "There are already people on Weibo discussing whether Sunshine Entertainment is gambling. Some in the comments section say that variety shows rely on luck, while period dramas rely on talent. Do they have that? The most liked comment is just four words: 'Let's wait and see.'"
Zeng Hao read the three messages and tossed his phone aside.
This time, Dingsheng is even more ruthless than before, switching from subtle hints to direct naming. They dare to do this because they believe Sunshine Entertainment is incapable of directly confronting the media battle; otherwise, they wouldn't have revealed their hand so early.
This judgment is wildly wrong.
But now is not the time to speak.
The casting for "Ning An Ru Meng" has not been officially announced yet. Any response at this time would be like revealing one's hand before it's revealed, which is simply throwing one's life away.
He replied to Xu Wen: "What Ai Qiyi said means that there is an intention to cooperate. I will talk to them when the project is finalized."
Xu Wen replied instantly: "Oh! What about Dingsheng?"
Zeng Hao stuffed his phone into his pocket, stood up, and grabbed his coat.
Xu Wen stared at the "read" message on the other end, waited three minutes, and when he didn't receive a reply, he sent another message: "Do you have a plan?"
Zeng Hao put on his coat and walked towards the door. As he passed the table, he picked up his phone, glanced at the messages, and whispered to the air, "Once Zhang Linghe appears on screen for the first time, Dingsheng will shut up on its own."
After saying that, he put his phone away and went out the door.
Xu Wen was stunned for a long time.
She stared at the two "read" messages on the screen, completely unaware that Zeng Hao's words were meant for her. She read them over and over again, then typed, "Do you even have any plans for me?!"
……
Xu Wen pushed his phone screen towards him; this time there were four screenshots, one more than yesterday.
A third media outlet followed up, this one being larger than the previous two, with over two million followers. They changed the headline to "From Variety Shows to Historical Dramas, Can Sunshine Entertainment's Cross-Sector Approach Succeed?", ending with a question mark.
A question mark is more impactful than an exclamation mark.
It's not harsh criticism, but a dull, persistent questioning that's even more agonizing.
The fourth image is a post with an industry rating number, listing Sunshine Entertainment's projects over the past two years. Variety shows were given a B+, while the costume drama category simply had four words: "To be verified."
"This account," Xu Wen said, "I checked it. It published two advertorials for Dingsheng before."
Zeng Hao hummed in agreement.
"Should we—"
"Do you know where the real pain is in this attack?" Zeng Hao scanned the four screenshots and pushed the phone back.
Xu Wen was taken aback: "Public opinion?"
"It's about attracting investment," Zeng Hao said. "There's a potential brand client for 'Ning An Ru Meng'. They were still asking about the details of the cooperation last week, but yesterday their assistant said that the evaluation is being postponed because the market outlook for the project is unclear."
Xu Wen went through the logic in his mind and slowly nodded: "So they're not attacking you, they're attacking the brand's confidence in you."
"Um."
"Now—"
"Compile the data," Zeng Hao instructed. "Diamond Lover earned 510 million on its first day, compared to 103 million for Flame Romance; Xu Jiaying signed three brands for I Am a Singer; Xu Kunkun's talent show naturally trended on social media. Just these three sets, one page each, and send them out today."
Xu Wen jotted down a few keywords on his phone, then looked up: "Published in the media?"
"Publish on the company's official account, don't invest in media outlets. Let the data speak for itself."
"Okay." She put away her phone and stood up, then turned back after a few steps. "Just these three sets? No explanations?"
"Need not."
Xu Wen obediently shut up and left.
The data was sent out promptly at 2 PM.
The format is very clean, with three sets of data, the sources clearly marked, not a single superfluous comment, no mention of peak performance, no mention of response, not even a hashtag, just three dry sets of numbers.
Xu Wen sat outside scrolling through comments. Twenty minutes later, he ran in to report: "The number of reposts is increasing. Some people say that letting the data speak is a smart move, and others are asking if it's a veiled attack on Dingsheng. The reply below is: What veiled attack? This is a direct slap in the face."
Zeng Hao was reading the script during the script reading and didn't even look up.
"Those three numbers from Dingsheng," Xu Wen continued, "are all silent, not a sound."
"Um."
"That rating number didn't make a sound either."
"Um."
"And another thing," Xu Wen paused, "that brand we had previously suspended, their assistant just messaged me saying we can reschedule the meeting."
Zeng Hao turned a page of the script.
"Let's meet next week."
Xu Wen noted it down, lowered his head to send a message, and after sending it, couldn't help but look up: "When you sent these three sets of data, did you know they would come back?"
"They're pausing because they lack confidence," Zeng Hao said calmly. "If you have enough data, you'll naturally have enough confidence. It has nothing to do with anything else."
Xu Wen put down his phone, a smirk playing on his lips.
Some people outside were saying that Sunshine Entertainment lets its talent speak for itself, not engage in mudslinging. She found that very pleasing and wanted to relay it to Zeng Hao, but then thought better of it. This guy's head is full of scripts right now; he'd probably just give a perfunctory "hmm" if she tried to tell him.
She didn't say anything more and lowered her head to organize the day's work sheets.
Sister Liu's message came at three o'clock.
"The first payment from the TV station has arrived. The receipt is attached; please take a look."
Xu Wen saw it before Zeng Hao, took a screenshot and forwarded it, followed by a string of exclamation marks.
Zeng Hao opened the attachment, and the receipt showed 800 million yuan, with the note that it was the first installment of the TV station framework agreement, and the payment would arrive that afternoon.
He closed the attachment, opened the "Ning An Ru Meng" budget sheet, and calculated it against the total budget and existing funds.
The current budget is 7287 million, with a main production budget of 4200 million. Including the budget reserved for later distribution, the total expenditure is about 5100 million. The shortfall can be filled by the revenue from "What a Disgrace". The timing is just right.
The project can proceed as planned without slowing down the pace.
He closed the budget sheet and picked up the script again.
Xu Wen poked his head in from the doorway: "The money's in the account, do you want it—"
"Have Sister Liu update the accounts."
"...Okay." Xu Wen closed the door and muttered to himself outside, "It's over 70 million, and all you do is update the books. I'm happy for you."
Zeng Hao didn't hear him and continued reading the script.
My phone vibrated; it was a message from Chu Ran.
"The film crew wrapped up early today, and I'm going to my evening class at the Shanghai Theatre Academy, so I won't be going tonight."
He glanced at it, put down his phone, and didn't reply.
Xu Wen walked down the corridor, glanced into the room, saw that his phone was lit up, glanced at the sender, and silently walked away, muttering to himself as he went: "If you're not coming over tonight, you could at least reply with an 'oh' or something. You can't even be bothered to type a single word."
The script reading for "Ning An Ru Meng" will begin at 4 PM in the company's small conference room.
Peng Bing, Fang Qing, Zhang Linghe, and two assistant directors sat down around a long table, each with a script.