After Being Dumped by the Film Empress, My Acting Skills Soared - Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The relentless drizzle continued, a lingering dampness that refused to clear. The sky remained a leaden gray, making the lighting for indoor scenes insufficient. Any darker, and the footage would look like a gritty film from the eighties or nineties.

Normally, every day a production is delayed is money down the drain. Yet, Mo Yu didn’t seem anxious at all. Instead, she happily gathered all the actors in a room, making them sit together like primary school students at morning recitation—each with a pen in hand, going through the script line by line.

This was Shao Niannian’s first time experiencing this method. Her script was rolled into a tube, covered in multi-colored creases, pauses, and markings. Occasionally, she’d jot down suggestions offered by other actors in the margins.

On the first day, Niannian was stiff. There were no grips or gaffers; only a single, ordinary camera stood in the corner, aimed at everyone. All the chairs and tables had been cleared out. Several screenwriters and Mo Yu stood to the side, ceding the floor to the actors. The first scene they tackled was the climax of the script: the two female leads in a desperate, near-death struggle to escape.

The “Mute Girl’s” husband—the serial killer they had first encountered in high school—was dragging his mangled body behind them, eyes bloodshot, clutching a knife as he closed in, hell-bent on killing them both.

This opening workshop was a nightmare for both Niannian and Wen Jing. Neither had ever performed this kind of visceral thriller. Conversely, the actor playing the killer was a “villain specialist” who offered a wealth of terrifyingly helpful advice.

Niannian couldn’t let go. Lacking experience in this genre, she couldn’t find the right intensity. After several failed attempts, the atmosphere in the room turned awkward.

Everyone knew Wen Jing’s acting was poor; she was a “resource hire,” so they kept their mouths shut. But Niannian was different. Some veteran actors, whose careers predated Niannian’s, couldn’t hide their disdain after watching her get interrupted by Mo Yu multiple times. Mockery was written all over their faces.

“It’s almost funny. If the leads perform like this, all our work will be for nothing.”

“Who knows? They don’t exactly look like they came from a proper academy. I wonder what the younger generation actually learns in school these days. They spend years acting, and it’s still a mess. It’s like they’ve learned nothing.”

“How do they even film? It’s all romance dramas with zero technical depth. With fans chasing them every day, what incentive do they have to actually learn? Tsk. With this rain, who knows when we’ll finish? This could drag on for months.”

“Hard to say…”

“Now, now, don’t say that. Young people just lack experience. Let’s wait for them to improve; it’s not like they aren’t trying.” A female veteran actress, sipping tea, smiled. “Didn’t we all start like that? No one is born a Movie King or Queen. This young lady started with bit parts and worked her way through good and bad dramas alike. It’s normal to be stiff in a new genre in front of so many strangers.”

“No need to be so impatient,” the veteran said cheerfully. While the others were silenced by her gentle rebuke, she walked to the center of the room. She was dressed casually, looking nothing like the mother of a murdered child she was set to play—her eyes were filled only with kindness.

She squatted down in front of Wen Jing and Niannian, then gestured for the male lead and Jiang Yan to come over. “This coaching job can’t just be for an old lady like me. To make a script feel real and move an audience, it takes the effort of the whole crew.”

“Acting awkwardly or poorly isn’t a big deal. The most important thing is to let go.” As Jiang Yan approached, the veteran actress patted Niannian’s shoulder, signaling her not to lose heart. “Don’t worry, your problem isn’t that big. This character is just inherently challenging.”

“She’s complex, possessing too many conflicting human traits. Such roles are always hard to grasp,” she comforted. “Fortunately, we have someone here who is an expert at these types of characters.”

“Right, Jiang Yan?” The veteran looked up at Jiang Yan, her eyes bright. “You should teach her. Learn how to mentor a junior. When the spring semester starts, I’ll have you come give a guest lecture to my students on this very subject.”

Niannian sat on the floor, her face flushed crimson. She hadn’t expected her first day to be such a disaster. She had heard every whispered insult, and her hands were clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.

This was more humiliating than watching her own “brainless” idol dramas on TV. More importantly, she had disgraced herself in front of Jiang Yan. Niannian felt a surge of “unworthy” frustration; if there weren’t so many people watching, she might have just given up in despair.

Ten years can grow a tree, but it hadn’t seemingly improved Niannian’s acting by much. Despite her academy background and years of bit parts, she realized her only strengths were in indie “literary” films and urban romances. Outside of those, she felt like she knew nothing. Every time she took on a new role, she clumsily relied on the textbook analysis she learned in school. She had been in the industry for years and was still using the same rigid methods.

Niannian was terrified of change. Much like her relationship with Jiang Yan: she had a clear plan in her heart, but because of her hesitations, she had changed nothing.

“Teacher Chen, don’t tease me,” Jiang Yan said with a smile. She walked to Niannian’s side, took her arm, and helped her up. “I barely manage to feed myself with my own methods. I’m really not cut out for teaching.”

“You are a National First-Class Actress and a distinguished professor at the National Film Academy. It was impossible to get a seat in your classes when I was a student.”

Jiang Yan looked at the girl she had just pulled up. Niannian’s head was bowed, her loose hair veiling her expression. But Jiang Yan could feel her sadness.

Jiang Yan sighed inwardly. She smiled and took the crumpled script from Niannian’s hand, then led her to the side by her wrist. “Since Teacher Chen put it that way, I’ll give it a try. Who knows? I might actually turn out a decent student.”

Jiang Yan stood in front of Niannian, shielding her from the prying eyes of the room—and from Wen Jing, who was still sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Well, then Niannian will have to suffer a bit,” Teacher Chen laughed. “Being taught by such an ‘unprofessional’ teacher… I suppose Niannian will have to rely on her own intuition in the end.”

Niannian’s eyes stung. She knew Teacher Chen was giving her an out. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. She stared down at her hand, still held by Jiang Yan, and the rolled-up script. Her mind was a blank void.

Why did she pull me up? Why is she acting as my ‘guardian’ and protector again?

Niannian couldn’t figure it out, but one thing was clear: Jiang Yan helping her was likely just a casual gesture. It was true ten years ago, and it was true today.