After Being Dumped by the Film Empress, My Acting Skills Soared - Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Jiang Yan’s kindness seemed to be overflowing—at least, that was how it looked to Shao Niannian.

Outside, the persistent drizzle pattered loudly against the green roof tiles. When the windows were pushed open, a gust of wind carried the fine mist inside, making Niannian, who was dressed lightly, shiver.

The next second, a jacket was draped over her shoulders. The scent of a faint, elegant perfume acted as a barrier against the external cold and, more importantly, shielded her from the prying eyes behind them.

The people in the room seemed to have more to say, but Teacher Chen beat them to the punch. She helped Wen Jing up from her seat. “Young people have plenty of time to make mistakes—three years, five years, ten years. Graduating from an academy means you’ve already mastered the foundational tools of acting.”

Holding her teacup in one hand and supporting Wen Jing with the other, Teacher Chen led the girl from the corner to the center of the room. “To act well, you must first refuse to be stage-frightened. Stand in the center. Learning requires accumulation, and acting requires it even more.”

“Stay here, and I will teach you,” Teacher Chen said with a kind smile. “Don’t worry. Speak your mind, and I’ll show you the way.”

Wen Jing’s eyes met Teacher Chen’s. Although she knew she was a “resource hire” and that the harsh words earlier weren’t aimed at her, the resentment in this industry was palpable. Even if the barbs were meant for Niannian, who was to say they weren’t thinking the same about her?

“Thank you… thank you, Teacher Chen.”

With Teacher Chen presiding over the scene, everything seemed to smooth over. When the most senior actor in the room takes charge, the atmosphere shifts from a battlefield to a classroom. The tension relaxed, and the previous complaints died down into mere whispers.

No one dared to continue the mockery.

The assistant director glanced at Mo Yu, raising an eyebrow. Was this part of your plan?

Mo Yu’s lips curled into a slight smile. She patted the assistant director’s shoulder and snapped her fingers. She looked toward the door just as a gust of wind slammed it shut, cutting off her view of the outside world.

“I wonder when this rain will stop,” Mo Yu mused. “But it doesn’t matter. This winter rain looks like it’s bringing some good fortune.”

Whether that fortune was hers or someone else’s remained to be seen.

Jiang Yan led Niannian into the room she shared with Mo Yu. It was a mess of open suitcases and clothes piled on every available surface. There were two beds: one was neatly made, while the other was covered in sheets of paper filled with ink marks and scratched-out notes. It was clear the owner of that bed was a person of many chaotic ideas.

“Find a place to sit. I’m not sure how to play hostess here,” Jiang Yan said, kicking a suitcase out of the path. she pulled a bottle of mineral water from a box and handed it to Niannian.

“Th… thank you.” Niannian took the water, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room as she carefully scanned her surroundings.

“Thanking me for what? For pulling you out of the table read?” Jiang Yan chuckled. “If it’s for the water, don’t bother. A ‘thank you’ for a bottle of water is a bit cheap. It would be more meaningful if you bought me dinner.”

“No,” Niannian denied quickly. “It’s not for the water.”

Jiang Yan tilted her head, waiting for the rest, but Niannian knew exactly what she wanted to hear—and she wasn’t going to say it. Instead, she changed the subject.

“How does Senior plan to help me?”

Niannian gripped the water bottle tightly, looking up at Jiang Yan. She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to take a step back.

Jiang Yan wasn’t in a hurry to start the “lesson.” This whole setup had been a coordinated act between her, Mo Yu, and Teacher Chen. Everyone turned a blind eye to Wen Jing’s status, but acting was a serious business. The lead’s performance and attitude would determine the quality of the final film.

Mo Yu had accepted the investment from Wen Jing’s mother, but she wasn’t prepared to make a “trashy” movie. Many had auditioned for the role of the Mute Girl, but most lacked a foundation. It was an abstract, “ugly” female character—not the “boss lady” type netizens loved, but a woman defined by cowardice and pettiness. Most young actresses wouldn’t touch it.

Niannian’s arrival had been a surprise for Mo Yu.

“No one wants to ruin the ‘audience favor’ they’ve worked so hard to build,” Mo Yu had told Jiang Yan earlier, watching her friend drop beef into a sauce bowl. “If you were a few years younger, you wouldn’t have chosen this role either. She’s neither a clear hero nor a clear villain. Act well, and the audience might pity her; act poorly, and they’ll tear you apart.”

So, while Mo Yu was secretly thrilled Niannian had joined, she couldn’t show it. She knew exactly what Niannian’s acting lacked: a sense of grounded reality. That’s why Niannian excelled in indie films—they were lifelike and poetic—but felt “floaty” or exaggerated in urban dramas. Niannian was simply applying textbook school methods to things she hadn’t personally experienced.

Mo Yu had been worried about how to improve Wen Jing while making sure Niannian grew, too. All those problems were solved the moment Wen Jing “blackmailed” Jiang Yan into joining the crew.

The play had begun the moment the table read started. The actors just didn’t know they were characters in a larger drama.

“Aside from ‘Senior’ or ‘Miss Jiang,’ do you have any other names for me?” Jiang Yan asked, ignoring Niannian’s question and tilting her head. “How do you and Wen Jing address each other?”

“Huh?” Niannian blinked, confused by the turn in conversation. “Me and Wen Jing? We just… use our names.”

The day Niannian returned from the hospital, Wen Jing had started calling her “Niannian” as if they were lifelong friends. It wasn’t that strange, given Niannian had a double-character name, but her way of addressing Wen Jing was whatever the other girl preferred.

Wen Jing had sat on the bed, looking at Niannian’s sickly face, marveling that a single lunch box had taken her down. She’d tossed her ponytail and said, “My mom and grandma call me ‘Mumu.’ My fortune said I have too much ‘water’ and lack ‘wood,’ so they gave me that nickname so I wouldn’t drown in my own fate. Two ‘woods’ make a ‘forest’ (Lin)—a little forest to soak up the water so it doesn’t get too fierce.”

Niannian had silently thought: Why not call yourself ‘Sensen’ (three woods)? That’s even more trees. But Wen Jing had seemingly read her mind: “Two ‘woods’ (Lin) is just right to suppress the two ‘waters’ in my life, leaving one ‘water’ to nourish me. It’s a perfect balance.”

“Wen Jing calls you Niannian?” Jiang Yan pulled a chair over for herself. “Then I’ll call you Niannian, too. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

Jiang Yan hummed, flipping through the script with feigned casualness. “So, I call you Niannian. What would be appropriate for you to call me?”

Niannian, whose brain was currently misfiring: “…”

What? Call her what?