After Transmigrating into a Novel, I Am in a Relationship with My Scummy Ex-Girlfriend’s Mother - Chapter 33

Huo Qingzhuo was a mid-way addition to the cast, so she couldn’t afford to delay the production’s progress. Although she didn’t have any scenes today, she requested to stay on the sidelines to observe and learn. After all, every director and crew has their own style, and actors need time to familiarize themselves and mesh with one another.

Just as Huo Qingzhuo and her assistant were watching the prop team set up the scene, two people arrived, flanked by a large entourage. A man and a woman, dressed in costume, their appearances stood out remarkably from the crowd. Huo Qingzhuo knew these were the two leads.

The two walked over to the director. After the director carefully explained the scene, he clapped his hands. “Come on, come on! Everyone get ready, we’re about to start filming. Props, are we good?”

The staff inspecting the set gave a thumbs-up and quickly cleared out.

This scene depicted the male and female leads being hunted at the summit of a snowy mountain, eventually turning the tables and wiping out their pursuers. It was the bridge to the next plot point: the leads, injured and near death, stumble into a forbidden area. Their blood accidentally breaks the seal on the character Qingmen Ancestor, played by Huo Qingzhuo, thereby unlocking the “ancestor’s cheat code” storyline.

As filming began, Huo Qingzhuo watched the set with full concentration, only to notice that the female lead actually glanced toward her. It was a fleeting look, but it was anything but friendly.

The female lead, Wei Yingying, was an idol-turned-actor who had been popular for many years. While her reputation among peers was average, her public image was decent. Huo Qingzhuo was puzzled by that look; no matter how she thought about it, she hadn’t made an enemy of her—she didn’t even know her.

Before Huo Qingzhuo could dwell on it, the leads were hooked onto wire harnesses to begin filming.

The scene was set at a snowy peak, but in reality, it was impossible to find an actual mountain top for a shoot, so it was all filmed against green screens for post-production processing.

The two leads were, at the very least, famous for years, and their skills were passable. The action sequences were relatively fluid. After fighting off the extras, the female lead dodged and landed, spitting out blood before being caught and carried by the male lead. To escape the pursuing troops, they fled blindly into the forbidden zone.

“Cut! Excellent, a one-take wonder. Hard work, teachers; hard work, everyone. That was performed perfectly.”

The director was pleased that things went so smoothly and stood up to offer praise.

Huo Qingzhuo’s brow furrowed slightly. That level of performance, which would have required a reshoot under Song Jue, passed just like that?

Just now, the female lead’s landing was unstable, the power behind her strikes was insufficient, her grip on the sword was weak—she almost dropped it—and the male lead’s center of gravity was too high, his footwork floaty. Furthermore, the extras’ acting was exaggerated; one even lay down before the lead even touched him. From any angle, it was full of flaws, yet it passed?

But indeed, it passed. A swarm of assistants rushed forward, serving tea, massaging shoulders, and fanning the actors, all while showering them with “rainbow farts” (extravagant flattery).

“This must be the new actor, right? Huo Qingzhuo, I’ve heard of you.”

From the moment she arrived, Wei Yingying had recognized Huo Qingzhuo at a glance. That presence—as if she were glowing no matter where she sat—was truly hard to ignore. It was precisely because of this that Wei Yingying felt even more resentful. Seizing the moment, she put on the facade of a kind senior and spoke.

Hearing her name, Huo Qingzhuo turned her head, finally confirming that the previous glance hadn’t been an illusion. This Wei Yingying genuinely disliked her, even though, in the eyes of everyone else, she appeared to be looking after a newcomer.

“Thank you, Teacher Wei. I look forward to your guidance while I’m on set.”

If it’s acting you want, who isn’t a professional here? Huo Qingzhuo replied with an equally polite demeanor.

The male lead, hearing the commotion, also looked over and gave a casual greeting.

It was clear that no one in this crew seemed particularly welcoming of her. Huo Qingzhuo’s smile became even more sincere. “It’s my first day here, and I have much to learn from all of you. It’s quite hot today, so I’ll treat everyone to drinks. I hope we can all get along.”

After speaking, Huo Qingzhuo sent her assistant to buy drinks. The director led the thanks. Regardless of the cost, it was the gesture that mattered.

Huo Qingzhuo had only brought one assistant, Xiao Li, with her this time. Although the place to buy drinks wasn’t far, one person certainly couldn’t carry that many.

The director simply assigned a few people to go along with a small cart. After all, Huo Qingzhuo was brought in by Xu Lan, so he had to look out for her.

Since they had accepted her hospitality, the idle gossip within the crew lessened. Watching Huo Qingzhuo’s obvious tactic to win people over, Wei Yingying offered words of praise and thanks on the surface, but inwardly, she gritted her teeth.

After a peaceful first day, Huo Qingzhuo’s schedule became busy starting from the second day.

Due to her schedule and the production timeline, her scenes were concentrated. If she finished all her scenes within a week, she could wrap up her part.

Official filming began. Huo Qingzhuo’s first scene was with the male and female leads. The seal had just been broken, and Qingdai, played by Huo Qingzhuo, burst from the mountain. Upon seeing the leads, she intended to kill them.

Changing into her costume, in the blink of an eye, Huo Qingzhuo seemed to have stepped right out of the script as Qingdai.

Dressed in light, white ancient robes with her hair flowing loose, she remained cold and ethereal, possessing a peerless divine beauty. Yet, her weapon—the blood-dripping “Life-Death Pen”—inspired a chilling dread. Her aura shifted in an instant, from a cold celestial being to a demon from hell.

“Cut!” the director shouted irritably at the top of his lungs. “Wei Yingying, what’s wrong with you? Why are you dazed? Where are your lines?”

Facing Huo Qingzhuo’s gaze, Wei Yingying, who had been broken into a cold sweat by the sheer intimidation, finally realized what had happened. Just now, she—a veteran—had been completely suppressed by an eighteen-year-old newcomer’s acting to the point where she couldn’t fight back!

Wei Yingying had only experienced this sensation when working with legendary veteran artists. She never expected to stumble because of Huo Qingzhuo. She was shocked and wanted to defend herself, but she couldn’t admit the fact that she was being “out-acted” by Huo Qingzhuo, so she could only endure it for now.

“Sorry, Director. Sorry, everyone. I just had a momentary lapse in memory. Let’s do it again.” Wei Yingying appeared genuinely self-reproachful; her attitude was beyond reproach.

Since this was a normal occurrence on set, others couldn’t say much and could only resign themselves to a reshoot.

“Cut! Wei Yingying, your movement is wrong. Again!”

“Cut!” This was becoming absurd. The director used the megaphone. “Wei Yingying, pick up the scene! Why are your lines so stilted?”

“I…” Wei Yingying shot a hidden glare at Huo Qingzhuo. She frowned; having caused three NGs in a row, it was hard to find an excuse.

“It’s okay, Director. Let’s try it one more time.”

Huo Qingzhuo saw through everything. She was doing it on purpose; she wanted to test Wei Yingying’s actual skill level and find out why she harbored hostility toward her. Now that Wei Yingying was anxious, she would eventually reveal her true colors.

The director was extremely satisfied with Huo Qingzhuo’s performance. Anyone with eyes could see that Huo Qingzhuo was completely dominating the scene with her acting. Even the male lead was struggling to keep up.

However, no one suspected Huo Qingzhuo was doing it on purpose. After all, she was just an eighteen-year-old newcomer. One might have natural talent, but no one believed she could have such seasoned skill—the ability to control her performance so precisely as to intentionally suppress the female lead.

Looking at Wei Yingying, then at Huo Qingzhuo, the director clapped. “Come on, let’s go again.”

This time, Huo Qingzhuo’s performance remained steady, but she dialed back the pressure on the leads. She transitioned into the persona of someone newly freed from a cage, seeing the light of day, with a resentment toward those who had sealed her that could be felt even through the screen.

“Pass! Good,” the director sighed in relief as the scene finally reached a passing grade. He made the call, “Come on, prepare for the next scene!”

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. On such a hot day, the less tossing around, the better.

The next scene was already set up nearby. It was an indoor scene where the leads explained their origins and the changes in power over the years. There were more lines, but the difficulty of the performance was lower; they basically passed in one or two takes.

After a day of filming, Huo Qingzhuo had a new understanding of this crew. It was a typical commercial operation—lacking depth, and the results would likely be mediocre. There was nothing extraordinary about it, though it might be hailed as a “classic” by the leads’ fanbases.

Thinking of this, Huo Qingzhuo missed the “Old Wine” gang.

After two days of filming, everyone gradually became familiar with each other. The coordination during shoots improved significantly, and the number of one-take passes increased, making the director much happier.

“Come on, we have two more scenes today. Once they’re done, we can break early. Everyone, give it your best!”

This scene was Huo Qingzhuo’s highlight. The leads were injured, the pursuers had reached the entrance of the forbidden zone, and Qingdai, played by Huo Qingzhuo, would clear the field.

Hooking into the wire harness, Huo Qingzhuo carefully checked each buckle on her equipment herself. Nearby, Wei Yingying, sitting on the ground with the male lead, fanned herself and spoke up as if she were standing up for Huo Qingzhuo’s unfair treatment. “How can you let Teacher Huo check the wires herself? Why isn’t anyone helping her check?”

As soon as Wei Yingying spoke, the logistics team, who had just finished their inspection and walked away, looked displeased. They had just checked them—how could she say they hadn’t?

But explaining would be a waste of time and would likely anger the director. They could only swallow their annoyance, inwardly grumbling about the newcomer being high-maintenance, while turning back to check again.

“It’s not necessary,” Huo Qingzhuo said, giving Wei Yingying a meaningful look. “The staff already checked everything just now. I just prefer to confirm it myself. There’s no problem.”

“Oh, is that so? Then I was being meddlesome. But our staff are very professional, Teacher Huo can rest assured.” Wei Yingying only wanted to cause a small, petty annoyance for Huo Qingzhuo—nothing major, but enough to be bothersome.

Huo Qingzhuo didn’t want to argue over such things. Just then, the director arrived to announce the start of the shoot, so she entered her character state to get the scene over with.

Action scenes had always been Huo Qingzhuo’s strength. Her movements were sharp, clean, and highly aesthetic. She performed a mid-air spin—exceptionally beautiful—and landed steadily for the finish, surrounded by “corpses.”

Watching the recorded footage, the director was very pleased. “One take, beautiful! Come, Teacher Huo, let’s just film two more close-ups and we’re done.”

Upon hearing this, Huo Qingzhuo’s brow furrowed tightly. The sword in her hand clattered to the ground. She reached out to clutch her waist, and her white costume began to show faint stains of blood.

“She’s bleeding!”

An extra standing close by saw it clearly and let out a startled cry. A crowd rushed over instantly. The staff stripped the harness off her, and the director immediately called for an ambulance.

“Investigate! How did this happen?” The director had an assistant support Huo Qingzhuo. Looking at the blood-soaked harness that had been removed, his heart sank.

The ambulance arrived quickly. From start to finish, Huo Qingzhuo didn’t say a word; she even boarded the ambulance on her own.

Once the ambulance left, the set was buzzing with discussion.

“So much blood, it must be serious. Nothing bad will happen, right?”

“The key is that she bled that much, yet her landing was still steady. You couldn’t tell at all while filming. Are newcomers these days this terrifying?”

“You’re still discussing this! Didn’t you hear the director say to block the news? If this leaks out, it’ll be disastrous!”

“I don’t think this can be blocked…”

“I don’t think so either…”

After all, an ambulance entering a film set—combined with the fact that Huo Qingzhuo had recently been in the spotlight and her popularity was at its peak—made it impossible to suppress the news. Two hours later, it went straight to the top of the trending searches, and the production team couldn’t take it down even if they tried.

Shu Yueqing also saw the trending topic. Only then did she find out that Huo Qingzhuo had joined a new crew—a drama recently invested in by her own company—and had been injured!