Everyone in the Entertainment Industry Thinks I’m a Flirty Diva [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 35

Though Li Yuanxin hadn’t achieved major stardom over the years, his acting skills were widely recognized in the industry—hence his steady stream of roles. After rehearsing together, he quickly identified Chu Xi’s weaknesses: short breath support and occasional slurred enunciation. While many TV actors used dubbing nowadays, dialogue delivery usually reflected acting skills—those with strong lines rarely performed poorly.

“When I was in drama school, our entire class would be in the rehearsal room by 7 AM doing vocal exercises. There’s no secret—just practice openly. You could hear our dialogue drills from far away. Maybe you could try that,” Li Yuanxin suggested.

Chu Xi nodded thoughtfully.

Li Yuanxin continued, “Also, I’ve noticed your performance sometimes seems… inconsistent. It’s like sometimes you’re one person, then suddenly another.”

Chu Xi went “Ah,” then explained how she’d studied many film references at home to learn how others played seductive concubines.

Li Yuanxin nodded. “I see.” Noticing that Chu Xi seemed more eager to learn than he had expected, he decided to share more with her. “Imitation is indeed the most fundamental method in acting, and it’s a very useful one. But have you ever considered that every film or TV drama you’ve watched, every character you’ve imitated—though they may all appear to be playing the role of a seductive concubine—actually have different backgrounds and experiences? For example, Daji was ordered by the goddess Nüwa to bring down King Zhou of Shang, while Yang Guifei was simply scapegoated by Emperor Xuanzong of Tang for his own indulgence in wine and women. Their natures are different, and so should their portrayals. You can’t just patch together bits and pieces from others to create your character. You should think about who your character really is and how she differs from them. If the script doesn’t specify, you can create it yourself—write a character biography, integrate what you’ve learned with your character’s background, and make it your own. Only then will the role truly become yours.”

Li Yuanxin spoke at length, leaving Chu Xi wide-eyed and stunned.

She had been acting for over two years, yet no one—no one—had ever told her these things before.

Previous directors would only say “good, good” or “yes, yes” to her, and the big-name actors she worked with merely treated her politely, never forming deeper connections.

It was as if they looked down on actresses like her, who had risen to fame through the backing of wealthy patrons.

While it’s true that a master leads you to the door, but the practice is up to you, first you need a master to guide you in. Otherwise, even if you were handed a martial arts manual and worked hard on your own, without proper guidance, you’d just be flailing around like a headless fly.

“Thank you, thank you, Senior Li!” Chu Xi was deeply moved and hastily stood up to bow in gratitude. Li Yuanxin was such a talented actor, yet after years of diligent work, he remained underappreciated—how unjust!

That night, Chu Xi returned and began meticulously studying her role as Liuli, just as Li Yuanxin had advised. In the drama, Liuli was a villain—infatuated with the male lead and using the besotted, foolish emperor (the second male lead) who adored her to commit numerous misdeeds. The script provided only this much about her character, but as the actress portraying her, couldn’t she delve deeper? Chu Xi chewed on her pen cap, thinking that no one is born evil. Perhaps Liuli had endured a tragic childhood, suffering abuse and humiliation, maybe even losing something precious because of others’ cruelty. That could explain why she later clawed her way up by any means necessary, retaliating against anyone who crossed her, her personality twisted by trauma. The audience only sees the seductive concubine Liuli whispering lies to the emperor and executing loyal ministers, but not the old minister she had condemned—who just days earlier had pointed at Liuli, innocent of any wrongdoing, and called her a vile, treacherous woman.

Chu Xi grew more and more excited as she thought about it, picking up her pen to swiftly draft a character biography for Liuli. No wonder Director Chen had said the role of Liuli was complex. This character was like an iceberg—what was written in the script was only the tip visible above the water, while the vast majority hidden beneath the surface required the actor to comprehend and explore on their own. The best way to perform was to immerse oneself in the role, to truly believe you were the character you were portraying. She found resonance in the backstory she had crafted for Liuli—both had suffered miserable childhoods and endured bullying. Because of this, Liuli had lost the most important thing to her, while Chu Xi had been forced to drop out of school. After finishing the biography, Chu Xi looked at the densely packed small script on the paper and smiled. For now, she could consider Liuli as a “darkened” version of herself.

The filming location for Peach Blossom Promise was in Gudong City. Since joining the crew, Chu Xi had been staying at the hotel booked by the production team. After scouting the area with Xiao Yan, she discovered a pleasant park behind the hotel—tranquil in the morning, filled mostly with elderly people practicing tai chi or doing calisthenics. So she rose early, just as the sun was coming up, and began practicing her lines aloud by the small lake in the park. Every pause, every intonation and emphasis had been meticulously marked in her script. After nearly an hour of practice, she would take the crew’s shuttle to the film studio at 7:45.

In this drama, nine out of ten of Chu Xi’s scenes were with Li Yuanxin. Every morning, she practiced her lines in the park, and every night, she pored over the script on her own. On set, Li Yuanxin often gave her pointers on acting techniques. The two of them—one playing a foolish emperor, the other a bewitching concubine—had remarkable chemistry in their scenes together, often nailing them in one take. Chu Xi, in particular, seemed to have found the knack, improving visibly day by day in her performances.

She had always been clever, grasping many things with just a hint.

Director Chen was delighted, praising that they had found the right person. His initial reason for choosing Chu Xi had been her appearance fitting the role, but he hadn’t expected her acting to be such a pleasant surprise.

Even the crew members who usually observed from the sidelines found it unbelievable.

Was this really the same Chu Xi who used to only pout and widen her eyes when acting?

After being dumped by her sugar daddy, she had actually started working hard?

Tsk tsk tsk. Indeed, people only realize the need to strive when faced with adversity. If she didn’t act well and earn money, how could she go back to supporting her toy boy?

Since most of Chu Xi’s scenes were with Li Yuanxin, she had little interaction with Xia Qiao and He Feng on set. By the time her next scene with Xia Qiao came around, her progress was already evident. On the first day of filming with Xia Qiao, Chu Xi had been completely overshadowed—whether in lines, expressions, or body language, she had been outclassed at every turn. But today, that was no longer the case. Not only was she not being overshadowed, but her delivery and expressions also subtly hinted at overpowering Xia Qiao.

Truth be told, Xia Qiao wasn’t much of an actress either. Despite having played numerous roles, nearly all of them were identical—different characters performed in the same way, often making audiences feel like they were watching a different drama mid-scene.

One take was scrapped due to Xia Qiao forgetting her lines. The director called “Cut,” telling both actresses to take a break and adjust their emotions.

Xiao Yan handed Chu Xi a glass of water and whispered, “Xi Xi, I think you acted really well just now. I can’t quite put it into words, but it felt amazing—completely different from before.”

Chu Xi took a sip of water. “Thank you.”

After resting for a while, Chu Xi wondered why the director hadn’t called for the next take yet. She noticed a subtle commotion in the crew, especially among a few female staff members who kept sneaking glances toward the director’s monitor, their faces barely concealing excitement.

What’s going on? Chu Xi looked in the director’s direction and turned to see the director sitting in a chair beside the monitor while another person sat in front of it, reviewing the playback.

Chu Xi nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the face of the person at the monitor.

Gu… Gu Mingjing!

What was he doing on set?!

And Assistant Gao was there too.

Just then, the assistant director began calling everyone back to their positions with a megaphone—filming was about to resume.

Chu Xi’s mind was entirely preoccupied with Gu Mingjing’s sudden appearance on her set. Once filming started, she tried to focus on her performance, but the thought of Gu Mingjing watching her act from the monitor made her feel like a child whose diary had been peeked at by classmates. She immediately lost her immersion. Earlier, Chu Xi had been dominating the scene between the two women, but now she was struggling while Xia Qiao performed well.

“Cut!” Director Chen didn’t know what was going on with the two actresses today—one after another losing focus—so he had no choice but to call for a halt.

“Sorry, Director,” Chu Xi bowed apologetically.

Xia Qiao sneered at the bowing Chu Xi. “Never seen an investor before?”

Hearing the word “investor,” Chu Xi realized—of course, the only reason Gu Mingjing would be on her set was as an investor.

Chu Xi felt a pang of frustration. Before this, she’d just been grateful to have a role at all—who cared who the investors were?

With Gu Mingjing present, Chu Xi took several deep breaths, readjusted her emotions, and tried hard to forget his existence. Finally, she managed to get back into character and finish the scene.

Once the scene wrapped, the day’s shoot was nearly over. Gu Mingjing sat silently behind the monitor while Assistant Gao spoke with the director.

As Chu Xi packed up her things, she overheard that the investor was satisfied with what he’d seen and was inviting the main cast and director to dinner that evening.

“Supporting actors don’t need to come, right?” Xia Qiao said beside Director Chen. “Mr. Gu probably wouldn’t like a big crowd.”

Director Chen frowned. Everyone knew Xia Qiao was referring to Chu Xi, but it wouldn’t be right to exclude her after she’d seen Gu Mingjing that afternoon.

Director Chen shook his head. “It’s fine. Just one more person.”

Just then, Chu Xi walked over, glanced at Xia Qiao, and said to Director Chen, “Director, I’ll head back to the hotel first. I have a lot of lines for tomorrow’s scene and want to start memorizing them early.”

Director Chen replied, “Mr. Gu is treating the main cast to dinner tonight, Chu Xi. You’re part of the main cast—you should come.”

Chu Xi smiled and said, “Thank you, director. It’s really no big deal if I’m not there. I’ll head back to the hotel first.”

“Alright then,” Director Chen had no choice but to agree, though he thought Chu Xi was a bit foolish. Most actresses in the industry would jump at the chance to dine with investors, yet she turned it down without hesitation.

Chu Xi sighed in relief and took a taxi back to the hotel with Xiao Yan. After ordering dinner, she began memorizing her lines for the next day.

Whoever wanted to eat with Gu Mingjing could go ahead—she was sick of it.

Before long, there was a knock at her door.

Thinking it was her dinner, Chu Xi quickly set down her script and hurried to open the door. But when she did, she found Gu Mingjing standing outside.

Frowning, he asked, “Why didn’t you come?”

Chu Xi: “………………”

Glancing nervously down the hotel hallway, she knew it wasn’t realistic to slam the door in his face or leave him outside. Afraid someone might spot him, she quickly ushered Gu Mingjing into her room.

——

The next day, rumors somehow spread that a tall, young man had been seen knocking on Chu Xi’s door the previous night—and hadn’t left afterward.

Since the entire crew was staying at the same hotel, nearly everyone heard the gossip.

Everyone knew about the recent scandal where Chu Xi was said to be keeping a “young stud.” Last night, when Gu Mingjing, the CEO of Yuanjing, invited everyone to dinner, Chu Xi had refused. Clearly, she’d been in a hurry to return to her secret rendezvous with her boy toy.

Recalling how Gu Mingjing had outshone even the male lead, He Feng, when he visited the set—leaving many extras and female staff blushing—people shook their heads.

Had Chu Xi developed a grudge against the wealthy after being dumped by her sugar daddy?

Who would’ve thought that in Chu Xi’s eyes, the aloof, wealthy, and highly sought-after CEO Gu couldn’t compare to a clingy, kiss-demanding freeloader?

Pathetic.