Forced to Act out a Strange Script with a Rival - Chapter 26

Due to the filming not only resulting in Si Xiaoxiao’s leg injury but also encountering a once-in-two-decades high tide during the outdoor shoot, the director team immediately became contrite. They worked through the night to rewrite a proposal with absolutely no safety risks and then submitted it to the two female celebrities for review.

Si Xiaoxiao was too lazy to think, so she handed her phone to Li Ting.

Li Ting’s signature voice was transmitted to the director team through the earpiece.

“Send the script over first.”

“Okay, should I send it to Teacher Xiaoxiao?”

The script designed by the director team was, of course, intended to piggyback on the popularity of the dating reality show genre.

So, they designed segments like visiting a gift shop, having a meal, touring an art gallery, and watching a movie.

Apart from the last segment, watching a movie, which was marginally related to singing and acting, the rest were completely irrelevant, clearly structured as a one-day date.

The director team had their own explanation: “The actual competition schedule for the main show is so tiring, so the extra episode naturally needs to capture the unique, relaxed side of the actors and singers.”

Heh, these people were clearly just seeing the popularity of dating shows, noticing the recent buzz around the break, and trying to latch onto the trend!

Listening from the side, Si Xiaoxiao was furious. She silently mouthed to Li Ting: Don’t let them ride the trend!

So, Li Ting simply uttered two words: “No good.”

The director’s side didn’t want to change it: “Teacher Li Ting, it’s so late… we’re filming tomorrow…”

Since Li Ting was always known in the industry for being gentle and easygoing, the director team tried to persuade her.

However, standing beside Li Ting was the domestic entertainment industry’s number one anti-PUA advocate, the outspoken Si Xiaoxiao, who immediately interjected: “If you weren’t planning on changing it, then you shouldn’t have waited until so late to ask for our opinions.”

Si Xiaoxiao was utterly unwilling to tolerate this kind of trend-chasing, utterly perfunctory, copy-and-paste behavior that lacked any unique design—no meant no.

The desire to make changes while simultaneously being reluctant to do so was just too pretentious!

“Teacher Xiaoxiao, Teacher Li Ting, it really isn’t easy to change…” The director team began to hedge and offer excuses.

Li Ting’s expression was also somewhat serious.

She pursued perfectionism and could not tolerate flaws. If she had an opinion, she would naturally voice it, not to make things difficult for anyone, but simply because she genuinely wanted to make the show better.

The extra episode was pay-per-view, and Li Ting couldn’t change the production team’s desire to ‘harvest’ fans, but she still hoped that the content fans saw wasn’t a patchwork show entirely copied from another currently popular variety show.

Li Ting’s voice came through the earpiece, calm, steady, sounding gentle but carrying a heavy weight and an undeniable authority: “For a show to truly win the audience’s love and respect, the core lies in the uniqueness of the content and careful refinement. Details determine success or failure.”

This was her unwavering principle.

Since both guests had said so, no matter how much the director side disliked the trouble and didn’t want to change it, they ultimately had no choice but to revise it.

Si Xiaoxiao and Li Ting’s choice was correct.

Audiences aren’t fools; they can tell at a glance which shows are heartfelt and which are not.

After it went online, the variety show’s extra episode did indeed receive mostly positive reviews due to its excellent quality.

Ultimately, the three-way tug-of-war ended at three in the morning; the city outside the window had long fallen into its deepest sleep.

And merely three hours later, at six in the morning, the harsh white light in the makeup room lit up again, illuminating the two faces in the mirror—faces that were undeniably tired yet still exquisite.

After makeup and styling were complete, the filming commenced swiftly.

The filming location this time was a slightly luxurious small coffee shop not far from the seaside, which was usually difficult to rent.

The owner here was a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, who claimed to be a big fan of Bronze Sparrow Interlude and had some connection with the director team. She was willing to let the crew use the venue for free, only requiring Si Xiaoxiao and Li Ting to take a photo together and sign an autograph.

Si Xiaoxiao and Li Ting both felt speechless; usually, there weren’t many die-hard fans supporting them, so why were there shadows of fans everywhere they went now?

Perhaps this was the charm of a youthful “White Moonlight.”

Of course, before the formal filming, Si Xiaoxiao did not forget her penalty.

This time she played a small trick. While no one was paying attention, she tied the hairband from her wrist onto Li Ting’s wrist.

She perfectly completed the penalty mission.

The program’s morning arrangement was for Si Xiaoxiao to teach Li Ting acting, and the afternoon was for Li Ting to teach Si Xiaoxiao singing. Finally, they stopped trying gimmicks and returned to the realm of singing and acting variety shows.

Though it still carried the suspicion of trying to ride the trend and cut corners.

Si Xiaoxiao was not particularly skilled at acting.

But she was an actress after all; she had attended plenty of acting classes, and when it came to theoretical knowledge, she could speak quite eloquently.

And…

“Action!”

As the slate clapped, the strong studio lights burned small, dusty trails in the air.

Si Xiaoxiao’s spine was taut like a string, as she sat upright on the high stool.

Makeup covered the pallor of her face, but it couldn’t hide the rigid posture of her suspended left ankle.

“I hear Teacher Li is very good at crying scenes, so let’s try this passage first. Try… try to cry for me.”

She was like a cunning cat, her fingertip tapping the script, her voice deliberately steady.

Only when she spoke the last four words did her speaking speed subtly increase, the tail end of her voice carrying a trace of imperceptible hoarseness.

Li Ting was wearing an ivory silk blouse, the shoulder line crisp, the waist cinched. Light flowed over her, outlining a cool and sharp silhouette.

Hearing this, she slightly raised her eyelashes. Her amber pupils, under the strong light, resembled frozen glass.

She didn’t have any extra expression on her face, simply and lightly closed the script in her hand and casually placed it on the bookshelf.

The action was effortless, yet carried an undeniable assertiveness.

The content of the script was a “scummy woman chases her spouse in a crematorium” scenario, where the character weeps profusely in front of the tombstone after her wife’s death. Since these acting scripts were not chosen by Si Xiaoxiao and Li Ting, they contained quite a bit of the staff’s personal favorites.

Li Ting took a step in Si Xiaoxiao’s direction.

Her high heels made a muffled, oppressive sound on the thinly carpeted floor.

One step, two steps.

The air seemed compressed by the slow rhythm.

Si Xiaoxiao’s left hand, resting on her knee, unconsciously dug her fingertips into the soft flesh of her palm.

Li Ting’s pace was not fast, even carrying a deliberate, cautious slowness. Each time her high heel descended, it was like a beat on a taut drum skin.

She walked neither quickly nor slowly, but her gaze was always calmly and firmly locked onto Si Xiaoxiao’s face, as if penetrating the layer of delicate makeup and looking directly into the surging emotions deep within her soul.

Finally, she stopped just one step away from Si Xiaoxiao.

This distance was close enough for Si Xiaoxiao to clearly see the slightly rising and falling collarbone beneath the neckline of her silk blouse, close enough to smell the unique scent on her body—a blend of crisp pine and faint cosmetic product.

And Li Ting didn’t immediately recite her lines.

She merely tilted her head slightly, seemingly assessing, or perhaps brewing. The only sounds on the set were the low electric hum of the running camera and the gentle whir of the air conditioning in the distance.

Then, she slowly opened her mouth.

Her voice was low, with a strange, magnetic rasp, not the hysterical tone the script called for. Instead, it was like the lowest string of a cello being gently plucked. Every word was crystal clear, yet it completely broke free from the constraints of the script, carrying a power that went straight to the heart.

“Why did you leave me…”

“Look at me.”

The three words Li Ting uttered carried an air of irresistible command, yet were strangely wrapped in a hint of indescribable… vulnerability.

“Tell me.”

Li Ting’s gaze was firmly locked on Si Xiaoxiao, as if she truly had become her deeply devoted lover.

“How many tears must I shed… how much pain must I feel…”

Her voice was reduced to an extreme hoarseness, carrying a plea that bordered on desperation. She asked, one word at a time:

“…before you think it’s enough? Before you… are willing to look back at me?”

Si Xiaoxiao’s breathing stopped in that instant. She was pulled into the scene by Li Ting. The person standing before her felt truly like her frantic yet deeply affectionate lover.

Li Ting’s gaze was terrifyingly focused.

But within it was a bottomless, deep silence of sorrow, like a cosmic black hole that could swallow all light and emotion.

Her expression barely shifted; the line of her mouth remained flat.

However, it was precisely this extreme restraint and internalization that allowed the heavy pain to permeate the space like a physical entity, pressing heavily on everyone’s hearts, possessing a destructive impact greater than any loud wail.

“I, clearly, loved you that much.”

Her hand dropped limply, her eyes filled with bleeding grief.

Not a single tear fell, not a hint of a sob.

Only that heavy, suffocating emotion, like a tangible tide, silently and completely drowning the person.

It could only be said that Li Ting’s expression of emotion far surpassed that of a first-rate veteran actor. She excelled at sudden bursts, especially when handling sorrowful emotions.

“Stop—!!! That’s enough!”

A cracked, intensely trembling sound finally burst forth, tearing its way out of Si Xiaoxiao’s almost choked throat.

She twisted her face away as if seared by a hot iron.

Her chest rose and fell violently, as if she had just escaped a suffocating deep-sea drowning, gasping for the thin air, greedy and disheveled. Fine cold sweat beaded on her forehead, tracing a path down her temples.

But at the same time, a secret emotion arose in her heart. She had always known that Li Ting was very talented in acting, yet even after so many years of not being involved in acting-related matters, Li Ting could still exhibit such explosive acting skills.

It was truly… irritating.

The set fell into a dead silence.

Only the camera continued to faithfully run, recording everything that had just happened.

Li Ting slowly, extremely slowly, straightened her body. The moment she straightened her spine, the intense, all-consuming emotion of sorrow in her eyes was instantly wiped away as if by an invisible hand, vanishing without a trace.

It was so fast that one almost suspected it was an illusion.

In the blink of an eye, she reverted to her usual gentle and detached demeanor, as if everything in the world held no interest for her. The person who had just questioned in deep pain and pleaded vulnerably was merely a phantom projected by the studio lights.

Her voice was as consistently gentle as before:

“Teacher Si, does this interpretation… still meet your requirements?”

Through this huge contrast, she was helping everyone present snap out of the scene.

This person is really annoying.

Si Xiaoxiao gasped rapidly, her heart still pounding frantically in her chest, making her eardrums buzz.

“I’ll barely pass you. Let’s move on to the next segment.”

She spoke, a strong sense of resentment welling up in her heart.

Her throat felt blocked by coarse sandpaper; the sound she made was unfamiliar even to herself, yet she stubbornly, desperately maintained her last shred of a mentor’s authority.

Si Xiaoxiao looked up, and she saw a fleeting trace of confusion in Li Ting’s eyes.

An acting genius, yet she easily abandoned her talent.

The disgust fermented in her heart with crystal clarity.

She fiercely flipped through the script on her lap, the paper rustling sharply, as if venting.

Then she would challenge her, prove that acting wasn’t that simple.

Finally, her fingertip pointed heavily at another passage marked with a highlighter.

“This one!” She lifted her chin, like a proud yet injured peacock, trying hard to keep her back straight as she showed the script to Li Ting.

The content was extremely explicit and suggestive: how the female lead uses her eyes, body language, and subtle touches to gradually lure the target into a meticulously woven web of desire.

The lines were filled with highly suggestive descriptions like “eyes flowing,” “red lips slightly parted,” “fingertips lightly stroking,” and “breathing out softly.”

That surging, unfamiliar emotion was the unwillingness of betrayal, and a tumultuous… envy.

Just because she was Li Ting.

Her every move could easily mobilize all of her own emotions.

Li Ting couldn’t possibly perform a seductive scene toward someone she disliked.

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