I Rely on My Versatility to Reach the Top of the Entertainment Industry [Ancient Times to Modern] - Chapter 19

Amidst artificial rock formations and a simple campsite constructed from branches, primitive humans were scattered about.

One youth, using a banana leaf as a makeshift container, hunched over with arms dangling forward, moved toward the forest in a gorilla-like gait.

The camera zoomed in closer and closer, revealing a tiger lying in a pool of blood.

The youth blinked and gave the tiger a nudge.

The tiger glanced over, and the youth leaped back in surprise.

Cao Yang, holding the camera, chuckled.

No wonder Jing Yi wanted to get up close with gorillas! Just look at that pushing motion—it’s exactly like King Kong’s behavior, perfectly embodying the primitive human character.

After repeatedly confirming that the tiger posed no threat, the youth crouched beside it, examining its wounds.

Cao Yang zoomed in for a close-up.

On the youth’s grimy little face, his lively eyes began to brim with deep sympathy.

Two seconds later, the youth blinked, stood up, gathered nearby herbs and vines, and began bandaging the tiger.

This part couldn’t be shot in close-up because the tiger, Lu Yi, wasn’t actually injured—a wide shot would suffice.

Next came scenes of their daily interactions and playful moments, with the youth’s earnest smile and harmonious rapport with the tiger becoming the focal points.

The first segment of the film ended, and any excess footage would be handled during post-production editing.

Cao Yang saved the footage and said with a beaming smile, “Good job, kid. No wonder Guo Lin speaks so highly of you, saying you’ll be able to shoot without any NGs once you’ve grown.”

Jing Yi patted Lu Yi’s head and smiled back, “It’s all thanks to Director Guo’s guidance.”

After filming two more interaction scenes, Lu Yi needed to wash off the excess fake blood.

The keeper called for Lu Yuzhi to bathe, and Lu Yi let out a low growl, nudging Jing Yi’s stomach with his large head and nipping at the only covering Jing Yi wore.

Just as the plastic leaf skirt was about to be tugged off, Jing Yi was about to protest when a low, stern voice came from nearby: “Lu Yi, let go.”

Jing Yi looked up.

Lu Yuzhi was walking over, his amber eyes fixed on Lu Yi, an unmistakable intensity radiating from his expressionless face.

Lu Yi reluctantly released his grip and hid behind Jing Yi.

But how could Jing Yi possibly block a tiger?

Lu Yi could still see the angry Lu Yuzhi, so he whimpered and fawned, hoping Jing Yi would protect him.

“Mr. Lu, have you finished handling your matters?” Jing Yi asked with concern.

Lu Yuzhi had already reached Jing Yi’s side. Ignoring Lu Yi, he resumed his usual gentle and harmless demeanor, adjusting Jing Yi’s leaf skirt.

“Yes, almost done. I heard you were filming a commercial here, so I brought a few people to see you. We’d like you to audition for a role,” Lu Yuzhi said, then turned to introduce the three men behind him. “This is the actor I recommended—Jing Yi, 19 years old.”

The three men looked Jing Yi over, and the leader smiled as he replied to Lu Yuzhi, “Xiao Lu, we know you like to support newcomers, but at first glance, this young man’s physique isn’t suitable.”

The three were veteran directors, the preferred collaborators of the national television network and frequent partners themselves. The lead director, Gu Guochang, had won numerous international awards for his early works.

This time, they were in charge of a television film adaptation, with the protagonist being a dashing swordsman from a wuxia novel named Xie Qiyun.

Xie Qiyun was meddlesome and often got injured. When treating his wounds, his physique needed to reveal explosive muscle definition and a sense of power.

“Physical condition is easy to discuss.” Lu Yuzhi’s face showed no urgency. “Since filming has been suspended anyway, shall we discuss after seeing his acting skills?”

“Since we’re already here, of course I’ll give you face.” Gu Guochang squatted down as he spoke, greeting Lu Yi. “So, does our national big cat still remember me?”

Lu Yi had just been scolded by Lu Yuzhi and wasn’t in the mood to be friendly, baring his teeth fiercely.

The zoo director watching nearby laughed heartily. “Old Gu, give it up. Our Lu Yi only listens to Young Lu. Oh, and this young man named Jing Yi. He doesn’t give anyone else face.”

“Oh? No wonder Young Lu kept recommending this young man. So there’s this connection?” Gu Guochang didn’t take offense either, standing up with a chuckle and looking directly at Jing Yi. “Young man, being liked by a tiger isn’t any special skill. An actor’s acting ability is what matters most. Show us what you’ve got.”

“Alright, I’ll do my best.” Jing Yi replied seriously, as if he hadn’t caught Gu Guochang’s implied meaning, remaining composed.

This made Gu Guochang pause.

After the pause came laughter.

Jing Yi seemed not to recognize him, but he knew Jing Yi. Last year during a program, Jing Yi had directly confessed to his younger son Gu Chen on stage, only to be slapped straight across the face by his straightforward son.

Previously cyberbullied by the entire internet, and recently there was that apology trend across the internet.

With this history, Gu Guochang thought Jing Yi should recognize him and feel somewhat uncomfortable or something.

But that wasn’t the case?

Gu Guochang now genuinely felt more anticipation for the young man before him. He gave Jing Yi a friendly smile before moving aside to catch up with the zoo director.

With the stranger gone and sensing Lu Yuzhi was no longer angry, the big cat Lu Yi continued being cute, rolling over to show his belly, hoping Jing Yi would join him for a bath.

Unable to resist the big cat’s acting cute, Jing Yi followed Lu Yi to the bathing area.

Water gushed from the hose noisily. Lu Yi playfully jumped around, causing water to splash everywhere and soaking Jing Yi completely.

The black ash specially applied to his body washed away under the water, revealing his original skin tone.

Lu Yuzhi watched from the side, his eyes gradually darkening.

Water droplets rolling off luminous white skin… that slender waist wrapped in leaves…

Lu Yuzhi averted his gaze, walking to the filming location where he grabbed a bottle of mineral water and chugged it. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his handsome face showed traces of awkwardness.

—This is too much, Lu Yuzhi.

Mocking himself internally, Lu Yuzhi threw the empty bottle into the trash can.

Jing Yi went to the makeup room and sincerely apologized to the makeup artist before returning to the filming location.

The second scene was releasing the tiger back to the forest.

The young man reluctantly stroked the tiger’s head, watching as the tiger walked into the forest looking back every few steps, then turned to return to the tribe.

Gu Guochang, observing from the side, kept his eyes fixed on Jing Yi’s expression.

In silent scenes, only the eyes can highlight characterization. When the eyes convey emotion, the audience can immerse themselves.

The reluctant warmth was well portrayed through Jing Yi’s sufficiently expressive eyes, but this alone wasn’t enough.

What truly tests an actor’s skill is the fluidity and intensity of emotional transitions.

Finally, the third scene arrived.

Everyone in the tribe slept outdoors, limbs splayed everywhere, with staff members pretending to snore loudly, the sound echoing through the air.

The veteran animal actor Lu Yi dashed out from the forest, his agile posture and swift movements radiating urgency. Upon spotting the tribe below from atop the artificial hill, he leaped down and roared with an open mouth.

The tribe members awoke in panic and disarray.

As the protagonist, the young boy frantically grabbed a nearby weapon amid the angry shouts of his tribesmen and aimed it at the tiger invading their tribe.

This scene required segmented filming.

They reapplied fake blood and wounds to Lu Yi’s body—this was the crucial part.

Watching the massive beast, injured in its hind leg yet still brandishing its claws to drive the tribespeople out of the village, the boy’s eyes widened in shock.

—This was the first emotional shift.

Gu Guochang nodded in satisfaction. The transition from panic to shock met the emotional requirements.

Next came the second shift.

An earthquake struck, and the surrounding tribespeople dropped their weapons and scattered in all directions. The boy staggered slightly, a mist clouding his clear eyes as tears streamed down his face. His open mouth seemed to silently ask: Were you trying to save us?

Overwhelmed by sorrow, the boy unconsciously took a step toward the tiger.

But after that single step, his body trembled even more violently. He stood rigidly in place, clenching his fists.

As if trying to memorize the tiger’s appearance, the boy locked eyes deeply with the now-collapsed beast.

Gratitude, sorrow, regret… a whirlwind of negative emotions flickered in the boy’s jet-black eyes, finally coalescing into a bitter smile.

—You wanted to save me, yet I harmed you.

The frame froze.

“Wah…” Soft sobs came from nearby—one of the caretakers had burst into tears.

Cao Yang’s eyes were also reddened.

He loved wild animals; otherwise, he wouldn’t have traveled the world photographing them. Humans and all beings in nature should coexist interdependently. One doesn’t have to love them, but they should never be harmed with malice.

Gu Guochang discreetly gave Lu Yuzhi a thumbs-up.

Lu Yuzhi responded with a smile.

A skilled actor can move and captivate the audience through their performance. While staging and dialogue are important, the actor themselves is the core.

Jing Yi had achieved this in his portrayals of Xuan Kong and the Tiger Demon. Now, he had also delivered the emotional depth required for the commercial.

Lu Yuzhi approached Jing Yi to offer encouragement, but Jing Yi instead walked over to Lu Yi, crouched down, and gently stroked the tiger’s head with lowered lashes.

He was still crying.

Lu Yuzhi furrowed his brow.

Was he too immersed in the role?

Just as Lu Yuzhi was pondering how to comfort Jing Yi, Jing Yi suddenly sat cross-legged in meditation.

Tear stains were stark on his soot-smudged face, and even his eyelashes were damp.

A low chant of scriptures began to emanate from him.

Gu Guochang stood by, stunned.

His wife enjoyed listening to Buddhist sutras, and the young actor Jing Yi seemed to be reciting the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva Liberation Sutra? Wasn’t that typically chanted to guide souls to the afterlife?

As the Sanskrit verses filled the air, the sorrowful mood around them gradually eased, and the people’s hearts found calm.

After finishing the chant, Jing Yi opened his eyes and smiled, gently stroking the obediently lying Lu Yi.

Lu Yi tilted his large head, utterly bewildered. He didn’t understand what had just happened to Jing Yi but had instinctively refrained from disturbing him.

“Lu Yi, eat well and grow up healthy.”

Jing Yi whispered these words, his mind drifting to the tiger from the temple’s back mountain years ago.

His first animal friend, who had grown too old to hunt and eventually succumbed to starvation. Back then, he was too young, and it was his first encounter with the meaning of death.

Everything in the world goes through cycles, and acting seems to reenact these cycles—

—How interesting.

A faint smile appeared on Jing Yi’s face.

Lu Yuzhi gazed at Jing Yi’s smiling profile and finally felt relieved, standing up.

“You performed quite well,” Gu Guochang spoke up at this moment. “However, to compete for the role of Xie Qiyun, you must improve your physique.”

Today was merely a screening to determine whether Jing Yi qualified for an audition. After all, Jing Yi’s latest TV drama had not yet aired, and his past works offered little reference value.

Lu Yuzhi asked Jing Yi, “The script is excellent. I hope you’ll give it a try.”

Only then did Gu Guochang realize that Lu Yuzhi had brought them to see Jing Yi without even seeking the person’s consent. But that wasn’t particularly important, as Jing Yi had demonstrated competent acting skills.

“Alright.” Jing Yi paused for a moment before standing up and asking, “But does improving physique mean developing noticeable muscles? It’s very difficult for me to build prominent muscles.”

His martial arts brothers all appeared much more robust than him, something Jing Yi had always envied.

“I’ll help you,” Lu Yuzhi said with a smile.

Jing Yi’s eyes lit up, filled with anticipation.