I Rely on My Versatility to Reach the Top of the Entertainment Industry [Ancient Times to Modern] - Chapter 25

Lu Yuzhi glanced at Wang Yiyue, who was being surrounded by their own people like the moon among stars in the center of the venue, and deliberately walked over to Jing Yi.

“Jing Yi.”

Jing Yi was currently in an awkward position—the stool was slightly too short, but his legs were a bit too long, leaving him with nowhere to comfortably place them.

Hearing Lu Yuzhi call his name, Jing Yi looked up, his mouth slightly agape as he let out a soft “Ah.”

Lu Yuzhi was dressed in an opulent ancient-style robe interwoven with black, red, and gold, the fitted waist design accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His eyes, adorned with dark gold eyeshadow and elongated eyeliner, gave his entire demeanor an ambiguous blend of masculinity and delicacy.

“What is it?” Lu Yuzhi blinked slowly, a slight curve forming on his lip-glossed lips. “How do I look in this costume?”

As he spoke, Lu Yuzhi reached out and gently tapped Jing Yi’s nose.

Jing Yi froze.

Whether it was the slightly teasing tone at the end of Lu Yuzhi’s words or the gentle, fluid movement of his arm, there was an undeniable touch of allure in his demeanor.

“Mr. Lu looks very handsome,” Jing Yi replied.

Hearing this, Lu Yuzhi slightly narrowed his eyes, the smile on his face deepening. Yet, the faint trace of malice in his amber eyes inexplicably sent a chill down one’s spine.

“If I’m handsome, then keep your eyes on me, alright?”

“Okay.” Jing Yi obediently replied, watching as Lu Yuzhi turned and walked away, his gaze following him all the way into the hidden passage inside the room.

The reason Lu Yuzhi and Wang Yiyue’s scene was filmed back-to-back with the previous one was due to Ling Xuan’s unique identity. She was the most outstanding assassin raised by Hua Xiangrong since childhood, sent out of the palace under Hua Xiangrong’s orders to find the imperial heir born to a concubine who had faked her death.

Disguised as a wandering swordswoman, Ling Xuan happened to meet Xie Qiyun, a scholar on his way to the capital for the imperial examinations, while searching for the imperial heir.

Unaware of Ling Xuan’s true identity, Xie Qiyun was drawn to her icy beauty and often tried to flirt with her.

Revealing the relationship between Ling Xuan and Hua Xiangrong at this point was meant to foreshadow Ling Xuan’s tragic ending in this volume.

Jing Yi had long memorized the entire martial arts novel, so even without looking at the script, he knew the main content of this scene.

With the clapperboard’s sound, Ling Xuan activated the mechanism.

The door automatically opened, and Hua Xiangrong emerged from the secret passage with an expressionless face, slightly lifting her chin before silently taking a seat on the chair.

“Master, please have some tea.”

Ling Xuan bowed her head respectfully as she poured a cup of tea for her master, then knelt on one knee and raised the cup above her head with both hands, offering it to her.

Hua Xiangrong did not speak or accept the teacup. Instead, she turned her head and fixed Ling Xuan with a meaningful gaze.

Gu Guochang laughed when he saw this.

Lu Yuzhi’s choice of sitting posture and chair was very clever. In the shot, only Hua Xiangrong was visible, while half of Ling Xuan’s body was blocked by the table.

Moreover, as an actor of award-winning caliber, Lu Yuzhi fully embodied his character’s presence, making the audience unconsciously focus on every subtle change in his expression, without sparing a single glance at Ling Xuan kneeling on the ground.

In the past, when filming, Lu Yuzhi would adjust the level of his “presence” based on the role he was playing.

Although Hua Xiangrong was the final antagonist, given Lu Yuzhi’s usual style, he would at most share the screen equally with Ling Xuan, the female lead.

This time, however, Lu Yuzhi captured the audience’s full attention from the moment he appeared, forcibly overshadowing Ling Xuan.

Who could say Lu Yuzhi was wrong? Lu Yuzhi wasn’t wrong—the fault lay with Ling Xuan’s inability to fully command her role.

Gu Guochang couldn’t help but glance at Jing Yi, who was intently watching the monitor nearby.

This young fellow seemed naive and inexperienced, yet unexpectedly, he had truly caught Lu Yuzhi’s attention.

As a director, Gu Guochang needed outstanding actors who could portray every role with depth and precision.

When actors perform, it’s not simply a matter of the script designating a female or male lead and the actors flawlessly embodying those roles.

If the audience’s attention is consistently drawn to the supporting characters because of their compelling performances, no matter how much screen time the leads are given, is that acceptable?

He hoped Jing Yi could understand Lu Yuzhi’s intentions.

“Master, please have some tea.”

Kneeling on the ground, Wang Yiyue estimated the timing was about right and delivered her second line.

“Hmph.”

Hearing Lu Yuzhi’s voice, Wang Yiyue felt a wave of relief.

Kneeling for so long had made her knees ache terribly. Moreover, she was worried Lu Yuzhi might steal the spotlight.

He was an award-winning actor. Although he was widely known in the industry for his good temper, his talent was undeniable.

Wang Yiyue’s mind wandered, but when she felt the teacup being taken from her hands, she quickly released it and stood up without a moment’s delay.

The next second, the crisp sound of the teacup shattering left Wang Yiyue completely stunned.

“Cut! NG!” Gu Guochang frowned. “Wang Yiyue, what’s going on? What were you thinking? How could you drop the cup? Do you think props are free?”

Wang Yiyue looked at Lu Yuzhi and instinctively blurted out, “I… it was Senior Lu who didn’t take the cup properly…”

“Blaming others for your own mistakes? Couldn’t you tell whether the cup was securely taken? You’re an experienced actress, not a newcomer. Don’t make excuses when things go wrong.”

“Standing up so hastily—have you forgotten your character’s position?”

“As a minor character whose life is in your master’s hands due to a deadly poison, rushing to stand up like that—are you trying to rebel against your master? If you rebel, you’d be killed off immediately, and we might as well wrap up filming and go home for the New Year!”

Gu Guochang reprimanded Wang Yiyue rapidly, his voice amplified by the loudspeaker throughout the set.

The crew members couldn’t help but chuckle at his dry humor.

Wasn’t that the truth? Given Hua Xiangrong’s ruthless and vicious personality, if Ling Xuan acted like that, she wouldn’t even need to appear in later scenes—she’d be killed off right away.

After the laughter died down, the crew members began to look at Wang Yiyue with disdain, thinking: The tables have turned. Her acting, which seemed so impressive in front of newcomers, still couldn’t hold up against an award-winning actor like Lu. How could she make such a basic mistake?

This kind of error was even more amateurish than poor blocking.

Wang Yiyue’s face flushed and paled under everyone’s gaze.

She glanced at Lu Yuzhi, who remained seated in his chair, and thought about his reputation in the industry, wondering: Has Senior Lu changed?

Every actor who had worked with Lu Yuzhi would speak of him with respect and gratitude. If there were minor mistakes during filming, Lu Yuzhi would always cover for them to ensure the scene went smoothly.

Those who hadn’t received his help usually had some shady background.

Although she had been distracted from kneeling too long, if Lu Yuzhi had taken the teacup a little faster, this wouldn’t have happened. Could it be that he had found out about her affair with Fang Zexuan or the underhanded things she had done to secure the lead role in her previous drama?

Wang Yiyue grew increasingly anxious.

The crew quickly cleaned up the broken pieces of the teacup, and the scene resumed.

Wang Yiyue proceeded with extreme caution, determined not to make another mistake.

This time, she made sure the teacup was firmly in Lu Yuzhi’s hands before she stood up.

But with a guilty conscience, and just as Hua Xiangrong looked at Ling Xuan with a mix of scrutiny, malice, and intimidation in her eyes…

Under the pressure of Lu Yuzhi’s gaze, Wang Yiyue accidentally flubbed a line.

NG.

Retake, another NG.

Another retake, still NG.

“Wang Yiyue! Are you trying to drive me mad?” Gu Guochang couldn’t suppress his temper. “If I’d known you couldn’t handle the scene, I never would have signed you!”

Gu Guochang was furious.

Lu Yuzhi’s portrayal of Hua Xiangrong was flawless and impeccable, capturing the camera perfectly during his scenes. Yet Wang Yiyue’s poor performance dragged down the entire shot.

As the female lead, she showed no personal charm whatsoever—what kind of female lead was that?

It was a complete waste of time!

Nearby, Jing Yi pursed his lips.

Gu Guochang was over 50, young at heart but with a body beginning to age. Standing close, Jing Yi clearly heard Gu Guochang’s heavy, labored breathing.

“Director Gu, please don’t be angry,” Jing Yi said softly. “Senior Wang and I will both work harder.”

Hearing this comfort, Gu Guochang glanced at the innocent-looking young man and suppressed his anger, sitting back down in his chair.

A crew member brought Gu Guochang some water, which he gulped down noisily. Just then, the crew member said, “Director Gu, the lunch boxes have arrived.”

“Xiao Yi must be hungry,” Gu Guochang wheezed twice. “All departments, wrap up for now and take lunch break.”

The crew members began dispersing from their posts. Wang Yiyue, pale-faced, retreated to her dressing room surrounded by her assistant and agent.

Lu Yuzhi approached Jing Yi and asked Gu Guochang for the recording of the previous shoot.

“Fine, you can watch it,” Gu Guochang agreed cheerfully, glancing at Jing Yi. “This kid is too naive. If no one teaches him, he’ll easily get bullied later.”

Wang Yiyue’s tactics were still elementary—someone like Lu Yuzhi, who could destroy others without leaving a trace, was truly fearsome.

If Jing Yi couldn’t handle the former, what would happen when he encountered the more dangerous latter?

Jing Yi looked at Gu Guochang, then at Lu Yuzhi, his eyes filled with confusion at their words.

Lu Yuzhi naturally agreed with Gu Guochang. He pulled over a chair and pointed at the scene where Jing Yi and Wang Yiyue had been acting together.

“Here, if you had taken two steps to the right, you would have been fully in the frame. Why didn’t you?”

“Because… it would have blocked Senior Wang,” Jing Yi answered honestly.

“But if you don’t move over, you’re the one being blocked,” Lu Yuzhi sternly pointed out. “The character you play, Xie Qiyun, is the protagonist. In your scenes, Wang Yiyue’s Ling Xuan is the supporting role. Don’t you understand the distinction between primary and secondary roles?”

Jing Yi lowered his head. “I do.”

Lu Yuzhi continued, “Don’t blame Director Gu for losing his temper—I’m angry too.”

“Yes, Wang Yiyue deliberately blocked your shot. But in situations like this, no director would point out that she was wrong. An actor who doesn’t know how to find their frame is inherently unqualified.”

“An actor in front of the camera must perform—not doing so is a mistake in itself. Understand?”

Jing Yi nodded, but his mind was in turmoil.

What Lu Yuzhi said aligned with the acting books Jing Yi had been reading recently, but… such behavior went against the principles he had been raised with.

Fair competition was one thing, but within the same frame, occupying someone else’s camera space—wasn’t that betraying his own conscience?

As the Buddha said, “If I don’t go to hell, who will?”

Lu Yuzhi noticed Jing Yi had not spoken a word, his head bowed and his entire being exuding an aura of dejection. After a moment’s thought, Lu Yuzhi softened his tone: “Are you thinking, ‘If I don’t enter hell, who will?'”

Jing Yi’s eyes reddened slightly as he lifted his gaze to meet Lu Yuzhi’s.

Lu Yuzhi knew at once he had guessed correctly, his eyes darkening: “Yes, you can enter hell. But consider the impact your repeated NG takes have on the entire crew.”

“Moreover, when you blocked Wang Yiyue, she’s not a fool—she naturally moved to the other side of the frame rather than continuing to walk out of the shot.”

“She simply took advantage of your kindness, thinking you lacked professional technique.”

A glimmer of clarity flashed in Jing Yi’s eyes.

Lu Yuzhi was right—sometimes advancing is retreating, and retreating is advancing.

“Amitabha, this humble monk was mistaken.” Jing Yi pressed his palms together and bowed to Lu Yuzhi, expressing sincere gratitude. “Thank you, Mr. Lu. You truly possess great wisdom and have an affinity with the Buddha.”

Lu Yuzhi: “…”

After all his efforts to persuade, the credit went to the Buddha?