Perfect Divorce [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 9

At 5:10 PM, a staff member came in to notify Yuan Xingzhou to get ready.

Yuan Xingzhou had been lingering in the dressing room, dragging out conversations with Huo Yangqing just to keep him from running into Ye Huai outside. Hearing that it was time, he immediately grew tense.

“Are we filming right now?” Yuan Xingzhou hesitated, half-standing as he looked for an excuse. “I thought the schedule said we enter the bar at dusk.”

“Filming your solo part first,” the staffer replied. “Hurry up, the director is rushing.”

Through his chat with Huo Yangqing, Yuan Xingzhou knew today’s shoot had been far from smooth. In the morning, the actors weren’t in the right state, completing only two of the four scheduled scenes. In the afternoon, a cameraman suffered a fracture from a fall, and there were technical issues with the equipment.

At times like this, even the most even-tempered director would be prone to outbursts. Not daring to delay, Yuan Xingzhou hurried out of the dressing room.

The director was indeed waiting. Seeing him, he frowned and said, “We need to reshoot one scene. Get ready!”

It was the very last scene Yuan Xingzhou had filmed before his livestream “incident.” Back then, the director had called “cut” and moved on without critique. Yuan Xingzhou had naturally assumed it was fine, which was why he had wiped off his makeup so quickly to head to the airport. Now, seeing the reshoot, he realized something must have been wrong with his performance that day, but by the time the director went looking for him, he was already gone.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Yuan Xingzhou bowed apologetically. “I’ll definitely be more careful in the future. I won’t leave the set lightly again.”

The director glanced at him but said nothing.

Yuan Xingzhou apologized to the assistant director and other staff as well. Not daring to waste another second, he quickly re-familiarized himself with the blocking and lines for that scene.

The scene took place on a street. The young officer, Xu Zhou, had begun to suspect that the codebreaker they were tracking was actually Feng Qing. He hadn’t told anyone, planning to go to the library alone to confirm the man’s decryption habits. This scene depicted him on his way; at a deserted intersection, Xu Zhou pauses for a moment, his heart filled with complexity.

“The character’s temperament needs a foundational tone. Here… previously I asked you to highlight urgency and anger, and you did fine last time,” the director walked over to explain. “But the script was modified slightly over the past two days, so the emotion here has changed. What do you think?”

Yuan Xingzhou realized it wasn’t a mistake on his part after all and breathed a sigh of relief. He hesitated, then said, “If Xu Zhou admires Feng Qing, then here… he should be showing great restraint. He’s enduring a conflict between logic and emotion, and this conflict makes him…”

“Dazed! In pain!” The director nodded repeatedly, smiling as he patted Yuan Xingzhou’s shoulder. “Excellent. Just like that.”

Yuan Xingzhou offered a small smile.

The director added, “It’s only right to have family come out for a visit and relax a bit after filming. Don’t feel pressured. Is that your family over there?”

In the distance, Ye Huai had pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead. He was holding a carton of Wangzai Milk—who knows who gave it to him. Seeing Yuan Xingzhou look over, he tilted his chin up with a “get back to work” expression.

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Truly a young master; people serve him wherever he goes.

Why hasn’t he left yet?

“Film well,” the director encouraged. “Try to wrap up early so you can take your family for a walk around the area.”

Clearly, this director hadn’t realized he still had a kiss scene to film tonight. Yuan Xingzhou smiled helplessly, unfastened his cloak, took a deep breath, and entered his character.

As dusk fell, a layer of advection fog gradually rose among the mountains. The tall, European-style classical buildings were half-shrouded in mist. The leaves on both sides of the street were half-green and half-yellow, the light was dimming—a picture of lonely, desolate autumn…

The director instantly perked up. It was beautiful!

Yuan Xingzhou was completely immersed in the emotion. He nailed it in one take, yet everyone clamored for more, so he had to walk the path over and over again.

This kind of unreal beauty was hard to capture. The director’s bad mood vanished instantly, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Yuan Xingzhou also took a look behind the monitor. He felt a sense of strangeness looking at the quiet, melancholic person with a princely aura on the screen. But he had to admit, such a scene was a rare gift from the heavens—more effective for a film crew than anything else.

Without even having time to eat, everyone hurried to prepare for the next scene: the leads’ kiss.

Yuan Xingzhou jolted, suddenly remembering he needed to get Ye Huai to leave. However, when he turned around, he saw Huo Yangqing standing with Ye Huai, chatting.

Yuan Xingzhou rushed over.

“I’m just chatting with Brother Ye!” Huo Yangqing didn’t act like a hater at all. Seeing Yuan Xingzhou approach, he smiled. “Brother Ye is really easy to talk to.”

Yuan Xingzhou was nearly breaking into a cold sweat, fearing Ye Huai might say something he shouldn’t.

“Is… is that so?” Yuan Xingzhou asked.

“Mm,” Ye Huai tilted his head. Somewhere along the line, he had put his sunglasses back on. Without looking up, he said, “He said he’s going to film a kiss scene with you.”

Yuan Xingzhou’s heart skipped a beat. “And?”

Ye Huai said expressionlessly, “Does your crew have any desserts? Bread is fine too.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Turns out he’s just preoccupied with food. Fortunately, looking at Huo Yangqing, it seemed the two hadn’t said anything incriminating yet.

Huo Yangqing raised an eyebrow at him, then curled his lip.

Yuan Xingzhou signaled for him to go get ready. Once Huo Yangqing walked away, he said to Ye Huai, “You should head down the mountain quickly. There’s nothing in this scenic area, and dinner is just boxed lunches. Besides, I have more filming to do, and I don’t know when they’ll distribute the food.”

Ye Huai let out a “Mm.”

Yuan Xingzhou glanced at him. Seeing no intention of a reply and fearing he might be angry, he explained, “Our next scene is an interior set; you won’t be able to see anything from the outside anyway. Go back early and get some rest. If you still want to watch, come back another day when the weather is good.”

This time, Ye Huai simply stopped speaking. He planted one foot on the ground and swung his chair back and forth out of boredom.

“Drive slowly on the way back. It’s foggy, stay safe.” Time was limited; Yuan Xingzhou couldn’t worry about him any longer and turned to hurry away.

Although Huo Yangqing was a playboy, he was professionally trained, had great visuals, and his acting was impeccable. The two of them filmed the bar entry scenes in one take. Then came the big moment.

Xu Zhou and Feng Qing meet in a corner of the bar. They reminisce about the past while testing each other. Xu Zhou gradually sinks into his past feelings, his eyes full of deep affection, restraint, and pain.

Feng Qing keenly perceives this, gradually confirming his suspicions.

“Do you remember when you were a child? You were so competitive, always wanting to come out on top. Back then, there was a classmate in your school who was studious and exceptionally bright, which meant you could only place second in exams. You felt resentful and came to me to cry.” Feng Qing rested one hand on the back of his chair, his eyes still holding the breezy elegance of a wealthy scion. He said to Xu Zhou, “Back then, I found ways to make you happy. Do you still remember the card games?”

Xu Zhou looked at him with surprise, feeling somewhat at a loss.

Feng Qing pulled a card from the table, pressed it against his own lips, and leaned toward Xu Zhou.

The lights in the bar were dim. Feng Qing turned his body, blocking the view from the outside, and drew closer.

The card fell from his lips, and their lips met.

“CUT!” the director shouted.

Yuan Xingzhou jolted, opened his eyes in a panic, and backed away slightly.

Huo Yangqing looked up at the director.

“Yangqing, watch your facial control—” the director shouted. “You’re just acting. Do you understand what acting is? There can’t be real emotion in your eyes!”

Huo Yangqing froze, looked down at Yuan Xingzhou, then back at the director. “I didn’t have any?”

Director: “Come over here and look for yourself! Your mouth is practically grinning! You couldn’t even keep the card in place!”

The crew erupted in laughter.

Huo Yangqing rubbed his ear and hurriedly said to Yuan Xingzhou, “My apologies.”

Yuan Xingzhou smiled. Just as he was about to prepare for a retake, he heard an abrupt voice: “A greenhorn is just a greenhorn. Useless.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “?!”

The sudden voice nearly scared the soul out of him. He looked back to see that Ye Huai had somehow snuck behind the monitor! He was currently sitting in the director’s chair!

Huo Yangqing clearly heard it too, his face turning pale and then red.

“Ignore him,” Yuan Xingzhou’s head was thumping. He could only comfort the person next to him. “He’s just like that.”

Huo Yangqing glanced at Ye Huai, turned away to take a deep breath, and continued. “Do you remember…”

A minute later, the card hit the floor, Huo Yangqing leaned in for the kiss, and Yuan Xingzhou closed his eyes.

“CUT—” the director said again. “No, no. Do it again!”

“Am I still being too passionate?” Huo Yangqing stood up, glanced at Ye Huai, and said to the director, “Sorry, Director. I like Xingzhou too much; I can’t help myself.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…” Ye Huai: “…”

He said it so righteously and with such displeasure on his face that everyone assumed he was just having a “young master” tantrum. No one took it as the truth.

The director shook his head, whispered a few words to the assistant director, and finally said, “Xingzhou, your gaze is still missing something.”

Hearing it was his own problem, Yuan Xingzhou immediately stood up.

“…When the card falls, your heart is surging with passion! So your gaze must be intense, like it’s on fire…” the director said. “Your sense of panic is well-handled now, but there’s no love. It looks like you’re being forced.”

This director was exceptionally kind to Yuan Xingzhou, always praising him and giving detailed guidance. Yuan Xingzhou was grateful and nodded, silently trying to figure out the feeling.

The third time, Yuan Xingzhou kept telling himself to show love, but he couldn’t help but feel uncertain. He didn’t know what kind of gaze one should have when looking at a beloved person.

This round didn’t even reach the kiss before Huo Yangqing flubbed a line.

By the fourth take, everyone’s energy wasn’t as full as the first time. Huo Yangqing finally lost his “passionate love,” and Yuan Xingzhou tried his best to imagine him as a “Best Supporting Actor” trophy.

The card fell. Huo Yangqing leaned in for the kiss without pause. Yuan Xingzhou imagined himself on the stage of the awards ceremony, accepting the trophy and giving it a gentle kiss.

He slightly raised his chin to receive it. It was finished.

The director didn’t call cut.

Yuan Xingzhou breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to open his eyes and continue, he saw Huo Yangqing staring at his mouth.

“Director!” Huo Yangqing stood up and sighed. “I’ve eaten all of Xingzhou’s lipstick. Let’s do a touch-up.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Dinner hadn’t been served yet; everyone was tired and hungry. Yuan Xingzhou hurried to stand up for a touch-up, as did Huo Yangqing. After they were finished, they looked at each other, both looking exhausted.

“Sorry,” Huo Yangqing said apologetically. “I thought this scene would be easy to pass.”

“It’s my fault,” Yuan Xingzhou knew his acting skills were far below Huo Yangqing’s. He hurriedly said, “My gaze wasn’t right. I’ll… try to find the feeling.”

They didn’t lower their voices. The director called out, “That last one was close! Let’s work a bit harder! Once this take passes, we eat!”

The staff perked up again.

“Xingzhou,” the director called out.

Yuan Xingzhou immediately looked back, his eyes filled with apprehension.

The director said, “Imagine him as…”

“Imagine him as me,” Ye Huai said from behind the equipment. “Just pretend I’m the one about to kiss you. Hurry up, I’m starving to death…”

His tone started off flat, but the final sentence was full of grievance.

Yuan Xingzhou’s mouth fell open. Seeing everyone around him looking like they were waiting for gossip and “sugar,” his ears turned red. With his blood rushing, he hurriedly got ready.

The fifth take finally passed in one go.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing there were no more of his scenes, Yuan Xingzhou informed the crew and planned to take Ye Huai back.

Their filming location was in a scenic mountain area. Although the roads were smooth and wide, it was foggy today and Ye Huai wasn’t familiar with the surroundings. Yuan Xingzhou was worried he wouldn’t make it back.

He hurried to change his clothes. When he came out, everyone was eating. Ye Huai was sitting on the steps of a building, holding a boxed lunch he had obtained from somewhere. It already had three roasted chicken legs piled inside.

“…You’ve already started eating?” Yuan Xingzhou said in surprise. “I’m done for tonight; I’ll take you back now.”

“Didn’t you say it was a night shoot?” Ye Huai asked. “How is it over?”

Yuan Xingzhou had just been bluffing him earlier. Now he could only say vaguely, “The coordinator rearranged things.”

Ye Huai nodded. “Where are you staying?”

“The hotel in the scenic area. We’ve booked the whole place.” Yuan Xingzhou suddenly realized that by asking this, Ye Huai might be implying he wanted to stay. He added, “But the rooms are all full. The crew is large, and there’s no space.”

Ye Huai: “…”

“It’s fine,” Ye Huai said expressionlessly. “I’ll stay in your room.”

Yuan Xingzhou looked puzzled, but seeing Ye Huai’s furrowed brows, pursed lips, and the way his chopsticks were irritably stabbing at the boxed lunch until the chicken legs were almost shredded… he looked on the verge of an outburst.

Communication between the two had been quite pleasant over the past few days; Yuan Xingzhou had almost forgotten that one of Ye Huai’s labels was having a bad temper.

Moreover, he had just asked for a favor yesterday…

“Then let’s go.” Yuan Xingzhou gave up the struggle. He turned to lead the way, asking, “Are you eating that lunch? If not, don’t throw it away; I’m still hungry.”

While the crew prepared extra boxed lunches, some people had large appetites. Since Ye Huai had already taken one, Yuan Xingzhou felt embarrassed to go get another.

After all, this was his nominal “family member.”

“It tastes terrible.” Ye Huai closed the lid of the box and followed him irritably, walking side-by-side. “Do you guys eat this every day?”

Yuan Xingzhou said, “Conditions vary between crews. This is actually considered good; canteen food is what tastes bad. The chicken legs tonight were likely added by Huo Yangqing for everyone.”

“Heh.” Ye Huai pursed his lips, hands stuffed in his pockets, and glanced at him sideways.

Yuan Xingzhou didn’t know how he had provoked him again.

“He’s just a leader of a hater club,” Ye Huai snorted, saying with disdain, “If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have even passed the kiss scene.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “???”