The Entire Entertainment Industry Knows the Best Actor Has a Crush on Me - Chapter 17

Qiao Zhiyu was as drenched as one could possibly be; even his real hair hadn’t been spared.

Pei Yuan quickly called for help to remove the wig and pushed the soaked man into a small private stall inside the dressing area. He turned to leave, but his hand was suddenly gripped tightly.

“Change with me…”

“…”

Moments later, Qiao Zhiyu sat huddled in a chair, wearing his own casual clothes. His half-dry hair stuck to his forehead as he sipped on hot tea. A lunch box was placed on the table before him, and a warm, dry blanket was pulled tightly around his shoulders.

The previous blanket had been soaked through. He asked curiously, “Where did this one come from?”

“The crew prepared it,” Pei Yuan replied. “Are you still cold?”

Qiao Zhiyu looked at the other man’s casual attire, lowered his eyes, and shook his head.

Everyone had gone to eat. The dressing room now only held Pei Yuan, Bai Chao, and the actor playing the Fifth Prince, Yu Yuan, who had also fallen into the water. The dressing room was medium-sized large enough to serve as a place for makeup, changing, and a temporary rest area. It was originally reserved for Pei Yuan, but he had insisted he didn’t need it, so it became communal.

Yu Yuan sat alone in a corner, quietly eating his meal. He looked only seventeen or eighteen a newcomer who had just entered the industry. He was somewhat of a loner, rarely speaking outside of his scenes.

Huddled in the corner, he looked quite pitiable. His character, the Fifth Prince, was unlikeable and vastly different from his actual personality. To be able to handle such a contrasting role right after debut marked him as a very talented young actor. However, Qiao Zhiyu remembered his ending wasn’t great; he eventually left the industry…

Why was that again?

Qiao Zhiyu watched him through the mirror but couldn’t recall. Seeing the young man dressed so thinly, he eventually asked Bai Chao to give his blanket to Yu Yuan.

Surprise flashed in Yu Yuan’s eyes as he whispered a soft “Thank you.” Bai Chao waved it off and pointed toward Qiao Zhiyu, indicating the blanket wasn’t from him. Yu Yuan pursed his lips, stole a quick glance at Qiao Zhiyu, and nodded.

Only after seeing the other wrap himself up did Qiao Zhiyu turn his attention to his lunch box. The effect of the twenty million yuan investment was evident; the meal had practically been upgraded to a “state banquet.”

A faint sigh came from beside him. Qiao Zhiyu realized what he had just done he had given away the care Pei Yuan had provided him. A wave of guilt washed over him. Even if the crew provided the blanket, Pei Yuan was the one who had brought it to him.

“What is it? Don’t like the food?”

“It’s not that…”

Seeing that Pei Yuan didn’t seem to react negatively, Qiao Zhiyu obediently shut his mouth.

Halfway through the meal, the director came in to announce that the afternoon shoot might be modified. There was a scene in the script involving dancing on small drums over water. However, because the production had started in a hurry, the actors hadn’t been trained. The difficulty was extremely high; the drums were small, and even with wirework, it was difficult to maintain footing while transitioning between them as they moved.

While the director felt it was a shame to cut it, he feared the scene would be a massive waste of time. Qiao Zhiyu fell into deep thought, not answering immediately.

In his past life, this scene had indeed been deleted. Although it didn’t ruin the plot, both the director and Qiao Zhiyu had felt it was a great loss. For a long time afterward, he had replayed that scene in his mind over and over. It wasn’t that it was impossible; they just lacked the money and the time to polish it.

Now they had the money, but preparing everything on short notice would inconvenience others. Especially Pei Yuan… who was already working on just a few hours of sleep to make time for this project. Moreover, the actors were newcomers with their own schedules; if the production stalled now, the loss would outweigh the gain.

Qiao Zhiyu hesitated. He wanted to try…

The director also looked regretful. For a moment, no one spoke.

“Then shoot it. Money is not an issue.”

Pei Yuan’s single sentence successfully caught the attention of both men. Qiao Zhiyu was vehemently opposed. He would rather the scene remain unfilmed like in his past life than have Pei Yuan keep pouring money into the production because of him.

The director’s eyes shone, but he still shook his head. “If we shoot it, we need training. Filming would have to stop. If we can’t gather the cast later, it’ll be hard to restart.”

“Then we won’t train,” Pei Yuan said casually. “Zhiyu can dance.”

The director: “Really?!”

Qiao Zhiyu was stunned. He was indeed a dance major, but in this life, they had only just met. How did Pei Yuan know? Had he investigated him? That seemed unlikely…

He didn’t dwell on it for long. Instead, he said, “But there’s no choreography, and the dance needs rehearsal…”

He was afraid of failing. Even though he had fantasized and practiced it countless times in his head…

The director sighed. “It seems we still have to delete it.”

“Choreograph it now. If there’s no teacher, Zhiyu will be in charge.” Pei Yuan’s tone was casual yet carried a weight of seriousness. “I know your grades were excellent. There’s an hour and a half left; you might as well try. Don’t leave any regrets.”

Pei Yuan’s gaze was so intense it felt like it would melt him. The more Qiao Zhiyu tried not to admit it, the clearer the feeling became as if it were about to fly out of his chest.

Finally, the proposal was accepted. The director figured an hour wouldn’t change much, but since the financier had spoken and they weren’t wasting official work time, he agreed. He took them to the location to let Qiao Zhiyu find his “feeling.”

The director checked his watch, standing to the side with Pei Yuan. Naturally, he wanted the scene, but the probability of it failing was high. Still, a try was a try. Though he wasn’t famous, he never wanted to change his scripts unless absolutely necessary.

The location was an open-air palace. There was a raised seat for the Emperor and rows of tables on the sides. In the center was a large rectangular pool. It wasn’t deep only reaching the calves and it was currently empty of water.

Qiao Zhiyu stood in the pool, his palms sweating from nerves. He hadn’t danced in over ten years; his body was no longer as supple as it once was. He couldn’t back down now. This was what he wanted, and what Pei Yuan supported.

Qiao Zhiyu looked at him, took a deep breath, and slowly began to move. This was the dance he had thought about countless times in his previous life. He had never shown it to anyone. At first, it was just a hobby he choreographed because he felt the cut scene was a waste. Later, after the breakup, he remembered the dance but found himself unable to dance it anymore.

There was no music. Qiao Zhiyu reconstructed the fragments of the dance in his mind bit by bit. He was still very nervous, constantly wondering if he looked good, if he was overextending, or if the movements looked disjointed.

He was worried. He was afraid. Sweat broke out on his palms, which felt icy cold. He could feel his limbs were stiff. It seems I really am getting old…

But he didn’t stop. He kept dancing, spinning in circles…

Suddenly, he tripped. His body fell uncontrollably toward the ground. The world spun before his eyes, and a vast expanse of white light blinded him.

He had tripped over his own feet.

In school, he had been among the best, yet now he was tripping over himself…

It made him think of his past life. Even though the sun was blazing, he felt a chill throughout his body, as if he were sinking…

Is it really happening again? Have I truly lived?

He couldn’t tell anymore…