Transmigrated as the Future Movie Queen's Arch-Nemesis - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

“Cut!”

Director Song’s ruthless voice rang out once again, like a death knell, causing Su Mi’s body to shudder violently.

She seemed to snap back to reality. The impatience in the eyes of those around her was palpable; even if they didn’t say a word, the looks they directed at Su Mi were brimming with contempt.

‘If she acts like this, how can she have the nerve to ask the director for extra scenes? And the director actually agreed. She must have gotten in through the back door.’

‘Who knows whose little mistress she is? I should’ve been reborn with a better life, and a prettier face, in my next one.’

‘So annoying. When will this take finally be over?’

These thoughts, hidden behind indifferent gazes, became sharp knives in the shadows, stabbing mercilessly at Su Mi. Cold sweat had long since blanketed her back, and her palms were no exception. The wet, sticky sensation secretly enveloped her entire body.

It was disgusting.

If time could only turn back, Su Mi thought.

If it could, she would go back to the day she received the script and immediately have her grandmother tell Director Song that she wouldn’t be coming to film.

Time shifted back to the previous evening.

After happily finishing the coconut chicken with Xin Keke, the two of them walked back, bickering all the way. Reconciliations after an argument make people cherish each other all the more, and perhaps Xin Keke felt the same way.

Back at the hotel, after changing and showering, the two of them did something rare: they sat cross-legged on the bed, applying facial masks while combing through the script for the next day. Watching Xin Keke twist her long hair into a bun behind her head and pin her bangs up with cute little clips, Su Mi suddenly felt as if she were dreaming.

No, even in a dream, she had never imagined that one day she would be sitting on a bed with a novel’s female lead, applying facial masks, let alone rehearsing lines with her.

It was truly magical.

“Let’s start,” Xin Keke said, waving the script and interrupting Su Mi’s daydream. “The first line is yours.”

“Ah, oh…”

For some reason, even though she had been fine just a moment ago, Su Mi felt inexplicably nervous the second they started. Looking at the script, where Bo Xiaoling’s lines were already highlighted with a neon marker, Su Mi simply read out: “Why are you so dispirited?”

“Stop.”

Sure enough, Xin Keke stopped her immediately. Su Mi didn’t even need Xin Keke to say it; as soon as the words left her lips, she felt they were “off.” She didn’t think much of it in casual conversation, but the moment “acting” was highlighted in her mind, she felt something was wrong with how she said it.

“That line just now was too stiff. The audience will know you’re just reading the script,” Xin Keke said. “Do it again.”

“At this moment, Yuan Yuan is struggling on the edge of despair. She has a high-pressure family background that puts immense weight on her. For three years, she treated the promise Wei Minghui made to her as a pillar of support, but now that pillar has collapsed.”

Xin Keke looked at Su Mi: “If this were your best friend, what would you do?”

“Huh?”

Caught off guard, Su Mi scrambled: “Uh, um… let me think… I guess… I’d still be by her side to support her… right?”

“Exactly. Bo Xiaoling’s personality is relatively cheerful, similar to you, so this role isn’t actually that difficult.” Xin Keke’s gaze softened. “As Yuan Yuan’s best friend, she has witnessed almost everything Yuan Yuan has gone through. But she comes from a different background than Yuan Yuan; her family environment directly influences her values and personality.”

“Oh…” Su Mi nodded.

Sounds so professional.

Xin Keke rested her chin on one hand, looking slightly upward at the ceiling as she thought, speaking to Su Mi:

“For Yuan Yuan, under the high pressure of her family, the promise with Wei Minghui is like a life-saving straw—she places it on a pedestal. But for Bo Xiaoling, her family circumstances require her to earn money; romance is something that should come after making a living. She doesn’t understand Yuan Yuan’s feelings for Wei Minghui.”

“But she is still willing to take time off work on a weekday to accompany Yuan Yuan, which shows that Yuan Yuan is incredibly important to her. Even if she doesn’t understand, she is willing to accept it and hopes her friend can get out of this state as soon as possible.”

Xin Keke looked at Su Mi, hoping for a reaction, but Su Mi was already feeling dizzy. Why is there so much to analyze? Isn’t it enough to just grasp the character’s psychology and act out the state of mind?

This is why the professionals are different.

“Su Mi, when you perform, you need to show Bo Xiaoling’s concern for Yuan Yuan. Even when both of them are feeling down and dispirited, she forces herself to cheer up and comfort Yuan Yuan, pretending that everything is fine.”

“But within that, you need to add a subtle sense of ‘I wish you’d get your act together,’ because to Bo Xiaoling, romance is the least valuable thing.”

When Xin Keke stopped, the whole room fell into silence. Her brows were slightly furrowed.

“Su Mi, are you listening?”

Hearing her name called, Su Mi snapped out of her blank state and nodded vigorously at Xin Keke: “Listening, I’m listening!”

In reality, she was still in a state of utter confusion and shock. After all, I’ve never heard Xin Keke say so much at once.

Is this what a future best actress is like??

Facing Xin Keke’s skeptical gaze, Su Mi desperately tried to change the subject, stuttering: “I-it seems like Bo Xiaoling doesn’t have many lines in the script…? How do you know all this?”

It was strange—she hadn’t seen any of this background when she read the script. Even the character description for Bo Xiaoling was just a fleeting mention: “Yuan Yuan’s best friend, cheerful personality.” How did Xin Keke know?

“I analyzed it from the dialogue and the plot,” Xin Keke replied, defeating Su Mi with a single sentence. Her tone suggested, Isn’t that obvious?

Even worse, she added: “I’ve written character dossiers for every character related to Yuan Yuan. Hold on, let me send you the one for Bo Xiaoling.”

Su Mi: “…”

Look at that—look at that—that is what you call true professional dedication!

She hadn’t just written a dossier for Yuan Yuan; she had written them for every single character connected to Yuan Yuan!!

Perhaps it was Su Mi’s imagination, but Xin Keke seemed much more talkative discussing characters than she ever had before. It was like a switch had been flipped. Su Mi was overwhelmed by the sudden influx of information, her brain still spinning. But she didn’t hate this “talkative” Xin Keke; instead, she found her earnest and cute.

…No, now is not the time for this. I’m about to enter a slaughterhouse tomorrow!

Su Mi’s phone vibrated—it was the dossier Xin Keke sent. She unlocked the screen and scanned it; the messages in WeChat occupied an entire screen. And there was more.

“My god…”

Su Mi scrolled, sighing again. Good grief, thank goodness I didn’t take the role of Zeng Liumei. If I had, given Xin Keke’s acting skills and attitude, wouldn’t she have just trampled me into the dirt?

It’s awkward when there’s a skill gap.

After reading the dossier, Su Mi realized the character Xin Keke had analyzed was far from simple. In the dossier, Bo Xiaoling seemed to have come to life, transforming into a rich, three-dimensional character. Su Mi felt her scalp tingle. She swallowed hard, trembling, and said: “…Let’s do it.”

It’s just acting. I refuse to believe that with Xin Keke giving me private lessons, I can’t even handle a tiny supporting role.

“Cut!”

Su Mi closed her eyes. She felt as though her soul had ascended from her body, drifting in the air, leaving only a walking corpse behind to feel the chaos of the scene.

Unfortunately, the person receiving the undivided attention of the crew was none other than herself. It was the first time in her twenty-plus years of life that she was filming something seriously. Back at her company, when they occasionally did small promotional videos for holidays, she would feel incredibly uncomfortable the moment those black lenses pointed at her.

Now, a more formal and terrifying camera was pointed directly at her. That was a small matter, but as a former ordinary person, she couldn’t adapt to this feeling even after spending days on set. Especially since she had only been watching others until now. The moment she had to perform herself, she realized many things were not as simple as she had imagined.

The moment Director Song shouted “Action,” Su Mi stared at the camera and forgot how to move. Her mind was a blank slate; she was frozen.

Today, they were filming outdoors at a park outside the Changning shooting base. Not far away, another crew was filming as well, making the area noisy. But the noisier it was, the more dead-silent their crew felt.

This was the sixth time.

Every time they started, Su Mi couldn’t react, or her reactions didn’t meet the director’s expectations. Even the staff standing in might have acted better than her.

Director Song rubbed his temples, rising wearily from behind the monitor: “Su Mi, your performance in previous works seemed quite natural. Are you just too tired from yesterday? Let’s take a break and let you adjust your state of mind.”

Director Song was already being very gentle. Watching the assistant director, He Xiao, standing next to him, his eyes looked like they were sparking with fire. Su Mi suspected that if Director Song weren’t there, He Xiao would have roared “Get out!” at her.

Previous works…

Su Mi smiled self-deprecatingly. Those works weren’t hers—they were the original host’s. No matter how corrupt the original host’s character was, she had at least been more talented at acting than Su Mi.

So why did I have to transmigrate into an actress? I’m just an ordinary illustrator.

Su Mi’s hanging hands clenched into fists. Yesterday, Director Song had said that since she and Xin Keke were close, it would be a one-take. Showing such a pathetic performance today was no different than slapping the director in the face. If it were just herself, that would be one thing, but this feeling of dragging others down left Su Mi feeling utterly dejected.

The staff naturally took the chance to rest. It was November, yet the daily temperature in Changning was still approaching 30°C. In such weather, NG-ing time after time, the staff naturally had grievances. She heard the noise around her fade, punctuated by one or two sharp bursts of laughter. Various sounds burst forth, irritating her eardrums.

She felt as if she were the only thing left behind, discarded. Su Mi wanted to leave, but her legs were statues; her shame had taken root, making her unable to even move. The sunlight seemed to melt her self-esteem, dissolving it into her sweat, which trickled down her skin and pooled on the ground.

Countless voices, big and small, turned into ants crawling into her ears. The pool of water beneath her feet rippled, shattering her reflection. For a moment, she felt a sudden, profound terror.

“Su Mi.”

That bell-like voice rang out again.

It was the only sound at this moment that could save her. Su Mi turned her head in a panic, meeting a pair of calm eyes.

Xin Keke was standing right beside her. She gently patted Su Mi’s arm and said, “Come with me for a moment.”

Su Mi was already in a state of being led around by the nose; she was too suffocated to think. Whatever Xin Keke said, she obeyed. She followed obediently behind Xin Keke to a shady spot. Only then did she notice a layer of sweat on Xin Keke’s neck.

Realizing what had happened, she was suddenly terrified: “I’m sorry!”

Because of her mistakes, Xin Keke, who had been sitting on a bench preparing for the scene, had been baked in the sun. Su Mi had been so nervous she had forgotten all about it. Will Xin Keke… be angry because of this?

But hearing the apology, Xin Keke shook her head. She pulled out a pack of tissues and stuffed them into Su Mi’s hand: “Nervousness won’t solve anything. Hurry and adjust your state. Don’t delay the shooting progress because of yourself alone.”

The words were a rebuke, but Xin Keke’s tone was very gentle.

Su Mi was so ashamed she couldn’t lift her head. She knew the entire crew’s progress was stalled because of her own mistakes. She felt guilty, but… but she…

“We practiced last night, didn’t we?”

In the shade, Xin Keke tilted her head up slightly. She looked straight into Su Mi’s eyes: “You did very well last night, Su Mi. We only need to do exactly what we did yesterday.”

“Eh?” Su Mi was surprised. “But yesterday…”

Yesterday, Xin Keke had been very picky with her…

“There are no ‘buts’.”

Xin Keke interrupted Su Mi. With an incredibly serious demeanor, she said: “You can do this.”

“You could do it yesterday, and you can do it today.”