Chapter 89: The Emotive Actor and the Succession Struggle Part 2

Chun Liuyi had debuted as a child star and possessed a solid foundation. Her acting was as fluid as running water; when watching her, there was no trace of “performance” to be found. One was easily pulled into her world.

Ming Li was purely there to learn.

When the director called “Cut,” Ming Li was still staring at the monitor, mesmerized. She let out a soft sigh.

Liu Siwang smiled warmly. “What are you thinking?”

“When will I ever be that good?” Ming Li asked. “Is it just raw talent?”

“Half and half.” Liu Siwang knew Chun Liuyi’s past; she could never summarize it as mere talent. “She works very hard.”

Chun Liuyi wrapped herself in a down jacket and sat down, asking Liu Siwang to play back the footage. After reviewing it, she pointed to a section in the middle. “Let’s reshoot this part later.”

Liu Siwang nodded. “We’ll add a close-up.”

Chun Liuyi agreed, having no other notes. The two of them were perfectly synchronized in their work; a single look was enough to understand what the other wanted.

Ming Li, being a layperson, didn’t fully understand the technicalities they discussed. However, a moment later, she saw Chun Liuyi deliver a performance with even more explosive power than before. The new take was far more brilliant.

During the break, Chun Liuyi sat to the side playing on her phone. She wore headphones, isolating herself from the world, with no intention of making conversation. Ming Li didn’t push it.

After a while, Liu Siwang suddenly told Chun Liuyi that they were adding two scenes—the scenes with the convenience store clerk.

Chun Liuyi frowned. “You found an actor? I thought you wanted me to coordinate with Xu Congwen’s schedule?”

“I’ve found someone more suitable.” As soon as Liu Siwang spoke, Chun Liuyi’s voice turned cold.

“Zhu Hanxing?”

Liu Siwang nodded. Chun Liuyi’s expression froze. “Why didn’t you discuss this with me?”

Liu Siwang smiled. “She’s a perfect fit, and we can finish it today. You won’t have to owe anyone a favor. It’s a very practical choice.”

Chun Liuyi pursed her lips and said nothing, staring coldly at Liu Siwang. The atmosphere grew tense.

Ming Li watched them from the side, witnessing what felt like a long, silent stalemate.

Finally, Chun Liuyi stood up. “She can’t do it. Find someone else.”

Liu Siwang looked up at her. “Why?”

“You’re asking me when you already know the answer,” Chun Liuyi snapped.

Liu Siwang shook her head. “I don’t know, Yiyi. You’ve never said anything.”

“But you’ve seen it, haven’t you?” Chun Liuyi said. “She isn’t right for this.”

“My ability to judge an actor’s suitability for a role is very good,” Liu Siwang countered. “If she isn’t right, then no one in this world is.”

“You know damn well that we…” Chun Liuyi stopped mid-sentence, her brow furrowed in anger as she glared at Liu Siwang.

Liu Siwang remained as calm as ever, her smile never wavering. “Don’t bring personal matters into work, Yiyi. That’s what you told me.”

Chun Liuyi: “…”

Liu Siwang won the stalemate.

Ming Li, having listened to the entire exchange, spoke up coldly. “Hanxing isn’t a tool for you to use for your work. You should find someone else.”

Liu Siwang looked at Ming Li and said seriously, “She truly is suitable for this role. There is no ‘utilization’ involved.”

“Are you truly interested in Hanxing’s acting, or are you exploiting her feelings?” Ming Li demanded.

Liu Siwang replied gently, “Aren’t the feelings of an emotive actor exactly what their acting is made of? I am helping her find the right role.”

Ming Li was left speechless.

Liu Siwang was an incredibly firm person; once she set her mind on something, no one could pull her back. Not even Chun Liuyi.

Chun Liuyi caught sight of Hanxing in the corner of the set, smoking and adjusting her mindset. With a low mutter of “What a mess,” she retreated to her trailer to rest.

Ming Li went to find Hanxing. In less than an hour, the other woman had almost completely settled into the character.

An introverted convenience store clerk, socially anxious and living a lifeless, dreary existence. One night, when the protagonist, Liang Xuan, hits rock bottom, the clerk hands her a drink and sits with her on the steps to watch the moon. Liang Xuan watches the moon, but the clerk watches Liang Xuan.

She was the one who encouraged Liang Xuan in her darkest hour, and in turn, she was moved by Liang Xuan’s energy. Later, she would quit her job and head toward a different horizon.

Now, Hanxing carried that very same aura of stagnant lifelessness.

…

Filming began that night. Chun Liuyi and Hanxing rehearsed together beforehand.

The wind was biting. Hanxing wore only the orange clerk’s uniform, a thin long-sleeved shirt. Ming Li tried to drape a down jacket over her, but Hanxing refused, wanting to stay in character.

Every time Hanxing acted, it was a sacrifice. A process of sacrificing her true self to the role.

Ming Li had once advised her to just focus on her singing career; there was no need to be a dual-threat artist. But Hanxing had said that acting was a thrill—that in the process, she could briefly become someone else.

Ming Li understood that a little better now, but she still couldn’t reach Hanxing’s level of passion.

During the rehearsal, Chun Liuyi called for a stop multiple times. They took several breaks, after which Chun Liuyi would glare indignantly at Liu Siwang.

Liu Siwang said nothing, merely offering her a gentle, somewhat sorrowful smile.

By the time the cameras finally rolled at eight-thirty, the scene began. The door to the convenience store opened, and Liang Xuan walked in. After browsing, she picked out an expired loaf of bread.

Chun Liuyi’s acting was flawless; Ming Li was completely absorbed.

But every time Chun Liuyi met Hanxing’s eyes, she faltered.

The first few takes ended in a sort of silent rebellion from Chun Liuyi, and the results left Liu Siwang dissatisfied.

“This isn’t your limit, Yiyi,” Liu Siwang said.

Chun Liuyi sighed. “Let me adjust my emotions and try again.”