APR 25

Zhong Su followed Xiao Lao Dao through the antique-style streets, his gaze discreetly sweeping over the surroundings: “soldiers” clad in heavy armor walking about, “maidservants” in palace attire with hems sweeping the ground, and props of swords, spears, and halberds piled up like small hills in the corners. At a glance, it looked as if half of Chang’an from the glorious Tang Dynasty had been forcibly relocated here.

Before long, the two arrived at the northwest corner of the film studio. From afar, they could see an artificially aged ancient temple, its broken eaves draped with cobwebs, the characters on the plaque above the door faded and peeling.

In the open space before the temple, a group of crew members in dark T-shirts, cargo pants, and sneakers were bustling about, barely touching the ground. Walkie-talkies hung from their belts; some were moving equipment, while others were setting up caution tape to block off the filming area, preventing anyone from accidentally wandering in during shooting.

Additionally, many extras dressed in coarse ancient-style costumes were gathered to the side, waiting for their turn.

A man wearing black-framed glasses raised a megaphone and shouted through it, “Move the stone stool under the willow tree half a meter to the left! Hurry up, hurry up! Are you all just eating plain rice? You can’t even get the set right all morning—pigs are smarter than you!”

Xiao Lao Dao flashed an ingratiating smile and called out respectfully, “Uncle, how are you? I’ve brought my friend.”

As he spoke, he eagerly nudged Zhong Su and whispered urgently, “Zhong Su, quick, introduce yourself. Let my uncle get to know your strengths.”

Zhong Su stepped forward accordingly, extending his hand to Jiang Xun in a friendly manner. “Director Jiang, hello, my name is Zhong Su. Thank you very much for giving me this opportunity.”

Jiang Xun, true to his name, was rather unimpressive in appearance. Though he wore glasses perched on his nose bridge, he lacked any scholarly air befitting an educated person, instead exuding a sharp, acerbic demeanor. His bangs were damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead like strands of wet seaweed, making him look even more dispirited.

Jiang Xun ignored Zhong Su’s outstretched hand, merely squinting his small eyes as he assessed him, his tone somewhat disdainful. “Tch, passable. You chubby kid are finally being a bit reliable this time. Your friend is quite a pretty boy.”

The term “pretty boy” was deeply insulting.

Xiao Lao Dao immediately grew tense, forcing a dry laugh to smooth things over. “Haha, Uncle, if you want to praise my friend for being handsome, just say it directly. Beating around the bush is too easy to misunderstand…”

As he spoke, he secretly glanced at Zhong Su’s expression, afraid he might be provoked by the comment and storm off in anger.

Jiang Xun snorted through his nose, turned his head, and called over a short young man. “Fang Jiashu, take this… newcomer to the dressing room to change. Get him a blue swordsman outfit—don’t mess it up.”

“Right away, Director Jiang.” Fang Jiashu jogged over from among the crew. His appearance was ordinary, his features unremarkable, but he carried an efficient air. A work pass hung around his neck, indicating his position as “director’s assistant.”

However, in Zhong Su’s eyes, he seemed more like a lackey ordered around by Jiang Xun.

Fang Jiashu nodded at Zhong Su and asked, “You’re the newcomer, right? What’s your name…”

Zhong Su replied, “I’m Zhong Su. How should I address you?”

Fang Jiashu was slightly taken aback by Zhong Su’s composed and respectful attitude. Usually, small-time actors, regardless of their private personalities, would act subservient when meeting the director’s team.

Most people would carry a hint of flattery, even a deliberate attempt to please. Yet the newcomer before him didn’t seem to have any intention of currying favor with anyone.

But he didn’t show his surprise too openly. After shaking hands briefly with Zhong Su, he nodded and said, “Like everyone else, you can call me ‘Assistant Director Fang.’ The dressing room is in the back—follow me.”

The small dressing room was empty at the moment, with several rows of movable clothing racks lined up inside, all hung with various ancient-style costumes. Due to long periods without washing, the costumes gave off a stale, musty odor.

Fang Jiashu pushed aside the crowded costumes as he explained, “Most extras change in this dressing room. Only the big-name stars get their own private ones.”

He rummaged through the racks for a moment, then suddenly seemed to remember something and looked up at Zhong Su. “By the way, how tall are you?”

Zhong Su instinctively wanted to answer “182 cm,” but he swallowed the words. This body was clearly shorter than his previous life’s. He made an estimate and replied, “About… 178 cm?”

Fang Jiashu didn’t pay much attention to Zhong Su’s hesitation, simply sizing him up briefly. “No worries if you’re not sure. Let me see… This one should do. The color fits Director Jiang’s requirements, and the size should suit you too.”

As he spoke, he pulled out a blue-and-white swordsman outfit. The fabric was subtly embroidered with cloud patterns, the sleeves flowing gracefully, and long sashes hanging lightly.

“Take this behind the curtain and change into it directly,” Fang Jiashu handed the costume over. “Call me if you don’t know how to put it on.”

“Alright.” Zhong Su entered the changing area, drew the curtain, and fumbled his way into the swordsman outfit.

The fabric of the costume was rather ordinary. Wearing it felt like being wrapped in a stuffy burlap sack, heavy and oppressive.

Zhong Su tugged at the tight shoulder seams and couldn’t help muttering under his breath, “This material is awful… so thick and stifling. Wearing it for a whole day of filming in this heat, a person would reek.”

But what could he do? His pockets were empty now, he couldn’t afford to be picky.

He lowered his hands, pushed the curtain aside, and stepped out. “Assistant Director Fang, is this how it’s supposed to be worn?”

Fang Jiashu looked up at the sound and let his gaze linger on Zhong Su for a moment. The young man stood tall and straight, the blue attire accentuating the clarity in his eyes, handsome and spirited, just like a dashing young swordsman in his prime.

Even having seen all sorts of attractive men and women in the entertainment industry, Fang Jiashu couldn’t help but praise him repeatedly. “You’ve got good foundations. With this blue bringing out your vibe, your aura really stands out. Wait a moment, I’ll get the makeup artist to do your makeup and fit you with a wig for the full look. Then it’ll be perfect.”

With that, he went out to call for someone.

Not long after, Fang Jiashu returned with a slightly plump, middle-aged female makeup artist sporting trendy, permed curls. She carried an exaggeratedly large makeup case and wore a floral-print dress with a brightly colored shawl—every inch of her exuded professionalism.

Fang Jiashu introduced her as a veteran with over twenty years in the industry, having done makeup for many major stars, and highly skilled at her job.

He said to the makeup artist, “Sister Ping, this is Zhong Su, a newcomer on his first day on set. He has no experience, so take extra care with his makeup. Director Jiang demands perfection to pass.”

Sister Ping slammed the makeup case heavily onto the table and rolled up her sleeves. “What’s so difficult about this? Once I get my hands on you, even a pig’s head can turn into a handsome young man.”

She had Zhong Su sit down, selected moisturizer, several foundations, and powder puffs from the case, then skillfully spread the cream over his face. Next, she dipped a puff into foundation and began applying the base makeup.

Zhong Su caught a strong whiff of cosmetics and felt her acrylic nails scrape the corner of his eye. He blinked uncomfortably. “Sister Ping, your nails are poking my eye.”

“Oh dear, my fault! How careless of me.”

Sister Ping quickly withdrew her hand, her face breaking into an enthusiastic smile. “You’re Zhong Su, right? Your skin texture is amazing, pores so fine they’re almost invisible. I barely need to use any concealer on you.”

She lifted his chin, studying him carefully under the light, her eyes filled with the delight of discovering promising material. “These cheekbones, this jawline… tsk tsk, heaven really blessed you. In all my years doing makeup, I’ve never seen bone structure as exquisite as yours.”

Zhong Su merely responded indifferently, “That’s good. Makes the makeup process easier.”

But the admiration lasted barely two seconds before Sister Ping’s brows furrowed deeply. “But, what happened to these dark circles? Heavens, they’re worse than someone who hasn’t slept in a month! Were you digging coal all night? Did you think good looks don’t require maintenance?”

She shook her head while sighing with theatrical distress. If uninterrupted, she could have kept lecturing about this face indefinitely.

“Sister Ping,” Zhong Su interjected at the right moment, “Director Jiang is waiting. We should probably finish the makeup quickly, or there might be trouble.”

“Ah, fine.” The mere thought of Jiang Xun’s infuriating remarks made Sister Ping immediately stop talking and focus on styling him.

Just as the makeup was finally completed, Jiang Xun sent Xiao Lao Dao to hurry Zhong Su to the set.

Xiao Lao Dao pushed the door open and his eyes lit up at the sight of Zhong Su fully made up. He blurted out an expletive in surprise: “Damn, brother! You look so handsome I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“These generic clothes usually make anyone wearing them look like a waiter, but you’ve somehow turned them into haute couture.” He tugged at the cheap costume’s sleeve, words tumbling out nonstop.

Zhong Su’s sleeve tightened from the pulling. He brushed the hand away and said, “Stop being clingy. It’s just a costume, anyone would look the same wearing it. Don’t exaggerate so much.”

Xiao Lao Dao retorted, “Nonsense! It’s completely different! When you stand in front of the camera, Uncle will definitely not have the heart to kick you out.”

The chubby guy excitedly hurried toward the door. “We’re about to start filming anyway—come quick, let Uncle see you.”

Zhong Su lingered behind, giving only a brief glance in the mirror. His reflection showed him in blue robes with tied-back hair, his slender frame instead exuding an air of refined elegance.

He touched his own face, his voice almost dissolving into the air: “As expected… I still can’t get used to this face.”

Compared to his previous sunny handsomeness, this body was far too delicate, even carrying a lingering youthful quality.

His gaze drifted down to his right wrist, where a bright red mole stood out sharply, this at least was identical to his previous life, even appearing in the exact same position on his wrist bone.

Zhong Su pressed his nail into it. It hurt.

That crimson mole instantly grew more vivid, like a drop of blood splashed onto the skin—not an artificially applied mark, but a natural birthmark.

Zhong Su gazed at the red mole, speculating, “Could it be because I resemble this person so closely that my soul was mistakenly placed into this body?”

But no one could answer his question.

Xiao Lao Dao had walked quite a distance when he realized no one was following him. He immediately raised his voice and called out, “Zhong Su—?”

“Coming.” Zhong Su pushed the door open and stepped out.

Forget it, whatever the reason, being able to “live again” was a gain.

By the time Zhong Su and Xiao Lao Dao arrived, the previously chaotic set had become orderly. The scenery and props were all set up, and under the assistant director’s direction, all the actors were gradually taking their designated positions.

Jiang Xun caught sight of Zhong Su approaching and gave him an extra glance. For once, he refrained from making any sarcastic remarks, merely tilting his chin up and saying, “Hmph, barely passable. Stand over there by the marked spot on the ground. When we start filming, just act according to the script.”

Zhong Su acknowledged the instruction, spotted the red cross outside the temple door, and went to stand there.

With the sharp clap of the clapperboard, all crew members fell silent, focusing intently on the monitor screen.

The first scene to shoot was where the bandit molests the female lead, attempting to drag her into the deserted, dilapidated temple.

The actress playing the female lead was a classic delicate beauty, petite in stature, wearing an extremely revealing modified tube top that exposed large areas of her pale back and collarbone under the lights, making her particularly striking.

Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to pull her hand back from the bandit’s grasp, her voice trembling as she cried out, “Let me go, let me go! I don’t want to, I won’t go with you!”

She turned her face toward Zhong Su’s direction, pleading for help: “Save me… Is there anyone who can save me…?”

“Hahaha, little lady, no use struggling. Once you’re in my hands, no one can save you,” the bandit sneered.

Zhong Su kept his attention on Jiang Xun at the edge of the set, waiting for his signal. Meanwhile, Xiao Lao Dao, standing beside Jiang Xun, waved his arms vigorously, silently mouthing “You can do it!” with such intense involvement that he seemed even more nervous than Zhong Su himself.

As the bandit in the scene tore the female lead’s clothes, Jiang Xun seized the moment and gestured to Zhong Su, signaling “Your turn to enter.”

Zhong Su took a deep breath, steeled himself, and went all in.

With a twist of his wrist, his sword slid from its scabbard with a clear ring. The gleaming blade flashed coldly in the air as he pressed it against the bandit’s neck.

The cold, hard touch of the sword tip made the burly man freeze mid-action.

Zhong Su stood tall and poised, his voice calm yet stern: “Villain, release this maiden at once, or do not blame my sword for showing no mercy!”

“G-great hero, spare me! I’ll scram right now, right now!” The bandit, catching sight of the long sword at his neck, turned pale with fright. He hastily released the female lead and scrambled out of the ruined temple in a panic.

Zhong Su reached out to help the female lead up, but the moment he touched her hand, he sensed something amiss. The contours of her hand bones were distinct, even somewhat bony and uncomfortable to hold, not at all soft like an ordinary woman’s hand.

But he suppressed this unusual feeling and continued with the scene, reciting his lines meticulously: “Miss, are you alright? May I ask where you reside? Allow me to escort you back home.”

“Thank you for saving my life, kind sir.” The female lead smiled charmingly and leaned into Zhong Su’s embrace, breathing orchid-scented whispers near his ear. However, the voice that followed wasn’t delicate and feminine but a slightly low, androgynous tone laced with provocation: “But the night is deep with heavy dew, and the mountain path is treacherous. Why don’t you complete your good deed and accompany this humble servant to… rest overnight in this temple?”

Zhong Su’s entire body stiffened. Something was wrong, this wasn’t any “female lead” at all, but a man.

“Kind sir, this humble servant is truly so lonely~” His voice pitched higher and softer, as if dripping with honey.

Before Zhong Su could react, the other person lunged forward, shoving him to the ground. The strikingly beautiful man swiftly straddled him, leaning down until his crimson lips were mere inches from Zhong Su’s face.

Zhong Su caught a whiff of cloyingly sweet lipstick and felt his scalp prickle with revulsion. He pushed hard against the other’s shoulders to prevent the kiss, his voice strained: “What are you doing? Get off!”

The “female lead” winced as Zhong Su’s shove sent a sharp pain through his shoulder. He was taken aback, there was no scene of the swordsman resisting in the script.

Assuming Zhong Su was improvising lines, he inwardly fumed: How dare this minor character add unscripted actions?

But since the director hadn’t called “cut,” the scene had to continue. He could only cling more coquettishly, his fingers slipping inside Zhong Su’s collar as he giggled: “Don’t be shy, kind sir. Wouldn’t you like to taste this humble servant’s enchanting flavor?”

It felt like a slimy reptile crawling over his skin. Zhong Su’s nausea surged, and he could endure no more. He shoved the person off him: “Enough! I said stop!”

“Ouch—!” The other fell to the ground, his voice dropping to a baritone, completely unlike the previous simpering tone: “We were filming just fine, why did you push me?”

“Cut, cut, cut!” Before Zhong Su could speak, Jiang Xun threw down his megaphone and pointed at him: “You damn extra, what’s wrong with you? Do you know how much film costs per second? Do you want to work in this industry or not?”

His outburst made the entire crew instinctively lower their heads or avert their eyes. No one dared speak up, much less defend Zhong Su.

Zhong Su stood up, his expression grim: “I should be asking you, the script only said ‘the swordsman is captivated by beauty.’ Why did the actual filming involve groping?”

Jiang Xun choked on his words, then turned and roared at Xiao Lao Dao: “Zheng Leyou, didn’t you explain clearly what we were filming? What’s going on here?”

Xiao Lao Dao also looked aggrieved as he glanced at Zhong Su: “I didn’t explain in detail, but how could you not know? I even told you my uncle’s name, you should have known what kind of film this was. You didn’t raise any objections back then…”

His voice trailed off like a child who’d done wrong, weakly adding: “This… this is just a BL erotic film selling the ‘ladyboy’ trope. Later, you two would strip to your underwear, hug, and kiss a couple times, that’s all. My uncle said we could use camera angles, but it’s better to do it for real since audiences are sharp-eyed…”

Hearing this, Zhong Su’s head buzzed, momentarily speechless. So the so-called “beauty” meant he had to press skin-to-skin with a stranger, a man, and even kiss him.

Xiao Lao Dao desperately tried to salvage the situation: “These days, only those borderline risque films offer such high daily rates for extras. Just bear with it a little longer, grit your teeth and it’ll be over soon.”

“You should’ve told me this crucial information right from the start.” Zhong Su’s temples throbbed. Recalling how the transvestite had affectionately caressed his chest moments earlier, waves of disgust washed over him. “I never imagined I’d have to film such scenes with a man, it’s utterly unbearable.” His words dripped with undisguised revulsion.

The “female lead” immediately felt deeply wronged, covering their face as tears streamed down. They sobbed pitifully, “Unbearable? How could you say I’m unbearable… Is my appearance really that offensive?”

Stamping their foot in anger, the beautiful person turned teary, captivating eyes toward Jiang Xun, pleading, “Director Jiang, please be the judge here. Being beautiful enough to rely on my looks is my talent, what right does he have to reject me like this? He speaks as if I’m some hideous monster trying to assault him!”

“I, Wang Xiulun, have been in this industry for three years and never endured such humiliation.” The gorgeous person grew increasingly agitated, declaring angrily, “Unless he apologizes to me on the spot right now, I refuse to continue filming, even if I have to pay triple the penalty fee!”

The moment these words were spoken, all eyes converged on Zhong Su. The air froze into tense silence as everyone secretly prayed the newcomer would recognize the circumstances and humbly apologize to avoid delaying the production schedule.

Then Zhong Su raised a hand to wipe the makeup from his face, his movements so calm they bordered on indifference.

His voice was quiet yet icy as he addressed Jiang Xun, whose face was pale with shock: “I can’t film this kind of movie, Director. Find someone else, today I came to the wrong place.”

Zhong Su tugged off his hair tie, releasing a cascade of ink-black hair that spilled over his shoulders, accentuating his ethereal handsomeness. He stood like a suddenly unsheathed blade, his sharp aura piercing straight through the heart.

He turned to leave, and for a moment, no one dared to call him back.

Xiao Lao Dao stared in stunned disbelief before scrambling after him, shouting, “Where are you going? To the dressing room to change? Wait for me, I’ll drive you back!”

As the two disappeared beyond the set, Jiang Xun remained frozen in place until Fang Jiashu cautiously asked beside him, “Director Jiang, should… should we stop them?”

Jiang Xun suddenly snapped out of his daze, his face lighting up with exhilaration. He smacked his forehead and barked, “Stop them! Go bring that newcomer back to me! After searching for so long, I’ve finally found someone who can play ‘Lin Wenhan’!”

By the time Fang Jiashu and several crew members chased outside, it was too late, they could only watch helplessly as the red Mazda merged into traffic and vanished.

They returned dejectedly and reported to Jiang Xun, “Sorry, Director Jiang. They left too quickly, we couldn’t stop them.”

“You let him get away? Useless freeloaders, all of you!” Jiang Xun immediately furiously pulled out his phone to call Xiao Lao Dao, but no matter how many times he tried, all he heard was the endless busy tone of an unanswered call.