WAM CH56

“Gu Yanzhou! Are you cheating?!”

Over the past couple of days, Shao Si had finally finished his internal struggle and started a brand-new gaming account, grinding his way up from the lowest rank.

Gu Yanzhou had originally come over to run through lines with him, only for the two of them to end up huddled together playing games instead. Midway through a match, Shao Si simply tossed his phone aside and leaned over to watch Gu Yanzhou’s gameplay, still refusing to give up as he asked, “Is this really your first time playing?”

“Yeah,” Gu Yanzhou replied, his fingers tapping rapidly across the screen, every single press landing squarely in the optimal spot. “Maybe I just have good luck.”

“…I don’t believe you.”

Gu Yanzhou said, “Why would I lie to you?”

Shao Si leaned sideways, gripping Gu Yanzhou’s arm, his hair nearly brushing against the man’s wrist. Finding a brief opening, Gu Yanzhou reached out without looking back and gently pushed Shao Si’s head aside: “You’re blocking my screen.”

“Impossible. How could your rank climb even faster than mine?”

As he spoke, Shao Si leaned back in. This time, Gu Yanzhou didn’t push him away again, merely saying, “If you could cooperate with your teammates a bit, maybe you’d pull off the same results as me.”

Shao Si: “…”

Shao Si: “Feeling pretty full of yourself, huh?”

Sitting off to the side, Chen Yang and Li Guangzong whispered to each other: “Does Best Actor Gu usually play video games a lot?”

Chen Yang looked up from his phone screen: “Him? He doesn’t play this stuff. Every time I play, he even calls them mindless games.”

“…Is that so.”

Didn’t look like it at all.

With nothing better to do, the two left the two internet-addicted superstars behind and stepped outside for a smoke, leaning against the railing as they chatted.

Li Guangzong held his cigarette between his fingertips and habitually flicked off the ash: “Best Actor Gu really has a great temper. It seems like I’ve never seen him get angry.”

After lighting his cigarette, Chen Yang handed the lighter back to Li Guangzong. He took a drag, exhaled slowly, and said, “He’s nowhere near as mild as the rumors outside claim. You don’t reach his position today without having a few tricks up your sleeve. It also depends on the person; he’s not nearly as easygoing with others and rarely gets this close to anyone. Your Shao Si is actually the very first.”

Li Guangzong’s earlier remark had just been a casual conversation starter. After speaking, he choked slightly on the smoke; catching his breath, he followed Chen Yang’s lead with a modest reply: “Hardly. Shao Si is… well, he asks for a beating, and he’s lazy. Super willful and blunt too. A few days ago, an endorsement deal came looking for him. If you want to turn it down, turn it down, right? Wouldn’t it be better to be a little tactful and say his schedule is packed or something? Instead, he looked them straight in the face and said, ‘I think your products are total garbage,’ and pissed them right off.”

Chen Yang chuckled: “I could tell. Last time I wore a watch, he saw it and secretly told me not to buy from them anymore because they cut corners on materials.”

“Brother Yang, let me ask you a question,” Li Guangzong suddenly wiped the smile off his face and said, “When someone beside you is too outstanding… and you feel like no matter how hard you try, you can never catch up to them, should you just give up?”

Chen Yang blinked in surprise: “Why bring that up all of a sudden?”

“What are you two doing? You’re young men, cut back on the smoking.” At that moment, Director Ou walked over, patting each of their shoulders in turn as he asked, “Are you all ready? We’re starting the shoot right away. Ye Xuan isn’t here, so we’ll film the next two scenes first.”

During this period, aside from occasionally being summoned to the police station to cooperate with the investigation and repeatedly verify case details, they spent almost all their time on set filming.

At first, Wang Shan remained silent and hired a defense lawyer, holding out stubbornly for a while before finally failing to keep the lid on things and confessing to everything.

On the day of the trial, everyone was present. Ye Xuan wore a black dress, sitting in the gallery without saying much. Zhou Weiping arrived leaning on a cane, his wrinkled hands clenched tightly into fists.

Ye Xuan didn’t shed a single tear in court, only to go home and cry the entire night. Her eyelids were so swollen the next day that she couldn’t film, so Director Ou adjusted the shooting schedule, pushing her scenes back to let her go home and rest properly.

Director Ou’s voice drew closer from afar. By the time he stepped one foot into the makeup room, Shao Si and Gu Yanzhou had already put their phones away and were diligently rehearsing their lines: “Why have you come here today? I have nothing left to say to you.”

Gu Yanzhou reached out to grab Shao Si’s wrist, barking, “Stop right there.”

Shao Si frowned at him: “Those words don’t sit right with me at all. I’m not one of the dogs your family raises; why should I follow your orders? I suggest you leave before you dirty that fine outfit of yours.”

“Rehearsing lines, huh?” Director Ou walked inside. “Shao Si, let me take a look at your makeup… No good, it needs to be even heavier.”

With that, he called the makeup artist over: “Lulu, come here for a second. This makeup is too light. Use Ye Xuan’s makeup as a reference and make it heavier; sweep the brush upward.”

The makeup artist hesitated slightly: “But he looks better like this. If I paint the full traditional style, I’m worried it won’t look good on camera.”

Shao Si had just spent ages fiddling with his opera costume and still had a pile of headpieces to put on. The makeup on his face was much heavier than usual, especially around his eyes, where peach-pink cream blush had been smeared and blended outward from the corners.

…He looked just like a birthday peach bun.

“This still isn’t heavy enough?” Gu Yanzhou pointed at his face. “His face is practically like a plastered wall already, caked in a thick layer.”

Shao Si raised a hand: “Brother Zhou is right, I second that.”

Director Ou shot him a sideways glance: “Now you know to call him Brother Zhou? Usually you’re always tossing ‘Gu Yanzhou’ around without any respect for seniority.”

Gu Yanzhou gave the back of Shao Si’s head two final pats and stood up: “It’s fine, I won’t hold it against him.”

Shao Si’s facial features were very distinctive, and Director Ou understood what the makeup artist meant. Looking like this right now, retaining half of his original features without making the makeup overly exaggerated while preserving his natural bone structure, he really did look good. Still, Director Ou felt they ought to respect the national art form; whatever the traditional rules dictated was how it should be painted, keeping things rigorous.

Once the makeup adjustments were finished, Shao Si felt his entire face suffocating under the layers.

“Let’s begin, everyone take your positions.” Wearing his cap, Director Ou held up three fingers and shouted, “Ready, three, two, one, action!”

For the entire afternoon, Shao Si was tied up in this five-minute sequence of the film.

It opened with him singing ‘Let me cease my samadhi and roam freely in Vimalakirti’ on the opera stage, while Gu Yanzhou sat in the second-floor pavilion drinking tea and listening. Because of Shao Si’s feminine stage appearance, people frequently teased him after he finished singing: “Where did this gorgeous little beauty come from? Come on down and play with us young masters.”

Shao Si flicked his sleeves, turned his head, and walked off.

“Very good. Don’t argue with them either; don’t make a scene like last time.” The troupe leader walked backstage and said, “Last time you caused such a ruckus that nobody could save face. Master Liu hasn’t even come to watch the opera these past few days.”

This Master Liu he spoke of was a well-known local wealthy patron who tipped generously every time he came to listen to the opera, though his character was truly lacking.

“Let him come or stay away as he pleases.” Shao Si sat down, removing the headpieces from his head bit by bit. “Does he really think anyone cares? Having a bit of stinking money makes him think he’s so great, just like that certain someone.”

“Who?”

Shao Si gently lifted his eyelids a crack, his tone dripping with mockery: “Jiang Zhou, of course.”

Standing outside the camera frame, Gu Yanzhou watched Shao Si dressed in resplendent, colorful robes while uttering the coldest words in the world.

Zhou Weiping had once written in an article that the characters under his pen were based on real-life prototypes.

Shao Si’s character carried a touch of Ye Qing’s spirit; they shared the same unyielding pride and possessed that exact same resilient bravery.

The next shot took half the day to film over and over, mainly meant to depict the two of them arguing at the theater’s back courtyard entrance over the female lead. No matter how Director Ou looked at this scene between Gu Yanzhou and Shao Si, he wasn’t quite satisfied, finally yelling cut: “Can you two stop acting so gay around each other?”

“The conflict between you can be more intense.” Director Ou clenched both hands into fists and contracted them dramatically twice, his knuckles taut as he explained, “Intense! It’s not just over a woman; more than that, it’s a clash of personalities. You loathe each other, yet you also envy each other.”

Shao Si was just about to say, “I think we’re pretty intense already, didn’t we even start fighting?”, when Director Ou roared again: “Look at the two of you right now! No matter how I look at it, it just feels full of romantic tension! Tugging and pulling at each other by the doorway—are you a pair of young lovers having a tiff?!”

Shao Si: “…”

Gu Yanzhou gave Director Ou a slight nod: “Let’s do it one more time. Our state of mind really wasn’t quite right just now.”

The second take went much better; at the very least, the fist Shao Si swung landed squarely on the bridge of Gu Yanzhou’s nose.

Gu Yanzhou’s head snapped to the side from the blow. When he raised his eyes again, his gaze was filled with dark gloom, revealing a flash of ruthlessness: “Tomorrow at three quarters past noon, I’m coming to take her away. You’d better know what’s good for you.”

“Can you even protect her, Young Master Jiang?” Shao Si took two steps back, gripping the door handle as if preparing to shut it while sneering coldly, “From where I’m standing, you can barely save yourself.”

Finally, the door slowly closed right in front of Gu Yanzhou’s face.

“Cut,” Director Ou stood up and clapped his hands. “Alright, good work everyone. That wraps it up for today.”

The moment Shao Si heard the word “cut,” he immediately breathed a sigh of relief. Back in the makeup room, Li Guangzong walked in holding a bottle of water: “Want a drink? Your lips are practically chapping from reciting all those lines.”

Shao Si didn’t take it. Sitting in his chair, he stared repeatedly at his reflection in the mirror: “Forget about that for now. Fuck, Cub, I might actually be disfigured.”

“Huh?” Li Guangzong walked over. “No way. Take your makeup off first and let me see.”

Shao Si’s skin had always been quite sensitive. Even when filming with light makeup in the past, a few red bumps would occasionally pop up on his face, forcing Li Guangzong to constantly remind him not to forget putting on a soothing sheet mask before bed.

Wearing such heavy stage makeup all afternoon today made his entire face itch like crazy, as if ants were biting him.

The makeup artist had clocked out two hours ago. Removing makeup was something artists handled themselves; makeup remover oil was stocked in the dressing room, and you just slapped it on haphazardly. Shao Si poured a bit of cleansing oil into his palm, and the instant it touched his face, he furrowed his brows: “…It hurts.”

Confronted with his birthday-peach face, Li Guangzong was at a loss too, holding a handful of cleansing oil with nowhere to put it: “The second I touch you, you start yelling. I don’t even dare move now. Dad, if you’re a man, just tough it out, okay?”

“Can’t tough it out,” Shao Si said expressionlessly. “Just thinking about my stunningly handsome face breaking out in bumps all over makes me depressed.” Li Guangzong was left speechless. His Daddy Shao feared neither heaven nor earth and didn’t care about anything, yet he was fiercely protective of his own face—commonly known as narcissism.

“Don’t I still have two hours of livestreaming left to do this month?”

Shao Si suddenly remembered this obligation. Moving fast, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped open the livestream app in a couple of seconds, leaving Li Guangzong no time to stop him: “Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?!”

“…Starting the stream while my face still isn’t ruined.”