FLME Ch54

Yu Wen showed the netizens’ comments to Xie Heyu. Teacher Xie said thoughtfully, “It can be done. The troublesome part is the authorization, and…”

“And what?”

“What exactly does the ‘happy ending’ the netizens want to see entail? Resurrection, or daily life?”

This stumped Yu Wen again. He scrolled through the comment section for a while and said that opinions varied greatly, with no unified answer.

Xie Heyu then said, “I’ll discuss it with Xie Jiamao. If that doesn’t work, we can try anthropomorphism. We’ll discuss the script later.”

After updating for a month, Legend of the Immortal Sect finally reached its grand finale. This low-budget web drama, comprised of a rookie director and obscure artists, had achieved blockbuster-level success during the summer slot, single-handedly battling its way to become the viral hit of the year. Browsing the group chat these past few days, Yu Wen saw that the director seemed to already be preparing to broadcast it on satellite TV.

After the grand finale, the official Weibo account compiled the behind-the-scenes footage from filming and released it all at once. In the bloopers, everyone ran around the set in costume without a care for their image—cute, adorable, and completely brainless. It slightly healed the audience’s hearts that had been wounded by the plot.

Especially Yu Wen and Jian Heng; the two of them together were a pure comedy duo.

“Xiao Yu, what are you doing?” “Taking a dump.” “…I’m filming behind-the-scenes.” “Using the restroom.”

Yu Wen loved to smile, and he smiled exceptionally sweetly in the bloopers. Chu Lao Liu was a high-spirited young chivalrous hero. While acting, he intentionally held back, but in the private behind-the-scenes footage, he just did whatever felt comfortable. The moment Jian Heng called him, he would bound over, the corners of his eyes curving—pure, innocent, and moving.

The behind-the-scenes footage could be summarized into two parts: “The Jian Heng and Yu Wen Drama Queen Compilation” and “The Xiao Yu Visuals Critical Hit Compilation.”

Up until now, although Yu Wen had appeared on screen quite a bit, his debut time was short and he didn’t have many works, leaving fans with barely anything to swoon over visually. This behind-the-scenes footage perfectly solved their urgent need. Suddenly, the internet was flooded with cute avatars cropped from the bloopers, causing him to break out of his bubble once again.

Just as Immortal Sect wrapped up its grand finale, the notice for the second recording of Battle Royale arrived. This episode’s notice came later than expected because the recording setting was a school campus. The production crew negotiated for a long time but ultimately decided there was no need to disturb the students’ studying, temporarily changing the background of the second episode to an abandoned high school.

They were hurriedly building the set over there. Coincidentally, Director Miao’s new drama audition was the day before the recording, in the same city, so Yu Wen made a trip over.

His recent popularity could be said to be rising like a ship on a rising tide. Even Director Miao was surprised. Before the drama aired, Yu Wen’s self-awareness was correct—he didn’t have the standing for Director Miao’s drama and needed to audition. But after the drama aired, the situation changed.

As soon as he got in the car, Yi Ming said to him, “Director Miao asked you to play the second male lead, why didn’t you? The second male lead is a positive character; Song Mingzhu is a villain.”

Yu Wen had bought a cup of milk tea for her on the way. Handing it over, he said, “I like Song Mingzhu. I want to play him.”

Xie Heyu was busy today and couldn’t drive him. Ever since Xie Heyu became his manager, he rarely rushed to gigs alone.

The uncle had asked if he was home, stating that he had prepared a massive surprise. Upon learning Yu Wen was home but Xie Heyu surprisingly wasn’t, the uncle indignantly condemned the manager on Yu Wen’s behalf for neglecting his duties.

Afterward, he chuckled and said that when Xie Heyu returned that night, the two of them would give him a huge “surprise.”

Yu Wen was highly amused listening to him. Although Xie Jialin didn’t spell it out, given the uncle’s wicked sense of humor, Teacher Xie was probably in for a major catastrophe tonight.

Xiao Zhou and Xiao Zhong had wanted to accompany him, but Yu Wen felt there was no need for just an audition. So, he gave the two assistants the day off and hitched a ride with Yi Ming, who was heading the same way.

Yi Ming clicked her tongue. “Song Mingzhu is not easy to play. Even I wouldn’t be confident.”

After speaking, Yi Ming sneakily glanced at her manager in the front seat and popped the milk tea open with a sharp snap.

Female celebrities had to maintain their figures, and she hadn’t drunk milk tea in ages. She was truly grateful to Yu Wen…

“Yi Ming!”

Yi Ming jumped and loudly declared, “I didn’t drink it, I didn’t drink it! I was just smelling it! Honest to God! Yu Wen can testify, I haven’t taken a single sip!”

Her manager shot a chilling glare through the rearview mirror.

Yu Wen froze for a second, then also loudly chimed in, “She didn’t drink it, she didn’t drink it! Xiao Yu grabbed the wrong one! Xiao Yu brought Second Master a bottle of mineral water!”

He swiftly fished his mineral water out of his bag and handed it to Yi Ming, while Yi Ming passed the punctured milk tea cup back to him. The entire sequence of actions flowed like water, as if practiced a thousand times.

Yi Ming: “Hahaha, Xiao Yu, you really are something…”

Yu Wen: “What a beautiful misunderstanding…”

The manager glared at Yi Ming, then turned to look at Yu Wen, her smile exceedingly kind. “Xiao Yu, your Second Master has a physique that gains weight easily—she gains weight even drinking water. Be a good boy and don’t bring her snacks to eat, okay?”

Yu Wen nodded hastily.

Once she turned back around, Yu Wen and Yi Ming looked at each other, both bursting into invisible tears.

Too terrifying…

The day Battle Royale premiered, Director Miao scrapped the audition invitation and directly invited Yu Wen to play the second male lead in his new drama.

Although this carried a hint of elevating his status, Miao Yifei had watched both of Yu Wen’s currently airing works. A green yet incredibly spirited actor like him was a rare, serendipitous find that every director yearned for but could seldom seek out.

He anticipated polishing Yu Wen from a rough stone into a brilliant gem under his own lens.

But Yu Wen refused; Yu Wen wanted to play Song Mingzhu.

The new drama was called Moonlight Harbor, set in the Republican Era. To avoid real-world controversies, it was changed to a fictionalized Republican Era with no historical prototypes.

It was an era of constant strife and endless turbulence.

In Shanghai, there were the Fu and Song families—massively powerful entities that could cover the sky with one hand. However, these two families had severed ties over a decade ago due to grievances between their parents’ generation. The character Yu Wen wanted to play, Song Mingzhu, had the most complicated background. He was the product of a marriage alliance between the two families. After the families fell out, his mother returned to the Fu family while pregnant with him.

Song Mingzhu’s life could be roughly divided into three stages. The first stage was before the age of twelve. His mother raised him in the basement of a small Western-style house; aside from his mother and a mute nanny, he had never come into contact with anyone. The second stage was from twelve to eighteen. He was discovered by the Fu family, brought back to the main Fu residence, and began living like a normal person. The third stage was after he turned eighteen. He was brought back to the Song family by his nominal father and renamed Song Mingzhu.

Just these few sentences were enough to summarize Song Mingzhu’s displaced, turbulent life.

Song Mingzhu and the male lead had a subtle romantic subplot. In modern slang, it would be called ‘incest’ (cousins), but of course, it was strictly one-sided.

The day Madam Fu brought him out of the small Western-style house was a winter day. The ten-plus-year-old boy was skin and bones, dressed in thin clothing. His exposed skin was cracked and red from the cold, yet his dark eyes were gentle and clear. He smiled at everyone he saw—a smile that was incredibly soft.

Everyone in the Fu family pitied him. Under his mother’s instructions, Fu Mingshen, the male lead, also tried his best to take care of him. However, having been involved in family affairs since childhood, the male lead was experienced, mature, and suspicious. He knew this younger cousin was different from normal people.

How normal could a child who had lived an underground life for twelve years be?

It was hard to say whether Song Mingzhu possessed extraordinary acting skills or was simply adept at disguise, but in the massive Fu family, only Fu Mingshen saw that something was wrong with him.

At Madam Fu’s funeral, Song Mingzhu didn’t cry or make a fuss, but the tears fell one by one, a silent weeping that tore at the heart.

Yet Fu Mingshen said to him, “Stop crying. You aren’t sad.”

It wasn’t mockery, nor an interrogation—just a statement of fact.

That was also a winter day, the snow falling as heavily as it had the day Madam Fu carried him out of the basement. Song Mingzhu stood in the snow, quiet for a long time. Before he could reveal a bewildered expression, Fu Mingshen said calmly, “Mingzhu, you are not like us.”

Not like you? How am I not like you?

Song Mingzhu thought about it for a long time afterward but never figured it out.

He was brought back to the Song family, renamed Song Mingzhu, and missed the chance to ask Fu Mingshen personally. Afterward, their interactions grew scarce, but that sentence became Song Mingzhu’s obsession.

He thought to himself: he needed to become more powerful. When the day came that he could sit as an equal with Fu Mingshen, he would stand before him, make Fu Mingshen look him directly in the eye, and ask the question that had haunted his midnight dreams for years.

Brother, how am I not like you?

Song Mingzhu was ignorant of good and evil, unclear on right and wrong, and his love and hate were a chaotic mess.

Though he was a villain, his wickedness wasn’t absolute, nor was his kindness pure.

He knew he had to disguise himself as a normal person to obtain the resources needed to survive. Who could have expected that once the mask was put on, it could never be taken off again? No one saw that something was wrong with him; no one could save him.

Although from screen time alone he was only the third male lead, this character was heavily and colorfully depicted. If the actor wasn’t cast well, the entire production would collapse.

Therefore, Song Mingzhu absolutely had to be auditioned. Without an audition, even if it were a Best Actor, Miao Yifei wouldn’t be willing to hand the role over.

Many artists participated in the audition. This was already the third round, and so far, there were only two backup candidates, both with shortcomings.

For Director Miao’s dramas, the lead cast was usually finalized before the script was even finished. Plentiful capable, skilled actors yearned to participate. The female lead, Yi Ming, was an A-list starlet. The male lead had just won the Best Actor crown a while ago and was also present today to help read lines. Outside, several media reporters lurked; a small audition was actually drawing massive attention.

Entering the room, Yu Wen was surprised to find an old acquaintance inside.

The production company behind Moonlight Harbor was Huiteng Group, and this drama was also Huiteng’s key project for the coming year. The Crown Prince had personally arrived to oversee the audition, though he didn’t interfere much—he merely needed a general understanding of the actors’ overall level.

Yu Wen’s popularity was currently booming. If the character of Song Mingzhu wasn’t so peculiar, he could have taken it directly with his current status. Feng Chengzhou hadn’t expected him to personally come audition. He raised an eyebrow in surprise and nodded slightly as a greeting.

The two didn’t communicate much. When Director Miao saw Yu Wen walk in, his face, which had been miserable all day, finally showed a hint of a smile.

He asked Yu Wen which segment he wanted to audition for.

Yu Wen: “I get to choose?”

Yi Ming smiled and explained, “The originally designated audition segment is quite simple. Only when encountering someone with a good performance does the director let them try two more. Letting you choose yourself means he has high expectations for you.”

Director Miao didn’t speak either, just looked at him with a smile.

Yu Wen hesitated for a moment, pointed to a few segments in the script, and said, “You pick.”

He had read the script several times. Since he stubbornly wanted to play Song Mingzhu, he definitely had his own interpretation of the character. At this kind of moment, simply showing off acting skills wasn’t the most important thing; accurate interpretation mattered more.

Director Miao’s eyes instantly lit up. The segments Yu Wen pointed out all seemed plain on the surface, but were points of massive contradiction for the character. “Alright, let’s do this one. I’ll find an actor to play your mother.”

This segment was Song Mingzhu returning to the Western-style house to visit his mother, taking place right after Fu Mingshen told him, “You are not like us.” Song Mingzhu’s state of mind was very complex. If even a tiny detail was mishandled, it could make the character incomprehensible to the audience.

After finalizing the scene, Director Miao looked around for an actor who could play Song Mingzhu’s biological mother. The audition today was for a male role, so not many actresses were present. His gaze swept around twice before landing on Yi Ming.

Yi Ming, who was just about to steal a small snack from the table: “…”

Why are you looking at me?

She inconspicuously hid the small cookie in her pocket. Director Miao said, “Xiao Ming, come read some lines.”

After hearing the contents of the scene, Yi Ming turned her head, flashed a smile at Yu Wen, and said affectionately, “Come here, good boy, Mommy loves you.”

Yu Wen: “…”

A massive demotion in seniority.

The scene began. Fu Wanrong sat in a wheelchair as Song Mingzhu fed her medicine.

The woman’s health was already very poor—she was nothing but skin and bones, her mind muddled. A failed marriage had tortured her to death. She hated Song Mingzhu’s biological father and, as a result, mistreated Song Mingzhu. Song Mingzhu, however, didn’t hate her; he merely felt she was pitiful.

“Mother, it’s snowing outside. The weather has turned cold. You need to wear more clothes so you don’t get sick.”

Yu Wen’s voice was very gentle. The corners of his lips were pursed, curving upwards, habitually revealing a shy, bashful expression.

He chatted with Fu Wanrong about recent everyday trivialities. His tone was unhurried, possessing quite a distinct charm.

Yu Wen’s breath control for his lines had improved immensely. Yi Ming was delighted. After all, this was her very first disciple, and he possessed a metaphysical luck constitution. If he blew up even more next year, the master-disciple duo could step straight onto the international red carpet and eat melon globally! Just thinking about those days was beautiful!

The director and screenwriter watched with rapt attention. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“A while ago, Madam passed away. I was very sad.”

He lowered his head, stirring the medicine at the bottom of the bowl. The spoon clinked against the bowl, producing crisp sounds.

“Everyone said she doted on me, just like she doted on Brother Mingshen. But Aunt Liu dotes on her daughter too; she tells her daughter to wear more clothes and coaxes her daughter to sleep. Madam didn’t tell me to wear more clothes, and she didn’t coax me to sleep.”

“Mother, is the doting in this world… all different?”

Fu Wanrong couldn’t respond to him. This woman’s mental state was incredibly poor, to the point where she couldn’t recognize people anymore.

Like a child, she evaded the bitter medicine. Song Mingzhu patiently wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and said, “Nanny told me that you love me. So it turns out that locking me in a small room and saying you don’t want to see me is also a kind of love. The love in this world is truly bizarre and varied. However… I like it very much. Mother, I like that you love me.”

He spoon-fed her the medicine bit by bit until it was gone. The director watched intently. It was hard to summarize whether Yu Wen’s acting was good or bad, because he lacked technique. But he possessed a natural magnetic field; as long as he immersed himself in it, the presented effect was entirely convincing.

The scene was almost over. It expressed Song Mingzhu’s process of bewildered confusion followed by self-persuasion. Just as Director Miao was about to yell ‘cut’, Yu Wen added another line:

“Mother, when you die, I will be sad.”

…A brilliant addition.

This line, brimming with neuroticism, not only connected with the previous dialogue but also laid bare the essence of Song Mingzhu.

Director Miao felt excited. If earlier he had only harbored expectations for Yu Wen, now, not just Song Mingzhu—he felt Yu Wen could even play the male lead.

He turned his head and murmured with the screenwriter for a bit, then had Yu Wen audition for two more segments.

When the third scene ended, Director Miao’s expression could no longer be described as merely “satisfied.” He took a deep breath, rubbed his face, asked Yu Wen and the others to wait a moment, and ushered several screenwriters into the next room.

Moonlight Harbor was adapted from a short story and had expanded upon a lot of content, but the character of Song Mingzhu existed in the original work and was undisputedly the second male lead.

During the initial expansion, the screenwriting team depicted Song Mingzhu as the second male lead. However, the expanded content was incredibly difficult to act, requiring at least Best Actor-level skills. Which Best Actor would lower their status to play a second male lead? In the end, they had no choice but to simplify the character, resulting in the current version.

But now they had Yu Wen.

Whether it was his appearance, voice, or demeanor… Yu Wen was simply Song Mingzhu in the flesh.

He was going to change Song Mingzhu back to the second male lead.

Yu Wen sat down. Yi Ming gave him two packets of small cookies. Just as he tore open the plastic packaging, he heard an argument break out next door.

“He can act it! The character of Song Mingzhu requires the screen time of a second male lead to be fully fleshed out…”

“This is already the third draft! If you want to change it, do it yourself—”

“Did you guys not see it just now? He is truly perfect for Song Mingzhu…”

“Boss, it’s not a question of whether it’s good or not. Doing this means the script has to undergo major revisions…”

It was faint and unclear. The media reporters waiting outside caught the scent and rushed over, eyes gleaming, just waiting for the door to open to secure first-hand intel.

Yi Ming froze for two seconds. “The director and the screenwriters are fighting? What are they fighting about…”

Yu Wen didn’t understand either. Before he could speak, Yi Ming’s eyes suddenly lit up, and she said excitedly, “Second Master really wasn’t wrong about you! Xiao Yu, hanging around you guarantees there’s melon to eat!”

…Really?

“Let’s go! Let’s go watch the show!”