FLME Ch3: The Melon

After signing the contract, they walked out of the company building, chatting happily side by side.

The CEO’s full name was Xie Jiamao. He mentioned that the company was in contact with some good directors recently. Having just secured a five thousand yuan base salary, Yu Wen immediately praised, “President Xie is truly diligent. With you personally handling it, success is guaranteed…”

During their chat, Xie Jiamao revealed some of the company’s future plans. StarLight Media’s business would not only involve artist management but also the planning, production, and distribution of films and TV shows. Although it was unclear if they could succeed, President Xie modestly stated: “We’ll give it a try first.”

Yu Wen roughly understood why the boss had been in so many circles—because he always wanted to “give it a try.”

Xie Jiamao shook his head, a hint of melancholy on his handsome face, “Thanks for your kind words… They’re all my old friends. If they are willing to come, the company will certainly treat them well. Unfortunately, they don’t seem very enthusiastic…”

Yu Wen thought, no wonder they aren’t enthusiastic.

In this book, the structure of the entertainment industry can be summed up as “one superpower, many strong ones,” with the protagonist Gong Feng Chengzhou’s Huiteng Group being the dominant force. Various other entertainment companies are also rising rapidly, but the name Xingguang Media is nowhere to be seen from beginning to end.

Moreover, Xie Jiamao perfectly matches the others’ evaluation of him—unreliable, but sincere.

Someone who is both unreliable and overly sincere is unlikely to become a competent leader. It’s only natural that others don’t trust him, unless they are like Yu Wen, who only cares about a base salary and doesn’t worry about his future.

Yu Wen could only comfort him: “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

He wanted to take a taxi back to his rental apartment. Before leaving, he remembered something and, fearing the boss would think he was in a hurry, he deliberately played cute and smiled sweetly, “By the way, boss, who is my manager? I want to treat him to a meal since we’ll be working together in the future…”

The extra work in the crew wasn’t over yet; there might be another round. Since he had signed with the company, he still needed to inform his manager when taking private jobs. This was basic contract spirit.

Xie Jiamao scratched his head awkwardly, “You know our company is just starting… We haven’t hired a manager yet. I didn’t expect someone to actually send a resume to our company…”

Yu Wen: “?”

“But don’t worry, you’ll definitely have a manager, though they might not be very professional. You’ll have to make do for now.” Xie Jiamao pounded his chest, “Although I haven’t managed anyone before, I have a certificate. I’m qualified and trustworthy!”

Yu Wen: “…”

#MyBossStartedAsMyBossThenBecameMyManager#

–

Yu Wen’s concern was not unfounded. That evening, the assistant director sent him a new notice.

—It was a special role in the “Fenghua” crew.

Director Gao, for some inexplicable reason, decided to add some scenes to his previous role. Although Yu Wen found it puzzling, he agreed immediately since the pay was good.

That night, Yu Wen reviewed the related plot at this point in the story. He had condensed an entertainment novel to just 50,000 words, keeping the beginning and end, but with details in the middle cut down significantly.

…This meant that even pre-studying wouldn’t tell him what would happen next.

Yu Wen repeatedly read the thin three pages involving the “Fenghua” crew and tried hard to recall, but in the end, he got nothing and put them back in the drawer.

That evening, he checked in with Xie Jiamao. The latter was busy working hard to convince a director and was very busy. Hearing it was a minor role without a name, he didn’t ask much.

It had been said before that Director Gao was a meticulous person who had produced many hit shows, known for two main things: 1. breathtaking visual beauty and 2. well-developed characters.

His dramas rarely featured stereotypical characters. Even the common minor characters had distinctive features that made them vivid and three-dimensional.

Industry insiders had joked that even if Director Gao’s dramas turned out terribly, people would still want to check them out because these two aspects were enough to catch the eye.

“Fenghua” had already shot more than half of its scenes. The next plot centered around the conflict between Gongsun Daiyu’s “people-oriented” philosophy and the old aristocracy and other exploitative classes. Yu Wen’s character represented the old aristocracy.

To more sharply express the conflict hidden beneath the calm surface and highlight the heroine’s change of heart, Director Gao added a scene.

—The nobleman played by Yu Wen gallops through the streets on horseback, causing one death and three injuries, and is executed on the spot by Gongsun Daiyu.

This was the heroine’s first time killing someone unarmed. The young noble cried and begged, but his words inadvertently revealed arrogance and contempt for life, making Gongsun Daiyu realize that advocating wasn’t enough; she had to shake their beliefs fundamentally. How? With blood.

This scene gave Yu Wen a heavy task. He had to act arrogant at first, then terrified later, and even cry his heart out in front of the heroine, with a lot of lines to deliver.

Yu Wen, holding the script, fell into deep thought.

Zou Ming was very happy that he got such a substantial role, “What’s wrong? Too happy to speak? Calm down. Since Director Gao likes you so much, there will definitely be more lines in the future!”

Zou Ming, in his early twenties, was a few years older than Yu Wen, with a somewhat square jaw and a rustic accent he couldn’t shake. His smile gave off an honest vibe.

“It’s not because of that,” Yu Wen pointed at a few words in the script, “‘Utterly shocked,’ ‘crying miserably,’ ‘panicked and fleeing’… How do you act these out? Do you know?”

Zou Ming: “…”

Yu Wen hadn’t even mastered being an extra, and now he was given so many lines, which was really difficult for him.

He spent ten minutes interpreting the script, felt completely inadequate, and turned to the director to ask if they could replace him.

“Why? Don’t you want the opportunity?” Director Gao was a notoriously grumpy person, and Yu Wen was slightly startled by his loud voice, silently rubbing his ears.

It was said that Director Gao had been so irritable lately because a friend wanted him to hold the fort at their company. The specifics weren’t clear, but every time Director Gao received a call, his mood worsened.

That friend was more of an enemy.

Yu Wen showed him the densely written script, “Director, do you want to present the best visual effects?”

Director Gao: “No kidding.”

“Right now, there’s a big bug, which is me,” Yu Wen said honestly, “If you replace me, the completion of this scene will immediately improve by fifty percent.”

“…” Director Gao was so angry he laughed, his lips twitching, presenting a twisted beauty, “When you were notified, didn’t you say you’d guarantee to complete the task?”

Yu Wen hesitated and said, “When I was notified, they didn’t say there would be lines.”

Director Gao: “…”

Yu Wen: “…”

They stared at each other, and silence spread.

This was true. When the assistant director informed him, he only mentioned there was a scene. At that time, the script wasn’t finished yet, and the assistant director thought it was a minor, non-speaking role and reassured Yu Wen that there would be lines in the future.

So, Yu Wen came with peace of mind.

Director Gao’s lips moved, and after a while, he squeezed out, “Can’t you have some ambition?! Challenge yourself?!”

He knew his own flaws. Detailed character portrayals were a double-edged sword. When done properly, they could be the highlight of a drama, but if overdone, they became cumbersome. Before adding this scene, he didn’t know he could make it so complicated.

The first draft was even more complex; this version was the result of the screenwriters cutting out more than half of it.

Yu Wen: “I can’t do it.”

Director Gao: “You can.”

Yu Wen: “…”

This plot had some connections to the part where the female lead was suppressing bandits, so they could only find someone from the three special actors who were involved back then. Among them, Yu Wen had the most outstanding appearance. Most importantly, Director Gao hoped that the actor’s crying and pleading in front of the female lead would soften the audience’s hearts, thus highlighting the female lead’s ruthlessness when she wielded her sword.

Yu Wen’s face was already quite convincing.

“Your scene is in the afternoon. Here, go to the bathroom and practice in front of the mirror. Practice a lot. If you can cry, it’s fine. It’s not difficult at all.” Director Gao didn’t have time to waste with him, pushing him back. “Come on, I believe you can do it.”

Yu Wen didn’t get his way and returned, pouting.

He really couldn’t do it. Crying scenes required talent. He hadn’t cried much since he was a child, so it was hard for him to empathize.

He had seen actors begging directors for roles, but never a director forcibly grabbing an extra to fill a spot.

Since he had accepted the role, he couldn’t let the scene fall apart because of him. Yu Wen had no choice but to brace himself and go to the bathroom to practice.

–

The crew provided boxed lunches at noon, with a short break. Those with ample free time found a place to take a nap, while those with less time gathered indoors to browse their phones.

The director was in a nearby small room watching playback on the monitor. The door was open, and occasionally someone would go in. Given Director Gao’s recent temper, most of the staff tacitly avoided disturbing him.

Yu Wen came out of the bathroom with swollen eyes.

The makeup sister saw him and laughed, “Hey, how did you cry yourself into this state? We’ll probably need to apply ten layers of foundation to cover it up later.”

Yu Wen had worked as a stagehand for a while, and the B-team staff all remembered him. He was young and sweet-talking, very likable. They often gave him little conveniences, like small stools and cushions. The makeup team knew him best and would even bring him a milk tea when ordering for themselves.

Yu Wen said pitifully, “I thought of all my saddest moments.”

The makeup sister asked, “So can you act now?”

Yu Wen shook his head vigorously.

The entire makeup team burst into laughter.

He had a bit of insight into crying scenes, but the transitions between emotions were still stiff. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong, so he planned to find a teacher for a private lesson.

Director Gao’s door was open. Yu Wen greeted the makeup team and was about to go over. Just as he stepped onto the stairs, he heard a slightly low, irritable roar from inside the room:

“If you want to ask about the scene, just ask! Why are you sticking to me?!”

“Damn it, I’m not gay! No, I don’t do casting couch!”

The tone was lower than Director Gao’s usual scolding, probably to save face for the other party. However, Gao’s usual loud voice, even when lowered a bit, was still very loud.

At least everyone within a ten-meter radius could hear it clearly.

At this moment, besides Yu Wen, there was another boy in costume outside the door. He looked to be just out of university, with a delicate appearance, holding a script in his hand. He stood there stunned for a moment, then turned pale.

—Chu Han, the protagonist of “Rise, Movie Emperor.”

The air was tense for about ten seconds. Soon, the young man walked out of the room hurriedly, awkwardly using the script to cover his face, and fled in embarrassment.

Yu Wen had an impression of him. He was a minor star, playing a young guard by the male lead in the drama, with a substantial role. Yu Wen couldn’t understand why he would risk provoking Director Gao, probably because of the rampant rumors about Director Gao being gay. Some people believed it.

Chu Han, thinking of some rumors, turned pale again as he stood by the door, clutching the script tightly, ready to leave.

He hadn’t intended to engage in a casting couch scenario; he precisely wanted to avoid it. When he realized the implications of “discussing the script,” he panicked.

He vaguely remembered this part of the plot: [Sister Zhang said, connections in the entertainment industry rely on two words: performance. Interact more with the director, ask questions about the scenes you don’t understand, and even if you do understand, keep discussing them with the director. Who doesn’t like diligent and hardworking talents? However, directors are busy during the day, so it’s best to visit them at night.

Chu Han kept Sister Zhang’s words in mind and went to discuss the script with Director Gao whenever he had time.]

Sister Zhang was the leader of the extras who brought Chu Han into the industry. As the link between the crew and the extras, she took care of Chu Han before he became popular, so he was very grateful to her.

Chu Han entered the industry by accident and didn’t plan to make a living from it, so he didn’t sign with any company. Now, he was a third or fourth-tier star, and his roles were still arranged by Sister Zhang, as a form of repayment.

But he never expected that while he thought he was repaying her, Sister Zhang was trying to send him to the director’s bed.

Moments after the boy left, Director Gao came out of the room, unable to hide his anger, with his hands on his hips.

Yu Wen hadn’t had time to leave, and Chu Han had just turned around. Director Gao glanced at them, his expression subtle, “Are you two here to discuss the script too?”

Chu Han, with some social anxiety and still just a fresh graduate, heard the implications in his words, and his face instantly turned red. His fingers clutching the script turned white.

The awkward atmosphere was broken by Yu Wen’s “Uh.” Oblivious to the tension, he straightforwardly said, “I cried in the bathroom for two hours and came to report my progress.”

Director Gao: “How’s the progress?”

“Greed, anger, delusion, and envy are all sins. Joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness should not be forced. Amitabha, Buddha bless you.”

“Speak human language.”

“I cried till I went numb.”

A small burst of laughter erupted around them. The makeup team wasn’t afraid of Director Gao and laughed the hardest. Director Gao paced back and forth with his hands on his hips, looking like he wanted to come over and poke Yu Wen’s forehead, “So can you act or not? If not, get out!”

Yu Wen knew very well that if there were any other options, Director Gao would have kicked him out when he first tried to back out. Obviously, among the three special actors, only he had shown up today.

“I can act! I’ll do my best! But I have to give you a heads-up, with my lousy acting skills, the final effect might not be as good as expected. I hope you’re prepared and won’t get angry with me.”

Director Gao didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and scolded him, “How can you have so little confidence in yourself? Buck up! Don’t just fight for bread, fight for dignity!”

Yu Wen replied, “Fighting for everything will only harm me.”

Everyone around laughed again, this time heartily, quickly dispelling the strange atmosphere from before, leaving no trace of it.