Chapter 71: The Acting Skills of a Newcomer!

Garen shot that one scene four or five times before they finally got it right. When they passed at last, Sister Hao was the first to come up to him, excitement in her voice as she said, “For your first time acting, this is already quite impressive!”

“Yes! We were all holding our breath for you just now!” Zhao Xian ran over too, offering him a bottle of mineral water.

“I’ve still got a long way to go! Plenty of room for improvement!” Garen waved his hand, his face full of embarrassment.

Next was the second shot, which followed directly after the first. The scene had Garen passing by the Blossom Pavilion by chance, drawn inside by the singing he hears.

This was a long take, with close-ups on Garen’s facial expressions—an important part. Then the camera would pull back, showing him walking into the pavilion from behind.

“Departments ready! Three! Two! One! Action!”

As filming began, Sister Hao and the others clenched their fists, nervous that Garen might mess up.

The start went smoothly, but when it got to the close-up, he froze.

“Cut! Hold on!” Zhao Xin called, then hurried over. “Garen, your expression isn’t right. Your eyes need to shine, but your face can’t be too exaggerated. You’re a scholar—when you come to a place like this, there should be a sense of inner conflict. Understand?”

“I’ll give it a try.” Garen thought it over.

But in that moment, Zhao Xin clapped his hands. “Good, good! That’s it! The expression you just had, the look in your eyes, was spot on!”

“Was that enough?” Garen was a little stunned. Just now, he’d been focused on nailing the expression for the close-up, trying to show a light in his eyes. His eyelids had just moved ever so slightly, and by chance it worked.

He made a mental note of that feeling and nodded. “Let’s go again.”

“All right!” Zhao Xin hurried back to his spot. “Three, two, one! Action!”

This time, Garen’s expression was right, but as he turned, Zhao Xin called out again. “Stop! The turn was too abrupt—remember your inner conflict!”

“Uh… okay!” Garen nodded and tried again.

Inside the Blossom Pavilion.

Upstairs in one of the rooms, Tian Chao, the second male lead of “A Beauty Overwhelms the City,” played a character named Gao Lian, a low-ranking official. Tonight, he had to film a scene where, driven by love turned to hate, he causes an uproar in the pavilion.

He was lying in a rocking chair with his eyes half-closed, preparing himself emotionally, while two assistants fanned him.

Summer had arrived, and the room was stiflingly hot, making everyone irritable.

Suddenly, Tian Chao opened his eyes and glared at his assistants. “What time is it already? Why hasn’t it come to my scene yet?”

“Um…” The two assistants looked at each other, and one hurried to say, “Chao, don’t worry, I’ll go check.”

Less than five minutes later, the assistant returned, helpless. “There’s a newcomer in the cast, and every take is going for seven or eight tries before he gets it. It’s delayed everything!”

That was an exaggeration. In fact, Garen’s later takes only needed at most three tries, and several shots were done in one go.

But Tian Chao was not pleased to hear this. He’d spent all that time preparing, growing more and more annoyed, and with the heat, he couldn’t restrain himself. He got up, went to the window, and looked down.

Just then, Garen flubbed another take. Tian Chao immediately shouted, “Newbie! Do you even know how to act? If you don’t, go home and study first!”

The set below fell instantly silent. Everyone looked up at the window.

Zhao Xin saw that it was Tian Chao and frowned.

The assistant director remained unmoved. He’d long lost patience. Garen’s inexperience was slowing the whole production. Tonight was packed with night scenes—every minute was precious!

Sister Hao and Zhao Xian glanced at Tian Chao upstairs, then at Garen, unsure what to do.

Some of the crew were barely suppressing laughter, waiting to see what drama would unfold.

Mai Le, furious, clenched his fists, itching to rush up and teach Tian Chao a lesson.

Garen looked up. The man looked familiar—he’d seen him on TV but couldn’t recall the name.

Tian Chao had been in the industry for years, filming several series each year, but never as the true lead—always the second male or a villain. He’d won a few Best Supporting Actor awards but never became popular, the kind of actor whose face audiences recognized but whose name they never remembered.

Hearing himself scolded, Garen felt uncomfortable, wanting to retort but swallowing the words.

It was true—the delay was because of him.

It was his first time acting; skill would take time to hone, not something a few takes could perfect.

Still, he could feel his own progress. Justified or not, being yelled at like this, he couldn’t accept it.

Sensing the tension, Zhao Xin hurried to smooth things over. “Old Tian! Garen’s a singer and a newcomer—first time acting, this is normal! Don’t get upset!”

Tian Chao stiffened his neck. “Director Zhao! Just tell me straight—how long do I have to wait? If there’s no clear answer, I’m not filming tonight!”

“Half an hour!” the assistant director jumped in. “Old Tian, in half an hour you’ll get your scene!”

Tian Chao looked at the assistant director, then at Zhao Xin. “Fine! I’ll wait half an hour. If I’m not filming then, I’m leaving!”

Garen held his breath. Damn it! For these next few shots, no matter what, he had to get them in one take. Normally, he wasn’t so stubborn, but today was different. He couldn’t embarrass himself in front of everyone.

“Garen…” Zhao Xin walked over. “We’ll shoot for another half hour. If it doesn’t work… we’ll finish the rest tomorrow night.”

“I can do it!” Garen exhaled, gritted his teeth. “Let’s shoot!”

Filming resumed.

First shot, one take!

Second shot, also in one take!

…

Everyone was surprised. Had Garen been injected with adrenaline?

How did he suddenly seem like a different person?

As “Journey to the West” once said: Nothing in the world is difficult—only for those who lack the will.

Perhaps Garen was just that kind of person. He put his heart into the next few shots, investing himself in the role and the story. Though he still had the air of a rookie, he was much improved.

As director, Zhao Xin quietly helped Garen as well. If a shot could be passed in one take, he let it go, not insisting on retakes. He found that, after a few successful takes, Garen’s confidence grew, and his performance became even more natural. In fact, a few times, Garen’s spontaneous interpretation fit the script even better than what was written.

Half an hour passed in a flash.

If it weren’t for Tian Chao’s time being up, Zhao Xin would have liked to finish all of Garen’s scenes that night.

“Cut!”

Zhao Xin rose slowly from behind the monitor, smiling at Garen. “That’s it! You’ve finished your last scene for today!”

“Yes!” Some of the crew, led by Sister Hao, cheered enthusiastically.

A few minor actors, led by Zhao Xian, applauded.

Garen was a bit embarrassed. He knew he hadn’t acted well, and he’d held up filming so long that several scenes weren’t shot—especially those with the female lead and the poetry scenes.

Yet what everyone gave him was the most precious encouragement.

“Director Zhao! Thank you! Sorry for all the trouble today!” he said, looking Zhao Xin straight in the eye, his tone sincere.

Zhao Xin waved it off with a smile. “After filming, just call me Xin. I’m not much older than you! And I’m a fan of your music, too. Go home and study those remaining scenes thoroughly—next time, aim for every take in one!”

“All right!”

Some words didn’t need to be said out loud; determination is the key to success.

By the time he left the set, it was past ten at night.

He didn’t get home for more than an hour.

As they got out of the car, Mai Le handed him a manila folder. “I found a few places for you. The details are in here. Take a look when you can—just let me know which one you like and you can move in anytime.”

“Wow, that was fast!” Garen took the folder. “All right, you head home and get some rest, too.”

“I’ll get going, then. Tomorrow at ten a.m., you’re taping an interview at Qixun Video. I’ll pick you up at nine.”

“Got it!” Garen yawned, lazily getting out of the car.

In several barely visible shadowed corners nearby, and on some windowsills of the apartment building across the street, a number of cameras and camcorders captured the moment Garen got out of the car.

These were entertainment reporters from gossip magazines, prowling at night for material.

But among them were two unusual figures—Zhuo Wei and Feng Ke.

Last time, Shi Li had paid them to dig up dirt on Garen. They’d racked their brains for underhanded tactics and even had scandalous headlines ready.

At the time, they’d been full of confidence and ambition.

But when they edited the video, they realized the person who’d opened the door wasn’t Garen at all, but a stranger.

Zhuo Wei and Feng Ke were wasteful and lazy by nature. The money Shi Li gave them—apart from paying Sun Yu, who’d posed as a call girl—was quickly squandered.

To keep milking Shi Li for money, Zhuo Wei and Feng Ke had no choice but to try again, searching for new evidence to smear Garen.

“Ke! Garen just went upstairs. I’ll follow him and let you know what floor he’s on!” Zhuo Wei, hiding in the bushes below, whispered to Feng Ke, who was stationed in the building across the street, and hurried after Garen.

Five minutes later, Zhuo Wei reported back, “Ke! Third floor, eastern unit! Can you see if the curtains are open?”

“The curtains aren’t drawn!” Feng Ke replied excitedly. “I see it! I see it! There’s a woman in his apartment!”

“Quick, get it on camera!”

“Okay!”

Videos, photos—not a single one can be missed.

“Who’s the woman? Did you get a clear shot of her face? Is it Aya?”

Back downstairs, Zhuo Wei pressed him impatiently.

“I couldn’t see clearly! He just closed the curtains…” Feng Ke replied. “Wait, let me see if I can hack into his network and get into his computer!”

“Good!”

A minute…

Five minutes…

Ten minutes…

Zhuo Wei still hadn’t heard back. At first, there was the sound of frantic typing, but after a while, it went quiet. “Still not done?”

“No luck!” Feng Ke said, frustrated. “This guy really spent some money—he actually bought the German Auschi super-defense antivirus, and the top edition at that. Not even a top hacker could break in!”

“Damn!” Zhuo Wei nearly spat blood. “Forget it, just take a few photos and let’s go!”