Chapter 70: Director Zhao Xin!

The exclusive interview with Triangle Press began at two thirty in the afternoon and did not conclude until six in the evening.

But Garen’s work was not yet over. After changing into casual clothes, he hurried to the set of "The Peerless Beauty."

Northern Putuo Film and Television City.

It took nearly an hour and a half to drive there, reaching this film city located on the Sixth Ring Road of the capital. Compared to the larger film bases, this place was clearly much more desolate: wild grass grew all about, people were rare, and although it was a film base, not a single tourist was in sight.

However, there were quite a few crews working here, so the parking lot was full of cars, presumably belonging to actors or crew members.

After getting out of the car, Maile made a phone call and waited for someone from the crew to come pick them up.

In a little over ten minutes, a middle-aged woman appeared in their line of sight, waved at them, and hurried over. "Are you Garen?"

"Yes! Hello, ma’am!"

Garen was quick with his words—no matter what someone did, it was never wrong to call them "teacher" first.

Sure enough, the woman’s attitude changed at once, a broad smile lighting up her face. "Hello, hello! I’ll just call you Allen, all right? Come, I’ll take you to the set!"

"Thank you, ma’am!" Garen replied politely.

"My surname is Hao. Just call me Sister Hao!"

Sister Hao was grinning from ear to ear. "Young man, have you acted in any plays before?"

"No!" Garen shook his head. "I’ve never been to a place like this before!"

"Ah? Then who recommended you?" Sister Hao was taken aback and instantly grew curious—was he here through connections?

Garen smiled, "The company sent me!"

"Oh!" Sister Hao nodded and didn’t ask further.

There were many examples like him. In the crew of "The Peerless Beauty" alone, there were many newcomers pushed in by companies and studios. Many of them probably weren’t trained actors—they could have been models, online influencers, new singers, or even retired athletes.

Perhaps because Garen called her "teacher," this middle-aged lady was full of conversation, constantly explaining the rules of the crew to him as they walked.

With Sister Hao leading the way, Garen entered the film city smoothly.

Compared to the bleakness outside, the inside was a world of its own—a lively little town, bustling with people in all sorts of costumes.

There were those with long Manchu braids in Qing dynasty attire, some in the short hair and long gowns of the Republican era, and others dressed in ragged, timeless outfits as ancient refugees.

Without a guide, it would have been difficult to find the right crew. Across a single street, one side belonged to one crew, and the other to another.

"This way!"

Sister Hao pulled Garen through a winding alley, turned several corners, then up another street, finally leading him into a quaint, three-story building.

A plaque hung above the door—"House of Blossoms!"

At once, Garen understood—they must be filming a brothel scene.

Wasn’t he supposed to play a scholar?

How had he ended up in a brothel?

With a mind full of questions, Garen finally met the key people: the director and assistant director of the production.

The director was tall and thin, exuding an air of literary refinement.

The assistant director was quite the opposite—burly and portly, his vest straining at the buttons, giving a distinctly unctuous impression.

"Garen, good to meet you! Good to meet you, assistant director!" Garen greeted them with a handshake. Both responded warmly, especially the director. "Garen, hello! I’m Zhao Xin. I heard from the company this morning that you’d be joining us; we’ve been eagerly awaiting you!"

The assistant director chimed in, "Yes, our Director Zhao’s favorite song right now is your ‘Once, It Was You.’ When will the official release be?"

"Soon, probably in June!" Garen smiled. According to the company’s plan, "Once, It Was You," "Just Once Is Enough," "Betrayal," and "I’m Just a Little Bird" would all be included in the "Racing Youth" movie soundtrack. The film would be released in June, and so would the soundtrack.

"Excellent! That’s not far off!"

Zhao Xin said cheerfully, "By the way, I’ve put in a request with the company—hoping we can use your ‘Ephemeral Fireworks’ as the ending theme for our series. Think they’ll approve?"

"They probably will," Garen said, noting the director’s hopeful expression and smiling. "I’ll ask for you."

"Thank you so much!" Zhao Xin’s face lit up with delight.

Just then, a girl dressed as a maid approached, sticking her tongue out playfully at Zhao Xin before shyly turning to Garen. "Hello, Garen, could I have your autograph?"

"Of course!" Garen smiled. This was the first time anyone had asked for his autograph—he was quite excited. He picked up the pen and quickly signed his name.

The girl giggled, "Let’s take a picture together!"

Before Garen could agree or refuse, she raised her phone and began snapping photos.

Garen could only go along.

After a few shots, the girl skipped away, beaming.

Zhao Xin, a little embarrassed, explained, "Sorry about that. She’s actually my younger sister, Zhao Xian."

"Oh!" Garen glanced back at her, then said sincerely, "She’s lovely—so lively and cute!"

"Haha! Come, let me tell you about your scene!"

With that, Zhao Xin handed over the on-site work to the assistant director and led Garen to another room for instruction.

It was a typical ancient-style side chamber, rich with the flavor of antiquity.

But the presence of the crew’s equipment brought him right back to reality.

Zhao Xin handed him a script—just four pages.

Those four pages described a small episode. Garen’s character was Xue Yi, a—well, not a patron, but a scholar heading to the capital for the imperial exams. Passing by the House of Blossoms, he was captivated by the famed courtesan Zhou Shishi’s talent and beauty.

The brothel’s rule was that anyone who could compose a poem on a topic set by Zhou Shishi and win her favor could spend a night in her boudoir.

Many aspiring scholars tried their luck; in the end, Xue Yi impressed Zhou Shishi with a masterful poem and won her heart—and her scented token.

"Our series tells the tragic life story of Zhou Shishi, a beauty without peer. Your role, Xue Yi, is the only man she ever truly loved, but merely a fleeting presence in her life. Like a flower that blooms and fades, after you leave, she never sees you again—not even at her life’s end."

As Zhao Xin explained the plot and Xue Yi’s significance in the story, Garen listened and couldn’t help but say, "So he’s a heartless cad?"

"Well… you could say that," Zhao Xin smiled. "But it’s just acting—you don’t have to feel guilty!"

"Oh."

Garen studied the script intently. He was worried he wouldn’t do well. Although the scene was short, with just a few lines and shots, it carried the soul of the whole drama—or so he felt. Without Xue Yi, perhaps Zhou Shishi’s end wouldn’t have been so tragic.

Moreover, it was his first time acting on camera, so he had to do his best.

"Take your time, get a feel for it, and memorize your lines. It’s simple enough. We’ll shoot when night falls—I’ll come get you," Zhao Xin said, patting Garen’s shoulder before leaving.

Garen was left alone with the script.

For him, this was both a challenge and an opportunity.

On that secondhand laptop, there were countless masterpieces from another world, and he was determined to bring them forth one day. Now was the perfect time to lay his foundation.

An hour later.

The sky was fully dark.

Garen stood with his hands behind his back, the script face-down on the table, practicing his lines and expressions from memory.

He especially focused on reciting the so-called exquisite poem, repeating it with rising and falling tones until he was satisfied.

Just then, Zhao Xin entered again. "Ready?"

"Yes! Let’s begin," Garen nodded, very nervous.

"Great! Time to change costumes!"

Following Zhao Xin’s instructions, Maile and a costumer came in to help Garen change. For period dramas like this, there was no need to remove his own clothes—just slip the costume on top. Only fitting the wig took some effort.

Once everything was in order, he followed Zhao Xin out to stand before lights and camera.

"Are you sure you’re ready?" Zhao Xin asked again.

"Ready," Garen replied.

The first scene was Garen outside the House of Blossoms, looking as if he’d just arrived in the capital.

All he needed to do was walk into the frame from a distance.

"Don’t look at the camera," the assistant director instructed as he marked Garen’s position. "Just stroll like you would through the city, but show fresh curiosity. Got it?"

"Three, two, one, action!"

Under the camera’s gaze, Garen entered like a country bumpkin, wide-eyed and excited, his book basket swinging on his back—he looked more like a child than a scholar.

"Cut!"

Zhao Xin called out, but Garen was still caught up in his "performance."

Laughter rippled among the crew.

Those already unimpressed with Garen now looked at him with even greater disdain.

"Hold up!"

Zhao Xin, embarrassed, had to dash out from behind the monitor to stop him.

"Hmm?" Garen glanced at him, confused—he’d been so focused on acting, he hadn’t heard anything else.

Snapped out of his reverie, he quickly asked, "Director Zhao, what’s wrong?"

"Don’t act like that!" Zhao Xin clicked his tongue. It was hard to explain to a non-professional actor, so he patiently said, "You looked like a yokel in the big city—very… foolish."

"Foolish?" Garen was crestfallen. He thought he’d done well.

How was it foolish?

"You shouldn’t act like that. Reign it in a bit! You’re a scholar—a student of Confucian philosophy, the Four Books and Five Classics. You should have the air of a scholar, understand?"

"Understood," Garen nodded. "So, like a bookworm?"

"Yes! Something like that, but not too stiff—at least show your longing and curiosity for the capital’s splendor!"

"Oh, I see!" Garen thought for a moment. "Let me try again!"

"Good! Again!"

Zhao Xin returned to his seat. "Three, two, one, action!"

This time, Garen walked slowly down the street, his scholarly demeanor much more apparent.