In both his past and present life, Ye Zhou considered himself an easygoing person.
Actors throwing tantrums was a matter that could be big or small. In his past life, some actors Ye Zhou had collaborated with had encountered such situations. As long as they didn’t delay filming, Ye Zhou had always turned a blind eye to their antics, being quite accommodating.
However, Xi Yang’s issue was no longer just about throwing tantrums. Initially, he failed to disclose his full schedule to the crew, not truthfully informing Ye Zhou that aside from ‘Chasing the Light,’ he had two other films in production and about to begin shooting.
Secondly, due to this, Xi Yang’s on-set condition was subpar, and he frequently took leave, severely impacting the crew’s regular filming progress.
Even more outrageous was his increasingly brazen behavior, taking advantage of Ye Zhou’s easy-going nature, like today’s incident.
At eight o’clock sharp, the entire crew had assembled, with every staff member diligently at their post, ready to begin the day’s filming.
The scenes to be shot were not decided on the day itself but planned well in advance, with the schedule constantly adjusted as filming progressed.
The crew would reconfirm the next day’s scenes a day before official filming. In such cases, actors needing leave should inform the director at least three days prior, allowing sufficient time for staff to adjust the shooting schedule.
However, despite the entire crew, including director Ye Zhou and lead actor Geng Bochuan, waiting from eight until nine, Xi Yang never showed up.
Assistant Director Meng hung up the phone, his expression grim as he hurried to Ye Zhou’s side. His urgent tone could barely be concealed, “Still can’t reach him. Neither Xi Yang nor his manager are answering their phones. Could something have happened?”
“Let’s do this. You start filming Geng Bochuan’s scenes first. I’ll go to the hotel to see what’s going on. If no one’s there, I’ll head straight to Xi Yang’s company for answers.”
While actors being unreachable was normal, managers being unreachable was highly unusual.
Assistant Director Meng spoke hurriedly, about to grab the car keys on the table when Ye Zhou stopped him, glancing at the time. “Lao Meng, enough.”
The assistant director froze, looking surprised. He couldn’t figure out Ye Zhou’s thoughts for a while, so he simply asked directly: “Director Ye, if you have a plan, use it quickly. Every second we delay costs us money!”
Their previous collaboration on ‘A Farce’ had brought them closer, and they became good friends. When Huang Yan resigned, Ye Zhou learned he was on vacation and requested his assistance. He readily agreed, cutting his vacation short to help Ye Zhou.
Given their good relationship, Assistant Director Meng spoke more directly without beating around the bush.
Ye Zhou found his directness amusing and ushered him back to his seat, reassuring him, “It’s fine. We’ve already wasted so much time; this little delay won’t make a difference.”
Assistant Director Meng grew exasperated, struggling to stand up and proceed with his initial plan.
Ye Zhou sighed, no longer stopping him, but instead dialed Xi Yang’s number.
Seeing his action, Assistant Director Meng halted. He stood aside and waited to see if the call made by the director would be answered.
Unsurprisingly, the call went unanswered and disconnected. Undeterred, Ye Zhou then dialed Xi Yang’s manager’s number.
The call rang for a while, and just as Assistant Director Meng was about to leave disappointedly, muttering under his breath, the call finally connected.
Ye Zhou put it on speakerphone, allowing everyone within proximity to hear their conversation without any concealment.
The call was extremely noisy, with a poor signal causing the voice to sound choppy and disconnected.
Xi Yang’s manager’s voice emerged amid the noisy background, “Hello? Is this Director Ye?”
Ye Zhou’s expression remained neutral as he flatly responded, “Yes, it’s me. Is Xi Yang with you right now? If so, please have him take the call.”
Another bout of chaotic noise followed, grating enough to irritate anyone. Xi Yang’s manager stammered before finally saying, “I’m sorry, Director Ye. Xi Yang has a slight fever today, so I took him directly to the hospital. I forgot to inform you.”
“Oh, is that so.” Ye Zhou’s tone remained calm, leading Xi Yang’s manager to assume he was an easy-going director to deceive. However, Ye Zhou continued, “Give him half an hour. If I don’t see him at the crew in half an hour, he needn’t bother appearing on my set ever again.”
Without allowing the manager a chance to respond, Ye Zhou ended the call decisively.
Staring at the disconnected phone, the manager’s expression resembled a spilled palette, quite a sight.
Coincidentally, the director called cut at that moment. After weighing the pros and cons, the manager grabbed a water bottle and hurried to Xi Yang’s side, leaning in to whisper Ye Zhou’s words, highlighting the crucial points.
Xi Yang paused mid-drink, his expression souring. “He really said that?”
Seeing the manager nod, Xi Yang lowered his head and thought for a few seconds before abruptly standing up, an apologetic smile on his face as he approached the director nearby.
Their discussion didn’t seem pleasant, with the director wearing a scowl throughout, but he eventually nodded, granting Xi Yang’s leave.
Having secured his leave, Xi Yang grabbed his clothes and rushed out of the set. This crew’s studio was located in the southernmost part of the city’s film base, while ‘Chasing the Light’ was being shot in the north.
With the two locations at opposite ends, driving would take twenty minutes even under ideal traffic conditions. Making it within the half-hour deadline set by Ye Zhou would indeed be a tight squeeze.
Fortunately, it was only a little past nine in the morning, before the peak lunch hour rush. Xi Yang hurried and managed to arrive on set within Ye Zhou’s stipulated time limit.
Panting heavily, Xi Yang approached Ye Zhou, sincerely apologizing and explaining that his poor physical condition and grogginess had caused the delay. He vowed it would never happen again.
Ye Zhou observed his earnest expression, neither accepting nor rejecting it, having lost interest in entertaining further drama. He bluntly stated, “I don’t care how many projects you’ve taken on or how packed your schedule is. But if you ever disrupt the crew’s progress again, you can focus on your other films. We don’t need you here.”
This was an exceptionally harsh statement, leaving Xi Yang no face to save. His complexion paled, his clenched fists trembling slightly as flashes of indignation and humiliation flickered in his eyes.
Ye Zhou’s words were less a warning and more a notification. Xi Yang had no choice but to accept or risk losing even this opportunity and being forced to leave immediately.
After Xi Yang, the lead actor, finally settled into his role following the morning’s disruptions, the crew commenced operations.
Today’s scenes involved Cheng Ye agreeing to attend a parent-teacher meeting for his younger brother but getting cornered by three gangster rivals at the school gates. Cheng Ye fled but was eventually trapped in an alley by the group.
Outnumbered, Cheng Ye was about to be beaten when Cheng Ling, who should have been at school, suddenly appeared. Seeing his brother assaulted, the usually obedient Cheng Ling went berserk, fighting the gangsters.
As this scene involved fight choreography, the stunt coordinator had been training Xi Yang and Geng Bochuan in moves and stances for half a month. During practice, their differences were indiscernible, but before the cameras, their performances vastly contrasted.
Unlike Geng Bochuan’s fluid and polished movements, Xi Yang appeared completely clueless. He forgot everything the stunt coordinator had taught him and performed so amateurishly that even the extras portraying gangsters fared better.
After the sixth NG, Ye Zhou scoffed derisively, “Xi Yang, did you learn those moves just to show off? When I asked you to fight, you’re doing some weird dance routine, forgetting all the moves. Do you think it’s interesting twisting and turning like that?.”
“I thought you had some talent, but with this level of skill, I’m amazed. Rushing from set to set every day, wasting all your time on the road. Which project are you even focused on? What could you possibly deliver?”
“If you don’t want to act, just say so. Who are you disgusting by acting like this? I advise you to have some self-awareness. ‘Chasing the Light’ doesn’t need you specifically. I, Ye Zhou, have more choices than just you. If you can’t do it, I’ll replace you. There are plenty who can act this role!”
Ye Zhou rarely spoke such harsh words. Had Xi Yang not repeatedly crossed his red lines, even at his angriest, Ye Zhou would not have been so unrestrained.
To put it bluntly, Xi Yang’s recent performance was simply shit – constantly late, leaving early, and skipping work entirely. The entire crew of over a hundred people sat around burning money, waiting for this lead actor to show up.
Eight out of every ten scenes he delivered were unusable. The remaining two were grudgingly accepted by Ye Zhou, closing his eyes and enduring the nausea.
Poor acting conditions, subpar skills, or an inability to immerse into the role were normal occurrences Ye Zhou could accept. What he couldn’t accept was the actor’s blatant indifference, merely aiming to collect their pay by going through the motions.
During Xi Yang’s audition, his impressive acting skills and aura perfectly matching the character had given Ye Zhou high expectations.
But witnessing Xi Yang’s performance and attitude on set, Ye Zhou felt as disgusted as he had initially been hopeful, beyond just feeling “nauseated.”
This was an outright deception.
Since Xi Yang thought securing the role meant he could slack off without consequence, Ye Zhou didn’t mind giving him a vivid lesson.
Drenched in Ye Zhou’s scathing criticism, Xi Yang had mentally cursed Ye Zhou’s eighteen generations of ancestors but dared not show the slightest displeasure. He suppressed his anger and apologized to Ye Zhou.
“Sorry, Director Ye, I…”
Ye Zhou had no interest in hearing his excuses, cutting him off, “No need to apologize. Next time before acting, ask yourself how much effort you’re actually putting into it.”
“Since you can’t perform this scene, let me find someone who can teach you.” Ye Zhou pointed at the extra who played the best gangster. “You, come here.”
The extra froze for a few seconds before hesitantly pointing at himself. After Ye Zhou’s nod of confirmation, he hurried over.
Ye Zhou had a staff member give Xi Yang’s script to the extra, then called the stunt coordinator over. “Quickly go over the movements with him. We’ll start in ten minutes.”
The stunt coordinator inwardly despaired. He had spent half a month training Xi Yang, yet in ten minutes, what could he possibly teach this extra?
However, since Ye Zhou had spoken, no matter how dejected, he could only resign himself to guiding the extra’s movements.
Ye Zhou sipped his tea, occasionally chatting with Geng Bochuan or the assistant director. He did not spare Xi Yang a single glance as the latter awkwardly stood there, unsure whether to stay or leave, utterly resentful of Ye Zhou.
Ten minutes later, Ye Zhou put down his teacup and told Geng Bochuan, “Go help him with the scene.”
Geng Bochuan readily agreed, further frustrating Xi Yang, who had hoped he might put in a good word.
The actors took their positions, and at the crew’s cue to begin, Geng Bochuan and the extra immediately embodied their roles, grappling with the gangsters.
Initially, Xi Yang regarded this performance with amusement. No matter how poorly he fared recently, he was still a veteran film industry figure and academically trained. He starred in over a dozen productions. Even in this slump, his foundational skills remained intact. How could an unknown extra possibly compare?
But as he watched, Xi Yang’s expression gradually soured. The mockery in his eyes faded, replaced by shock and disbelief.
Though his manager lacked formal acting training, he could still discern good from bad performances. At first, like Xi Yang, he had dismissed the extra, intending to apologize to Ye Zhou once the extra finished, letting this incident pass.
But none of them expected that the extra would actually display some talent.
Despite the short learning time, barely enough for the stunt coordinator to teach him a few simple moves without covering the complex ones, the extra performed those basic actions quite convincingly.
Though inferior to Geng Bochuan, his movements appeared far smoother and more natural compared to Xi Yang’s earlier display. Notably, this extra managed to incorporate facial expressions while executing the choreography.
This was something Ye Zhou hadn’t expected. He had called the extra over mainly to embarrass Xi Yang and puncture his arrogance, never anticipating this unexpected discovery.
After they finished, Ye Zhou burst into laughter, applauding heartily. The applause echoed clearly across the silent set, its ridicule evident to anyone perceptive.
“Good, very good!” Ye Zhou praised generously after laughing, beckoning the extra over. “What’s your name?”
The extra had a tender face and looked young. He seemed nervous when Ye Zhou addressed him, especially when he sensed Xi Yang’s poisonous glare, which made him even more anxious.
But he mustered his courage, ignoring Xi Yang’s gaze, and answered loudly, “Director Ye, my name is Duan Jingyuan.”
“You were excellent. As long as you don’t give up, I believe this industry will have a place for you eventually.” Ye Zhou patted his shoulder encouragingly.
Duan Jingyuan’s face flushed from Ye Zhou’s compliments, and he was overwhelmed with unfamiliar excitement, which made his voice tremble as he stammered, “Th-thank you, Director Ye, thank you! I’ll definitely work extremely, extremely hard!”
It has been two years since he graduated from school. In the past two years, Duan Jingyuan had survived on meager earnings, drifting between various crews as an extra, residing near the film studio for convenience.
Housing near the studio was expensive, so Duan Jingyuan rented a mere five-square-meter attic room to save money while pursuing his dream. The low ceiling forced him to crouch for any activity, unable to stand upright.
This was his third year, and despite Duan Jingyuan’s frugality, his funds were nearly depleted. Recounting these two years while facing an utterly hopeless future, doubts about quitting frequently arose.
Maybe he should just give up. Maybe he really did not have the talent, so just stop here.
Such thoughts grew stronger as his savings dwindled, and even he didn’t know how much longer he could blindly chase this futile dream.
He had seriously begun to consider quitting. Maybe one day soon, he would leave this path.
Duan Jingyuan knew that day wasn’t far off.
But just as he prepared to abandon everything, he encountered a director who patted his shoulder with utmost conviction, telling him…
You’re excellent.
You can make it.
You have what it takes.
Duan Jingyuan couldn’t describe his current emotions, only expressing gratitude repeatedly while bowing fervently to Ye Zhou. He truly, desperately needed this affirmation.
All his doubts and self-questioning evaporated with Ye Zhou’s words of validation. The gloomy, boundless future suddenly cracked open.
Sunlight pierced through the haze, illuminating the path ahead and Duan Jingyuan’s troubled heart.
During the lunch break, Duan Jingyuan hesitantly took out his worn phone and, after much deliberation, dialed a number.
“Mom, sorry, I may not be coming back.”
“I still want…to give it another try.”
On the other end, his mother fell silent for a long while. Just as Duan Jingyuan thought she had completely lost hope in him, he heard a faint sigh.
Then, his mother’s voice came through, “Do you have money left? I’ll transfer some after work.”
Duan Jingyuan opened his mouth, but tears streamed down first. Sitting on the steps, he tilted his head back, wiping his eyes as he struggled to sound calm, “No need, Mom. I have enough money. I recently joined a crew with great treatment. Everyone has been so kind to me. This morning, our director even praised my acting. Don’t worry about me, I’m doing well!”
After ending the call, Duan Jingyuan took a deep breath, checked the time on his phone, and prepared to return to the studio.
But as he stood up, he noticed someone beside him. Looking at the person’s face, Duan Jingyuan’s expression grew uneasy, yet he still greeted, “…Hello, Senior Xi.”
The person was none other than Xi Yang, who had been scolded by Director Ye just before filming.
Xi Yang was already in a foul mood. He was so disgusted by Ye Zhou’s criticism that he couldn’t eat. Coming out for some air only to encounter this extra further soured his already dismal disposition.
“Duan Jingyuan, right?” Xi Yang sneered his name with undisguised malice. “I advise you to behave and stay in your lane as an extra. Don’t harbor ambitions for things that can never belong to you.”
Xi Yang gripped Duan Jingyuan’s shoulder, his grip tightening as he leaned in menacingly, “Don’t think Ye Zhou’s empty praises make you something special.”
“I don’t care if you’ll ever accomplish anything, but until you do, I hope you tread very carefully. I’m warning you upfront. If you provoke me again, I’ll have you removed from this crew.”
“Don’t expect Ye Zhou to defend you. Between a lead actor and an extra, who do you think he’ll side with? After all these years as an extra, surely you understand this dynamic without me explaining further.”
Duan Jingyuan’s good mood vanished with Xi Yang’s appearance. Though his throat felt parched and he wanted to argue back, he realized with resignation that despite how unpleasant, Xi Yang’s words rang true.
At that moment, a familiar voice interrupted them.
“You seem quite confident, Mr. Xi.”
Ye Zhou stood about a meter away, arms crossed, regarding them with an amused expression.
Xi Yang immediately stiffened, forcing a laugh as he released his grip and patted Duan Jingyuan’s back. “Director Ye, you misunderstand. I was just discussing the script with Xiao Duan here.”
“Isn’t that right, Xiao Duan?” Xi Yang lightly shoved Duan Jingyuan, his tone threatening.
Ye Zhou’s eyes lost their mirth as he stated bluntly, “If you channeled all these misguided thoughts into your performance, you wouldn’t have been outshone by a newcomer today.”
“How does it feel to be overshadowed by a rookie? Embarrassing, isn’t it?” Ye Zhou pushed Xi Yang’s hand off Duan Jingyuan. “Remember this feeling well.”
“But even if you can’t, it’s fine, because this should eventually become a familiar experience for you.”
“Stagnating while newcomers rise, watching those you once disdained reach heights beyond your grasp, one by one.”
With each remark, Xi Yang’s expression darkened until he could no longer maintain his feigned smile, his voice harsh and confrontational. “Oh? So Director Ye thinks this little extra will reach heights I can’t attain?”
“Why not?” Ye Zhou responded.
As if he had heard the most hilarious joke in the world, Xi Yang completely dropped his pretense, bursting into bellowing laughter. Between guffaws, he mocked, “Director Ye, you really know how to joke around…”
“Xi Yang.” Ye Zhou looked at him, his expression calm as he announced, “Our cooperation ends here.”
Xi Yang’s laughter abruptly ceased. He froze for a few seconds before staring at Ye Zhou in disbelief. “What did you say?”
Ye Zhou repeated, “You’re being replaced.”
“Have you gone mad? The film has been shooting for two months already. I’m the lead! Replacing me means all the previous footage is unusable. Do you know how much money that will cost the production?” Xi Yang looked at Ye Zhou like he was an idiot.
It was precisely because he understood these consequences that Xi Yang had been so brazenly arrogant recently.
After speaking, Xi Yang waited smugly for Ye Zhou to apologize, back down, and compromise.
However, contrary to his expectation of Ye Zhou remaining serious after his remarks, the director actually burst out laughing.
“Sorry, it seems there’s a misunderstanding on your part.”
Xi Yang was bewildered by the laughter, instinctively asking, “What?”
“Am I short of that little money?”
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