Li Yuan explained the reason for choosing this script: “Although it’s not a leading role, the character is likable, and the story structure and production team are very good.”
As Chi Feiran opened the first page, he saw the name of the already-cast male lead—Qi Ming.
Looking at the cast list, Li Yuan smiled and said, “Barring any surprises, he’ll be the male lead.”
Although Qi Ming was no longer under his management, Li Yuan was happy to see him doing well.
Li Yuan said, “Read the script first. If you think it’s suitable, we’ll plan the next steps.”
This role wasn’t something Chi Feiran could secure just because he wanted it. In the Chinese entertainment industry, there are many directors with unique styles, but two are particularly noteworthy.
One is Zhuo Jiansheng, a male director whose most classic works are women-centric. His films have a magical ability to transform actresses, making even the least striking faces appear uniquely captivating.
The other is Zheng Lin, the director of the script they were discussing. Unlike Zhuo Jiansheng, Zheng Lin is a female director known for capturing the essence of male characters. Rong Jin won his first Best Actor award under her direction.
Zheng Lin seemed to have an innate talent for highlighting male actors’ charm, whether it’s their ruggedness, gentleness, or any other trait. Her films were known for bringing characters to life with meticulous detail and precision.
Because both Zhuo Jiansheng and Zheng Lin’s films were so good at showcasing actors, every time they started a new project, actors would fiercely compete for roles. The competition could hardly be described as merely “intense.”
Without considering the underhanded tactics Chi Feiran refused to use, he knew he still had a significant distance to cover to get this role.
After understanding Zheng Lin’s track record, Chi Feiran realized how difficult it would be to secure the role on his own.
However, this difficulty only fueled his determination.
He first carefully read through the script. The story was set during the Republican era, focusing on a former imperial chef and his disciples—a microcosm of small people in turbulent times.
It started with the disciples learning culinary skills, hoping to inherit their master’s private restaurant. The story gradually introduced various social realities, contrasting the poor selling their children with the still-prosperous private restaurant. Eventually, war broke out, the restaurant fell into decline, the master died tragically, and the disciples went their separate ways.
It took Chi Feiran an entire afternoon to finish the script.
The characters in the script came alive in his mind.
The role Li Yuan picked for him was the youngest disciple of the master chef and the young owner of a restaurant. Initially a spoiled brat forced by his father to learn culinary skills under the master chef, he was lazy and temperamental but also secretly comforted homesick senior brothers. Throughout the story, he experienced the loss of family, master, and fellow disciples.
In the end, the most irresponsible apprentice sold the ancestral property and spent all his money to save his senior brother, who could no longer wield a knife due to an injury.
He once cried that he had nothing left after his parents died, but at the end of the story, he said, “Senior brother, we still have our skills. It doesn’t matter if your hand is injured. My hands are good. I am your hands.”
As their master once said, with a skill to rely on, couldn’t they find a way to survive?
Immersed in his thoughts, Chi Feiran could vividly imagine scenes from the script.
This feeling was entirely different from when he first received the script for “Xia Gu.” Back then, he was moved by the story but also filled with uncertainty and anxiety about acting for the first time. He relied heavily on Rong Jin’s guidance during the filming process.
But now, he had no doubts about himself—he was eager and excited.
He wanted to act, desperately!
Chi Feiran immediately called Li Yuan, expressing his strong desire to play the role of Ji Yunsheng.
Li Yuan couldn’t help but laugh on the other end of the line. Chi Feiran’s enthusiasm was a clear affirmation of his own judgment, making him very happy.
But he soon became serious and said, “If you really want to act, we have a lot of preparation to do.”
Since Chi Feiran hoped to keep the competition as fair as possible, Li Yuan would do everything within his power to ensure he wouldn’t be disqualified for inexplicable reasons.
Li Yuan analyzed, “Your inclusion in the casting consideration is largely because ‘Xia Gu’ is about to be released, and you’re currently trending…”
This only got him into the selection process, giving him an entry ticket, but it was not a favor or anything special.
It was common for production teams to release news of certain actors expressing interest in their projects. Most of the time, these rumors turned out to be baseless, but they served to create mutual benefits: generating buzz for both the production and the actors.
As long as Zheng Lin gave Chi Feiran a chance to audition, the upcoming “Xia Gu” would bring some pre-release hype to her new film. But whether she would actually use him was uncertain.
Li Yuan said, “I’ll arrange culinary training for you in the next few days. Director Zheng is very demanding about these things. Qi Ming is already learning from a master chef and working on his fitness to look good cooking shirtless…”
Chi Feiran remembered Qi Ming’s scholarly appearance and couldn’t help but laugh, although it seemed inappropriate to laugh during a serious discussion about work.
Li Yuan chuckled as well and continued, “The production is still in the preparation stage. Auditions will probably start in September or October. Our advantage is that we have the script early.”
This advantage wasn’t unique to Chi Feiran; big companies often had their own channels. A lot of preparation work went into pre-production, unlike smaller companies that would scramble to place their artists into projects at the last minute.
Chi Feiran nodded and suddenly remembered something. “Won’t this conflict with my school schedule?”
He recalled that the admission notice mentioned that students couldn’t sign contracts to act during the school term.
Li Yuan said, “Don’t worry about that. Filming won’t start until at least the end of this year, which won’t take up much school time. As long as you don’t miss too many classes, the school will be lenient. Besides, working with a renowned director will benefit your future development, so the school will likely be flexible.”
The school’s restrictions were more of a precaution against students neglecting their studies after getting into the film academy. Many celebrities enrolled but rarely attended classes, with absenteeism becoming the norm.
The school is actually quite reasonable; they usually grant leave for truly important roles. However, students often lack the self-discipline expected of them. Li Yuan also understands that this is often beyond the control of the stars themselves.
After all, when a talent agency signs someone, it’s not just to let them focus on their studies peacefully, right? Therefore, it’s difficult to cover all bases perfectly.
Qi Feiran doesn’t need to worry about this. No matter how much RAN might exploit Rong Jin, they can’t do the same to him. So, he can focus on his studies and carefully select his roles.
After discussing with his agent, Qi Feiran felt he should notify his boyfriend that he might be taking on a new film. Well, at least he has a script he wants to act in.
In a video call, Rong Jin asked him, “Which script?”
Qi Feiran hesitated a bit. Although he knew Rong Jin wouldn’t leak anything, such things were supposed to be kept confidential…
Seeing Qi Feiran’s hesitation, Rong Jin smiled and asked, “Which director?”
Qi Feiran felt this was something he could say, so he replied, “Director Zheng Lin’s.”
Rong Jin raised his eyebrows. Though many directors admired him, it was Zheng Lin who really kickstarted his rise to stardom.
So, hearing that it was Zheng Lin’s film gave him a special feeling.
Rong Jin said, “Wait a moment.”
He said this while picking up the tablet next to him. His slender fingers slid across the screen.
Qi Feiran could see from the video the long shadows cast by Rong Jin’s eyelashes on his cheeks. Even when he was looking at a tablet, he looked… so handsome…
Qi Feiran unconsciously got a bit lost in thought. He didn’t even know how long Rong Jin was flipping through the tablet. It was only when Rong Jin spoke again that he came back to his senses.
Rong Jin turned the tablet around to face the camera and asked, “This one?”
Qi Feiran looked carefully and saw the script content he had just read that afternoon displayed on the screen…
Qi Feiran couldn’t help but smile. Of course, so many people wanted Rong Jin to act in their films. His place was probably the biggest script hub in China. Regardless of the chances, sending it to him couldn’t hurt; they might just catch his eye!
Rong Jin also smiled, then asked, “Ji Yunsheng?”
Qi Feiran nodded, “I really like it. I feel a strong sense of immersion.”
The character’s various psychological transitions are well depicted. While reading the script, Qi Feiran felt as if he was growing along with the plot.
Rong Jin nodded, “This character is excellent.”
But after saying this, Rong Jin’s expression didn’t quite match his words.
Qi Feiran felt there was something unsaid, a subtle sense of something unspoken…
Qi Feiran asked, “Rong-ge, is there something you want to say?”
Rong Jin smiled and asked, “Is it that obvious?”
Qi Feiran: “… Just a bit.”
Rong Jin sighed, put the tablet aside, looked into the camera, and with a hint of grievance, asked Qi Feiran, “How many good senior brothers do you have?”
Qi Feiran: “…”
