Chapter 9: The Major Scene Resumes

Chapter 9: The Major Scene Resumes

With the set fully arranged, cameras and lights in place, and a stylist making final touches to his hair, Chen Bai stood by the camera, listening attentively as the assistant director pointed out key aspects to note, nodding slightly in understanding.

Everything was now in order. He put down the script in his hands and stepped forward with purpose.

This scene depicted A Huai's return from the hospital.

His slender figure settled at the desk by the window, whereupon the cinematographer swiftly adjusted the camera settings, then signaled to the assistant director who nodded in acknowledgment.

Silence fell over the entire filming location.

The figure by the window stirred, leaning over the desk and picking up the pen that lay nearby.

A Huai, due to his frail health, couldn't attend school like others, yet he maintained the habit of reading and studying, hoping for a day when it would come in handy. However, upon learning about his terminal illness, he gave up on this dream. Now, after returning from the hospital, he had resumed this practice.

The past few days had been graced with splendid, warm sunlight. Sunbeams filtered through the layered leaves of the kapok tree outside the window, casting dappled light onto the pages of the book and the person's head, creating a stark contrast between the warm glow and his pallid skin.

The hand holding the pen was slender and delicate, the nib gliding across the paper with a faint rustling sound, a subtle symphony of creation.

The off-stage crew closed the door at the right moment, and the wooden door let out a series of creaks—a signal that someone had entered the room, indicating it was time to proceed with the next segment and start reciting lines.

The man sitting by the window seemed to sense something, turning his head slightly as if listening intently to someone speaking. Then he smiled and said, "I'm reading Mably's Selected Works. The second chapter is quite interesting."

Despite being the same face, his smile felt remarkably different from usual—it wasn't as dazzling or blindingly bright, but rather filled with tangible happiness. It was more subdued and gentle.

The seated man put down his pen, closed the open book, and said, "I noticed the buds on the tree downstairs have come out. Winter is almost here, and I always keep my room warm with the heater on. If we move it into my room, perhaps it could survive."

The youth’s voice was clear and clean, his enunciation crisp and neat. To match the character's poor health, he slightly slowed down his pace, making it soothing and natural. Unconsciously, the frown on everyone's brows relaxed.

The first long monologue passed in one take, surprisingly smooth and effortless. When the assistant director called "cut," his voice carried an unmistakable hint of amusement.

Scenes with long monologues were often the biggest culprits for multiple retakes. With longer sentences, actors could easily trip over their words and break character, taking half a day to get the shot right.

He had braced himself for a long shoot, but this take went by so quickly, unexpectedly saving a lot of time.

They would definitely be able to have lunch on schedule today, and might even get to eat early.

There was no need to look for a voice actor either; the workload had lightened considerably in an instant.

The progress was swift. In the morning, both the actors and crew were in surprisingly good form. During breaks, the assistant director watched the footage on his computer, which was synchronized with the camera's storage, his eyes squinting with joy. The director, who had left for some errand midway but returned now, joined him in watching the playback.

With many people crowded around to watch the video, Chen Bai didn't join the throng. Right after stepping out from under the lens, he was whisked away by the makeup artist for touch-ups. Once his makeup was refreshed, he took a seat on a small stool in a corner, letting out a sigh of relief while fanning himself with a script that was slightly thinner than the teleprompter.

Acting in a drama may seem easy, but it takes a considerable toll on one's physical stamina.

Before long, the director, who had been engrossed in watching the footage, moved his exclusive stool next to Chen Bai and sat down. His first words were to praise how smoothly Chen Bai delivered his lines.

The situation was somewhat complicated, so Chen Bai summarized succinctly, "I had taken on some jobs before, and that's how things turned out."

Before coming here, he had worked as a host for commercial events and dabbled in gaming commentary for a while, as well as lent a hand at a friend's theater troupe. Over time, this eclectic experience honed his skills. The outcome of his training wasn't particularly remarkable or directly applicable to delivering lines, yet it shared a faint common ground. He attempted to adapt these skills, and it seemed, albeit roughly, that it could work.

He had done it before, but the supporting character hadn't, and these work experiences wouldn't stand up to scrutiny. Thus, he opted to employ the art of vagueness.

The director was indeed baffled by his vague explanation, not quite comprehending how such was thus, but opted not to delve deeper. Instead, he merely nodded in agreement and said, "So it was like this all along."

Following that, they added, "The producer really should be dropping more gold coins."

Venue fees, labor costs, equipment expenses, and material costs—all of these add up to the crew spending tens of thousands of yuan per day, with every minute draining away hard cash. The savings from an actor who can progress quickly without needing dubbing far outweighs their modest pay.

The director didn't linger long, soon moving on to check on other teams, stool in hand.

Chen Bai continued squatting in his corner, reviewing his script.

The morning was spent filming solo shots, but starting from the afternoon, he needed to act alongside others.

A social butterfly remains one no matter where they go. By just the end of the afternoon, this little social genius had added a few more WeChat friends to his list. In the morning, he was still sitting alone in a corner, engrossed in his script, but by the afternoon break, it had transformed into a gathering of several people huddled together, chatting animatedly.

In just a short afternoon, Chen Bai not only got the scoop on his own production team's long-standing gossip but also had a clear grasp of the juicy details from the neighboring set.

The truth-seeker immediately reached out to their good neighbor, who happened to be part of that adjacent production, for verification.

When the notification popped up, this good neighbor had just wrapped up filming and was resting, with a towel draped around their neck for sweat-wiping. Upon reading the message on their phone, their eyes flickered in surprise.

"Rumor has it your screenwriter and director are an item now?"

"..."

In the silence, Good Neighbor glanced over at the assistant in the lounge.

Noticing the gaze directed his way, the assistant, thermos cup in hand, turned around.

---

Their chatter was cut short as the break came to an end. Chen Bai, having just sent off a message, didn’t have time to wait for a reply before it was his turn to act again. He had no choice but to put down his phone temporarily, planning to check his messages right away during the next break.

His neighborly friend had replied with a simple “yes.”

He chuckled.

Those around him, hearing his laughter, turned to ask what amused him.

Chen Bai swiftly typed out a message and waved his hand, "Nothing much."

The joy was genuine when the gossip proved true; however, by the time he finished work, it was well past dinner hours, and his sorrow was equally real.

On his way home, he took on two jobs to unlock doors. Not a penny slipped from his grasp, and the city gained another happy soul.

Tonight, his good neighbor and dining companion is working late and won't be back for dinner. With no one to keep him company, and seeing that it's almost time for his broadcast, Chen Bai has a simple meal of vegetables and rice before promptly going live.

As it turns out, the Super Worker's adaptability knows no bounds. In just two short days, Master Chen has fully acclimated to the production team's workflow, finding balance amidst his daily tasks, and occasionally catching up over meals with his good neighbor.

The hectic schedule was only at the beginning; after catching up on his screen time, he's had more free hours. Sometimes, he only needs to spend half a day on set, still able to work part-time at the restaurant during weekends.

Despite having visited this restaurant only a couple of times, someone actually remembered him and greeted him inside.

Today, he's on the evening shift. The weather isn't great, and by dusk, the sky has turned completely dark, unlike before when he could clearly see the distant buildings. Looking out the window, all he can make out now is an endless sea of city lights.

It's likely to rain tonight.

While playing the piano, Chen Bai spared a glance out of the window, hoping that the rain would hold off until he was back home.

As he was wrapping up work and getting ready to leave, his kind-hearted colleague reminded him to take an umbrella.

The truth is, in his haste to leave home this morning, Master Chen had completely forgotten to bring one. Whether he would make it back dry or not was purely a gamble.

Good news: it wasn't raining when he went downstairs.

Grim news. The moment he stepped out of the building, a downpour assaulted his ears with its ferocity.

This rain was even heavier than the day he inherited four hundred million in debts.

"..."

He had lost the bet.

Through the thick curtain of rain, Chen Bai fell into a brief contemplation.

Right next door was a convenience store selling umbrellas, but without a moment's hesitation, Chen Bai chose not to spend an extra penny. His mind was preoccupied with finding the quickest route to the subway station from his current location.

After deliberation, he concluded that there was no shortcut. With determination, he stepped directly into the downpour.

Soaked either way, he might as well get back sooner and start streaming for a bit.

Raindrops relentlessly pounded against his head and shoulders, sending chills down his spine. Amidst the rush of bustling pedestrians, Chen Bai found himself trudging through a dense forest of umbrellas, unable to quicken his pace. He could only edge closer to the sidewalk, navigating towards less crowded areas where the umbrellas were more sparse.

On ordinary days, the subway station was within easy reach; yet under these circumstances, it seemed tantalizingly distant.

Vehicles passed by incessantly on the roadside, their lights dazzling and illuminating the raindrops that fell relentlessly.

A car pulled over slowly, parking by the curb, its headlights flickering momentarily.

---

Huochuan had finished his business and happened to pass by this street on his way back.

"Sorry, the number you dialed..."

Outside the car, the sound of rain was overwhelming; inside, it was silent except for the persistent busy signal from the phone.

He couldn't remember how many times he had dialed this number or how long it had been since he last reached through. All he could hear was the mechanical repetition of the female voice, as Huochuan sat in the back seat, closing his eyes wearily and reaching a hand to touch his chest near his heart.

The assistant glanced at the rearview mirror and instructed the driver to park temporarily by the roadside.

In the ensuing silence, after what seemed like an eternity, the person in the backseat finally spoke up, asking hoarsely, "Where is he?"

"He?" The assistant was momentarily taken aback before catching on. "You mean Mr. Chen, right? Let me check."

He pulled out his phone and dialed the number at once.

In the instant after dialing, the assistant turned his head and noticed a faint gleam ignite by the roadside outside the car window.