Chapter 89: I Get Into Character Quickly

Chapter 89: I Get into Character Quickly

Jian Ye heard a series of *ding* sounds in his head and knew that his Green Tea Points had accumulated enough for an upgrade.

Using "not feeling well" as an excuse, he left the police station, shaking off Jian Zhengqing and his wife. The couple seemed unwilling to give up and tried to chase after him, but Yi Siyu’s death glare stopped them in their tracks.

After getting back into the car, Jian Ye remained silent. Yi Siyu assumed he was tired and comforted him, “You didn’t rest well yesterday, and today’s been exhausting. Take a nap—I’ll wake you when we get home.”

“Mhm.” Jian Ye obediently agreed, closing his eyes.

Then, he excitedly checked his upgraded system interface.

Jian Ye: *No way! I have 25,000 Green Tea Points now! I’m rich!*

System 748: *Congratulations, Host, on becoming the green tea kingpin! I’ve already posted about it in our system’s social circle—other systems are super jealous of me now.*

Jian Ye: *Don’t celebrate too soon. Explain to me what this stage’s reward actually does.*

[System 748: *"Graceful Tears"—No matter how you cry, you’ll always look beautiful. You’ll have precise control over your tears, able to summon or stop them at will. Your tears will flow as naturally as your breath, with no trace of acting.*

Jian Ye: *Sounds kinda useless unless I only take on crying scenes from now on—that’d save effort. But hey, a reward’s better than nothing. This skill is basically instant waterworks—might come in handy at a critical moment.*

...

After Jian Song’s downfall, rumors spread that Jian Zhengqing and Zhu Yan had started fighting. One day, Zhu Yan discovered Jian Zhengqing’s chat logs with another woman. That night, she went ballistic, scratching his face bloody. Jian Zhengqing threatened divorce, but Zhu Yan refused outright, vowing to expose the other woman.

Jian Ye heard bits of gossip about the drama in the Jian family but stayed far away from it. The entire summer passed peacefully, with no one bothering him.

When the new semester began, Jian Ye became a sophomore—now a *senior* to the incoming freshmen, many of whom had come to the university just to see him.

Jian Ye quite enjoyed being called *senior*.

Ms. Tang, his dance professor, encouraged him to sign up for the National Huaxia Dance Competition. She emphasized that winning would open doors for him after graduation.

Naturally, Jian Ye followed his teacher’s advice. During his time at school, he focused on mastering his major’s coursework, diligently soaking up dance skills and exploring a different kind of *performance*.

Preparing for the competition was grueling and hectic. The choreographer adjusted his movements repeatedly to perfect his routine. To facilitate communication with teachers and classmates, Jian Ye sometimes stayed in the dormitory, goofing off with his dormmates.

Yi Siyu felt a bit left out but reminded himself that Jian Ye was still a student—young, energetic, and in need of socializing with peers. He didn’t want to restrict Jian Ye’s freedom.

During these times, Yi Siyu could only cuddle with Qiu Qiu for companionship. At least he had two little dogs at home.

...

One day, after finishing a professional class, Jian Ye was about to head back to the dorm with Li Xiangchi when they passed a campus area where a film crew was shooting in a cedar grove.

A crowd had gathered to watch. Li Xiangchi went to ask around and returned to report, “Hah! They’re shooting some cheesy romance here!”

Yunchuan University had several campuses, known across Yunjing for their picture-perfect greenery—perfect for modern romance or school-themed dramas.

Jian Ye had heard about this before but had never caught a filming session until now.

The area was blocked off by crew and security, forcing onlookers to watch from behind barriers. Photography and recording were strictly prohibited.

“Who’s the actor? He’s been standing there forever—the director called *cut* nine times already. Doesn’t seem as good as the *seniors* from our acting department.”

“A classmate said he’s an up-and-coming star—not super famous yet, but he’s got good connections.”

“I got here before the crowd. The director said it’s a breakup scene—the male lead gets dumped and has to cry alone on this path. But… he just can’t cry, so they’ve done dozens of takes.”

"Crying scenes are quite challenging, but for skilled actors, it's a piece of cake. I'd say nowadays, anyone with decent looks can break into showbiz as an actor. How many actual skilled actors are there in those idol dramas anyway?"

"Lame, so lame. I thought it was some big star, turns out it's just some talentless hack."

Whether it was because the director had just called for a cut or the crew suddenly fell silent, the student's sarcastic remark reached everyone's ears with perfect clarity.

Su Junyang, who had already been yelled at with "Cut!" countless times by the director, instantly hit a nerve. He had just taken a bottle of water from his assistant when he heard the remark, and in a fit of anger, he chucked it away.

The student who made the comment stood there stunned, unable to react. Luckily, Jian Ye, standing right behind him, swiftly pulled him out of harm's way.

The water bottle hit the ground and rolled far away, spilling some of its contents mid-air and nearly splashing someone.

With an utterly shameless grin, Su Junyang said, "Oops, sorry about that. There was a bug on the bottle—scared me so much I just dropped it. My bad, my bad."

Originally, Jian Ye had planned to leave. A film crew shooting at his school had nothing to do with him. But this lead actor's lack of basic decency, nearly injuring a fellow student, pissed him off.

On top of that, Jian Ye genuinely despised actors who had no skill but a huge attitude.

If you're not good, just practice harder. How can you not tolerate any criticism? How do people like this even keep getting roles? Step aside and make room for the truly talented but overlooked actors!

"Director, shouldn’t the set be cleared during filming? I couldn't get into character because there were too many people watching. I get nervous and lose focus."

The director had a headache. Today’s shoot was a last-minute reshoot, all because Su Junyang kept overcommitting, forcing constant adjustments to the schedule.

The location at Yun Chuan University was supposed to be filmed during summer break when fewer students were around, but it got delayed until after the semester started.

This cedar grove was a main pathway between two campuses, an open area. Even with barriers set up, students couldn’t help but sneak a look from a distance.

The scene itself wasn’t complicated—it should’ve taken half an hour at most. Who knew a breakup crying scene would take Su Junyang all morning?

By noon, classes had ended, and of course, more students showed up.

The director was lucky to have secured the location at all, yet this actor, recommended by investors, kept complaining.

Honestly, the distant student wasn’t wrong about his lack of acting skills—even the director wanted to chew him out.

Crew members and security were already herding students out. They’d cleared the area once before, but Su Junyang blew his chance, delivering another stiff performance, dragging things out until a second wave of students showed up.

This production wasn’t exactly flush with cash. Without investor backing, they couldn’t even afford the actors' fees.

Naturally, their management wasn’t as tight as bigger productions.

With so many students around, even after notifying the school about the shoot, curious onlookers still lingered.

The director just wanted to wrap this up. If Su Junyang could squeeze out even two fake tears, he’d reluctantly accept it. But all the guy could do was fake cry pathetically—zero acting skills.

Exactly as that student had said: a talentless hack. If not for his connections and self-promoted paid trending topics, how would someone like him even get noticed in the industry?

The director sighed. He was bowing to the money...

As the crowd thinned, the director was about to tell Su Junyang to get ready when another voice piped up.

"Seriously? A breakup crying scene is enough to make today’s male actors lose their cool and throw water bottles at students?"

"Is this the warping of human decency, the moral bankruptcy, or... the tragedy of the entertainment industry? Ah, how far we've fallen..."

Director: "..."

Su Junyang: "..." Damn it!

"Who are you, an amateur, to give pointers? If you’ve got the guts, come over and cry on demand! You think crying scenes are just about shedding a couple of tears?"

An assistant tried to rein Su Junyang in, but couldn’t muzzle him.

Ever since his recent surge in popularity, Su Junyang had become increasingly arrogant and domineering. He didn’t care if people criticized his temper—his public persona was built on being brash and quick-tempered.

Jian Ye’s words had set him off again for the second time that day.

The students outside the barricade bit back their laughter at Jian Ye’s remarks, though none dared to openly laugh in front of a celebrity.

They all recognized Jian Ye—the incredibly talented sophomore senior known for his dancing—and were rooting for him in silence.

Senior Jian was absolutely fearless, standing his ground against the actor!

This little star was acting like he was hot shit! Someone needs to take him down a peg!

The crowd’s natural instinct was to be here for the drama, consequences be damned.

All the students sided with Jian Ye, but they were also afraid he might get into trouble. Those who had initially planned to leave now stayed put, ready to yank him out if things got ugly.

With their numbers, the crew wouldn’t dare mess with a crowd of students anyway.

"You want me to perform a crying scene for you? No problem. But first, apologize to that student you nearly bowled over," Jian Ye said calmly.

"Why should I? If you can’t deliver, quit faking it. Prove it first!" Su Junyang sneered, all but looking down his nose.

Jian Ye turned to the director. "Just give me two minutes. I get into character quickly—much faster than your lead actor, who’s been dry-eyed all morning."

The director had already been struck by Jian Ye’s looks, thinking to himself how even a random student from Yun Chuan could outshine the so-called "fresh faces" in his crew.

Intrigued by Jian Ye’s confidence, the director figured they’d already wasted the entire morning—what’s another two minutes?

"Fine, come on in."

Once the director agreed, a small gap in the barricade opened, and a crew member ushered Jian Ye into the filming area.

"What’s the emotional beat here? What kind of emotion do you want the male lead to convey in this breakup scene?"

Jian Ye hadn’t read the script and didn’t know the character’s personality. Different roles would require different emotional expressions in a breakup scene.

"It’s a transition from numb shock to full-blown breakdown. The male lead can’t believe he’s been abandoned. He can’t understand why his partner would break up with him. The heartache eats at him until it gradually consumes his entire heart, finally dissolving into a complete collapse."

"Got it. I’ll begin now." Without hesitation, Jian Ye lowered his head slightly, letting his hair fall over his eyes. When he looked up again, his eyes were already glazed.

Everyone could see the redness creeping in around his eyes.

Then came the subtle trembling of his lips, followed by his large eyes visibly welling up with tears.

The scene was silent. The boy’s eyes resembled a clear, sorrowful lake. Soon, tears spilled from his lashes one by one, like scattered pearls, gathering into streams that rolled down his chin.

The cords of his neck pulsed visibly. After a moment of agonizing restraint, he finally broke down completely.

His facial muscles trembled as the tears flowed uncontrollably. A choked sob tore from his throat, as if his heart had been shattered beyond repair.

Even the tip of his nose turned red from crying—so raw it felt less like acting and more like the genuine aftermath of being abandoned.

The entire crew and the onlooking students were dead silent, slack-jawed. The director and the previously haughty actor were equally shocked.

A/N:

Jian Xiaocha: Let me try out my new skill.

Everyone else: Damn, he’s a crying prodigy.