0066: Improvement in Acting Skills

Afterward, the dark-skinned screenwriter enthusiastically discussed the script he had written—a simple love story. But it was also the work he most wanted to bring to life, even though there was a high chance it would flop, since it was a low-budget film meant purely for entertainment. Beyond the romance, it also reflected the growth of modern young people, the changes in society, and the pressures faced by youth today.

That was why he approached the project with the mindset of making it for himself; as the investor, he had the final say in everything. He believed he was perfect for the male lead, and that Chu Fengyi was ideal for the second female lead.

“If she’s not willing, we won’t force it. After all, we can’t afford to pay a lady from the Chu family.”

“People always talk about the Chu family, but the truth is, I’m just friends with them. I don’t really know much about their affairs, and I haven’t had the nerve to ask.”

“You really don’t know? Interesting. Are you afraid that knowing more would make it harder to get along with them?”

“As long as they don’t look down on me, what’s there to be afraid of?”

“Haha, that’s true. Actually, the Chu family doesn’t have their own business in the traditional sense. The only company they present to the outside world is just one—a decades-old, well-established investment firm.”

“And it’s the kind that’s never made a misstep. Over the past few decades, many of the top hundred enterprises today received its backing in their early days.”

“I always found it odd. Once or twice, sure, but hundreds of investments and never a loss? And always turning something small into something big.”

“So why isn’t this company, or its president, ever on any rich lists?”

“We’re not sure either, because the head of the Chu family never appears in public. But recently, Chu Tian Investments set up a wholly-owned subsidiary called Fengyi.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that. Chu Fengyi is the owner of Fengyi.”

“Hm? Isn’t she about the same age as Miss Chu Qingchan?” Sun Jianren was surprised.

“She’s about the same age as Chu Qingchan. The two of them, and that’s why I think it’s unlikely this will work out.”

“Right, she’s a big boss. Why would she come over? Old Hei, you’d better consider other options.”

“Alright, filming doesn’t start until summer anyway. I’ll take my time.” Hei Guangjun sighed, casting a slightly regretful glance toward Chu Fengyi in the distance.

At this moment, the second scene began its rehearsal. It was the story of when the teacher, played by Chu Qingchan, first arrived at the school.

“I wonder how Chu Qingchan will do this time.”

“As long as she looks good on camera, that’s enough. We’ll shoot a few takes and that’ll do. I didn’t design any emotional or expressive changes for her entrance.”

Xu Lin heard the director and screenwriter’s remarks and could only smile wryly. Many crew members and extras around them began quietly chattering.

“She’s so pretty.”

“But later on, her acting will really be tested.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“She’s already left the industry, and she knows her acting isn’t great.”

“We haven’t worked with her, though. Maybe the gossip isn’t true.”

“I doubt she’s any good. Even the professionals can’t compare to us amateurs.”

“Time to rehearse lines. Stop talking—walls have ears.”

At that moment, Chu Qingchan set down her script, took a deep breath, and walked slowly along the school path, her expression still cold and aloof.

According to the script, she was supposed to ask a student for directions, and that was it—a simple opening scene requiring little acting skill.

No one was concerned. The student was a real high schooler brought in just for this shoot.

But in the next second, a leaf drifted down from above. Chu Qingchan lifted her head slightly, ignoring the young actor beside her.

Everyone froze for a moment. How could she lose focus like that? Fortunately, it was just a rehearsal.

But then, Chu Qingchan reached out and caught the leaf. Staring at the crimson leaf, the coldness in her eyes softened.

A beautiful smile slowly appeared at the corner of her lips. The young actor next to her was stunned, as were the others.

To most, it was just a pretty scene. But to the director and the more discerning professionals, there was real acting there.

In the next moment, Chu Qingchan’s hand trembled, the leaf fell, and she looked slightly startled.

“Sorry, I almost bumped into you,” she said.

“It’s fine… it’s fine,” he replied, unexpectedly nervous.

“By the way, where’s the principal’s office?”

“The second floor of the building behind us. Just go up, you’ll see it. But the principal’s usually not in his office. If he’s not there, he’s probably with the vice principal on the fifth floor.”

“Thank you.” With a nod, Chu Qingchan gave off a feeling as gentle as a spring breeze.

She then continued forward, deliberately skipping over the fallen leaf, her light leap betraying a girlishness beneath her teacher’s facade.

Sun Jianren was visibly excited. “Old Hei, Old Zhao, did you see that?”

“Yes, that was great—none of that was in the script. She improvised, and did it brilliantly. Well done, Chu Qingchan!”

Hearing the director and screenwriter, Chu Qingchan smiled and walked over.

“Was that alright?”

“More than alright! If you’d been like this last year, I would’ve cast you as the film’s supporting actress. What a shame!”

“I really couldn’t do it back then.” She glanced at Xu Lin, who was smiling at her. Ever since she met him, she’d changed.

“Oh, I get it,” Director Sun said knowingly. He found Xu Lin even more likable—talented, and able to melt the ice around Chu Qingchan.

“Director, what do you think? Shall we shoot?”

“Let’s shoot! I think we’ll get it in one take. I was prepared for you to mess up repeatedly—scheduled an hour for this scene. Now it looks like we’ll finish in ten minutes.”

“Everyone, get ready! Let’s move!” The crew chief called out, and the team snapped into action.

Filming went incredibly smoothly; they captured it in one take, in just three minutes. They’d only needed to wait for the falling leaf.

The heads of the shooting and sound departments glanced at the footage and gave a thumbs-up. If nothing else, the scene was beautiful.

The remaining shots were simple: she went to the principal’s office, entered without a line, then exited. Editing would make it look like a conversation took place.

Since this public service short film wasn’t for profit, the main goal was to boost visibility. Every penny saved mattered, but the post-production had to be perfect.

After all, the focus was on the message and editing, not the actors themselves—it was about showing care for the hearing-impaired community.

With Chu Qingchan’s three segments finished for the day, the atmosphere became a bit awkward; the reversal in her reputation was just too sudden.

“Who said her acting was bad? Isn’t this good?”

“It’s a short film with a simple plot. As long as she tries, she can get through it. But in future TV shows—well, she’s left the industry, so we won’t see her again.”

“Why so sarcastic? Just admit she acted well.”

“I’m not being sarcastic!”

“Hey, enough. By the way, that young guy is really handsome, and he acts well. He’s so polite—unlike Marvin with his arrogance and affectation.”

“Yeah, he’s friends with Chu Qingchan, but I’ve never seen him before. Is he a rich heir or a second-generation star?”

“Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“What if they’re a couple?”

“True, you’d stand no chance.”

“That girl over there is just as pretty as Chu Qingchan.”

“She’s young now, but when she grows up, she’ll be a real beauty—already a little fairy. Where did she go?”

“The director called her over.”

“Sigh, the world really does favor good looks.”

“Enough gossip, let’s get ready for the next scene. We’re just extras in the background. If we mess up again, the director will tear into us.”