Chapter 107: Treatment, a Great Shock from Complete Ignorance (Humbly Seeking Votes)

January 9th, Imperial Capital Airport.

It was Jiang Li's first time flying, so he arrived at the airport two hours early. Unfamiliar with the process, he thought it best to get there ahead of time to ask questions if needed.

And indeed, that proved wise.

From the moment he arrived, Jiang felt completely overwhelmed. Although he had started researching how to fly the night before, after finishing a call with the crew of “Portrait of a Killer,” stepping into the airport left him utterly confused. He had to ask several staff members before finally boarding the plane.

At 12:09 p.m., Jiang Li arrived at Egret Island Airport.

“Mr. Jiang, right?” At the arrivals gate, Lao Yao’s assistant, Xiao Zhao, smiled warmly. “Please follow me.”

Jiang felt somewhat flattered—teacher? Who was he to be called that? Just moments ago, he had no roles to shoot, and now Lin Xing had called to inform him of a part he could begin filming immediately. No auditions—just straight into shooting. The crew had even purchased his plane ticket for him. It was incredibly considerate.

“You can just call me Lao Jiang. I’m not worthy of the title ‘teacher.’ No need to carry that bag for me; I can manage it myself,” Jiang hurriedly replied.

“Mr. Jiang, please don’t be so polite,” Xiao Zhao laughed. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to the hotel to settle in, then we’ll head to the set.”

“All right, thank you,” Jiang said, still somewhat bewildered.

On the way to the hotel, Xiao Zhao handed Jiang the script and said, “You were recommended by Teacher Lin, so we have full confidence in your abilities. Your scenes are scheduled to start filming promptly at 3 p.m.”

If it hadn’t been for Yang Shan’s accident, Jiang would have started filming at 2 p.m. But since Yang Qing was involved in a serious incident—the entire crew knew Director Liu’s set had caught fire—the schedule had shifted. Later, Lin Miaoyin was introduced by Teacher Lin, which far exceeded everyone’s expectations. So when Lin Xing recommended Jiang Li, no one doubted it.

Partly, that trust came from Lin Xing’s prior recommendation of Lin Miaoyin, but more importantly, Lin Xing’s brilliant performance in “Raging Black Waves” had earned widespread recognition.

That was crucial.

People often debated acting skills online, and some believed dramatic shouting, crying, or flashy performances were the best. But true acting was simple and profound. Like Song Wen’s portrayal of a high-ranking official—his photo could appear in the news without feeling out of place. That was real acting. Lin Xing’s portrayal of Zhou Bo was the same.

Within the industry, Lin Xing’s talent was acknowledged. The “Portrait of a Killer” creators were no exception. Liu Zhou barely held auditions for Jiang Li, trusting Lin Xing’s recommendation and the highlight scene Jiang had delivered. Moreover, Lao Yao treated Jiang with extra courtesy out of respect for Lin Xing.

In the film world, if you are impressive, the crew not only respects you but also extends that respect to those around you.

At 2:10 p.m.:

“Director Liu, Jiang Li has arrived.”

Just as filming was about to start, Lao Yao quietly approached Liu Zhou. “The makeup artist has already started with him. He’ll be ready to shoot his scenes anytime.”

“Has he read the script?” Liu Zhou asked.

“Xiao Zhao has given it to him. He’s gone over his lines, and Teacher Lin was right—he picks up lines quickly,” Lao Yao smiled. “He seems like a diligent person.”

“That’s good,” Liu Zhou glanced at the clock. “Have him start filming soon. I’ll continue shooting scenes with A Xing and A Wei.”

“Understood,” Lao Yao nodded.

An hour later, Liu Zhou finished shooting his scene.

“A Xing, come look.”

Liu Zhou smiled. “Lao Yao is filming Wang Meng’s scene right now.”

“Oh?” Lin Xing was surprised, then grinned. “Jiang Li got here quickly.”

“Jiang Li, right?” Liu Zhou watched the monitor. “This actor’s pretty good.”

Lin Xing leaned in.

“Domestic Violence Counterattack” was a down-to-earth drama segment. Jiang Li played Wang Meng, an abusive husband who first battered his ex-wife and later started dating another woman. Abusers rarely change, so Wang Meng continued abusing his girlfriend. The plot twist was that Wang Meng was killed at the start, and his ex-wife reported the crime, claiming responsibility. But in truth, it was a collusion between the ex-wife and the current girlfriend.

As Liu Zhou had said the night before, Wang Meng’s role was small but critical.

Originally, the crew had invited Yang Qing, a minor actor in the entertainment industry, to guest star for a few days.

But things went south.

Jiang Li’s first two scenes were quite good—at least Liu Zhou was satisfied. But in the next scene, Liu Zhou frowned slightly.

“A Xing, what do you think?” Liu Zhou asked Lin Xing.

Lin Xing thought for a moment. “A bit overdone. I don’t think Jiang Li fully grasped Wang Meng’s character. He’s acting out the usual abusive man trope, more like a street punk from ‘Raging Black Waves’ than portraying an elite persona.”

“Exactly,” Liu Zhou said, pressing his walkie-talkie. “Lao Yao, stop filming. Bring Jiang Li over.”

Within half an hour, Lao Yao returned with Jiang Li.

Jiang was nervous, wondering if he’d made a mistake.

“Don’t be so tense. You’re doing fine—just reading the script for a few hours and performing this well is commendable,” Liu Zhou chuckled. “But you haven’t completely understood the character. Let A Xing explain.”

“A Xing, have a chat with Jiang Li. I’ll film the next scenes,” Liu Zhou said cheerfully. “Thanks.”

“Director Liu, you’re too kind,” Lin Xing said to Jiang Li. “Let’s go rest and talk.”

Once at the lounge, Jiang’s tension eased. He apologized, “Sorry, Teacher Lin, I let you down.”

From Jiang’s perspective, Teacher Lin had recommended him for a role with seven or eight scenes, and yet he hadn’t performed well from the start.

“What you need is a cup of tea first,” Lin Xing poured him a cup. “Don’t stress. Director Liu said it himself—you’re not doing badly. You just misunderstood the character a bit.”

Lin Xing gestured for Jiang to sit and asked, “What kind of person do you think Wang Meng is?”

“What kind of person?” Jiang repeated.

“Yes. Since you’re playing Wang Meng, you must have some understanding of him.”

Lin Xing nodded gently. “Have you finished reading the script?”

“Yes, I have. My part isn’t too extensive—just a few pages.”

Jiang continued, “But the script doesn’t say much about Wang Meng. Most scenes show him abusing women or stalking his ex-wife.”

“Exactly. That’s why you need to add depth—a character biography. Only by doing this can you truly bring the role to life.”

Lin Xing smiled. “Though the script doesn’t describe Wang Meng’s family, his living conditions suggest he’s probably well-off. So he might be an elite professional who appears polite in public. Have you seen the drama ‘Women Shouldn’t Be Afraid’? The abusive husband there was even a doctor who did good deeds.”

Character biographies help actors understand their roles better. Writers and directors focus on main characters’ backgrounds, but supporting roles often lack such detail.

Even for a few scenes, like Wang Meng, or Zhou Bo in “Raging Black Waves”—Lin Xing had written that character’s biography himself.

“Being an actor isn’t just about memorizing lines. Sometimes you need to create subtle nuances, even understand your role deeply.”

Finally, Lin Xing said to Jiang Li, “Your acting in ‘Raging Black Waves’ was good because you understood your character. Why did you fall short in ‘Portrait of a Killer’? You can’t play an abuser like a street thug—otherwise, why would two such excellent, beautiful women be attracted to him? This isn’t some rich girl falling for a delinquent.”

This difference reflected the distinct approaches of the two productions.

Every crew and director has unique methods and ideas.

Since “Portrait of a Killer” was an anthology drama, they didn’t hold script-reading sessions, but every night Director Liu Zhou gathered the actors to discuss the script. The more they talked, the more they realized Lin Xing’s natural talent for understanding characters.

Kong Tian had mentioned this before.

During “Raging Black Waves,” Ren Yi also praised Lin Xing’s character insights.

So, when Liu Zhou noticed Jiang Li hadn’t fully grasped Wang Meng, he asked Lin Xing to help explain.

The discussion proved effective.

After hearing Lin Xing’s explanation, Jiang said, “Teacher Lin, thank you. I understand now. I should portray Wang Meng’s dual faces—how he acts differently in public and in private, how he changes before and after violence—not just one-dimensional abuse.”

“Yes, exactly,” Lin Xing nodded. “Don’t fall into stereotypes.”

Two hours later, Jiang Li resumed filming Wang Meng’s scenes, noticeably improved.

“A Xing, you might as well become the acting coach for the crew,” Liu Zhou joked, smiling at the monitor. “I still can’t figure out how those online rumors calling you illiterate started.”

“How else?” Wei Fei retorted. “When someone rises too fast, jealousy follows. Look at how much you’ve been attacked online recently.”

“Attacked?” Liu Zhou, who didn’t use social media, was unaware.

“Well, it’s normal,” Liu Zhou laughed. “A Xing’s portrayal of Zhou Bo is infuriating. People hate that character. But you forget when you played the mistress, you were chased with online abuse too.”

“That’s nonsense—you don’t get it,” Wei Fei snapped, the only one on set bold enough to talk back to Liu Zhou.

After some explanation, Liu Zhou was shocked but still didn’t fully understand social media fandoms. He just focused on making his films.

“Being an actor means staying away from extremes. Work and performances are enough,” Liu Zhou said to Lin Xing.

“Don’t listen to him,” Wei Fei interrupted. “You’re right to distance yourself from extreme fans, but you still need popularity. The best approach is to balance both—keep your fanbase but focus on serious roles. Only serious dramas bring mainstream recognition. Relying solely on fan circles won’t get you far.”

Wei Fei saw through the industry clearly.

“Thanks, Fei Jie, that’s exactly what I think,” Lin Xing smiled.

As always, Lin Xing wanted both fame and acting skill. They weren’t mutually exclusive. Popularity was a double-edged sword—it all depended on how you wielded it.

That night, while episode 19 of “Raging Black Waves” aired, Lin Xing continued filming night scenes for “Portrait of a Killer.” After wrapping at 10 p.m., he didn’t go out drinking. He sent Zhou Wei and the others to a bar, choosing instead to prioritize his rest.

“Xing Ge, the ‘Raging Black Waves’ crew just messaged. They want you to write a short essay tomorrow,” Xiao Nan said on the way back to the hotel. “Tomorrow is the finale on the streaming site, and they want the whole cast to participate. Plus, there’ll be a live broadcast in the evening.”

It had become industry practice for entire casts to post farewell essays at the end of a series. Even “Waiting Just for You,” despite being heavily criticized, had done it.

Let alone a hit like “Raging Black Waves.”

“All right, got it,” Lin Xing nodded.

Time had flown. It felt like the official announcement for “Raging Black Waves” was just last month, and now it was already over.

…

(End of chapter)