CHAPTER 106

Zou Yirui felt much more relaxed and less nervous around Xiaoyuan and He Chenying. He Chenying went through the scenes with her in great detail, while Xiaoyuan demonstrated the parts where she got stuck. Gradually, Zou Yirui's nerves eased, and her performance improved. In truth, she had done a lot of preparation beforehand, perhaps more than for any previous script, but she had to admit, disheartened, that she truly was the weakest one in this cast.

There was no need to mention the veterans.

Even compared to her peers of similar age:

Zhou Yu had already won Best Actor once.

At just 22 years old, Guo Zhilu won the Best Newcomer award at the "Golden Bauhinia" ceremony.

Xiang Xiaoyuan was even more remarkable—her debut film made it to the main competition at Cannes, marking an exceptionally high starting point. Even though she spent several years in obscurity afterward, the entire internet now praises her as a rare natural-born actress with innate talent.

Then there's Lu Jingnian, who wasn't sidelined due to lack of skill—she'll surely return to the public eye eventually. Besides, her acting had always been highly praised before.

Only Zou Yirui had been stuck with the title of "worst actress" for years, unable to shake it off. Even if she performed smoothly now, her on-set presence remained unpredictable.

Despite her usually resilient mindset, Zou Yirui couldn't help but spiral into gloom, collapsing face-first onto the sofa.

"Hey," Xiaoyuan poked her from the side, "what's wrong?"

"Why did I have to be so stubborn and join this crew? Waaah..." Zou Yirui was on the verge of tears again.

"Crying in front of me?" He Chenying shot her a sharp glance. "Hold those tears back."

Her tone was usually gentle, but this sudden sternness, paired with her piercing gaze, made Zou Yirui freeze mid-sob. "...Yes!"

Xiaoyuan blinked in surprise, glancing at Chenying, who winked back with an amused glint in her eyes. Understanding, Xiaoyuan stifled a laugh.

Zou Yirui sat up stiffly, like a scolded student, and buried her face in the script.

Xiaoyuan couldn't help but chuckle at her exaggerated display of diligence.

"Hey!" Zou Yirui pinched her cheek. "You're laughing? How cruel! A top student like you could never understand the pain of us underachievers!"

Dodging, Xiaoyuan giggled, "Come on, Sister Rui, you debuted earlier, earned more, and are way more popular than me right now. What's this 'top student' nonsense?"

"More popular than you? More famous? Yeah right!" Zou Yirui turned to Chenying. "Sister Chenying, back me up here—Xiang Xiaoyuan is so infuriating!"

Chenying simply watched them with a soft smile, staying out of their banter.

"Me, infuriating? Don't forget how high and mighty you were back on the Choice set, bul|ying me and all," Xiaoyuan teased, side-eyeing her.

"Huh?" Zou Yirui's bravado faltered as she averted her gaze. "D-did that really happen?"

"Of course! You even insisted on swapping roles with me and refused to call me by name—just 'hey, hey, hey.' So full of yourself!"

"W-well..." Zou Yirui squirmed. "That was ages ago! Besides, later it was you who refused Wei Jiabao's demands, so your scenes got cut. Not my fault!"

Xiaoyuan paused, memories flooding back.

The room fell silent.

A flicker of light passed through He Chenying's eyes as she subtly looked at Xiaoyuan.

"Hey... were you really upset back then?" Zou Yirui asked cautiously, studying her expression. "You left so suddenly without saying goodbye."

"I was kicked out on the spot—no time for goodbyes. We were at that villa in the suburbs, and no one even arranged a ride for me." The floodgates of memory opened, spilling out scenes long buried.

That was the place where she and Wei Zhuang first caught sight of each other—the water droplets kicked up by speeding wheels, and that fleeting glimpse of a profile.

"Brother Cai Juan and I walked for ages before we could hail a cab..."

"You went on to act in TV dramas after that, right?"

"Yeah, but I was replaced after filming one-third of it."

"Ah, so then you could only..."

"Mm, I ended up doing a few web movies."

Zou Yirui's voice grew quieter as she spoke, her expression increasingly pained, while Xiaoyuan's tone remained remarkably light and casual. He Chenying's eyes flickered with a trace of heartache.

"Hey, what's with that look? Even though the pay was terrible back then, I took my acting seriously, okay? The conditions were a bit tough, but I was in great form when I was filming. I won't claim all my performances were good, but how should I put it..."

Xiaoyuan paused, pressing a finger to her lips as she struggled to articulate the feeling. "Even though it was exhausting, I was happy doing it."

Zou Yirui tilted her head in confusion, watching her with an expression of earnest effort to understand.

No money, grueling work, mediocre scripts—if Xiaoyuan hadn't later become famous and brought attention to those projects, they might have remained buried for years. Even now, some consider them blemishes on Xiaoyuan's career. So why was she in such good form back then? Why was she happy?

"Playing plush toys, zombies, Taoist nuns, transgender characters—these roles might sound bizarre at first. I initially struggled with accepting web movie roles, but once I adjusted my mindset and truly immersed myself in the performances, I felt incredible joy."

"It was that kind of selfless, pure yet lonely and helpless passion." As Xiaoyuan spoke, her eyes sparkled like falling stars. "Perhaps one can only experience that feeling once in a lifetime—the tragic grandeur of giving your all without expecting anything in return. Do you understand?"

"..." Zou Yirui stared at her blankly, slowly scrunching up her face before turning away and gradually raising the script to block Xiaoyuan's view.

She didn't understand at all, what kind of nonsense was this?

Is this the world of academic elites? It's practically metaphysics!

After pouring her heart out to Zou Yirui only to receive no response, Xiaoyuan blinked her dewy eyes in momentary bewilderment before naturally turning her head to meet He Chenying's gaze.

He Chenying's eyes sparkled with a smile, looking deeply at her, an understanding gaze that needed no words. She reached out and patted Xiaoyuan's head.

Xiaoyuan, instead, felt a bit embarrassed.

He Chenying's room was a suite, much larger than theirs. She opened the refrigerator and asked Xiaoyuan, "What would you like to drink? I only have juice and water here, though."

"Water is fine."

Xiaoyuan held the bottle, unopened, looking at her as if she had something to say.

"What is it? Any thoughts about rehearsing our scenes?" He Chenying took a sip of water after twisting open the cap, signaling for her to speak freely.

"Um..." Xiaoyuan scratched her head. "I think we shouldn't rehearse our scenes together yet. It's mainly my issue—when filming romantic scenes, I rely heavily on 'first impressions'..."

"You're worried rehearsing will make it feel unnatural, right?" He Chenying understood immediately.

Xiaoyuan nodded.

"Good, I was thinking the same thing."

Great minds think alike. Xiaoyuan exhaled in relief and smiled at He Chenying.

"I also have a question," He Chenying paused before continuing, "Just out of curiosity—if it's inconvenient for you to answer, you don't have to."

Xiaoyuan: "Please ask."

"How was the matter with Wei Jiabao resolved in the end?" He Chenying wasn't usually one for gossip. The entertainment industry had too much messy drama, and after seeing so much over the years, she'd long lost interest and didn't care anymore.

Yet somehow, she found herself inexplicably curious to know the details this time.

"Well, actually, the screenwriter of 'Drunken Wanderer,' Canghai Yisu, Mr. Shi Hai, was my benefactor. He insisted I play the female lead's rival."

As she spoke, Xiaoyuan's heart suddenly skipped a beat. No, that wasn't the whole story. Shi Hai was indeed her benefactor, but without Wei Zhuang and their agreement, would she still be acting in low-budget web movies now? Or would she have already left the industry altogether?

She didn't think there was anything shameful about it, but putting it into words might make it sound different to others.

Now that she loved Wei Zhuang, she wanted their relationship to be as pure as possible in her heart. Yet this wasn't an emotion she could easily confide in others about. She feared that if she spoke up, people wouldn't understand—they might scoff or even slander them.

The smile on Xiaoyuan's face faded slightly, and her mood grew heavier. Even facing her idol, she didn't dare take the risk.

He Chenying looked at the girl's suddenly dimmed expression, slightly frowned, and showed a hint of pain. Convinced Xiaoyuan had unspeakable difficulties, she couldn't bear to press further and changed the subject.

Later, when Xiaoyuan returned to her room, her smile collapsed completely. Weakness overtook her body as she slid down to sit on the floor, tilting her head back to stare blankly at the ceiling.

So this was what it meant to love someone—wanting to speak of them confidently to others, to express that love openly and without hesitation. But she couldn't do that now, and she couldn't even share these feelings with the person she loved. The frustration was overwhelming.

In acting, she had the conviction and courage to give her all without expecting anything in return. But in love...

Xiaoyuan didn't dare think further.

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