Wu Man calculated the days. From when she deleted Zhui Ye until she returned to China, nearly two weeks had passed, yet there was no movement from him.
He probably hadn’t discovered she’d deleted him yet.
Her gaze fell on today’s schedule. Tonight she had to attend a gala held by the platform. Zhui Ye’s name was prominently on the invitation list.
This would be their first meeting after wrapping.
A hint of nervousness rose in her heart—the guilty conscience of having deleted him on her own initiative, and the confusion of transitioning back to their original identities. This caused her to zone out repeatedly while getting her makeup done backstage. The makeup artist had to call her several times before she snapped back.
“Sister Man, is this hairstyle okay?”
Wu Man looked at the fully pinned-up hair for a while and said, “Doesn’t it make me look a bit old?”
“Would you like to change it? The stylist just confirmed with me that your gown is an aqua blue mermaid dress with sparkling rhinestones all around the collarbone area. I’m afraid leaving it down would look messy. Pinning it up to expose your neck would help balance it out.”
Wu Man pondered for a moment. “Let’s keep it this way then.”
She changed into the gown and put on teardrop-shaped deep blue earrings on both sides, complementing the rhinestones on her collarbone. She seemed like a mermaid who had sneaked onto shore—water droplets falling from her ears had turned into gemstones, blooming in the hollow of her collarbone. Among all the blues, the ruby “Y” necklace Yu Jiaze had given her was especially striking.
The production had finished. She should wear it now. Like the Monkey King putting the tightening headband back on.
The gala format wasn’t very formal. Invited guests sat around tables, eating and drinking wine while watching performances on stage.
After taking her seat, Wu Man discreetly scanned the name cards on the table. Zhui Ye wasn’t at her table.
Somewhat deflated, yet also relieved.
She greeted the female singer seated next to her softly and sat down elegantly.
The outside audience had already entered, holding up colorful light sticks—not for Wu Man and the others, of course, but for the idols performing tonight. She looked around boredly and actually spotted Zhui Ye’s light stick.
…Why does he even have light sticks?
She occasionally browsed Weibo and forums. An actor like Zhui Ye who frequently had “scandal collapse” rumors shouldn’t be the type girls liked these days. In fans’ words, too easy to step on a landmine. Though actors didn’t have as many high demands about relationships as idols did, fans still wouldn’t want to like such a playboy.
Yet when she looked around, not only did Zhui Ye have light sticks, there were quite a few.
As her gaze wandered, she unprepared ran into Zhui Ye entering from the right side.
He no longer wore that student uniform. His suit was sharp, the dress pants wrapping his legs were impeccably pressed. In contrast, the collar of his shirt was wide open. Steadiness revealing an unwillingness to be constrained.
Zhui Ye’s gaze quickly slid past her without lingering for even a second.
She also turned away, focusing her attention on the stage. The performance began. The female singer sitting beside her went up to perform, then went backstage and didn’t return. The seat beside her became vacant.
After a while, she felt someone sit down in the empty seat. Thinking the female singer had returned, she paid no attention and remained focused on the stage.
Until the person beside her suddenly raised a wine glass, leaning halfway over, reaching past her to toast the person sitting on her other side.
Wu Man’s heart skipped a beat when she realized this person was Zhui Ye.
He didn’t look at her, saying to that male actor, “I was sitting at that table, saw you sitting here, came to say hello.”
He sat back down, but his hand still rested on the edge of her seat.
That male actor seemed slightly surprised and laughed. “What’s gotten into you? So enthusiastic all of a sudden.”
Zhui Ye took a sip of wine and said lightly, “I thought you wanted to pretend not to know me.”
“How could that be? You’re a big Best Actor winner—who would dare slight you! I just didn’t see you.”
“Is that so…” Zhui Ye tilted his head, his gaze sweeping past Wu Man. “As far as I know, there’s one person who would.”
The two men chatted with Wu Man sandwiched between them, making her truly uncomfortable.
Mainly because every sentence from Zhui Ye was directed at her. He definitely knew.
That male actor continued, “You must have offended them. With that temper of yours.”
“Is she angry again?”
To the male actor’s ears, it seemed Zhui Ye was just talking to himself with a bit of helpless “I really can’t do anything about this person” feeling. Even a fool could hear the ambiguous tone in his words. He couldn’t help but wonder… which figure from the scandals was this “she” he mentioned, that he would speak so openly in public.
He didn’t notice at all that Wu Man, sitting properly beside them, had frantically taken a sip of wine, her fingers gripping her gown tightly under the tablecloth.
*
Meanwhile, the platform’s gala was being live-streamed online. Various forums and Douban were opening threads for real-time discussion.
The live camera generally focused on the main stage, only occasionally switching to give the celebrities below a few shots.
Zhui Ye’s temporary table switch and his drinking and chatting with the male actor happened to be captured and broadcast live.
Tonight’s hot thread was instantly born—”Holy shit, is Zhui Ye not even sparing men now?”
OP: [Clinking glasses.gif], I’m actually shipping this, any fics about genius young Best Actor top x average talented actor bottom let me see them.
1L: LMAO, I want to see too
2L: Are they that close? Zhui Ye specifically went from his table to chat
3L: Could we have guessed wrong? Maybe the Best Actor has always loved men, and the many women are just his smokescreen, which is why there’s one after another
4L: Get lost, our boy is straight as an arrow
5L: Did he go over because of Wu Man? Didn’t they just finish filming together? If there are two actors he knows, it’s normal for Zhui Ye to go say hello
6L: This has nothing to do with Wu Man, don’t drag our beautiful sister into it. I have a fan-cam focus here—sister didn’t say a single word to Zhui Ye the whole time, the two are just unfamiliar colleagues
7L: This is too unfamiliar… Even colleagues know to put on a show.
8L: Fun fact: These two filmed together for over a month and still haven’t followed each other on Weibo
9L: Did you forget when these two were subtly dissing each other around the Hong Kong Film Awards? These two sitting together without fighting is already good, saying hello? What a joke
*
The two people netizens said nearly came to blows—the atmosphere between them was indeed a bit tense right now.
Zhui Ye left before the ceremony completely ended, only saying goodbye to that male actor before leaving. She returned backstage near the end of the ceremony, wanting to avoid the crowd peak.
While walking down the corridor texting Wei Wei with her head down, her body suddenly tilted and she was pulled into a dressing room without warning.
Wu Man stood frozen in shock. Zhui Ye released her and methodically removed his suit jacket.
He tossed the jacket onto a nearby rack, casually leaning against the wall with folded arms, looking at her.
“Explain.”
He paused, then asked directly.
Wu Man collected herself and delivered the draft she’d prepared in her mind for a long time.
“I need a period to get out of character, which is why I deleted you. I hope you understand.”
“Do you do this with all your colleagues? After filming wraps, you delete them?”
“Of course not…”
She blurted out, then froze.
Zhui Ye’s tone seemed pleased, yet mixed with complaint. In any case, his accusatory momentum was immediately halved.
He lowered his folded arms and stuck them in his pockets, his eyes scanning her face. “Then why do I get this special treatment?”
Under his burning gaze, Wu Man could only answer honestly. “I’ll be frank—’Spring Night’ was the production I got most into character in my entire acting career. I feel like it’s even affecting my real life. So I must cleanly separate this part, at least for a while.”
Zhui Ye folded his arms again.
“So in your definition, I’m the part that needs to be cut out.”
“…Acting is acting, life is life. If you can’t separate acting from life, your life will be very chaotic. You’ve filmed very little, so you might not understand this well yet.” Wu Man adopted a veteran’s posture. “For you, I’m the same. The part that needs to be cut out.”
Zhui Ye stepped forward. Wu Man involuntarily stepped back, pressing against a row of clothing racks behind her.
He didn’t stop. She kept backing up and kicked the support leg of a rack.
“Crash—” The rack toppled, clothes scattering everywhere.
“Is someone using this dressing room?”
Someone outside heard the commotion and came to knock on the door. Footsteps in the corridor grew more numerous—the gala had ended.
Wu Man said in a panic, “I’m using it.”
Zhui Ye glanced at her and opened his mouth. “I’m also…”
Wu Man immediately lunged forward to cover his mouth, breaking out in a cold sweat.
“Hmm…?” The stylist outside seemed to freeze for two seconds, uncertain if they’d heard something strange.
Wu Man coughed and said, “I’ll be out in a moment, won’t take long.”
“Oh, okay, no problem. Take your time.”
Only when the footsteps walked away did Wu Man release her hand, realizing she was practically throwing herself into his arms.
Zhui Ye held her halfway, looking down and saying softly, “Is this how you cut me out?”
Her waist was slender, as if it would break with one snap, making him afraid to use force, only holding her loosely. The hairpin for her updo had fallen out, curled dark red hair tumbling down, brushing against his fingers as it swayed. The teardrop earrings still swung, refracting sapphire light, the rhinestones reflecting rippling waves… So he was holding a mermaid in his hands.
Mermaids are cunning. Her skirt hem was a fish tail, slipping through his palms.
She escaped from the net he’d carefully woven.
Zhui Ye’s gaze swept past her swaying necklace. This was a mermaid who had long ago traded her legs with a devil. The necklace on her neck was the evidence.
“You’re the one causing trouble!”
Wu Man scolded in a low, somewhat angry voice. She didn’t dare speak loudly, afraid of drawing people again. She casually tucked her hair behind her ear and crouched down to pick up the clothes, but Zhui Ye pulled her aside.
He said lightly, “Let me do it.”
He turned his back to tidy up. Taking advantage of not having to face his gaze, Wu Man took a breath and said quickly in a rush, “We don’t need to contact each other during this time. If there’s work-related needs later, we’ll get in touch then. Goodbye.”
She pushed open the dressing room door as if nothing had happened, looked left and right, and left with her head down.
*
After “Spring Night” ended, Zhao Boyu sent over many scripts, but Wu Man truly looked down on all of them.
She said to Zhao Boyu, “I’m starting to understand how painful eating is for gourmets.”
“You have to pursue art, but you also need to make money.” Zhao Boyu earnestly persuaded. “I’m really starting to regret recommending the ‘Spring Night’ script to you. I feel like I opened the door to a new world for you.”
After picking and choosing for most of a month, Wu Man still hadn’t settled on anything. Zhao Boyu changed tack: “Why not take on a variety show instead? Otherwise, during this gap before ‘Spring Night’ airs, having no exposure won’t work.”
He tossed over a proposal. It was the platform’s recent S-class variety project “Acting Masters.” All participating actors would be treated equally, competing in tiers for the title of King of Acting.
“I’ve inquired about the other tentative invitation list. Most are quite well-known actors, plus a few idols for traffic consideration. If we participate, it won’t lower our status.” Zhao Boyu calculated seriously. “Another point worth going for is they want to invite four famous directors as mentors. One of them is Wei Jinghua.”
Wei Jinghua—currently the most senior director in the country. Everyone who met him had to respectfully call him Old Wei. He was also the first domestic director to be shortlisted for major international art film festivals. Though he’d never won awards, no one could deny he was the pioneer who knocked on the brick to another world, giving domestic filmmakers confidence.
To date, no one had won Best Film or Best Director at a top international art film festival, because domestic film standards were what they were. With the long time gap and no well-developed film industry system yet formed, even with painstaking effort, it was hard to quickly match Western film standards. Who could expect a short-legged boy to outrun a long-legged youth? Being able to walk side by side was already impressive.
Precisely because of this, for Zhui Ye to seize the Best Actor title among formidable competitors was truly a groundbreaking achievement.
Wu Man’s mind wandered to seeing light sticks with his name at the gala, suddenly understanding a bit why people would support and like him despite all the scandalous rumors.
When a person’s ability is overwhelmingly exceptional, they become a legend.
People are always especially tolerant toward legends.
“Are you listening to me?”
Zhao Boyu waved his five fingers in front of Wu Man’s dazed face. She made a sound and said, “I’m listening.”
“Wei Jinghua has been dormant for quite a while. That he agreed to come on the show probably means he doesn’t want to be disconnected from society. This represents that he’s going to make a comeback in filming. We haven’t had much chance to connect with him before. He’s too proud, not an easy person to get along with. If you can join the show and get on his team, you can take this opportunity to build a good relationship. Whether you can work with him is secondary—being guided by him would be quite beneficial. Don’t you want to hone your acting skills? This is a good opportunity.”
Hearing the words “hone acting skills,” Wu Man’s expression became thoughtful.
“Then let’s take it.”
“Should we also mention this to Yu Jiaze, have him communicate with the production team to guarantee you make the finals?”
Wu Man made a silencing gesture.
“No need. I’ll go as far as I can go.”
Zhao Boyu hadn’t visited the “Spring Night” set during her filming because Yu Jiaze held a grudge about him recommending the script and sent him down to manage some third-rate nobodies. Therefore, his assessment of her acting still remained at third-rate level. He said worriedly, “What if you get eliminated in the first round? You’ll be ridiculed to death.”
After hearing his words, she unconsciously zoned out again, thinking of that night after winning the Hong Kong Film Award for Best Actress—the rebellious youth looking disdainfully at the camera, those sharp eyes seeming to cut people.
“Won’t rigged advancement also invite mockery?” Wu Man’s tone was calm yet firm. “Better I go in with real guns and real swords. Whether I’m mocked or praised, who knows?”
In any case, she didn’t want to face those eyes again.
*
The first episode of “Acting Masters” began filming soon. Wu Man unsurprisingly ran into He Huiyu backstage.
When they met, they weren’t as antagonistic as usual. Wu Man greeted her first. “Your production wrapped too?”
“Not yet, but filming is almost done, so I decided to come on the show anyway.” He Huiyu was fighting-spirited. “This time I’m definitely winning back a round!”
Wu Man humored her like a child. “Okay, okay. Do as you please.”
The first episode’s recording was an individual competition. A total of thirty-two actors would draw lots to select a scene to perform. The four mentors would judge the performance level—if they were impressed, they could select performers for their teams, with a cap of four people. This meant that after the first episode finished recording, half the actors would be directly eliminated.
…The risk of being eliminated in the first round was quite high.
While backstage, she saw the name cards on the mentor seats. Wei Jinghua had indeed come to participate. Besides him were three other directors—one was a directing professor from the film academy, one was this year’s Hong Kong Film Award Best Director, and one held the record for highest domestic box office.
The selection was balanced and each had their strengths: academic, artistic, commercial, plus the big name.
Wu Man curiously glanced at a separate throne on the left side. The chair back was very ostentatious, carved with the three characters “Big Demon King.”
Who else did they invite?