Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Lu Yao had originally planned to spend the afternoon showing Zhu Yin the surrounding area and familiarizing her with the production.
The two had just stepped out of the hotel elevator when Lu Yao ran into someone she knew.
It was the rising star Xu Qiaoqiao. In The Swordsman, she played the male lead’s junior martial sister and the heroine’s romantic rival.
Their characters did not get along in the show, and neither did they in real life. The difference was that the heroine completely outclassed the supporting character in combat in the show, whereas in real life, it was Xu Qiaoqiao alone who constantly made snide remarks at Lu Yao.
When she first saw Zhu Yin, she assumed Landi had signed another actress.
Another woman with such outstanding looks. Xu Qiaoqiao silently ground her teeth, displeasure showing on her face. “Lu Yao, who is she? The production has to protect its privacy during filming. You can’t just bring any random outsider in here.”
Lu Yao had been targeted shortly after joining the cast. At first, she had tried hard to repair her relationships with her coworkers. Once she realized it was useless, however, she stopped greeting their hostility with warmth.
“Zhu Yin is my new assistant,” she said. “She isn’t an outsider.”
An assistant?
Xu Qiaoqiao was even more astonished, her gaze sweeping over Zhu Yin’s face again. Had Landi just signed an entire cohort of goddesses? Why would someone with looks like those work as an assistant?
Her tone grew more sarcastic. “Trust you to manage it, Lu Yao. You changed assistants twice as soon as you joined the production, and the moment the last one leaves, another arrives. You really are Landi’s pampered little princess.”
“What does it have to do with you?” Lu Yao gritted out after struggling for a long moment to find a retort.
She did not know how to quarrel. Now that she had been thoroughly angered, her delicate fair face flushed crimson, making her bright, dewy eyes look all the more lovely and captivating.
That face was also the greatest source of Xu Qiaoqiao’s hostility toward her.
They were about the same age, and Xu Qiaoqiao had always marketed herself on her youth and beauty. Then Lu Yao had appeared out of nowhere. She was prettier, better educated, and had started her career as the female lead in a big-budget martial arts production by a famous director, while Xu Qiaoqiao could only play a supporting role.
Lu Yao had completely overshadowed her.
At first, Xu Qiaoqiao kept her jealousy buried, not daring to offend the newcomer Landi was heavily promoting. Later, however, she noticed that the director was exceptionally severe with Lu Yao and that Sun Lie, the senior actor playing the male lead, showed her no mercy in their scenes together.
Meanwhile, Landi made no attempt to intervene, perhaps because the company wanted to temper its newcomer.
Xu Qiaoqiao gradually grew bolder.
Many people on the crew thought the same way she did.
Before long, although no one said it aloud, the entire production had subtly shut Lu Yao out.
Xu Qiaoqiao no longer feared her in the slightest. To put it plainly, even if Landi wanted to settle accounts later, would it really offend an entire production crew?
She sneered. “No, it isn’t my business. But your acting is so bad that it’s holding up the entire production. You have scenes to shoot all day tomorrow. You can’t expect the whole crew to wait for you, can you?”
“I don’t know how some people can be so shameless. If I were you, I would’ve been too ashamed to stay.”
With that, she strutted away.
Zhu Yin looked at the young woman beside her. Sure enough, Lu Yao’s face was deathly pale, and the excitement with which she had offered to show Zhu Yin around had vanished without a trace.
Lu Yao had started school early and skipped a grade. She had only just turned twenty.
Zhu Yin recalled that much later in the story, after the heroine had achieved success and fame, she mentioned the production of The Swordsman in her memoir. She wrote that the experience had haunted her nightmares for years.
Her coworkers’ cold hostility, the director’s merciless rebukes, her manager’s seemingly gentle but actually useless “comfort,” and the omnipresent attempts to suppress and question her–all of it pushed her toward an abyss.
How could she possibly feel no resentment?
Lu Yao drew a deep breath and smiled. “Zhu Yin, I’ll take you somewhere good. Their roast duck is especially delicious.”
Good food was probably the young woman’s only comfort now.
Unfortunately…
Zhu Yin recalled how countless haters had abused Lu Yao in the story. During the filming of The Swordsman, paparazzi had photographed her going out to buy food, and the pictures had been used as proof that she neglected her work.
[Oh my god, what actress doesn’t keep strict control of her figure? She actually dares eat something so greasy.]
[That’s the crown princess for you. Everyone else works diligently to improve their acting, while she’s here to eat, drink, and play.]
[For heaven’s sake, our Qiaoqiao nearly broke a bone falling during an action scene and has scrapes all over her body. Compare that with a certain someone. She’s honestly shameless.]
[Brother Lie–the male lead–is such a nice person, and this is the first time he has ever publicly made a pointed comment about a coworker. That shows just how outrageous a certain someone must be! When will that entertainment-industry royal finally get out?]
They might be photographed going out for roast duck, and Lu Yao might be attacked for it. Should Zhu Yin refuse?
Of course not!
What was wrong with enjoying good food?
What had Lu Yao done wrong?
Zhu Yin took her hand. “All right. Let’s go together.”
Still, the encounter had affected Lu Yao’s mood.
On the way back, she finally confessed to Zhu Yin, “Almost all my scenes tomorrow are fight scenes. I… I’m a little scared…”
Her voice trembled slightly.
Zhu Yin took her hand and discovered that her body was trembling involuntarily too.
Filming had already left her traumatized.
Floating beside Zhu Yin, Barbara said in distress, “The heroine is so pitiful. I don’t even know how she managed to overcome the trauma and keep acting later.”
Zhu Yin gazed intently at Lu Yao as though she were looking through her at an old acquaintance.
“Because nothing can defeat her.”
When they entered the elevator, they ran into Sun Lie, the male lead of The Swordsman. He was still wearing his wig, so he had probably just finished filming.
Lu Yao seemed startled and edged closer to Zhu Yin. Sun Lie swept a cold glance over them and stood to one side. Neither party spoke throughout the ride.
Even the fragrant roast duck no longer seemed quite as appetizing.
Looking at the heroine’s worried little face, Zhu Yin reached out, pinched one cheek, and tugged.
Lu Yao’s eyes widened as she stared at her in confusion, but she was not angry.
“Are you worried you won’t perform well tomorrow?” Zhu Yin asked.
Lu Yao nodded rapidly like a chick pecking at grain.
Zhu Yin began by taking aim at the scum. “Doesn’t your manager treat you well? Didn’t he hire a professional coach for you? What about the director? Didn’t he arrange special training with a fight choreographer?”
Lu Yao hesitated. “Brother Zheng is very busy. Maybe he forgot. As for the director…”
She recalled that icy face. “Director Ji hates people who get roles through connections. Whenever I do poorly, he yells at me. He probably doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
What a pitiful young woman.
Only much later would she finally understand just how vicious the human heart could be.
They deliberately created impossible circumstances and trapped her inside them, then condemned her for failing, battering away at her talent and confidence.
Of all the bystanders, not one tried to act or reach out and pull her free. Some even helped make matters worse.
That was why, even after many, many years, Lu Yao still harbored resentment and could not let it go.
She had asked the heavens to send her younger self a Zhu Yin.