Jiang Lin closed the door and noticed his robe’s neckline was a bit loose as he bent down. He absently adjusted it.
Li Qianxing glanced at his damp hair. “Dry your hair first. The air conditioning is so low, you’ll catch a cold with wet hair.”
Jiang Lin didn’t stand on ceremony. “Have a seat then. I’ll be back in a moment.”
As he walked to his room, he passed the central air control panel and raised the temperature slightly.
Li Qianxing sat on the sofa, turned on the large wall-mounted TV, fiddled with his phone briefly, and connected it to screen mirror.
Jiang Lin returned quickly, hair dry and wearing pajama pants under his robe.
Li Qianxing saw him heading to get water and waved. “No need, come sit.”
Jiang Lin changed course. “Is this temperature okay? Not too cool?”
Li Qianxing said, “It’s fine,” and gestured toward the TV.
The screen showed a close-up side shot of Jiang Lin.
Jiang Lin was surprised. “You got this from Director He?”
Li Qianxing pressed play, replaying the short clip several times.
On the screen, Cheng Yue’s gaze fixed on Ji Ming’an and the other person off-camera, his brow slowly furrowing. Suddenly, his eyes shifted slightly, a flash of hatred erupting in them. Then his eyes moved again, settling on Ji Ming’an, gradually filling with frustration, reluctance, and pain. Finally, he lowered his eyes, hiding all emotion behind his lashes.
Li Qianxing turned to Jiang Lin. “What do you think doesn’t work?”
Jiang Lin had been sitting hunched with his elbows on his knees. Now he leaned back against the sofa, sighing softly. “That first glance at Liao Hai, the hatred is too strong.”
He propped his right elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temple resignedly. “I’ve never experienced jealousy. If it were a medium shot, I could use other actions to help, but with a close-up, it just feels off.”
Li Qianxing was taken aback. “You’ve never experienced it?”
Jiang Lin tapped his forehead lightly with his index finger, speaking slowly. “I feel my life has been quite smooth, actually. Though my family can’t compare to the wealthy, my parents’ income isn’t low. They easily supported various extracurricular classes for me growing up.
“As for me, to be immodest, I consider myself fairly intelligent. I skipped grades in both primary and middle school. Later, when I wanted to act, my parents didn’t object to my decision. I got into Y Drama with high scores, and I was at the top of the class in all subjects at school.
“The biggest setback in my life was probably being suppressed for a while after graduation when I first signed with an agency. But it wasn’t a big deal. Even though Yan-jie could only get me small roles, I still earned enough to support myself and enjoyed filming.
“Mainly there was no pressure from home. At the time, my parents always wanted to support me until my career gradually improved. All in all, so far, no one has made me jealous. So I can’t grasp the feeling of jealousy. I can only imitate others, which always falls short of real experience.”
Li Qianxing listened quietly, finding it a bit thorny. “This really is difficult to resolve…”
After all, emotions aren’t something you can just experience at will.
Seeing Li Qianxing troubled by his problem, Jiang Lin felt a bit odd.
This had nothing to do with Li Qianxing. It was a shot less than a second long that even the director thought was fine, just not satisfying enough for Jiang Lin himself. But Li Qianxing not only didn’t think he was making a fuss, he had repeatedly helped him run lines and now came specially to help him come up with a solution…
Li Qianxing leaned sideways against a corner of the sofa, one leg crossed. One hand propped his chin while the other tapped lightly on his knee. His gaze unfocused as he looked down, deep in thought.
This posture was very different from a month ago during the script reading. Back then, even leaning against the sofa back, he sat upright and proper.
This was the shadow Ji Ming’an had left on Li Qianxing.
Naturally, Cheng Yue had left his shadow on Jiang Lin as well.
Perhaps it was Cheng Yue’s influence, but just thinking that Li Qianxing’s mind was now full of thoughts about him made Jiang Lin’s heart leap.
He even felt his heartbeat quicken a bit.
“Li-ge.”
Li Qianxing looked up. For an instant, Jiang Lin felt the person before him overlapped with Ji Ming’an, who only appeared on set.
Jiang Lin rubbed his temple forcefully, suppressing the slight oddness in his heart, and asked, “What about you? Have you ever been jealous of someone?”
Li Qianxing: “There was one person.”
Jiang Lin was stunned. He had originally asked casually, already assuming a negative answer. After all, with Li Qianxing’s background, talent, and looks, what reason would he have to be jealous of others?
Yet, surprisingly, there was someone.
Jiang Lin asked curiously, “Who?”
Li Qianxing uncrossed his legs and sat up straight, naming a film star from decades ago.
Jiang Lin was stunned again. “Him…”
Li Qianxing’s expression turned nostalgic. “None of his films were imported. I first saw him in a film appreciation class and was instantly captivated by his acting. Later, I collected all his works. When I saw his magnum opus, I couldn’t help feeling jealous. Because at that moment, I realized I might never reach that level in my lifetime.”
Jiang Lin frowned slightly. “He was indeed gifted. But the price of reaching that level was too high…”
That film star had been diagnosed with severe schizophrenia shortly after reaching his acting peak. And during a moment of neglect by his family, he met with an accident and died young.
Li Qianxing gave a faint smile—his own smile, yet unusually vivid.
“At the time, I felt as if I was looking at an insurmountable peak, sensing my own insignificance and helplessness. I was depressed for a while. To cheer me up, my family searched everywhere for good scripts and finally found me a role. With that role, I won my first Best Actor award.”
Jiang Lin: “…”
He couldn’t help but chuckle, once again feeling the gap between himself and Li Qianxing, this “acting fanatic”. For him, acting was a hobby and a job, but for Li Qianxing, it was perhaps a part of life itself.
At this moment, Jiang Lin actually felt a bit envious of Li Qianxing’s talent.
He asked curiously, “Are you still jealous of him now?”
Li Qianxing shook his head. “Not anymore. As you just said, the price was too high. I have family, I can’t make them sad for the sake of my pursuits. So, I just need to climb at my own pace. No matter how high I climb, I can see the unique beauty of that vantage point.”
Jiang Lin looked at the faint smile on Li Qianxing’s lips and felt his heart flutter.
He steadied himself, quickly seeking a topic to break this somewhat strange atmosphere.
“Have you… ever played a jealous character?”
Li Qianxing thought for a moment. “Once.”
He lowered his head to pick up his phone, opened a video app, searched for a film, played it on the TV, and fast-forwarded.
It was a film set in the Republican era. From the costumes and setting, Li Qianxing seemed to be playing a young master from a wealthy family.
Jiang Lin looked at the cool yet slightly childish face on the screen and couldn’t help saying, “It seems very close to your real self. You weren’t very old then, were you?”
Li Qianxing: “Mm, I filmed it at seventeen. It was almost like playing myself.”
In the film, young Li Qianxing saw a beautiful woman, his eyes immediately lighting up, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile very similar to the one just now.
But the next moment, as the woman walked onto the dance floor with a young man, a fire instantly ignited in young Li Qianxing’s eyes. He slightly pursed his lips, and though his face was very pale, it gave the illusion of being flushed by the jealous fire in his eyes.
Watching the close-up on the screen, Jiang Lin felt a fire ignite in his own heart—the impulse came suddenly and inexplicably. At this moment, Jiang Lin wanted to grab the shoulders of the young man on the screen and tell him to stop looking at that woman!
As the shot ended, Li Qianxing paused the video and asked, “Any inspiration?”
Jiang Lin came back to his senses and turned to look at the much more mature young man before him.
Now Li Qianxing was looking at him, which somehow gave him a sense of satisfaction.
Jiang Lin took a deep breath inwardly. “Very inspiring. What’s this film called?”
Li Qianxing: “‘Codename Blue Shadow’. I was sort of the third male lead, so I don’t have many scenes.”
Jiang Lin nodded. “I’d like to watch it more carefully.”
Seeing that Jiang Lin looked like he had really gained something, Li Qianxing stood up. “Glad it helped. Take your time watching, I’ll head back now.”
Jiang Lin walked him to the door, sincerely saying, “Thank you, Li-ge.”
Li Qianxing: “Try to get it in one take tomorrow.”
Jiang Lin watched Li Qianxing enter the room next door, closed the door, took another deep breath, and only then collected his thoughts and sat back on the sofa to search for the film.
◇◆
The next day, Jiang Lin appeared before Li Qianxing and He Zhanpeng with slight dark circles under his eyes.
Li Qianxing asked in surprise, “Didn’t sleep well?”
Jiang Lin: “I went to bed a bit late.”
He Zhanpeng, however, stroked his chin thoughtfully. “This look is actually quite good… Tell Xiao Zhang not to cover it up, let’s shoot with the dark circles.”
They started by filming the scene from last night that hadn’t passed.
This time it was done in one take, and Jiang Lin himself was very satisfied.
He Zhanpeng looked him up and down. “Not bad! Where did you find the inspiration?”
Jiang Lin smiled at Li Qianxing. “It’s all thanks to Li-ge’s excellent acting.”
He Zhanpeng looked back and forth between the two. “Alright, the daily cup of milk tuition fee wasn’t wasted after all.”
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