Chapter Seventy-Three: Damn it, the Marinated Sauce Was Supposed to Be the Star!

When An Xiaoxiao asked what the connection was between having a weak point and intelligence, Li Shixin knew this child was beyond saving.

“Xiaoxiao, get in position!”

As Li Shixin was mulling over whether or not he should advise An Xiaoxiao to stay far away from art films in the future and instead stick to roles that favored good looks and an easygoing, simple-minded persona, Jiao Chendong’s shout rang out.

Earlier, Qiao Hong had thrown a sudden tantrum on set, leaving one more set of shots unfinished.

Under Jiao Chendong’s direction, An Xiaoxiao trotted to the center of the set and quickly finished up the remaining shots.

Then, it was time for Li Shixin’s first scene of the day.

“Old Master, Xiaoxiao. This scene is about Qiao Hong desperately wanting to join the gymnastics team, but Coach Liu thinks she’s too old and refuses her. Qiao Hong stubbornly refuses to leave, so Coach Liu gives her a hard time by making her do a thousand split stretches. You’ve both gone over the script already, right? All good with the lines?”

At Jiao Chendong’s question, both Li Shixin and An Xiaoxiao nodded in unison.

Satisfied, Jiao Chendong nodded back. “Good. Old Master, just perform at your usual level, that’ll do. Xiaoxiao, you need to pay attention, especially for the splits in this sequence...”

The moment the splits were mentioned, An Xiaoxiao’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She leaned back with a flourish and patted her chest proudly. “Don’t worry, Director! I started learning Latin dance at six and ballet at eight. Doing the splits is a piece of cake!”

With that, she lifted her leg—nearly two-thirds her height—straight up above her head.

Her body was as flexible as liquid, and the splits came effortlessly.

Watching An Xiaoxiao’s one-legged split, Jiao Chendong frowned.

This kid seemed sharp enough this morning—why did her IQ suddenly drop?

“I know you can do the splits; that’s not the issue. The problem is precisely that you can do it.” Jiao Chendong’s lips twitched as he motioned for An Xiaoxiao to put her leg down. “In this scene, you need to convey that Qiao Hong has zero gymnastics foundation, enduring the pain while stubbornly persisting through the splits.”

“Xiaoxiao, it’s not hard to perform better than you are; what’s hard is to create something from nothing. If an actor with no dance background did this, at most they’d suffer a bit during the splits, and the feeling would naturally come through. But you have a dance background; I’m not worried about your technique, but you have to give me the right feeling. Xiaoxiao, this is where you’re being tested.”

An Xiaoxiao lowered her leg in confusion and nodded. Acting...

“All right, let’s not waste time. Places, everyone!”

At Jiao Chendong’s call, An Xiaoxiao and Li Shixin took their places on set, and the extras playing the gymnastics team filed in.

“Action!”

With the clapperboard’s call, the camera rolled.

“Coach, I want to do gymnastics!” An Xiaoxiao gathered her emotions, clenched her fists, and shouted.

Li Shixin crossed his arms, glancing at the skinny girl before him, who looked like a gust of wind could blow her away, and replied flatly, “How old are you this year?”

“Fifteen!”

“Too late. Can’t take you.”

...

Off to the side.

Qiao Hong had stayed to watch the filming, and a group of entertainment reporters, sensing a potential scoop, hadn’t left either.

Now, seeing the scene—an old man and a young girl recreating a memory that was once vivid but now blurred—unfold before her eyes, Qiao Hong’s gaze brimmed with emotion.

“Ms. Qiao, how do you feel about the plot? Is ‘Flying Against the Wind’ faithful to your autobiographical novel?” a reporter asked.

Eyes glistening, Qiao Hong managed a gentle smile and lifted her chin. “What do you think?”

Clearing his throat, the reporter, realizing his question was a bit foolish, tried to recover. “It’s clear you’re pleased with the show. Can you share your thoughts on the cast? Especially the newcomer An Xiaoxiao, who plays you...”

“The girl is very pretty,” Qiao Hong said, glancing at An Xiaoxiao on set. “Much prettier than I was at her age.”

“Ms. Qiao, you’re too modest. Back then, you were a flower among our national team—a nickname well-earned! I remember when I was little, my dad used to keep your newspaper clippings in his work notebook. My mom even argued with him about it.”

As they chatted, something happened on set.

The first few sequences between An Xiaoxiao and Li Shixin were all done in one take, but when it came to An Xiaoxiao’s split-and-counting scene, things started to go wrong.

Three times in a row, her emotions were off. Jiao Chendong called “cut” again, striding over to the middle of the set.

“Xiaoxiao, what’s going on? Didn’t I just explain? I need your emotions—your emotions! What did you give me just now? I wanted stubborn perseverance through jealous pain, the struggle to endure suffering for your dream! What did you show me? Constipation?”

Blasted by the director, An Xiaoxiao was thoroughly aggrieved. “Director, let’s do it again, I...”

“Again? You’re nowhere near the emotion I want!” Jiao Chendong sighed inwardly as he looked at the downcast An Xiaoxiao who dared not meet his eyes.

Typical rookie problems.

He explained the key points of the scene to her once more, then waved his hand. “Take ten. Rest a bit and really think about it.”

“Oh.” An Xiaoxiao nodded, dejectedly walking off to the side.

Li Shixin, having finished his earlier shots, was sitting on a small stool, wrapped in an army coat and sipping goji berry tea.

Thinking about her own miserable performance and comparing it to Li Shixin’s effortless presence in front of the camera, An Xiaoxiao lost all spirit.

She kicked aside a bit of orange peel, pouted, and squatted down next to Li Shixin. “Mr. Li, acting is just too hard. I... I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Ding!

An Xiaoxiao’s admiration points shot up—125 in one go.

Li Shixin, still drinking his tea, raised his eyebrows.

A single admiration value of 125? That had to be a record. Do simple-minded people really feel emotions this intensely?

He set down his thermos with a faint smile. “If you’re not cut out for acting, then what are you cut out for? Oh, you’re a dancer. So, are you a world-class dancer?”

Clutching her heart, An Xiaoxiao shook her head.

“Then do you want to be an actress?”

“Yes!” She nodded emphatically.

“Heh.” Li Shixin chuckled. “If you want to do this for a living, what are you complaining about? So young, and already blaming your lack of effort on talent. Who spoiled you?”

She’d come for comfort, not another lecture!

Tears pricked her eyes as An Xiaoxiao protested, “But what should I do, Mr. Li? The director says I can’t get the emotion right. That scene—I just can’t express the feeling of enduring pain for my dream. He wants me to find it, but I’ve got nothing.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Huh?”

Li Shixin’s sudden question made An Xiaoxiao’s mind go blank for a moment. Then she shivered. “Anything hairy and crawling!”

“Oh.”

Hairy bugs.

Li Shixin nodded deeply. “There’s a method called emotional substitution. The director wants you to act out perseverance through pain, right? So, when you’re doing the splits, imagine there’s a hairy caterpillar inside your clothes. Use fear to replace pain.”

A lightbulb went off in An Xiaoxiao’s head. “I get it! Thank you, Teacher!”

And with that, she sped back to the center of the set, shouting to Jiao Chendong, who was reading the script, “Director! I’m ready!”

Jiao Chendong looked up, satisfied. Good kid—found her solution in less than five minutes. Promising.

“Same camera positions as before. All departments, ready—action!”

“Copy!”

“Camera ready!”

“Sound ready!”

“Lights ready!”

“Extras in position!”

“Action!”

With the crew bustling, An Xiaoxiao stood before the camera, full of confidence.

One minute later.

The entire crew, including Jiao Chendong, wore black expressions.

An Xiaoxiao, her face no different from before, looked constipated as ever. Jiao Chendong couldn’t hold back: “An Xiaoxiao, this is what you call ready?”

Faced with his soul-searching question, An Xiaoxiao sniffled. In her mind, she’d just learned the method...

Sigh.

Watching An Xiaoxiao, her mind failing to command her body, Li Shixin sighed. He looked around, his eyes brightening as he picked up a tiny living thing.

On set, as An Xiaoxiao stood awkwardly, she suddenly saw Li Shixin approach from behind.

“Mr. Li—ah! What did you just put on the back of my neck?!”

As An Xiaoxiao, still holding her split, was about to jump up, her body curling into a ball in panic, Li Shixin used all his strength to press her down. “Sorry, kid. Couldn’t find a caterpillar this autumn. But a two-inch cockroach will have to do.”

Cockroach, cockroach, cockroach!

“You old man! Take it out! Now!”

“It’s moving! So gross!”

“Ah! No, not there!”

“An Xiaoxiao!” Li Shixin barked as he held down her flailing hands. “That’s the emotion! Get past this, and you’ll be an actor. Tell me—do you want to act?”

With her eyes shut tight, An Xiaoxiao gritted out, “I do!”

“Do the splits!”

At Li Shixin’s command, An Xiaoxiao, with a cockroach crawling inside her clothes, plopped onto the floor.

“Count!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three... three!”

Behind the monitor, watching An Xiaoxiao’s tightly shut eyes, sweat-drenched face, trembling pale lips, and body writhing in pain while she gritted her teeth, Jiao Chendong gave a mighty clap.

“Beautiful! Quick! Camera forward—close-up! Get her expression!”

“Copy!”

“Hold, hold! Widen the shot—extras, look at An Xiaoxiao, whisper among yourselves... Yes, just like that! Keep going, keep going...”

“Keep going...”

“Cut! We got it!”

Only when she heard “cut” did An Xiaoxiao leap up from the ground, yanking the wriggling cockroach from her clothes and flinging it away.

“Fantastic!” “Well done!” “Great job!”

As soon as the cockroach hit the ground, An Xiaoxiao was showered with praise from all sides.

Eyes wet with tears, she looked at the excited director and crew members clapping and walking toward her.

She was overwhelmed.

She’d made it through—she was an actor now!

Clenching her fists, tears streaming down her face, she bowed deeply to everyone.

“Director, everyone... I... I’ll keep it up from now on!”

“Old Master, how did you think of that? Genius!”

“Yeah, you’re incredible. Xiaoxiao’s performance was amazing!”

Wait, what?

Watching as everyone walked right past her as if she were air and surrounded Li Shixin instead, showering him with praise, An Xiaoxiao’s mind short-circuited.

Hey, hey!!

Are you kidding me?! I was the one acting, suffering, and persevering just now! Why are you fawning over him?!

I’m the protagonist! I’M THE PROTAGONIST, DAMN IT!