Chapter 22

Not long after Zhu Xinyue returned from Country Y, "Peach Blossom Spring" officially began filming.
The night before shooting her first scene, Zhu Xinyue tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
She posted a message on her social media feed.
["First day of filming tomorrow! So nervous I can’t sleep, wuwuwu..."]
It reminded her of her college days, the night before their graduation thesis defense, when none of her roommates could sleep either.
Before posting, Zhu Xinyue adjusted the privacy settings.
Visible only to Ji Linyu.
She didn’t know if he would see it, and she didn’t feel comfortable messaging him privately. Someone as important as him was probably very busy.
Zhu Xinyue lay awake for a while, but after half an hour, there was no response.
Oh well, time to sleep.
As a minor character, Zhu Xinyue had very few scenes and not many lines. Most of the time, she served as part of the background, with only a handful of action sequences. Basically, wherever the Second Elder was, she, as his personal guard, had to be present.
Liang Yuyu played the Second Elder, a character who was a deeply reserved but frail and sickly expert, often seen lying down or sitting.
Zhu Xinyue’s first scene was a night shoot. The plot involved an outsider (the male lead) intruding onto the island, bringing news from the outside world and hoping that these reclusive immortals would lend their aid. The Grand Elder invited everyone to the council hall for a meeting, but the Second Elder wanted to use his poor health as an excuse to skip it. The visitor was the Grand Elder’s head disciple, who attempted to forcibly take the Second Elder to the meeting but was stopped by Zhu Xinyue, the Second Elder’s personal guard.
It was her first time filming, so it was natural to feel nervous.
Zhu Xinyue stood beside Liang Yuyu, holding an umbrella.
The makeup artist was still dusting powder on Liang Yuyu, making his already pale complexion appear even paler.
“You’re trembling even more than the candle flame beside you.” Liang Yuyu had never seen a newcomer like this before. Usually, they got along quite well, and he had even given her acting lessons.
Even Director Wen, who was conducting a test shoot, noticed how badly Zhu Xinyue was shaking and chuckled behind the monitor. But since she was an artist under Jin Huan Group’s agency, and someone had “casually” mentioned that she was the heiress of the Zhu Chang Group, Director Wen didn’t set high expectations for her. Instead, he comforted her, saying, “If one take doesn’t work, we’ll just do a few more. It’s fine.”
After all, she was a newcomer, and he was always very tolerant of newcomers.
Director Wen was famously good-tempered, with only one flaw: he loved to push actors during filming. Shooting a scene ten or twenty times was routine for him. If he wasn’t satisfied, they’d continue with the same scene the next day.
Zhu Xinyue’s palms were sweating.
She was the type of student who hated group presentations the most during her school days.
“I’m fine, just a little nervous,” she said.
While the director was explaining the scene to the male actor playing the head disciple, Liang Yuyu took the opportunity to give Zhu Xinyue some extra guidance.
“Once filming starts, you’re no longer Zhu Xinyue. You grew up in Taoyuan, raised by the Second Elder for over a decade. Your name is ‘Qingyu.’ The Second Elder taught you to read, write, and practice martial arts.
“To repay his kindness, you stayed by his side as his personal guard, taking care of his daily needs. What would you do to anyone who dares to disrespect the Second Elder?”
Liang Yuyu guided her patiently, his expressive peach-blossom eyes narrowing slightly, as if the Second Elder himself were instructing his young guard.
Zhu Xinyue’s expression turned stern, her gaze sharp and fierce: “Kill.”
Liang Yuyu laughed again, his flowing robes rustling in the wind. He was naturally thin, and the costume accentuated his frail, sickly appearance, as if laughing too hard might make him cough up blood the next second.
“A promising student.”
Liang Yuyu also taught her techniques to bring the character to life. “When acting, you need to understand the character’s logic. The character’s breathing, movements, and even the way they deliver their lines must align with their experiences and age.”
Zhu Xinyue listened attentively. In truth, she had already written a character profile, added a few small details, and even practiced in private. She just didn’t know how effective it would be.
Filming officially began.
The camera tilts up following the senior disciple’s steps. As he mentions, “Please, Second Elder, come to the council hall,” the shot moves past his shoulder, capturing the Second Elder lounging casually on his couch.
The Second Elder, hands tucked into his wide sleeves, coughs lightly. “Qingyu, check if my medicine is ready.”
Beside him stands a young woman holding an umbrella, dressed in martial attire. Her eyes are closed as if dozing off, and she hasn’t paid any attention to the senior disciple’s words. But the moment the Second Elder coughs, she snaps awake instantly.
“Yes, Second Elder.”
It’s exactly like an employee caught slacking off at work.
Director Wen nods approvingly, this girl has really put her heart into the role.
Qingyu walks over to check the medicine for the Second Elder, while he continues his conversation with the senior disciple, revealing why he doesn’t want to attend the council: “Every time there’s a council meeting, someone ends up dead. I don’t want to play executioner again.”
In the shot, she’s merely part of the background, yet you can see her childishly pinching her earlobe after burning her fingertips on the lid. After lifting the lid, she even waves her hand in front of her nose as if truly smelling the unpleasant medicinal odor.
When the conversation between the senior disciple and the Second Elder breaks down, and the senior disciple is about to strike,
The previously childlike Qingyu instantly flashes in front of the Second Elder, engaging the senior disciple in combat.
At first, she uses her umbrella, intending only to push him back. But the senior disciple, overwhelmed by anger, unleashes a lethal move against her.
At that moment, the Second Elder dips his fingertip into a drop of the medicinal broth and flicks it toward the senior disciple. The senior disciple’s knees buckle, his lethal move dissipating, and he drops to one knee before Qingyu.
Qingyu’s hand rests on the hilt of her umbrella, the sword inside revealing just an inch of cold light before she obediently sheathes it again. As if nothing happened, she returns to the Second Elder’s side, holding the umbrella.
The senior disciple glares at Qingyu resentfully.
“Why are you glaring at her?” The Second Elder smiles faintly and says to Qingyu, “That foolish child thinks I was saving you.”
Qingyu quirks the corner of her mouth into a disdainful smirk, as if saying “Him?”
The senior disciple leaves in a huff.
As the camera follows him out, it pans over the two in the room: the Second Elder hands the medicine bowl to Qingyu, seemingly asking her to refill it. Qingyu, holding the umbrella, yawns and takes the bowl with one hand as if it’s nothing, then heads back to the medicine preparation area.
“Cut!” Director Wen didn’t expect Zhu Xinyue to perform so smoothly in her first acting role, especially the fight scenes, they were incredibly fluid!
After finishing her part, Zhu Xinyue stayed on set to shoot a few additional scenes as requested by the director. She didn’t rush off but instead pulled up a small stool to observe and learn from the sidelines.
Her ability to perform so well was largely thanks to her experienced co-star, who helped her get into character.
Just by sitting there, Liang Yuyu embodies the seemingly careless yet unfathomable Second Elder. And if he could train someone as skilled as Qingyu, his own martial prowess must be even greater.
And that senior disciple, he portrayed the sinister, vindictive nature of someone who bullies the weak but fears the strong, unable to accept defeat and always plotting revenge, so vividly that his eyes even turned red. No wonder he played a part in Qingyu’s eventual demise.
Zhu Xinyue had just sat down when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
It was Ji Qingyuan’s assistant, who pointed toward the trailer. "President Ji sent over some late-night snacks. Qingyuan asked me to come get you."
Zhu Xinyue stood up and asked, "Is President Ji here too?"
The assistant shook her head, assuming Zhu Xinyue was worried about being alone with Ji Qingyuan, and said, "Teacher Jiang Rui and Teacher Liang are there."
Zhu Xinyue entered the trailer to find the three of them already seated together, discussing the script while eating.
Jiang Rui and Ji Qingyuan also had night scenes to shoot, though theirs were scheduled a bit later. There was still time to finish their snacks before heading to the set.
"Xinyue, sit here." Jiang Rui, who had been sitting across from Liang Yuyu and Ji Qingyuan, stood up to let Zhu Xinyue take her spot, placing Zhu Xinyue directly opposite Ji Qingyuan.
Zhu Xinyue glanced at Liang Yuyu across from her. He was quietly picking up a piece of golden-thread taro puff from his meal box.
Unlike the other two actors, who only ate vegetables rinsed and de-greased, he seemed less restricted.
After he finished, Ji Qingyuan, while chatting with Jiang Rui, subtly moved most of the sweet dishes on the table closer to Zhu Xinyue.
He remembered she had mentioned she loved sweet food.
"How does it feel, filming for the first time?" Ji Qingyuan shifted the conversation to Zhu Xinyue, using serving chopsticks to place a crystal shrimp dumpling into her empty bowl.
"Nervous, but pretty interesting." Zhu Xinyue looked at Liang Yuyu and thanked him sincerely, "Thanks to Teacher Liang for guiding me into the scene. Thank you, Teacher Liang."
Liang Yuyu smiled faintly, indicating it was nothing.
Jiang Rui said, "Teacher Liang’s acting has always been the standard I aspire to."
Her tone was natural, but her words were straightforward and bold, sounding almost like a confession or flattery.
Liang Yuyu had heard similar praise from many juniors, but the entertainment industry was full of two-faced people, praising him to his face while targeting others behind his back.
His smile faded slightly.
Ji Qingyuan added, "I also have a lot to learn from Teacher Liang."
When he smiled, his under-eye circles were full, bright and cheerful, lifting the mood of anyone who saw it.
Liang Yuyu’s smile grew even fainter.
Someone with acting skills and talent on par with his own, far surpassing him in popularity and fan count, with an unfathomable family background, a true favored son of heaven, saying he wanted to learn from him... It sounded oddly grating, but he knew Ji Qingyuan meant no harm, so he just smiled and let it go.
"The pastries from this restaurant are really good." Zhu Xinyue, true to her purpose of having a late-night snack, focused on eating and didn’t forget to recommend the layered cake in front of her to Liang Yuyu. "Teacher Liang, you should have some more."
The other two were still rehearsing their lines for the next scene, so only Zhu Xinyue and Liang Yuyu were actively eating at the table.
Liang Yuyu set down his chopsticks, took a sip of barley tea, and said, "Gaining weight doesn’t look good on camera."
"You're too thin." Every time Zhu Xinyue saw Liang Yuyu, she would think of his fate in the novel. After spending time with him on set, she found him to be a very kind senior, and it was hard not to sympathize with his later struggles with depression due to online bullying.
Liang Yuyu met Zhu Xinyue’s sympathetic gaze and thought she was worried about his health. He smiled and said, "It’s fine. I may be thin, but I’m healthy."
Ji Qingyuan chimed in, "Teacher Liang and I go to the gym together every day."
Jiang Rui’s eyes lit up. "Can I join?"
Ji Qingyuan gave an "okay" sign. "Sure, let’s create a group chat."
They went ahead and created the group, but Zhu Xinyue couldn’t bring herself to wake up at 5 a.m. for workouts. On days without filming, all she wanted was to sleep. Yet, they ended up adding her to the group anyway.
[Taoyuan Squad (4)]
Great.
Zhu Xinyue’s first move was to mute the group notifications.
As she put away her phone, she accidentally noticed Jiang Rui tapping on Liang Yuyu’s profile picture, they weren’t friends on the app.
Out of curiosity, after finishing her late-night snack and heading back, Zhu Xinyue clicked into Liang Yuyu’s profile from the group and realized this was a different account, likely his private one. The account she had added before was probably his work account, which explained why there were no updates in his moments.
Liang Yuyu clearly drew a line between "friends" and "colleagues."
Back at the hotel, Zhu Xinyue washed up and lay down on the bed, lifting her hand to examine the scratch on her finger.
It was a cut from the prop umbrella earlier, but she hadn’t noticed it until she showered. And it wasn’t just that, there were other bruises here and there, probably from unnoticed bumps during the fight scenes.
The pain had only just registered.
Her phone vibrated.
She rolled over to grab it from the bedside and saw the contact name, Big Boss, curling her lips into a smile.
[Big Boss: Had your late-night snack?]
[Zhu Xinyue: Yep! Are you done with work, Brother Linyu?]
[Big Boss: Another meeting in ten minutes.]
[Big Boss: Were the desserts too sweet?]
Zhu Xinyue recalled the snack, half of it had been sweet treats. Could this be his way of testing her preferences?
[Zhu Xinyue: The flavor was just right, I loved it!]
[Big Boss: Good. Did filming go smoothly today?]
Zhu Xinyue could barely contain her smile.
[Zhu Xinyue: It went smoothly! The director even praised me, but I’m not sure how it’ll look on the big screen.]
A moment later, a reply came from the other side.
[Big Boss: Wait until the movie is released]
It seemed he hadn’t finished typing before sending the message, so he immediately retracted it. But Zhu Xinyue had been staring at their chat window and didn’t miss his message.
Did he mean to say, “You’ll know when the movie is released,” telling her not to be impatient and to focus on filming?
Zhu Xinyue didn’t receive any further messages, so she sent a “confused bunny” emoji.
[Big Boss: It might be too early to talk about this now.]
Zhu Xinyue’s anxious heart sank. Hmph, was he implying she was worrying unnecessarily?
Then another message came through, making her heart race again.
[Big Boss: When the movie is released, do you want to watch it together?]