Chapter 41

Li Lei wasn’t just convinced by Wei Sheng’s words—he was so impressed that he was ready to poach him from Zhou Mingxing!

A professional who was not only talented but also deeply familiar with the inner workings of the system? That was exactly the kind of expert they desperately needed for filming main-theme dramas!

Looking back, Li Lei suddenly realized they had been barking up the wrong tree all along during their field research.

The experts they had consulted were indeed authoritative in agricultural policy research. But let’s be real—most of them were academics with little to no grassroots work experience. Even the terminology they used reflected that—talking about “going down to the grassroots” as if they were descending from above to briefly observe the struggles of the common people.

How could you expect a group of intellectuals who had never truly lived in rural areas to empathize with the working class?

No wonder netizens often complained online that the suggestions given by these experts felt completely disconnected from their lived realities, as if they weren’t even inhabiting the same planet.

This realization made Li Lei glance at Wei Sheng with a hint of sympathy.

This kid probably didn’t come from a privileged background.

Only those without connections or family backing would go out of their way to study the unwritten rules of the system and learn how to navigate them.

As for those born into power?

Ha! The rules bend for them—they never have to adapt to them.

Because what are “rules,” really?

In smaller cities where power is deeply entrenched, the reason why some second-generation elites can blatantly ignore the rules is simple—because their family’s words are the rules.

“Old Zhou! I want this kid!” Li Lei slapped his thigh, ready to sign Wei Sheng on the spot.

The way he said it—you’d think he was announcing the adoption of a long-lost son.

As for screenwriter Le Ling?

If circumstances allowed, she would’ve already set up an altar, lit incense, and sworn a blood oath to become sworn siblings with Wei Sheng.

After all, this was a golden consultant for her future Main-theme scripts!

And just like that, Wei Sheng inexplicably became the darling of the Mountain Path production team.

The lead actress? Well, she was already his senior disciple.

Director Li Lei? Secretly scheming to steal Wei Sheng away from Zhou Mingxing and make him his personal consultant.

Le Ling? Using her status as a woman to act cute and wheedle him into becoming her sworn brother.

Wei Sheng, feeling utterly exasperated, stated firmly that his family was traditional, and something as serious as sworn siblinghood needed to be discussed with them first.

Le Ling took that as an agreement and immediately started calling herself Wei Sheng’s long-lost big sister within the crew.

This left Jiang Zhilian, the rookie actress playing Yang Fan’s girlfriend, feeling incredibly anxious. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Wei Sheng must have some kind of extraordinary background. Even during script readings, her voice trembled slightly when practicing lines with him.

Wei Sheng, noticing her nerves, even tried to comfort her.

But when actual filming began, the one who kept messing up… was him!

“Wei Sheng, say your lines! Say them! Don’t just recite them at her!”

“Don’t just read the script—act! Match your movements with your lines!”

“How are you still moving your arms and legs at the same time?! You two have been dating for five years in the story! She’s your girlfriend, not some scammer tricking you into buying overpriced tea!”

Director Li Lei was the first to break down.

Le Ling, unable to bear watching any longer, covered her face with the script.

Who would have thought that someone who could eloquently analyze systemic policies without breaking a sweat would be this painfully awkward in front of a camera?

To put it bluntly—even first-year film students handing in their first acting assignments would look more natural than him.

This couldn’t go on. The production schedule was tight, and they couldn’t afford delays. It wasn’t even about the money.

The production had plenty of funds—what they lacked was time!

Wei Sheng himself was stunned.

He hadn’t expected acting in a drama to be so drastically different from filming a variety show.

He had felt completely at ease on reality TV, so why did everything feel so off the moment he stepped onto a drama set?

“Should we hire a coach for him?” Shen Yi suggested to Zhou Mingxing.

“There’s no time,” Zhou Mingxing stubbed out his cigarette and pulled Wei Sheng aside.

He also dragged Shen Yi along.

Wei Sheng, utterly mortified, spoke up before Zhou Mingxing could even say anything. “Uncle Zhou, maybe I should drop this role? I don’t want to hold up Director Li’s schedule—I’m just not cut out for this…”

“A real man never says he’s ‘not cut out for it’!” Zhou Mingxing wiped his face in frustration. “Don’t give up so easily—let’s break this down and figure out what’s going wrong.”

Shen Yi chimed in to reassure him, “Don’t panic. Your character doesn’t have too many scenes left. If it really doesn’t work out, Old Zhou can bring in a coach for intensive training, and I’ll have the director focus on filming my parts first…”

Just then, a curly-haired head popped into the conversation.

“Uh, Teacher Shen, did you forget? We revised the script. The director said he wanted to flesh out Yang Fan’s character more, so he’s getting extra scenes.”

Le Ling whispered the reminder cautiously.

She didn’t want to add more pressure on Wei Sheng.

But what could she do? When the director asked for script changes, a mere screenwriter like her had no choice but to comply.

When she first heard Li Lei was adding scenes for Wei Sheng, she had been thrilled for him.

A fresh-faced rookie, landing a role in a drama that would air on National Channel One, with substantial screen time right from the start? That was an incredible debut.

But now, seeing Wei Sheng’s acting…

Sigh.

Now, she didn’t even know whether she should be happy for him or light a candle in sympathy.

“Should we just ask the director to replace me? I really can’t do this…” Wei Sheng hesitated, looking from one person to another.

He knew that Zhou Mingxing and Shen Yi were insisting he try again for his own good.

After all, this was a main-theme drama that was almost guaranteed to air on National Channel One. If he could seize this opportunity, not only would he have his own representative work, but he’d be debuting at a level that most people wouldn’t even dare to dream of—practically ascending to the heavens in broad daylight!

Think about it—so many traffic idols in the industry, even willing to work for free, were fighting to get into these types of main-theme dramas. First, working with big-name directors was a great way to hone their acting skills. Second, this kind of role was like the early 2000s trend of studying abroad—just acting in a main-theme drama or film would instantly boost one’s prestige!

Did Wei Sheng not understand what an unparalleled opportunity this was for a newcomer like him?

Of course, he did!

But… the problem was that he simply wasn’t up to the task.

“No way! You can’t just throw away a golden opportunity that’s already in your hands!” Zhou Mingxing said fiercely.

Shen Yi agreed. “Here’s the plan—Zhou, you get an acting coach for Wei Sheng. Meanwhile, I’ll go plead with Director Li to use camera tricks to shoot some of the scattered scenes involving Wei Sheng first.”

“This way, the production schedule won’t be delayed, and Wei Sheng gets some buffer time.”

Most importantly, it would increase the production’s sunk costs!

They had already filmed so much material. At this point, only the emotionally demanding interaction scenes were left. They were 70% through a 100-step journey—they couldn’t just turn back now! Replacing Wei Sheng at this stage would mean wasting all the previous work!

Zhou Mingxing gave Shen Yi an approving look.

“Alright, it’s settled. I’ll talk to Director Li. You’ll have to work hard for the next few days—the acting coach won’t arrive immediately, so you’ll have to train him yourself in the meantime.”

Shen Yi smiled. “Isn’t that my duty? I own shares in the company, after all. The more money we make from new talents, the sooner I can buy that luxury seaside villa next year!”

Wei Sheng broke into a cold sweat. He had a feeling that his days ahead were going to be rough…

And his hunch was spot on.

That night, after filming wrapped up, Shen Yi had an assistant send some food to his room. Then, she invited Le Ling over to help Wei Sheng overcome his awkwardness and stiffness in front of the camera.

There was a reason why Zhou Mingxing trusted Shen Yi with Wei Sheng’s training.

Back when Shen Yi divorced her ex-husband and decided to return to the entertainment industry, her acting was just as bad. After all, the techniques she had learned in school were too academic.

How should I put it…? If you’ve ever watched the infamous film “Pure Hearts: Into Chinese Showbiz,” you’d get the idea.

Honestly speaking, you couldn’t blame the rookie director who made that cringe-fest—because that’s how film schools actually teach!

Unless you were a naturally gifted prodigy, most acting students would just follow their professor’s instructions to the letter. Especially for university practical courses, if your project didn’t match your professor’s tastes, you weren’t getting a good grade.

Shen Yi was no exception.

When she first returned to acting, she struggled badly, just like Wei Sheng. She went through hell because of her awkward, stiff performances.

But luckily, she had talent. After a few failures and some harsh scoldings, she finally figured out the industry’s secrets.

And ironically, that realization was a slap in the face to her past.

Back in the day, Shen Yi’s parents had spent over a million yuan to get her into a film academy. They even sold a small apartment to make her a “properly trained professional.”

Yet in the end?

The lessons she paid over a million for were completely useless compared to what she learned on set.

So in a way, Shen Yi and Wei Sheng were in the same boat—both were self-taught industry outsiders who had to claw their way up from the bottom.

Shen Yi’s golden tip for Wei Sheng? Stronger emotional immersion.

This was the fastest and most effective method she had discovered after truly mastering her craft.

“Here, take a look at this scene.” Shen Yi opened Wei Sheng’s script and pointed at a red-marked passage.

“When Yang Fan arrives at Huang Jiabao after Huang Xiujuan’s death, he sees a document on her desk that she had personally revised for him before she passed away. The script says your reaction should be: your hands trembling slightly, instinctively reaching for the document, only to be stopped by a staff member who informs you that this is now a precious relic and cannot be touched. Overcome with emotion, you suddenly cover your face and break down in tears.”

“I know it’s your first time filming, so you probably can’t cry on cue. If you force yourself, the close-up will magnify every awkward detail, and trust me—when you watch yourself on TV later, your toes will curl so hard you could dig a hole through the floor!”

“Pfft—!” Le Ling covered her mouth, laughing.

“Enough teasing! Just tell me what to do, senior!” Wei Sheng pleaded pitifully.

Shen Yi suddenly grinned mischievously.

Wei Sheng felt a chill run down his spine.

And moments later…

He witnessed firsthand just how unhinged Shen Yi could be when it came to acting techniques.

Her methods were so unconventional they might as well have been from another galaxy.

She had Le Ling act out a modified version of the scene, specifically designed to trigger Yang Fan’s physical reactions—

“Your best friend since childhood, an honorable people’s police officer, suddenly sacrificed his life while apprehending criminals.”

“As his best friend, you come to attend his funeral.”

“Then you discover a letter on his desk, written for you.”

“You try to take this letter, which rightfully belongs to you, but the staff on-site refuses you without mercy.”

“Just like that, you lose the only memento he left behind…”

Wei Sheng: “…”

What did my best friend do to deserve this?

However, perhaps this kind of immersive acting method really suited Wei Sheng.

With his strong sense of empathy, he stood still, head lowered, trying his best to put himself in the shoes of the person in the scenario. When he mentally replaced the image of the deceased with his own close friend, tears instantly welled up and rolled down his face.

“It’s working!!!”

Shen Yi and Le Ling exchanged excited glances and clapped in celebration.

Then, one on each side, they dragged the red-eyed Wei Sheng straight to Director Li Lei.

“What’s wrong with Xiao Wei? Is he so anxious that he cried? Don’t worry, I wasn’t rushing you!” Li Lei hurriedly grabbed some tissues to wipe Wei Sheng’s tears.

This was his treasured consultant!

Even if Wei Sheng’s acting was abysmal and unusable, he still wanted to maintain a good relationship with the young man.

After all, if he ever got another script about rural life and patriotism, he’d need Wei Sheng’s help to ensure it was authentic—otherwise, instead of being down-to-earth, it might end up six feet under!

“This kid seems to have had a breakthrough, Director Li. Let’s try filming this scene again and see how he does this time?” Shen Yi pointed to the very part of the script that had just brought Wei Sheng to tears.

Everyone in the crew had been worried sick that Wei Sheng couldn’t deliver the performance the director wanted. Now that he finally had a spark of inspiration and wanted to give it another go, what were they waiting for? Roll cameras immediately!

This scene was being filmed in the actual building where Huang Xiujuan used to work, though they had switched to a different office.

The desk Huang Xiujuan had once sat at had long since been cordoned off with police tape, and a sign was placed next to it. Now, it had become a must-visit site for anyone coming to Huangjiabao for educational tours.

However, the production crew had found an office downstairs with an identical layout and had meticulously recreated Huang Xiujuan’s workspace to match the original.

With everything set, Wei Sheng stood blankly before the worn, slightly peeling wooden desk, staring at the neatly stacked documents on top. The uppermost pages had been corrected with red pen—Huang Xiujuan had been revising these documents before submitting them to the county.

Wei Sheng tried to imagine these pages as a letter. At the same time, an old friend’s face appeared unbidden in his mind.

Jiang Linhai—his best friend from high school.

That guy had always been playful, even in senior year when everyone else was studying like mad for the college entrance exams. He would always sneak off to the basketball court whenever the homeroom teacher wasn’t looking, blending in with the first-year students for a game.

After graduation, Wei Sheng went to university, while Jiang Linhai joined the local firefighting unit, becoming an honorable firefighter.

During his first summer break from college, Jiang Linhai had treated him to a barbecue near the fire station.

Back then, Wei Sheng had jokingly told him that if his house ever caught fire and Jiang Linhai came to put it out, he had only one request—never mind the furniture, just save his treasured collection of rare cassette tapes featuring Andy Lau, Jacky Cheung, Stefanie Sun, and Jay Chou!

He had always thought that Jiang Linhai’s name seemed predestined for firefighting—after all, “Jiang” means river, and “Hai” means sea. With a name like that, he practically came with his own water supply!

But who could have imagined that in his second year of college, the largest chemical plant in J City would explode, and Jiang Linhai’s entire Fifth Firefighting Brigade would be dispatched to the scene?

The fire was so intense that the entire brigade was mobilized, leaving only a rookie behind to guard the station.

Twenty-five firefighters went in.

Not a single one made it out alive.

When the news reached Wei Sheng, he had already secured a summer internship.

But he didn’t report to work.

Instead, he rushed back home to bid his old friend one last farewell.

Yet, all he saw in the end was a charred, unrecognizable firefighter’s helmet…

At some point, tears had silently streamed down Wei Sheng’s face.

Across time, he seemed to see that basketball-loving boy again, the one who always skipped class but had a smile brighter than the July sun.

They had promised to play a match together on the fire station’s court during the next holiday.

But that match would never happen now.

With trembling hands, Wei Sheng broke free from the grip of the staff beside him. Covering his face, he sobbed uncontrollably, tears spilling through his fingers like a flood.

No one knew when the scene ended.

Wei Sheng had collapsed to the ground, shaking as he cried his heart out.

Outside the window, the locals who had gathered to watch the filming couldn’t hold back their own sobs.

The air was soon filled with wails, piercing and unrestrained.

Between the cries, the villagers’ voices rang out, calling desperately:

“Secretary Huang! Wuuu—Secretary Huang, we miss you so much!”

“Xiujuan! Our Xiujuan was still so young! She didn’t even get to have a child!”

“Heavens, how could you be so blind?! How could you take away such a good person? There are so many wicked people in this world—why didn’t you take them instead of our Secretary Huang?!”

The situation at the scene spiraled out of control.

Even the crew members had reddened eyes.

In fact, ever since the production crew arrived in Huangjiabao for on-location filming, this kind of scene was nothing new to them.

They still remembered the first day they arrived in Huangjiabao—when the news spread, villagers came rushing in from all directions.

Some had driven hundreds of miles back, others rode motorcycles or electric scooters, while some even arrived on donkeys or walked over a dozen miles through the mountains.

They had no other purpose— they just wanted to see whether the young actress playing Huang Xiujuan truly resembled her…

(End of chapter)

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#Notes

—In China, “主旋律” (Main-theme) typically describes films, TV shows, or books that promote national unity, historical achievements, or government policies. These works often highlight heroic figures, societal progress, and ideological themes that resonate with state-approved perspectives