Chapter 288: Who’s Out-Acting Whom?
There was nothing her manager could do about it.
The role of the female lead had been Yan Huan’s to begin with. Yan Huan had the acting chops, the pretty face, the fame, and someone powerful looking out for her. The manager did not know for certain who was backing Yan Huan, but it had to be someone powerful—powerful enough to neutralize Su Muran’s attempts at sabotage. Otherwise, Yan Huan would have been banished from the production and showbiz by now.
Su Muran shut her laptop with more force than necessary. Her pupils constricted with anger; she seemed ready to shoot icy daggers out of her eyes.
It was time to film the next scene.
Bam! The door flung open, but Chen Jing did not react. She continued to lie calmly upon the chaise longue as a young maid carefully fanned her with a silk fan.
Qin Jun strode over to the maid and snatched the fan out of her hand.
He turned to the maid and snarled: “Scram!”
The maid nearly jumped out of her skin in fright. She hurried out the door.
“Chen Jing, I’m warning you, don’t cross the line.”
“Cross the line?” Chen Jing sat up and adjusted her clothes. “When have I ever crossed the line?”
“Don’t try to deny it,” sneered Qin Jun. “You ruthlessly break and destroy the women around me. You may be the daughter of a government official, but you’re absolutely heartless. You have no conscience to speak of. You’re a poisonous Black Widow.”
He suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Chen Jing’s hand. He did it with so much force he almost shattered Chen Jing’s bones in his grip.
“If you have a problem, take it up with me. I won’t stand by and let you take anyone from me.”
The dark expression on his face reflected the vicious ruthlessness within. He looked like a snarling, bloodthirsty wolf who would not hesitate to tear Chen Jing into a million pieces.
Yan Huan frowned. This was not part of the script—Bai Qiu was obviously trying to intimidate her into forgetting her lines.
Qin Jun abruptly let go of Yan Huan’s hand. He stepped to the side, keeping himself at a distance as he regarded Chen Jing with an expression of complete and utter contempt. It was the kind of look that one would direct to a pile of rotting garbage.
Chen Jing calmly got to her feet as she lowered her sleeve to hide the bruise on her wrist. She made sure not to hide it completely, however; she knew Director Jin would be astute enough to spot the bruise and capture it on camera. He was the kind of director who did not hesitate to use every microsecond of footage that contributed to the story, intentional or otherwise.
Chen Jing walked over to Qin Jun and stopped before him. She was still every bit of the proud daughter of a government official; she showed neither anger nor sorrow on her face. Instead, she stared directly into Qin Jun’s eyes.
“Did I cross the line?” Chen Jing asked Qin Jun.
Qin Jun frowned.
Before he could come up with a reply, Chen Jing had opened her mouth to speak again. There was now a bitter smile on her lips, but she kept her chin up—she would not show any kind of weakness to anyone.
“Well? Did I cross the line? You’re my husband. We exchanged marital vows, and consummated our marriage. I’ve been married to you five years, and not once have I ever been disloyal to you. You accuse me of breaking and destroying your mistresses, but haven’t you done the same to me?”
“Qin Jun…” She laughed bitterly. “You accuse me of being heartless. Well, what about you?”
“In any case…” She turned around. The smile was still on her face, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She pretended to adjust her clothes, even as the color drained from her face. “It looks like you care deeply about Mei Rushi. Fine. We’ll see who gets the last laugh—either she dies first, or I do.”
“You’re unbelievable!” With an angry, dismissive wave of his hand, Qin Jun stormed out the door. He knew, however, that he had been beaten at his own game: he could not find the words to defend himself.
Qin Jun was too ashamed to remain in the presence of Chen Jing.
Just as Bai Qiu was too ashamed to remain in the presence of Yan Huan.
The room lapsed into silence. Chen Jing turned back around, her lips still curved in a heartbreaking smile. Suddenly, she closed her eyes, allowing the tears to roll down her cheeks. The haughty smile remained on her face as the tears continued to fall—she clung stubbornly to her pride and dignity even as her world collapsed.
Beside the set—out of sight of the camera—Bai Qiu watched Yan Huan, his fingers clenched behind his back. He had used a few tactics to throw Yan Huan off her game, such as deliberately deviating from the script and suddenly grabbing her hand. He had meant to either make her forget her lines, or mess up the take in some other way out of sheer panic.
But he had underestimated Yan Huan’s ability to adapt to the situation. She had improvised her own lines to match his, and had even turned the tables on him. He had tried to use what was commonly known as “pressure acting” on her, but had ended up being out-acted instead.
The woman was a formidable opponent.
“Didn’t I tell you to use pressure acting on her? Well?” Su Muran was evidently not happy. “You promised, and you failed to deliver.”
Bai Qiu fully regretted being taken in by Su Muran. He had agreed to help Su Muran because she had promised to give him the role of the male lead in Director Jin’s next project if he turned the heat up on Yan Huan and stop her from performing to her full potential. It had been a tempting offer—the role of the male lead was not easy to obtain. He had only landed the role for Beauty out of sheer luck, and he knew that he would have to be a truly exceptional actor to get the role again in the future.
Unlike Su Muran, Bai Qiu did not come from a powerful family. He was nowhere near as talented as Yan Huan when it came to acting, either. All he had was a sudden stroke of good luck, and he knew he could not depend on it happening again. He had therefore agreed to Su Muran’s request—only to discover that there was a reason why Yan Huan’s first feature film had earned 600 million yuan at the box office, and also why she had won both the Best Newcomer and Best Supporting Actress award, despite having only made her acting debut in less than two years ago.
Her acting skills were the real deal.
“I’m no match for her.” Bai Qiu lifted his chin. He met the look of frosty disdain on Su Muran’s face evenly, without shrinking away.
“Ms. Su, you should try to improve your acting skills instead of wasting your time thinking up ways to sabotage other people. You may be able to fool yourself—and perhaps even the director and the rest of the production crew—but you won’t be able to fool everyone.
“We all have eyes. We can see and judge for ourselves. And there’s nothing to stop us from sharing our opinions.
“The world has changed. The internet makes it easy to share information. Don’t underestimate the internet—you’ll be surprised at how quickly word of mouth spreads across the net. It’s downright scary.”
With that, he turned and walked away. He swore inwardly to himself that he would never be tempted by similar offers in the future. Everyone wanted to take the shortcut to the top, but some shortcuts were simply too risky to take—one misstep would be all it took to send his career to an untimely end.