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A week before joining the film set, Tang Dingding was still busy filming GG . During a short break, she leaned back on a single-seater sofa, flipping through her script. She had already memorized it inside out and rehearsed countless times, but she still felt nervous.
Growing up, she had always been good enough at everything—seven out of ten points—but unlike her brother, who excelled at everything he did, achieving perfection every time.
Her assistant, Linlin, who was 23 years old—just a few months younger than Tang Dingding—spoke softly: “Dingding, take a break for a while.”
Tang Dingding preferred the staff to call her by name—it felt more intimate.
Without lifting her head, she replied: “It’s fine. I’ll go over the script one more time.”
Linlin couldn’t help but marvel at her artist. She was the epitome of someone born into wealth—beautiful, hardworking, and incredibly talented. If she didn’t succeed, it would defy the laws of heaven!
The reason Tang Dingding was so nervous was that Tang Xin had warned her: Lu Zhixing was a director obsessed with cinema, and his expectations for actors were extremely high. If he wasn’t satisfied with a scene, he’d make you repeat it endlessly—cut, cut, cut, cut, cut…
Last night, she had specifically searched for an interview with Lu Zhixing and watched it carefully.
In one video, Feng Cheng complained about him: “There was a scene filmed in the rain. That day, we shot it twenty-eight times. By the end of the night, both the male and female leads had caught colds and fevers.”
Feng Cheng added: “Yes, his standards are exceptionally high.”
Another screenwriter, Wan Li, laughed: “He really puts newcomers through their paces.”
Lu Zhixing leaned back on the couch, smirking lazily: “If I don’t demand perfection, how can I achieve box office success? How can I win awards?”
Tang Dingding knew what people online said about Lu Zhixing—they claimed he had lost his creative touch. After two poorly received films, his reputation had taken a hit, and directing a gay-themed movie hadn’t helped either. This film was his chance to redeem himself, and she feared ruining his career.
That evening, after finishing her bath, Tang Dingding slipped into bed wearing her pajamas. She snapped a photo of her script and sent it to Lu Zhixing.
She then composed a message and sent it.
On the other side, Lu Zhixing had just finished drying his hair. He tossed the towel aside and picked up his phone. His contact name for Tang Dingding was simply “Dingding”—he found that some actresses liked to change their nicknames frequently, and without a note, he often forgot who they were.
Dingding: “[Photo].”
Dingding: “Director Lu, I’m here to ask about my ‘homework.’ Should this scene lean more toward disappointment or sadness?”
He couldn’t help but smile. The term “homework” was fresh—he’d never had an actor refer to acting as homework before. When he handed out the scripts last time, he’d casually mentioned: “If there’s anything you don’t understand or need clarification on, feel free to ask me.”
Since then, Tang Dingding occasionally reached out with questions.
Her first message had been: “[Pity] Director Lu, I’m here to ask about my homework…”
Adorable.
In the entertainment industry, many actresses tried to project an image of innocence and cuteness, but Lu Zhixing could usually tell whether it was genuine after minimal interaction. Some were so transparent, it was laughable.
Tang Dingding was different. She truly embodied the carefree and genuine spirit of a young woman raised in privilege.
To use fan-speak—she was nothing like “those vulgar temptresses.”
Sometimes, Lu Zhixing was too lazy to type and would send voice messages instead. He lounged on the couch, legs crossed, looking visibly tired. Last night, he’d stayed up late meeting with an old friend, and today, he’d been busy preparing for the film’s start. Exhausted, his voice came out low and hoarse: “Your interpretation is correct.”
After listening to the message, Tang Dingding paused for a moment and replied: “Are you sick?”
Lu Zhixing chuckled: “No, I just drank too much last night and stayed up late.”
Dingding: “Then go to sleep quickly. Staying up late isn’t good for your health.”
Health issues…
Lu Zhixing wasn’t old enough for staying up late to seriously harm his health. He smirked slightly, deciding not to argue with the young girl. Seeing her hastily reply with a “good night,” he followed suit.
Lu Zhixing: “Good night.”
This was their final private chat before she joined the set.
Otherwise, they frequently interacted in the group chat, as many announcements were made there.
As the lead actress, Tang Dingding naturally had the most scenes. For the next three months, she would essentially live on set. She hadn’t yet moved out of the Tang family estate and was leaving home for such an extended period for the first time. Her manager, Han Bing, worried she might struggle to handle things independently, so Linlin was tasked with helping her prepare. Everything she needed to bring was meticulously listed.
Linlin wasn’t new to the Tang residence—every time she visited, she couldn’t help but exclaim internally: This family really does have mines!
Tang Dingding led Linlin to her room. It was spacious, decorated entirely in a girlish style. As Linlin entered, she could smell a faint, pleasant fragrance in the air. Tang Dingding pointed to two large suitcases: “I’ve packed almost everything.”
Linlin smiled: “Let me check if there’s anything missing.”
“There shouldn’t be. If anything’s missing, I can buy it there.”
“In that case, I’ll help you pack. I’m better at it.”
Together, they filled the two large suitcases and stood them upright.
Tang Dingding took a photo and posted it on her social media.
Tang Dingding: “Ready to go! 😊”
Before boarding the plane, Lu Zhixing saw this post on her feed. She seemed to enjoy sharing updates on social media. Among his contacts, she and Tang Xin were the most active posters. He didn’t usually snoop through others’ feeds, but when he happened to see something, he wouldn’t scroll back further.
He gave her post a like.
It was his way of saying: Welcome to the set. Good luck with filming.
The driver had already taken the luggage downstairs, and Linlin went ahead to oversee things. In the living room, Tang Dingding said goodbye to Zeng Wan and Tang Haiming. She wasn’t unfamiliar with leaving home, but this time, it wasn’t for school or vacation.
She was going to work!
Zeng Wan fretted, worrying she wouldn’t eat or sleep well or that the work would be too demanding. She whispered: “Do your best, but don’t push yourself too hard. It’s your first time acting, so it’s natural to have shortcomings. If the director is too harsh, don’t endure it. You brought a hundred million yuan investment to the project—you don’t need to worry.”
Tang Dingding: “….”
Bringing money to join a production wasn’t exactly something to brag about, Mom.
She smiled reassuringly: “I know. Don’t worry too much. Tang Xin is also on set as the screenwriter. What’s there to fear?”
Zeng Wan almost forgot about that detail and smiled: “Then give it your all, but don’t stress too much. Your brother said this is her first screenplay, so it’s important. Still, don’t let it weigh on you.”
Tang Dingding: “…Alright.”
She was already under immense pressure, thank you very much.
She knew how many people were depending on this movie for their livelihoods. It was Tang Xin’s first major screenplay, and Lu Zhixing’s chance to redeem his reputation. With so many original fans and eyes watching closely, even with her privileged background and good looks, poor acting would inevitably invite criticism.
Before accepting the role, her brother had carefully outlined the pros and cons, letting her weigh the decision herself.
Zeng Wan accompanied her to the door. After getting into the car, Tang Dingding instructed the driver: “To the airport.”
The next morning was the official start ceremony. All key cast and crew members were required to attend. Lu Zhixing had already flown ahead with the team, while Tang Dingding traveled on the same flight as Tang Xin and her brother. When they arrived at the VIP lounge, Tang Xin and Tang Yu were already waiting.
Upon entering, Tang Dingding realized Huo Chendong was also there.
Tang Xin waved: “Dingding, over here!”
Tang Dingding walked over, first calling out: “Brother,” then turning to Huo Chendong, “Huo Ge.”
Tang Yu hummed in acknowledgment. Huo Chendong smiled faintly: “Nervous?”
Tang Dingding lowered her eyes and sat down next to Tang Xin, giving a soft smile: “Not really nervous—just a little excited.”
Huo Chendong stood leaning against the wall, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. His gaze lingered on the young girl in front of him. Her assistant handed her a cup of hot water, and she thanked them with a polite smile. Her gentle demeanor, combined with her striking beauty and the groundwork laid by Tang Yu, left no doubt about her potential.
If she truly wanted to pursue this path, there was no question she would shine brightly.
The movie was about to begin filming, and he still couldn’t quite picture her surrounded by flowers and cameras.
Tang Dingding chatted quietly with Tang Xin, while Huo Chendong exchanged only a few words with Tang Yu. Occasionally, they discussed business matters, but given the confidentiality of some topics, it wasn’t suitable to delve into them in public.
After boarding the plane, Tang Dingding realized she was seated next to Huo Chendong.
Fortunately, Tang Xin came over and swapped seats with him.
Tang Xin leaned in and whispered: “Still nervous?”
Tang Dingding shook her head: “No, just feeling a bit awkward. We grew up together, and I liked him for so long… After letting go, things are bound to feel a little strange.” She smiled faintly. “Maybe once I find someone else I like—or have a boyfriend—it won’t feel this way anymore.”
When would she meet someone she truly liked—and who truly liked her back?
Not just ordinary affection.
But real affection!
Like the mutual love and respect between Tang Xin and her brother.
________________________________________
By the time they landed, it was already six o’clock. From the airport to the hotel, it was past seven. The production team had arranged a group dinner, and after checking in, Tang Dingding headed upstairs with Linlin, pushing her luggage.
Earlier, Han Bing had suggested assigning her an additional male assistant to help carry things, but she declined.
If everyone else brought only one assistant, having two would make her stand out too much. More importantly, she wasn’t yet sure how well she’d perform on set. If she didn’t do well and had such a grand entourage…
It would be embarrassing.
Linlin pushed the two suitcases confidently: “Don’t worry, Dingding! One person can handle the work of two—I’ll take good care of you!”
She wasn’t exaggerating. At 175 cm tall, she was considered tall among women, with a sturdy build but not overweight. Her strength rivaled that of most men, and she even practiced taekwondo. She was handpicked by Tang Yu to be Tang Dingding’s assistant—kind, attentive, detail-oriented, and capable of handling herself when necessary…
In critical moments, she could even double as a bodyguard!
And her salary? Quite high!
Tang Dingding couldn’t help but laugh: “I know you’re amazing. Hurry up and put the stuff down—we’re going to be late.”
The hotel rooms had been pre-booked by the production team. The writers, director, and main cast were all assigned adjacent rooms. After unpacking their belongings, Tang Dingding touched up her makeup. Glancing at the time, it was nearly half past seven.
She turned to Linlin, who was still organizing the luggage: “Let’s go.”
Linlin quickly rushed over: “Coming!”
A new message popped up on WeChat.
Tang Xin: “We’re heading over now. Hurry up!”
Tang Yu was hosting the dinner, and almost everyone had arrived. Being late wouldn’t look good.
Tang Dingding felt a bit anxious about being tardy. After stepping out of her room, she glanced back at Linlin and urged: “Hurry!” Without paying attention to what was ahead, she suddenly collided with a solid figure. Pain shot through her shoulder, and she took a small step back.
Lu Zhixing, who had just closed his door, was bumped into.
He wasn’t hurt or irritated. Looking down at the frowning young girl, meeting her bright eyes, he chuckled: “What’s worrying you? I knew your flight landed late, so we scheduled it for seven-thirty. It’s nearby—a few minutes’ walk.”
Tang Dingding pursed her lips and murmured softly: “I’m afraid we’ll be late…”
Unable to resist, she raised her hand to rub her sore shoulder.
Lu Zhixing narrowed his eyes slightly and asked in a low voice: “Did it hurt? Sorry.”
Tang Dingding quickly shook her head: “I’m the one who bumped into you.”
He didn’t dwell on it, his lips curving faintly as he kept his hands in his pockets. Turning around, he walked ahead, his voice lazy: “Nothing to worry about. Let’s go, or we’ll really be late.”
Tang Dingding responded with an “Oh,” and hurried to catch up.
After locking the door, Linlin followed behind.
As Lu Zhixing had said, the restaurant was close to the hotel—a few minutes’ walk. They arrived exactly at seven-thirty.
Everyone was already there.
Tang Dingding sat next to Tang Xin, while Lu Zhixing sat across from her. As soon as they settled, their eyes met briefly.
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