YABE - 5

The job of an assistant director is multifaceted and largely depends on the personality and habits of the director they’re working with.

Director Li was usually warm, gentle, and perpetually smiling. However, once on set, he transformed into a completely different person—strict, meticulous, and unyielding. If any aspect of a scene failed to meet his standards, he would call for a reshoot without hesitation.

Wen Siyu’s first day on set had initially worried her. She feared that Director Li might show leniency due to their prior acquaintance. But it quickly became clear that such concerns were entirely unfounded.

For the entire morning, the girl darted around the set like a spinning top, constantly running back and forth. At first, she was lost, asking everyone she encountered for directions. Fortunately, she’d already met most of the crew the previous day, and her quick wit, diligence, and sweet demeanor won her the affection of many. They all seemed to take a liking to this new intern who had seemingly “dropped from the sky.”

There was no time for her to adapt or ease into the role. Wen Siyu scurried after the assistant director, juggling tasks both big and small. From scheduling and taking meeting notes to coordinating notifications, fetching tea, and checking the weather forecast—she did it all.

When the director called for someone, it was her responsibility to bring them over immediately.

At this moment, Wen Siyu was scouring the set in search of Gu Hengan, the actor playing the male lead’s second-in-command.

She was familiar with Gu Hengan—he had starred as the male lead in a hit TV drama and was currently one of the hottest rising stars with legions of female fans. A graduate of the prestigious Central Academy of Drama’s acting department, he was technically her senior.

Not only was he blessed with a handsome face, but his work ethic was also commendable. He had arrived early that morning for his scenes. Initially polite and approachable upon learning she was a new intern and fellow student at the academy, his demeanor shifted when someone jokingly mentioned her connection to Director Li. His eyes cooled instantly, and his expression turned distant.

Wen Siyu noticed this change and felt a pang of委屈 (wrongful injustice). She thought to herself: It’s not like I’m pulling strings here—I’m just an intern! And yet, this senior of mine, this so-called upright youth who looks down on favoritism, acts so cold toward me. Such principled individuals were rare in the entertainment industry.

Grumbling inwardly, she climbed the stairs to his dressing room. Scanning the labels on the doors, she finally found his name on the second-to-last door near the end of the corridor.

Knocking lightly, she heard a faint, pleasant voice call out, “Come in.”

Turning the handle, she opened the door to find him looking up. His expression was distant and aloof.

Gu Hengan: “?”

Wen Siyu, unjustly disliked: “The next scene is yours, Teacher Gu. The director asked me to fetch you.” She carefully added the respectful title.

His expression softened slightly, and he nodded. “I see. Wait a moment.”

He grabbed two ties from the nearby table. “Come here.”

Wen Siyu obediently shuffled closer.

“Closer. Am I going to eat you?”

She took another step forward.

He held up the two ties. “Which one looks better?”

Wen Siyu: “??”

Impatient, Gu Hengan shook the ties in his hand. “I’m asking you. Which one looks better?”

The girl glanced at the tie in his left hand, then the one in his right, but couldn’t discern any difference. After a brief hesitation, she ventured tentatively, “The one on the left?”

He brought the tie in his left hand closer to examine it, then nodded and tossed it onto the table. Rising, he walked to the mirror and draped the tie from his right hand around his neck.

Wen Siyu: “….”

By the time they descended the stairs, Director Li was already searching for them. Gu Hengan took the script from his agent and approached the director, listening intently as Li explained the scene.

In the film, Gu Hengan played Lu Zhan, a police officer and Su Nuo’s close friend from high school. Fifteen years ago, Su Nuo had mysteriously vanished without a trace. Now, as prominent government officials began disappearing one by one, Lu Zhan’s investigation eventually led him to uncover the truth behind the events of fifteen years ago.

The scene they were filming today depicted the moment when Lu Zhan, accompanied by other officers, arrived at the house to find Su Nuo standing amidst a pool of blood.

Lu Zhan recognized him immediately. Su Nuo smiled as he looked at his old friend.

This was the exact scene they were shooting that afternoon.

When Wen Siyu read the script, she couldn’t help but suspect that the screenwriter, Ji Xia, might be a fujoshi.

Though the storylines of the two characters unfolded independently—Lu Zhan’s primary setting being the police station where most of his scenes took place—the lack of direct interaction between the two throughout the film made their sole confrontation feel strangely charged.

Even though they didn’t exchange a single line of dialogue, there was an undeniable undercurrent of tension.

It wasn’t until she witnessed the actual scene being filmed that everything clicked.

Jiang Xu arrived precisely on time, neither early nor late, as if every step had been timed to perfection. His expression was grim as he entered the makeup room. Twenty minutes later, the man who emerged was no longer Jiang Xu but Su Nuo.

Dressed in a black shirt, his hair deliberately disheveled, strands of bangs clinging to his forehead and temples. His naturally pale complexion was accentuated with makeup to appear sickly white, while his lips were subtly concealed to appear almost translucent.

Watching her idol act for the first time live on set filled Wen Siyu with more nervousness than even her college entrance exam had.

When Jiang Xu acted, he came alive.

No matter the character or the setting, once he immersed himself in the role, there was something about him that irresistibly drew people in. His gaze, demeanor, emotions, and aura—all ceased to belong to Jiang Xu and instead became Su Nuo’s magnetic presence.

Standing in the pre-set pool of blood, he closed his eyes briefly before reopening them with a faint, enigmatic smile. His entire aura shifted.

He was gravely injured; a bullet had nearly pierced his chest, and crimson blood seeped silently into his black shirt, hidden from view.

Thus, when Lu Zhan burst through the door, he noticed nothing amiss.

The man stood calmly by the stair railing, as if he had known Lu Zhan would come. On the pristine marble floor lay pools of blood, their source unknown.

Su Nuo wore the same familiar smile that Lu Zhan remembered from years past.

The smile they shared while being punished together in the hallway.

The laughter during secret trips to the school-side shop for spicy hot pot.

The grin when Su Nuo gifted him an MP3 player bought with his first scholarship.

Eyes slightly lowered, the corners of his lips curved gently.

Lu Zhan opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words.

Su Nuo gazed at him, smiling. His face was pale, but his eyes were alive, brimming with conflicted guilt and a sense of liberation.

“A Zhan, I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Sorry for leaving without a word. Sorry for disappointing you with my mistakes. Sorry for letting you see me like this.

“A Zhan.”

Lu Zhan’s eyes widened slightly, but before he could react—

Bam! Su Nuo collapsed to the ground.

……

“……”

Jiang Xu’s fall was genuine, and Wen Siyu winced just watching it.

And…

Was there something going on between Jiang Xu and Gu Hengan?!

The emotions in their eyes were far more complex than anything written in the script!

Moreover, hadn’t the script originally omitted any lines? So why did Gu Hengan seem so naturally in sync with Jiang Xu’s performance? This level of chemistry screamed that something was definitely going on between them!

Which meant… Gu Hengan was now her rival?! Not only did she have to win over her idol, but she also had to “straighten” him out. The difficulty level of this mission had just skyrocketed.

With Director Li’s shout of “Cut!” Jiang Xu snapped open his eyes, his face dropping as he rose from the ground and slumped back into his chair.

Li called Gu Hengan over to discuss the additional shots they needed and emphasized a few details to pay attention to. Meanwhile, Wen Siyu’s attention drifted back to Jiang Xu.

He lounged lazily in his chair, legs stretched out, his posture devoid of any pretense of maintaining an idol image.

Seeing him sit down, the young, somewhat awkward-looking assistant hurriedly handed him a bottle of water. Jiang Xu accepted it with a nod of thanks, holding it by the neck and swinging it idly like a pendulum.

Today, he seemed a bit down…

Wen Siyu blinked and covertly observed him from behind the director.

As if sensing her gaze, his hand paused mid-swing, and his deep brown eyes locked directly onto hers.

The sudden eye contact caught her off guard. It was the second time they had stared at each other since their encounter in the hotel lobby the previous night. Reflecting on it, there was something oddly poetic about their repeated exchanges—perhaps the result of countless missed encounters in past lives culminating in this intense connection. Wen Siyu froze, her mind spiraling into an internal fanfiction frenzy.

Realizing they had been staring at each other for several seconds, pretending to look away nonchalantly now felt too obvious. Instead, she raised her hand to nervously touch the tip of her nose, then offered him a polite smile.

Her hands were delicate, her fingers slender and elegant. Around her thin, pale wrist hung a silver bracelet adorned with small, round pearls spaced evenly along its length.

Jiang Xu paused, finding the bracelet vaguely familiar. Hadn’t he seen it somewhere recently?

A vivid blue sky, a pale hand forming a cheesy V-sign in the center of the frame, and a glimpse of a silver chain with a pearl charm.

Resting his chin on his hand, he pondered for a moment before realization dawned.

It was from Weibo.

The gaming streamer had posted it earlier that morning.