Chapter 48 - 1#
Time quickly arrived at August 8th.
Inside the crew’s break room, the makeup artist finished Jing Shun’s first look according to the character’s needs—
The hair, intentionally grown out for the role, was neatly styled, leaving a natural curve at the nape of his neck.
Jing Shun wore a pair of semi-rimmed gold wire glasses on the bridge of his nose. Beneath the lenses, his peach blossom eyes were soft and gentle, with a faint red teardrop mole at the outer corner, blending subtly into the rosy hue.
A mere glance upward exuded a breathtaking beauty.
The makeup artist took a deep breath, immensely satisfied with her work. “Teacher Xiao Jing, a face like yours should be in movies!”
She had worked with countless celebrities and artists, seen no shortage of beauties, but Jing Shun’s face gave off a feeling—
Not just refinement, but a kind of purity and cleanness that could only be felt, not described, as if untouched by the “darker side” of the entertainment industry.
A face like this was wasted on TV dramas; it belonged on the big screen, for everyone to admire on film.
Yu Zhen returned with coffee, his eyes going wide. “Oh my god, Jing Shun, is it too late for me to join your fan club now?”
His friend’s bare face was already eye-catching enough; he never expected the made-up version to be even more lethal!
Jing Shun lightly pushed up his glasses, laughing at his exaggeration.
Just then, Yu Xiuzhu pushed the door open and walked in. “Done with makeup?”
He looked at Jing Shun in the wheelchair, fully styled, and showed satisfaction.
Jing Shun met Yu Xiuzhu’s gaze through the mirror, hiding the slight nervousness deep inside. “Brother Yu, roughly what time is the blocking rehearsal?”
Yu Xiuzhu said, “Just asked—about ten more minutes, and a staff member will come to call us.”
Jing Shun rubbed the script he had brought with him and nodded.
Yu Xiuzhu gestured for the makeup artist to leave first, and only when they were alone did he ask, “Xiao Jing, are you nervous?”
In front of familiar faces, Jing Shun didn’t hide it. “Yeah, a little.”
After all, filming a variety show and a TV drama were not the same.
He needed to portray another character’s life in front of the camera, and make the audience believe that character was a flesh-and-blood reality—no easy feat.
“Traces” adopted an efficient format of filming while airing, and filming had now progressed to the final unit.
Just last week, the drama premiered its first four episodes. Thanks to its tight plot and the stellar performances of the entire cast, it had generated high buzz across the internet.
Jing Shun knew his character, Yan Zijing, was a villain, a key supporting role in the last case. He didn’t want to become the weak link dragging down the entire crew when “Traces” reached its final unit.
Subtly adjusting his breathing rhythm, Jing Shun admitted, “To be honest, I didn’t sleep well last night.”
To others, Jing Shun had stopped filming due to his accident for less than a year, but to him, the interval was a solid five years.
Yu Zhen patted his friend’s shoulder, encouraging him. “Jing Shun, don’t be nervous! I may not know much about acting, but I’ve seen your work.”
“As an audience member, I think you were born for the camera.”
Yu Xiuzhu nodded in agreement. “True.”
“…Born for the camera?”
Hearing such high praise, Jing Shun didn’t dare accept it.
He had been praised for his acting talent before, but times had changed.
The entertainment industry was a fast-evolving place, and Jing Shun didn’t have that much confidence.
Zzzzz.
Familiar message vibrations came from his watch.
Jing Shun immediately opened it—he knew without thinking it was Chi Gui himself, since only the two of them used the exclusive account on the watch to communicate.
The set wasn’t easily accessible to outsiders, and Chi Gui’s special status made it hard for him to come over at the moment.
He was supposed to be resting at home today, but he had sent Jing Shun a photo of Gou Bao right on schedule, with a brief yet heartwarming message of encouragement at the bottom—
“Little dog says: Don’t be nervous. Believe in yourself.”
“…”
Jing Shun stared at the line of text, finally a smile breaking through. He couldn’t help pressing the voice reply button on his watch, his tone lifting:
“Got it. Then thank the little dog for me.”
Yu Xiuzhu and Yu Zhen heard this voice reply—full of a coaxing tone that the speaker himself didn’t seem aware of—exchanged a glance, and everything was understood without words.
Alright!
Looked like there was no need to worry!
A knock came, and a staff member pushed the door open. “Teacher Xiao Jing, Director Zheng has given the go-ahead. You can go for the blocking rehearsal.”
Jing Shun took off his watch and handed it to Yu Xiuzhu behind him. “Brother Yu, please keep this for me. Let me know if there’s any message.”
Yu Xiuzhu took it. “Okay.”
…
When Jing Shun arrived at the filming site, the lead actors Fu Changting and Jin Yulin had just arrived as well.
He took the initiative to greet them. “Brother Ting, Teacher Jin.”
Fu Changting saw Jing Shun’s look and immediately approved. “Xiao Jing, this must be your first time meeting Yulin, right? You two are the same age, just call each other by name.”
Jin Yulin, since Fu Changting had said so, naturally had no objections. “Let’s go with Brother Ting’s suggestion. Otherwise, going by debut time, I’d have to call you Teacher Xiao Jing.”
Jing Shun smiled. “I wouldn’t dare.”
Jin Yulin was handsome in a refined way and had only debuted for three years.
But backed by a big company, he had plenty of resources. A hit ancient-style romance drama last year had skyrocketed his popularity.
It was said that since filming began, the most sasaeng fans (dedicated fans) stationed outside the set were his.
Fortunately, the crew and Jin Yulin’s fan club responded in time, and the drama was filmed in a “film while airing” format, preventing too many spoilers from the fandom.
The three had only exchanged a few words when director Zheng Chun’an walked up. “Everyone’s here.”
His gaze then fell on Jing Shun. “Jing Shun, first of all, welcome to the crew. I heard you just finished surgery not long ago?”
Off set, Zheng Chun’an maintained a consistently warm attitude toward all actors. “If you experience any discomfort during filming, please let us know immediately.”
Zheng Chun’an was just over thirty-five but was an old hand at shooting crime investigation thrillers, standing out among the younger directors in the industry.
Jing Shun felt flattered and quickly responded, “Thank you, Director Zheng. I’ll take care of myself.”
Zheng Chun’an looked at the two lead actors, already familiar with them, and got straight to the point without any pleasantries. “Alright, let’s go over the scene here first.”
“Okay.”
“You all know what we’re filming today?”
As he said this, he deliberately glanced at Jing Shun in the wheelchair.
Jing Shun knew the director was “calling him out” and nodded in response. “Yes, I do.”
He had thoroughly studied every part of his role, all the plot points engraved in his mind. The content to be filmed was Yan Zijing’s first appearance in the drama—
After the police discovered a male corpse downstream of the Ning River, they began their investigation.
During this time, they found that similar modus operandi cold cases weren’t limited to just one! Over the past three years, all these cases had occurred in and around the Jiangdu City area.
Through in-depth investigation, they discovered that at least four of the victims’ families had ties, more or less, to the painter Yan Zijing.
Some had signed up for his painting classes, some had attended his exhibitions, and others had listened to his art lectures.
Too coincidental! Far too coincidental!
This web of clues woven from various traces made one of the male leads, Yue Qiao’an, instinctively sense something was wrong.
So, he found out the time of Yan Zijing’s latest lecture and brought along another male lead, Ling Zhuo, to pay him a visit.
“This scene is the first meeting between the two male leads and Yan Zijing.”
Both sides would engage in their first confrontation, concealed beneath language that wasn’t overtly sharp.
“From Yan Zijing’s perspective, he had long expected this day to come—he just didn’t expect the police to arrive so quickly. But more than surprise, what he feels inside is a kind of unknown excitement.”
“Finally, finally they found me.”
When Jing Shun uttered that last half-sentence, a hint of the character’s insane anticipation tinged his eyes.
Fu Changting realized he had grasped the core of the character, his gaze brightening slightly.
And Jin Yulin also sensed the shift in his aura, frowning almost imperceptibly—a faint competitive wariness rising between them as actors of the same generation.
“Very good, you’ve delved into the character’s essence nicely.”
Zheng Chun’an heard Jing Shun’s analysis of the character and noticed the heavily annotated script on his knees, deepening his approval.
He hoped that when official filming began, the actor would truly deliver the feeling he wanted!
Of course, Zheng Chun’an didn’t say this directly, so as not to add too much psychological pressure to the actor.
“Let’s do the blocking rehearsal. You three go over your lines again.”
“Mm.”
“Okay.”
Soon, extras filed in orderly. After forty minutes of on-site adjustments and confirmed marks, official filming finally began.
The clapperboard marked and appeared in front of the camera. “Traces, Unit Seven, Scene Eight, Take One!”
Zheng Chun’an gave the order, “Action!”
—Clap!
The sound of the clapperboard vibrated into Jing Shun’s eardrums, scattering the lingering nervousness at the bottom of his heart. He slowly lifted his eyes and began Yan Zijing’s life.
…
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, scattering an artful patch of light and shadow on the indoor floor.
The camera slowly panned upward—a hand as fair as jade appeared in the frame. The fingertips, holding the brush, were slightly red, landing a nearly perfect “signature” on the paper.
Not a traditional name, nor a simple English acronym, but a black swallow sketched in just a few strokes by the hand holding the pen.
Behind the director’s monitor, many crew members stood watching. Seeing this, they couldn’t help but be surprised:
Jing Shun could actually paint?
In just four or five seconds, the swallow in the lower right corner of the frame seemed almost lifelike! That was incredible!
Yu Zhen and Yu Xiuzhu were also watching from the sidelines. The former, upon seeing this, whispered the same curiosity, “Brother Yu, did Jing Shun learn to paint?”
Yu Xiuzhu murmured in reply, “He crammed it temporarily.”
During that month of postoperative rest, while studying the script, Jing Shun had a sudden inspiration for this signature change, feeling it could better highlight the character’s image.
So, he proactively contacted Fu Changting and the screenwriter, explaining his idea.
After gaining their approval, Jing Shun asked Yu Xiuzhu to find him an art teacher, and within a short time, he frantically crammed the basics of watercolor painting.