Chapter 304 | Chapter 305 | Chapter 306
Chapter 304: Filming — Stunning Styling
Director Wang was a decisive, no-nonsense person. Once all the cast had been finalized, he immediately began preparations to start filming.
The drama was titled Jianghu Turmoil. It told the story of the male lead, An Zihao, who rose from an unknown nobody in the martial world to become the number one expert and ultimately unify the jianghu.
Martial arts dramas were an extremely niche genre these days. Very few directors dared to touch them anymore—only someone as experienced as Director Wang would have the guts to take on wuxia again.
It was said that the first wuxia film Director Wang ever made was ten years ago. That movie, Bladesman, had swept the country and become wildly popular. From then on, wuxia films flooded the market, audiences gradually grew tired of them, and eventually period martial arts dramas became a field directors no longer dared to step into lightly.
Now that Director Wang was returning to wuxia, the news alone stirred great anticipation among viewers. Though he said nothing about it, he clearly placed immense importance on this production.
There were no scenes for Nan Xun on the first day. The day’s shoot focused on young An Zihao and young Yang Yurou.
Still, eager to familiarize herself with the set in advance, Nan Xun couldn’t wait and dragged Zhao Rui along with her.
In the story, young An Zihao loses his memory and is rescued by Yang Yurou’s parents. The Yang family is a top-ten martial arts clan in the jianghu. With only one precious daughter, Yang Yurou, the Yang couple saw that An Zihao had good character and raised him as half a son, even harboring thoughts of having him marry into the family.
However, the Yang family’s martial arts were passed down internally and never to outsiders. So before An Zihao officially became their son-in-law, the couple could only teach him basic martial skills.
The story unfolded from the childhood of An Zihao and Yang Yurou.
The first day featured scenes of the two as childhood sweethearts. Although their screen time was limited, Director Wang demanded a lot from the two child actors. His fierce demeanor even scared the little girl playing Yang Yurou into tears.
The crying gave Director Wang a massive headache, and he quickly sent someone to comfort her.
By the time she was soothed, an entire hour had passed.
Nan Xun laughed helplessly. “So I came today just to watch kids cry?”
Zhao Rui said, “Don’t underestimate these two. They’re more experienced than you. Little Yang Yurou has appeared in many popular idol dramas, and little An Zihao is practically a veteran actor. Don’t let his age fool you—he’s only ten, but he started acting at four.”
Nan Xun took a critical hit. “……”
After that, the two child actors quickly got into character. With only three NGs, the scene passed.
In the final shot, young An Zihao played the xiao while young Yang Yurou danced with a sword.
In the blink of an eye, the childhood sweethearts grew up—meaning tomorrow’s scenes would be Nan Xun’s, opposite the Best Actor Lin Yufan.
Director Wang had noticed Zhao Rui and Shan Shui long ago, but he’d been too busy to deal with them. Only after wrap-up did he take the initiative to greet them, looking at Shan Shui as he asked, “Any thoughts after watching?”
Nan Xun smiled faintly. “Watching looks easy. Filming is hard. Being a director isn’t any easier than being an actor.”
Director Wang curled his lips, thinking: Little bootlicker.
“Your lines are memorized, right? I’ll say this upfront—I won’t go easy on you just because you’re new. Tomorrow you’re acting opposite Lin Yufan. On set, the biggest taboo is imbalance. If your acting can’t keep up with his…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but Nan Xun felt knives shooting out of his eyes.
Zhao Rui laughed awkwardly. “Don’t worry, Director Wang. I’ll rehearse with her tonight. She definitely won’t drop the ball tomorrow.”
However, once they got back, Zhao Rui flipped through the script and realized Shan Shui didn’t have many lines. Most of her scenes were action and dance. The fight scenes would definitely use a stunt double. As for dancing, there would be professional instructors on set—and if all else failed, a double could be used too. Playing the guqin or xiao only required looking the part.
In short, the role of Yang Yurou only needed one thing: to look beautiful on camera.
After flipping through the script several more times, Zhao Rui finally relaxed.
The next day, when Nan Xun arrived on set, the production and props teams had everything ready. The costume designers and makeup artists were already there. Even Director Wang and the assistant director had arrived and were checking camera angles.
Nan Xun glanced at the time to make sure she wasn’t late.
Director Wang spared her a glance and said to the stylist, “Take her to get styled, then change into the first outfit.”
Nan Xun hugged the arm of the woman beside her and whispered, “Sis, am I late?”
Seeing her timid, pitiful look, the woman burst out laughing. “Relax, you’re not late. Director Wang just has a habit of arriving early. The rest of us can’t possibly show up later than him. Call me Sister Qin—I’m in charge of styling and makeup for all the female actors.”
Nan Xun quickly got along with the stylists and assistants in the makeup room. Her mouth was always sweet, and her compliments never came off as oily.
Sister Qin ran her fingers through Nan Xun’s jet-black hair, completely in love with it. “Shan Shui, how do you take care of your hair? The texture is amazing. I have to give you a fairy-like look.”
After finishing the hairstyle, Sister Qin moved on to makeup, showering her with praise again. “Your skin is incredible—you practically don’t need makeup at all. Tsk tsk, such a good foundation!”
Nan Xun: “……”
Once Nan Xun had changed clothes, finished styling, and completed her makeup, everyone in the room was stunned.
“So beautiful—absolutely gorgeous!”
She wore a white, wide-sleeved flowing dress, the hem nearly brushing the floor. Her hair was lightly swept up, adorned with a circle of delicate white pearl flowers. Long black hair cascaded down to her waist, glossy and smooth, forming a striking contrast with the white dress.
When the beauty smiled gently, her dark eyes seemed filled with boundless tenderness—soft, graceful, and serene.
An assistant nearby couldn’t resist snapping a few photos and eagerly saving them to her phone.
When Nan Xun stepped outside like that, more gasps of amazement followed.
A handsome man stood beside Director Wang. Seeing Nan Xun in period costume, he froze for a moment, then said something to the director.
Director Wang immediately looked over. He stared for two seconds—then exploded.
“Who did this styling?! Do you think this is a xianxia drama?! So damn ethereal—are the other actors supposed to live or not?! Change the look! Now! And change that dress too!”
With a dark expression, Sister Qin led Nan Xun back into the makeup room. She pulled out her phone and snapped several photos of Nan Xun. “What’s he yelling for? Too fairy-like is a crime now? I’m keeping these for myself.”
Nan Xun simply struck a few “fairy descending to the mortal world” poses and smiled. “Sister Qin made me way too beautiful. Even I don’t dare believe the person in the mirror is me.”
Hearing that, Sister Qin’s mood instantly improved. She had Nan Xun sit back down and redid her hairstyle.
The new style was slightly more intricate. The pearl flowers were removed, replaced with hairpins and tassels. The brows were curved a bit more, the lip color deepened slightly, and the wide sleeves were swapped for narrow ones.
After all these changes, Shan Shui seemed to descend from the heavens back to the earth. She was still beautiful—but no longer otherworldly. Instead, she looked like someone stepping out of a painting of the mortal world.
Sister Qin howled, “No way—every style looks good on you! I’m going to get a nosebleed!”
Nan Xun secretly said to Little Eight, “Aiya, Sister Qin keeps praising me. I’m so shy.”
Little Eight replied, “…Darling, do you really know how to write the word ‘shy’?”
Chapter 305: Boss, I’m Your Die-Hard Fan
Director Wang was very satisfied with Nan Xun’s styling and makeup this time.
Not long after, the handsome guy who had been beside Director Wang earlier—Lin Yufan, who played the male lead—finished his styling and came out as well. He wore a dark robe, his hair neatly tied up without a single loose strand. He looked very handsome, though due to the plot, his expression appeared a bit naïve and simple.
Lin Yufan had always been known as a “costume-drama heartthrob.” However, his early styling wasn’t especially eye-catching. Standing next to the “number one beauty of the martial world,” he appeared slightly inferior.
That was exactly the effect Director Wang wanted. Regardless of acting skills, he was very satisfied with both of their looks.
The first scene was set:
An Zihao played the flute, while Yang Yurou performed a sword dance.
The instructor demonstrated the sword routine once on the spot. Just as he was about to do it a second time, Nan Xun politely said, “That won’t be necessary, Teacher. I’ve got it.”
Director Wang, who had just taken a sip of water and was preparing to rest for twenty minutes: …
Lin Yufan, who had just been posing coolly with the flute: …
There were only a few sword moves, but learning them that fast—wasn’t that a bit of bragging?
Director Wang glanced at Dan Shui and said dryly, “All personnel in position. Action!”
As soon as the clapperboard sounded, the two of them instantly entered character.
An Zihao sat on a rock to the side and began playing the flute.
To create a realistic effect, Lin Yufan was actually blowing into the flute—but the sound that came out wasn’t music at all. It was pure noise.
Nan Xun froze on the spot.
“Cut! Dan Shui, what are you doing?!” Director Wang roared.
The entire set went silent. Director Wang’s temper was as explosive as ever. Even facing such a stunning beauty, he showed not the slightest mercy.
Nan Xun paused, then said to Lin Yufan in front of her, “Brother Fan, could you maybe play a little softer next time? I was… startled just now.”
Because… it sounded really awful.
Lin Yufan smiled awkwardly. “I know it sounds bad, but Director Wang wants me to actually play.”
Nan Xun had deliberately lowered her voice to give him some face—after all, he was a newly crowned Best Actor.
But Lin Yufan clearly didn’t think it was embarrassing, and his reply was heard by everyone present.
Director Wang’s expression softened slightly. He said to Dan Shui, “You need to imagine that An Zihao’s flute music is beautiful. That’s basic acting.”
Nan Xun nodded obediently. Then, in the next second, she said to Little Eight, “Little Eight, block my hearing.”
Little Eight: …
After the clapperboard sounded again, the temporarily deaf Nan Xun quickly entered her role.
Under the blooming peach blossom tree, the man sat cross-legged, holding his flute and playing, his gaze fixed on the sword-dancing woman, unable to hide the admiration in his eyes.
The woman’s figure was graceful, her sword dance even more beautiful than the peach blossoms.
The wind stirred by the sword sent petals fluttering down like rain, scattering over both their clothes.
After completing the final move, the peerless beauty sheathed her sword and walked up to the man. She bent slightly, smiling as she said, “Zihao, it’s time to go back.”
An Zihao snapped back to his senses and grinned widely. “Alright.”
“Cut!” Director Wang’s voice carried clear excitement.
That sword dance had been amazing—far too professional! Dan Shui had perfectly captured the beauty of Yang Yurou wielding a sword.
Originally, Director Wang hadn’t planned to give Nan Xun any close-up shots in this scene. But after zooming in just now, every single expression she made while dancing was beautiful—perfect from every angle.
Not giving close-ups to such a face would be an absolute waste.
Even the dance instructor was stunned and joked that Dan Shui could graduate immediately.
The following scenes—walking together on the road, Yang Yurou skipping along, suddenly turning back with a smile, circling An Zihao, tossing flower petals at his face while calling him a fool, and the Yang parents subtly bringing up their marriage again while Yang Yurou lowered her gaze shyly—all passed in one take.
Director Wang’s old face finally showed a restrained smile—and he kept grinning the entire time.
The final result was even better than he’d imagined. How could he not be happy?
Under his lens, Yang Yurou—the number one beauty of the martial world—reached a whole new level of stunning.
The next scene was Yang Yurou playing the zither while An Zihao played the flute, the two harmonizing together.
Director Wang had invited a professional guzheng teacher to instruct Dan Shui on hand positions, but the girl boldly said, “Director Wang, let’s just do it. No need to teach me—I know a bit of guzheng.”
Director Wang opened his mouth, then coughed lightly and said flatly, “Mm. Good. Very good.”
Once the clapperboard sounded, Nan Xun placed her hands on the strings. Even with just a few casual plucks, the beautiful music stunned everyone present.
She really knew how to play the guzheng!
Nan Xun wasn’t even playing seriously. After all, Dan Shui wasn’t supposed to know how—looking convincing was enough. If anyone asked later, she could always say she was self-taught. Dan Shui had stayed at home for two years anyway; no one knew what she’d done during that time.
Just as Nan Xun was playing smoothly, Director Wang suddenly called cut—but this time, he wasn’t glaring at her. He was glaring at Lin Yufan.
“Lin Yufan, what are you spacing out for? The scene has already started!”
Lin Yufan had been shocked by this newcomer named Dan Shui.
He had a wide social circle and had seen plenty of multi-talented celebrities, but very few actually knew how to play the guzheng.
Sitting there with her slender fingers on the strings, she truly looked like Yang Yurou from the script—breathtakingly beautiful.
Acting with her felt comfortable. He never lost immersion—sometimes, it wasn’t him guiding her, but her pulling him into the scene.
If Lin Yufan had held any bias before, it was completely gone now. He himself had climbed up from being a newcomer, step by step. He understood how hard it was, and he genuinely admired Dan Shui.
“Action!”
The familiar scene resumed: the man played the flute, the woman played the zither.
Without comparison, there’s no contrast. The zither was melodious; the flute was ear-piercing. A few crew members secretly shot Lin Yufan looks full of disdain.
The newly crowned Best Actor could only laugh bitterly inside.
When the song ended, An Zihao suddenly took Yang Yurou’s hand and gazed at her tenderly.
“Roumei, once I marry you, I’ll treat you wholeheartedly.”
Yang Yurou tugged his ear teasingly. “So you weren’t wholehearted before marrying me?”
“Ow!” An Zihao yelped. “Roumei, I was wrong—be gentle!”
Yang Yurou released him, and the two exchanged a loving smile, affection flowing between them.
Director Wang’s final “cut” was called with a grin.
Just then, someone suddenly exclaimed in excitement, pointing at the doorway.
“Ou Qian!”
Ou Qian stood tall at the entrance, looking over at the set.
For a brief moment, his expression was extremely dark—but as soon as everyone turned to look at him, he instantly smiled again, gentle, noble, and elegant.
It was no exaggeration to say that everyone present—from crew members to stylists, lighting technicians, and assistants—were all die-hard fans of Film Emperor Ou Qian.
Just as everyone was secretly thrilled yet too restrained to step forward, a figure suddenly rushed ahead at an exaggerated speed.
In the blink of an eye, the usually reserved beauty Dan Shui had sprinted straight up to Ou Qian.
Her face was flushed red, her eyes burning with excitement as she stared at him. In an extremely loud voice, she declared:
“Boss Ou Qian! I’m your die-hard fan! Could you give me an autograph?!”
Everyone present was instantly dumbfounded.
Chapter 306: Ahh! Got the Autograph!
People thought Dan Shui was reserved because she stayed remarkably calm after meeting Best Actor Lin Yufan.
During breaks, little fangirls would often go ask Lin Yufan for autographs, while Dan Shui lounged in a chair, scrolling through Manman on her phone.
As last year’s newly crowned Best Actor, Lin Yufan had solid acting skills and good looks. He wasn’t the kind of handsome that shattered the heavens, but he made up for it with a refined, scholarly air. Aside from Ou Qian, he was the youngest Best Actor in the industry—only thirty-two this year. In showbiz, fifty looks like forty, forty looks like thirty, so Lin Yufan barely looked any different from actors in their twenties. He was easily one of the most popular male stars, second only to Ou Qian.
With such a handsome man right in front of her, Dan Shui remained completely unmoved. Even when they rehearsed scenes together in private, she was polite but distant.
Sure, juniors should respect seniors—but how could this newcomer named Dan Shui stay so composed in front of Fan-ge?
Fan-ge smiled so warmly. He was famously gentle in the industry; chatting with him always felt comfortable.
So everyone figured Dan Shui must be another one of Fan-ge’s fangirls—just the restrained type.
And yet, the ancient-costume beauty now sprinting toward Ou Qian like the wind, eyes sparkling and grinning like an idiot, created such a stark contrast that everyone present was left slack-jawed.
Even Director Wang’s mouth twitched when he saw Dan Shui acting this silly.
Dan Shui’s performance today had been so good that even Director Wang, who was filming the scene, had gotten pulled in. Subconsciously, he’d started to believe Dan Shui really was Yang Yurou—elegant, yet full of spirit.
But now, the image of elegance he’d built up went crash, smashing to the ground and shattering into pieces.
Nan Xun stopped in front of Ou Qian. When she rushed over just now, a flash of surprise clearly crossed Ou Qian’s eyes, but in the next second, his lazily lowered gaze carried a hint of interest.
Ou Qian leaned slightly to one side, casually resting against a disposable barrier frame, one hand tucked into his pocket.
On anyone else, hands in pockets looked like hooligan behavior. On him, it just looked ridiculously cool.
Ou Qian glanced at the fangirl in front of him, let out a soft chuckle, and asked, “Where do you want me to sign?”
Only then did Nan Xun remember she hadn’t brought any paper or pen—she’d really rushed over like an idiot. Her eyes flicked around before she lifted her wide sleeve, revealing a fair stretch of arm. She looked straight at him and said, “Brother Ou Qian, just sign on my arm!”
Ou Qian pulled a fountain pen from his pocket and reached out to hold the beauty’s wrist. He studied her pale arm for a moment, raised a brow slightly, and said, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Nan Xun nodded vigorously. “Here, here! Thank you, Brother Ou Qian!”
Holding the pen, Ou Qian flicked his wrist, the nib dancing across her slender, jade-white arm in bold strokes.
Nan Xun sucked in a quiet breath.
So much force! Didn’t he know fountain pen nibs were sharp? Just a bit harder and he could’ve cut her skin.
Still, when Nan Xun looked at the messy yet handsome signature on her arm, she broke into a huge grin.
Although a trace of Dan Shui’s original, irrational idol worship still lingered in her body, Nan Xun’s arrival dulled that edge. What remained was the excitement and shy joy of a fangirl meeting her idol—endearing rather than off-putting.
Director Wang gave a heavy cough. “Old Ou, you’re such a busy man—what brings you here to see me?”
Ou Qian shot him a glance, slowly capped the pen, and strolled over.
Nan Xun carefully lowered her sleeve, making sure not to smear the still-wet ink, then trotted after her idol.
Noticing staff still watching, Director Wang bellowed, “What are you all staring at? Wrap it up! Props, lighting, makeup—go pack your own stuff!”
With that lion’s roar, everyone scattered like birds and beasts. Even Lin Yufan greeted them, called out “Brother Qian,” and headed to the makeup room to remove his makeup.
Lin Yufan really wanted to ask the Best Actor for acting advice, but this clearly wasn’t the right moment.
Before leaving, out of a bit of goodwill toward Dan Shui, Lin Yufan shot a look at the girl quietly standing beside Ou Qian, signaling for her to leave with him.
Unfortunately, Dan Shui’s gaze hadn’t left Ou Qian’s face from the very start, so his look was completely wasted.
Lin Yufan shook his head helplessly. Ou Qian hated people clinging to him the most, especially anyone trying to ride his fame. Dan Shui looked like a pure fangirl, sure—but who knew what rumors might start?
Still, judging by Ou Qian’s not-so-distant attitude, this fangirl probably wasn’t pressing her warm face against a cold wall.
Before leaving, Lin Yufan swept his eyes over the tall, striking man. Thinking about how Ou Qian was younger than him yet already had such achievements, he couldn’t help feeling a mix of admiration and envy.
He’d deliberately watched Ou Qian’s film and TV works—his acting really was flawless. This man seemed born for the industry, with every right to be proud.
Once everyone else had dispersed, Director Wang glanced at Dan Shui, full of disdain at her lack of composure. “Your idol Ou Qian has something to discuss with me. You’ve got your autograph—why are you still here?”
Nan Xun let out an “oh,” then reluctantly headed to the changing room, turning back every few steps.
Ou Qian caught that lingering white figure out of the corner of his eye and curved his lips slightly.
Director Wang clicked his tongue. “Seriously. Everywhere you go, there’s another fangirl. This one’s got some nerve—ditched her image completely just for an autograph. When this girl gets famous one day and looks back on today, she’ll be mortified and want to crawl into a crack in the ground.”
He sighed. “Too young. Too impulsive.”
That clearly displeased Ou Qian. He frowned briefly before smoothing his expression. “You think she’s good too?”
Director Wang answered honestly. “She’s a good seed. Give her enough opportunities, and this girl will definitely become hugely popular.”
Then, still a bit doubtful, he added, “She really has never set foot in the entertainment industry before? If that’s true, you’d better watch out, Ou Qian. Her talent isn’t inferior to yours. You entered the industry at nineteen, became Best Actor at twenty-one, Film Emperor at twenty-three. You’re only twenty-five now—do you think in another five years, this girl could catch up to you?”
Ou Qian raised a brow slightly. “Maybe. Five years isn’t that long. I can wait.”
Director Wang stared at him like he’d seen a ghost.
Back then, whenever he praised someone, this kid would just brush it off with a casual, “Not bad.”
Nothing more.
Today, though—this was clearly different.
