She took a few photos, then habitually scanned the edges of the frame.
In a corner of the pavilion, the boy in black stood holding his sword.
Wu Yue nearly cried out.
She had found him again! And he wasn't just passing through-he was properly in the scene, with an actual part to play.
She hadn't seen him at all when she came to take photos a while back. Now he had suddenly appeared today. Could he be some important character who only showed up later in the story?
If so, once this drama aired, she would have to watch it frame by frame with a magnifying glass.
The boy stayed in the frame for about a minute. When Xu Che left the pavilion, he followed.
Still wanting more, Wu Yue lowered her camera. Her arms ached so badly she could barely lift them, but her heart was full.
She slowly climbed down from the tree, her legs numb from crouching, and stumbled as she landed.
Her best friend was already waiting beneath the tree, looking badly shaken.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed? You were perched up there for two hours! My legs went weak just standing down here. I was terrified you'd lose your footing and fall."
None of it sank in. Eyes shining, Wu Yue held the camera up in front of her best friend. "Bestie, look what I got."
Her friend looked down at the screen.
In the image, the boy leaned sideways against a wall, his red hair ribbon tangled with his black hair as the wind lifted them. A mask covered his face, his eyes were lowered, and sunlight slanted down from behind him, enveloping his whole figure in a thin halo.
It was clearly a still image, yet it seemed to tell a story. The boy's youthful spirit remained, but the brokenness in his eyes was already spilling over.
Her friend's mouth formed a circle. After struggling for a long moment, she finally squeezed out a choice swear word, then leaned closer for another look.
"You photographed an actual person? Anyone who didn't know would think you'd taken a screenshot straight out of a game cinematic." She pointed at the masked face in the picture. "Any without the mask? I refuse to believe the lower half of his face isn't good-looking. Usually, when the upper half looks this exceptional, the lower half can't be far behind."
Wu Yue shook her head. "No. He was wearing it when I photographed him, and he kept it on during filming afterward, too. He never took it off."
Her friend nodded thoughtfully. "Then he's probably some important character-the kind who keeps his face covered until a mask reveal delivers a twist later on."
"Was there a masked guard like that in the original novel?" Wu Yue searched her memory. "Why don't I remember him at all?"
"You know what TV dramas are like these days. They're always making wild changes." Her friend handed the camera back, her tone solemn. "But if this is what they change it into, even if they film a pile of shit, I'll have to taste it to see how salty it is."
As soon as filming wrapped that evening, Song Shi'an stripped off the guard costume as fast as he could.
The moment he removed the wig, his entire scalp cheered.
He changed back into his white T-shirt and jeans and checked his reflection in the battered mirror in the changing room.
With neat short hair and clean-cut features, he looked more than a notch better than that mushroom spirit whose long hair had hidden his face.
Just as he walked out through the studio complex gates, his phone vibrated.
A thousand yuan had arrived in his bank account.
Song Shi'an stared at the string of digits. Two scenes, rounded up to a nice even sum. Pretty generous.
"Young man!"
Liu Bin strode toward him, still wearing the ragged costume he had worn to play a corpse that day. He hadn't completely cleaned off the fake blood, and a dark red streak remained on his forehead.
He came over and clapped Song Shi'an on the shoulder so hard that Song Shi'an stumbled half a step forward.
"You lucky kid! Landed yourself a small speaking role right off the bat!" Liu Bin's voice was full of excitement. "I heard the director even gave you extra scenes? Not bad!"
His shoulder numb from the slap, Song Shi'an hurriedly said, "It was all thanks to you being willing to bring me along today, big brother. Otherwise, I wouldn't even have known which way the studio complex gates opened."
Liu Bin waved a large hand. "Don't thank me. That was all you. If the director took a liking to you, that's your own ability." He looked Song Shi'an up and down and nodded in satisfaction. "You look much better with that haircut. You looked like a wild man before."
Song Shi'an rubbed the back of his head and smiled.
He had to admit that although Liu Bin disturbed the neighbors every night by practicing his lines next door, his voice so loud the whole building shook, he really was a generous man.
If it had been him, working so hard to win a role, then bringing a newcomer to the set only for that newcomer to land a bigger part than his on the very first day, he would have felt at least a little sour about it, however easygoing he was.
But Liu Bin hadn't felt that way at all. That slap on the shoulder was utterly sincere. He was happier than if he had found money himself.
On the bus ride back, Liu Bin chatted with him the whole way.
This big brother really did play a wide range of roles. Tomorrow, he would play a villain who got face-slapped by the protagonist. The day after, he would play an official who slammed a table in front of the protagonist. The day after that, he had a role as a bystander applauding during the protagonist's speech.
"They're small parts, but every character has a soul," Liu Bin said earnestly. "Take the bit I was practicing last night. I worked on that for three whole days."
Song Shi'an remembered the roaring from next door every night and finally understood where those lines came from.
Back in his rented room, Song Shi'an washed his face and sat on the bed to do the accounts.
He stared at his balance for a good while, then counted off next month's rent, utilities, and food expenses on his fingers. It didn't seem to be quite enough.
He had considered taking other acting jobs in between, but he still didn't know when his next scene would be filmed.
If the schedules clashed, he would offend both sides, and the loss would outweigh the gain. He let out a long sigh.
Being cannon fodder wasn't easy either.
His stomach growled. After a full day of filming, the free boxed lunch he had eaten at noon had long since been digested.
His appetite had doubled since he took over this body. Back at school, a hundred grams of rice had been enough to fill him up. Now, one boxed meal couldn't last him four hours.
He decided to go out and buy some stuffed buns and steamed buns to stock up. Just as he stood, his phone rang.
Caller ID: Mom.
Song Shi'an's hand hovered in midair as he stared at that single word for several seconds.
The original owner's mother!
He took a deep breath and answered.
"Shi'an, why haven't you been in touch with home lately?" A woman's voice came from the other end, cautious and unhurried, with the ends of her words drawn out a little.
"I've been a bit busy lately." Song Shi'an tried to make his voice sound natural.
There was silence on the other end for a while, followed by a sigh.
"Your dad and I haven't amounted to much. You still have to work to put yourself through school. You didn't answer your dad's call last time, either, and he's been going on about it ever since, wondering if our boy's been having a hard time over there."
Song Shi'an's fingers tightened slightly around the phone.
The original owner's memories had come to him in fragments, but the parts about home had always been there.
His father worked on construction sites away from home, while his mother farmed a few mu of land back home. The couple had scrimped and saved to put their son through to university.