Many had a favorable impression of Lu Man because she was hard-working, good-natured, and polite.
“Uncle Wu,” Lu Man called out.
“You’re always the earliest to arrive,” Uncle Wu said, smiling.
“I came to take a look around. I’m a rookie, so I don’t want others to wait for me.”
Lu Man was Han Zhuoli’s wife, the future mistress of the Han Family.
Many knew about this, including Uncle Wu.
But knowing was one thing.
He saw how Lu Man was never arrogant or pretentious but rather was treating herself as a rookie and not demanding special privileges, or slacking off because of her position or by using money.
Thus, Uncle Wu really admired Lu Man.
Making sure no one was around, he then waved Lu Man towards him.
Lu Man walked over, intrigued. Uncle Wu whispered to her, “You gotta be careful. There’s this Wu Jingli in your performing team who’s against you. She’s considered a senior in the theater industry, and she’s leading a few greenhorns who form part of her clique. They were discussing how to make you back off. I don’t know what they’re planning, but it probably won’t be too bad with Director Xu around. But you’ve got to take note also.”
Lu Man nodded. She knew Wu Jingli didn’t like her.
“Understood. Thanks, Uncle Wu.” Lu Man smiled.
“It’s nothing. I can’t help you with anything else apart from giving you a heads-up.”
“Still, thanks again, or I won’t even know a thing.” Waving goodbye, Lu Man went to the stage area, reading her script silently off-stage and going through the various ways of interpretations she’d thought up in the past few days in her mind.
People started trickling in not long after.
The main leads weren’t here. They would have a final run-through before the actual performance.
They were skilled actors from the entertainment industry who had plenty more jobs to do, so they clearly couldn’t keep practicing here every day.
Lu Man was memorizing her lines when she spotted Wu Jingli and a handful of junior actors enter.
She was surrounded by the three juniors, and though the number was small, they tried hard to create an atmosphere like countless people were fawning over her.
A few other performers in their play entered consecutively.
They saw Lu Man and said their hellos to her. “You came so early?”
“I came early to get a feel of the atmosphere to better get into character,” Lu Man said. “Plus, it’s my first time in a stage play, so it’s better to prepare early.”
“There are so few young actors who are as professional as you nowadays,” a senior in the same play remarked.
The three juniors tagging around Wu Jingli didn’t like hearing that.
As if they weren’t dedicated to their jobs.
Implying that Lu Man came beforehand while they came late.
But they were being narrow-minded.
It was simply an obsevation.
There were plenty of unprofessional and undedicated young actors within the industry, yet they chose to see the comment as pertaining to themselves.
“Everyone’s here!” Xu Jiashan strode over, smiling.
“Director Xu,” they chimed in greeting.
“This time, we’ll go through the parts separately in detail, without transition. Each of you will run through with your partners scene-by-scene,” Xu Jiashan said.
Coincidentally, Lu Man’s first scene was opposite Wu Jingli.
Everyone left to prepare, and one of the junior actors tagging behind Wu Jingli, called Sun Xiutong, whispered to Wu Jingli, “Teacher Wu, can she match your acting? You’ll have to show her what’s called real acting.”
