“What’s the matter with you?” Director Jin asked Ding Ming angrily. “Did I ask you to fall over? I just want you to act like a lecherous pervert. You want to ad-lib, fine, but that isn’t the way to do it.”
The shot had been set up perfectly; it was supposed to be an aesthetically pleasing shot, but Ding Ming had ruined it all by falling over dramatically, like a complete buffoon. Director Jin wondered whether Ding Ming was trying to sabotage his show with terrible, over-the-top acting.
“Sorry, Director. I won’t do it again.” Ding Ming quickly got to his feet. He rubbed his aching kneecaps. He had tried his best to act well, but Yan Huan’s frosty attitude had terrified him.
They redid the scene from the top. Yan Huan walked over to Ding Ming, her expression as cool and placid as a wintry lake. Her face glowed with ethereal energy as her sleeves fluttered in the wind.
This was an immortal fairy. A beautiful, perfect girl who was pure and innocent.
Cook Ding stopped what he was doing. His eyes disappeared into lusty slits as he ogled the girl. Suddenly, she turned to face him, and he quickly lowered his head.
Qing Yao walked over.
“Did a man come by here?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed, her extraordinarily long eyelashes almost touching her cheeks.
Cook Ding looked up. This was the first time he was able to look at Qing Yao up-close. But the icy look in her eyes pierced him like needles, and he had to take an involuntary step backwards. He lost his balance, and his arms began to flail.
“Careful!” Yan Huan reached out to grab him, but her hand closed around his belt instead. She did not know herself whether she had intended to do it, but it did not matter. In the next second…
Cook Ding had only stumbled backwards; he had not actually been in danger of falling over this time. But Yan Huan had grabbed him by the belt, and in the next second his trousers had pooled in a heap around his ankles. The belt had been the only thing keeping his loose, baggy costume together; without it, his trousers simply would not stay up.
Cook Ding stood on the set, his tiny black briefs and naked legs exposed for everyone to see. There was a noticeable bulge in the front of his briefs—he was evidently having a reaction.
Yan Huan quickly let go of the belt. She rubbed her arms and turned away, pretending not to have seen anything. Nobody noticed the icy cold look in her eyes, or the fact that she was now filled with complete and utter disgust.
Ding Ming’s face had turned bright red. He quickly pulled up his trousers and tightened his belt. He had embarrassed himself in front of all these people. It was so humiliating he felt like killing himself.
It had happened too quickly for Director Jin to yell cut. The camera caught every second of it.
“Delete the footage, all of it!” Director Jin wiped the sweat from his face. “You there…” He pointed at Ding Ming. “Do you even know how to act? If you have no idea what you’re doing, get your ass off my set! How can you mess up such a simple scene? Whose shoes did you lick to get on my show, huh?”
The corners of Ding Ming’s mouth twitched helplessly. He did not know what to say.
He did not dare make any more mistakes in the next retake. Yan Huan, for her part, had also decided to let him off for now; she did not want to redo the same scene over and over again just for the sake of punishing him. It would not be fair to the production crew, who was already getting annoyed with Ding Ming.
They took a break from shooting around noon. Yan Huan went to the washroom, where she heard a strange noise: it sounded very much like a man moaning.
Her cheeks grew warm. She briefly considered the possibility of the man moaning in pain because she had accidentally knocked something over and injured him, but dismissed the idea as she listened to the low, breathless moans. She was surprised that someone was brave enough to do “it” here, on a movie set during a shoot.
She was about to leave when a particularly loud moan caught her attention. The voice sounded familiar.
Ding Ming?
She frowned, and immediately did a U-turn back into the washroom. She stealthily moved towards the source of all the moaning, and hid behind a corner as she peeked around it. The sight floored her: Ding Ming was jerking himself off as he gazed lustily at the photo in his hand. His face was as red as a lobster, and his features twisted into a nauseating look of pure perversion. Yan Huan’s gaze moved to the photo in his hand: who was his unlucky prey? Was it Liang Chen?
She froze when she saw who was in the photo. Her expression darkened, and she had to keep from throwing up. It was one of the photos Yi Ling had posted on her Weibo. It was, in other words, a photo of her, Yan Huan.
She clamped a hand over her mouth and ran out of the washroom. Ding Ming was too engrossed in his act to notice her; if he had seen her, he would probably suffer from erectile dysfunction for the rest of his life from the sheer embarrassment of it all.
“Huanhuan, I don’t actually need to go to the washroom.” Yi Ling was on her phone, managing Yan Huan’s Weibo. She had made sure to keep her water intake to a minimum that day because she did not want to have to keep going to the washroom, especially when the time could be better spent on managing Yan Huan’s Weibo instead.
Yan Huan’s follower count was increasing at a frightening pace. Yi Ling had to keep a close eye on the Weibo page to make sure there were no negative comments on it. She did not want Yan Huan to feel sad over nasty comments by trolls, not when she was just starting out on her journey to stardom.
“You’ve been sitting in that chair for too long. C’mon, you have to get up and move those legs anyway.” Yan Huan forcefully pulled Yi Ling with her by the arm. She had to get Yi Ling to the washroom before that disgusting man finished. She hoped he had enough stamina n him to put on a good show for Yi Ling.
Yan Huan felt a little guilty at the thought of subjecting Yi Ling to such a revolting sight, but she could not let this rare opportunity slip by. Besides, this was also a great sacrifice for Yan Huan: she was going to defile her eyes a second time, for Yi Ling’s sake. Yan Huan vowed to kill herself if Yi Ling still ended up with that pig this time around.
Disgust was not always a bad thing. The right amount of disgust would help keep Yi Ling away from that scumbag, for example.
Yan Huan pulled Yi Ling, who was still distractedly checking her phone, towards the secluded area in the washroom. Yan Huan heard the moans again, and her lips curved into a small smile, even as revulsion flared in her eyes.
Yi Ling had sharp ears; she had been looking at her phone, but her head shot up as soon as she heard the faint moaning. She froze for a few seconds.
“Let’s go.” She quickly grabbed Yan Huan’s arm and tried to leave. It was obvious that a couple was getting it on nearby; she did not want to accidentally walk in on them and make things horribly awkward.
Yi Ling was somewhat annoyed at the audacity of the couple, however—how could they do it in public? Had they not considered how embarrassing it would be for them if someone saw? How would they be able to live with themselves then?
But Yan Huan continued walking towards the moans with easy, confident strides.
“Huanhuan,” Yi Ling said in a hushed voice as she clamped a hand over Yan Huan’s mouth. “What are you up to?”
“Live observation,” said Yan Huan nonchalantly, her expression entirely dead-pan. “This is a good chance for me to see what it’s like. I may have to take on roles with kissing scenes or even bed scenes in the future. I’ll have to find out myself, eventually, so I think we shouldn’t pass on this opportunity to see someone else in action, live.”
Yi Ling gritted her teeth; if that was what Yan Huan wanted, so be it. She kept a protective hand on Yan Huan’s wrist as she carefully moved towards the source of the moaning.
She had been expecting a couple doing the horizontal tango, but no, it was a man in the middle of a solo act. He had a photo in his hand, and Yi Ling’s sharp eyes recognized the person in it at once.
