As expected, Su Muran would play the fairy-like Wang Yuyan, and Lu Qin the young prince of Dali Kingdom, Duan Yu. The rest of the cast had not yet been announced, or even decided. Even so, the new Demi-gods and Semi-devils was beginning to garner attention.
“Are you going to take up the offer?” asked Luo Lin earnestly as she sat down. “For Demi-gods and semi-devils.”
Recently, Su Muran had had quite a bit of success at restoring her reputation. They were a powerful pair, while she was Cinderella, an ordinary girl who married above herself. And Cinderella was far from a princess.
And be very careful, before Cinderella is denounced as a heinous witch, and the princess crowned as a savior.
“What role did they offer me?” asked Yan Huan dully. “I would accept if it was Wang Yuyan’s mother, or the princess’s mother.”
“Dream on,” said Luo Lin, rolling her eyes. “As if they’d offer you such mediocre roles. With your current status, they won’t even try to throw you such roles.”
“What is it then?” asked Yan Huan. The last sliver of interest vanished when she learned that it wasn’t those two roles.
As things stood, she would rather spend this time idling away at home. Yes, she wasn’t ambitious enough. She admits as much. But she didn’t want to be away from home.
“They offered you to play A Zi,” replied Luo Lin with a pat on the shoulder. “Honestly, I think it’s better if you turn it down. This role doesn’t suit you.”
“Porcelain-skinned fairies and purple-clad devils don’t suit you, or provide any challenge. If you have the time, you should think about how to produce more dramas for the company, or we’ll be having trouble handing out future paychecks.”
“We aren’t huge fans of drinking the wind, Miss Yan. It’s an interesting saying, but air couldn’t fill the stomach.”
“Relax, I won’t let that happen,” said Yan Huan reassuringly as she poked at Luo Lin’s tummy. Starving a few days wouldn’t be so bad if it helps you lose that tummy fat, she thought. But she left that unsaid.
“Okay,” said Luo Lin with some relief.
“I’ll only let you drink the southeast wind.”
Luo Lin stared at her with venomous eyes.
“I suddenly have the urge to sing,” said Yan Huan, lifting a hand before her eyes so that the light from the incandescent light bulb spilled above them. She blinked gently, to hide a whit of her amusement, but her red lips still curved upwards.
“You have an awful voice,” complained Luo Lin. Her ears hurt from her singing.
“Really?” Yan Huan never thought of herself as a bad singer. Her voice was pretty good, apart from occasionally going off-tune. Sadly, no one, including Yan Huan, is perfect in this world. When she was at the peak of fame during her previous life, her agency had tried exploring her potential as a singer, but eventually gave up when they realized she wasn’t made to sing after all. Even though her voice was nice, every song that came out from her lips sounds strange.
And so, everyone decided that it was best for her not to sing.
“I’m not a bad singer, for real! Don’t you want to hear me sing?”
Yan Huan leaned against Luo Lin’s shoulder. “Just let me sing one line, please?”
“Uh…” Luo Lin felt like covering her ears. Gritting her teeth, she said, “Fine. Get it over with.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Yan Huan, harrumphing.
Using her hand in place of a microphone, she began singing.
“I live on the high dunes, ah ah~ Where the wind sweeps across the sand~ Southeast wind or northwest wind, what does it matter?”
Luo Lin’s eyes twitched profusely as she suppressed the impulse to throttle the woman before her. She chose that song on purpose. She definitely chose it on purpose.
Lu Yi set down a fruit platter on Yan Huan’s tummy. “Dig in.”
“Okay,” said Yan Huan. She used a small spoon to scoop the gaily colored fruits from the platter into her mouth. Lu Yi considered her too skinny, but he wouldn’t make her eat too much at night.
And so, most of the times, he made her eat all kinds of fruits. Yan Huan placed the platter on the table and latched herself onto a large bolster.
Today was the airing date for Zhu Xiaoye. All that marketing and advertising was for this moment.
“Feeling confident?” asked Lu Yi. Yan Huan was using his legs as a pillow. He pinched her tender cheeks.
“Not really. Anything can happen after all,” said Yan Huan with a troubled expression. “If I lose this time, I might not even be able to afford apple peels. I’ll be relying on your salary when that happens.”
“Sure, I’m fine with it,” said Lu Yi, raising an eyebrow. His finger tapped at Yan Huan’s forehead. “I’ll do my best to earn money and give you a good life, so that you wouldn’t suffer even without your company.”
He wasn’t a man who couldn’t afford his wife’s needs. She could even lead a prodigal life and spent freely on what she desires.
Yan Huan sat up and put her arms around Lu Yi’s waist.
“You are the best, hubby! I’ll be counting on you then.”
Lu Yi gently fondled her cascading hair, which was almost unbelievably soft to touch. It made his heart equally, unbelievably, soft.
The advertisement ended. It was time for Zhu Xiaoye to air. The first episode was two-episodes long, set at the golden timing of around 9pm. The introduction to the film was unbelievably splendid and beautiful, which accounted for why there were rumors about Zhu Xiaoye being a Xianxia film.
Yan Huan had spent nearly all the budget on costumes and post-production. She herself received no pay, while Liang Chen, Qi Haolin, and Zhou Zizhe made cameo appearances. All Zhou Zizhe had asked for was a promise from Yan Huan to seek him if she were to film a movie in the future, which Yan Huan agreed.
Actor salaries were actually the most expensive part of drama and movie production, and with that out of the equation, Yan Huan had a good amount of money to invest in the movie. Still, she was certain it wasn’t a loss-making investment. Putting the popularity of the drama aside, she would earn a lot simply from boosting the rookies to fame with this film.
At the end of the two episodes, Lu Yi found Yan Huan’s acting most convincing. She had improved even more, and her eyes seemed as if they could tell tales of their own.
