Acting Out of Character (GL) - Chapter 11

With the pre-interviews finished, it was time to move on to the main filming session of the day.

Luo Jingyi was quite interested in the filming methods of reality shows. As a screenwriter, experiencing different walks of life was one of her most important professional duties. She had a desire to explore any field she didn’t fully understand, and a reality show set was one of them.

Speaking of which, she knew her childhood friend was a director, but in all these years, she’d never seen her direct a proper movie or TV series; she had always been struggling in the world of reality TV. In the past, Luo Jingyi had thought about introducing Feng Yunxin to some famous directors to help pull her along, but Feng Yunxin had refused with a surprising amount of backbone:

“No need. I don’t want to play the networking game. Don’t find any famous directors to promote me; I just want to do things on my own merit. I want to show my parents that I can do exceptionally well without anyone’s help.”

To save her friend’s pride, Luo Jingyi hadn’t interfered with her career. In fact, because she was so busy with work, she hadn’t even had time to properly check in on her old friend’s professional status.

She hadn’t known until she saw it—and boy, was it a shock. She had never seen such a chaotic film set in her life.

As a non-celebrity guest participating in a reality show, Luo Jingyi had actually done her homework. Reality shows had writers, scripts, and even story arcs. Each guest had their own storyline, and based on their different personalities, a certain trait would be amplified to create a memorable image for the audience—the so-called “persona.” The clash and growth of different personas provided the audience with a unique viewing experience. If done well, it could be very engaging.

A show should have varied personas: some responsible for creating trouble, some for fixing it. Some act cute, some crack jokes, while others act as the “brains” or the source of conflict. In a good reality show, the director must deeply understand the personalities of their guests to know what persona and storyline fit them best.

However, the crew of Our Country Life didn’t just fail to understand personalities—they even got the guests’ names wrong. They were split into three filming groups, but equipment was being fought over, and they even grabbed the wrong scripts. The scheduling was also a disaster; one group was being dragged around until they were parched, while another group sat idly by with absolutely nothing to do.

This was the terrifying consequence of poor pre-production.

Luo Jingyi couldn’t stand such a horrific scene; she felt an urge to step in and untangle this “gridlocked overpass” herself. Seeing Feng Yunxin being tortured by the chaotic set, she noticed her friend had dropped her usual playful attitude and was focusing all her attention on coordinating the scene. Luo Jingyi chose not to interrupt her, trusting she could handle it.

Feng Yunxin didn’t disappoint. After thirty minutes of chaos, she managed to organize a unified plan. They would first film the scene where all eight guests met for the first time; once everyone was acquainted, they would split into groups.

Just as filming was about to start, Luo Jingyi asked curiously, “How can your show be this messy? Didn’t you have a plan or a script before coming?”

“There is one, but it was written by someone using their feet! I won’t show it to you; I’m afraid your temper would flare up and you’d rip it to shreds. This unlucky crew… even I was called in at the last minute to fill a hole.”

Luo Jingyi was amused. “So you’re Nüwa herself. My apologies.”

Seizing the chance, Feng Yunxin quickly added, “Actually, I’m waiting for you to write me a blockbuster script, Teacher Luo!”

“Is that where this is heading? You overestimate me. Every profession has its own specialty; I can’t write your reality show scripts.”

“Honestly, even something you wrote with your butt would be better than what I have in my hands!”

Luo Jingyi: “…Can you not be so disgusting?”

Following a very standard process, the eight guests entered the courtyard in pairs for their introductions. While outside, they marveled at how different the farmhouse was from their imagination—it was luxurious, almost like a villa. Once inside, they were even more hopeless, acting curious about everything. They wanted photos with posters on the walls, kisses for knock-off dolls, and they’d apparently never seen a robot vacuum, nearly picking it up for a picture.

Luo Jingyi, watching coldly: “This is a real test of acting skills.”

There were four pairs of guests:

Chen Ge and Song Ruyu: An actress and a female idol (Female-Female pair).

Dong Shenghong and Ren Yan: An older entrepreneur and a pretty web celebrity (Male-Female pair).

Sun Ruibin and Yin Yin: A rising athlete and a slender, beautiful boy (Male-Male pair).

Luo Jingyi and Qian Yu: A non-celebrity and a male idol (Noona-Dongsaeng/Age-gap pair).

Looking at these four combinations, it was clear the crew had big ambitions, capturing almost all the popular “shipping” tropes currently in vogue.

The partners entered the house one after another. After some awkward praise and self-introductions, the laughter grew weaker, eventually falling into a mysterious silence. Here it was—the fated awkward moment. The silence made one’s scalp tingle.

Chen Ge was pulled onto the sofa by Song Ruyu, while Luo Jingyi stood to the side, refusing to sit on a sofa of unknown origin. Qian Yu stayed standing beside Luo Jingyi.

The moment Qian Yu saw “Luo Xin” in person, he regretted a hundred thousand times not picking her up. She was clearly a “rich lady,” not just some ordinary person! Dropping his disdain from the night before, he followed her everywhere like a little sidekick. Luo Jingyi hummed and hawed as she made small talk with him.

The smiles on everyone’s faces were becoming increasingly stiff. Chen Ge sat there like a stone carving that had been weathered by the wind for five thousand years.

Help—why is this so awkward?

Feng Yunxin saw that these four groups didn’t even know each other yet, let alone have any chemistry as partners. If they continued with small talk, the scene would only get deader. At times like this, one must sacrifice the game that brings people together instantly: Truth or Dare!

Feng Yunxin thought this “dog-chewed” script had at least one highlight—Truth or Dare was its moment to shine! However, the moment she opened her mouth, she was met with a cold glare from Luo Jingyi.

Feng Yunxin: “…”

She hated that she understood her old friend’s habits so well; she read a thousand meanings of “loathing” in that one look. The Grand Empress indeed hated games that exposed privacy, not to mention the likelihood of unwanted physical contact.

With her head buzzing, Feng Yunxin had no choice but to follow Luo Jingyi’s lead. Truth or Dare could be pushed back; people would be more relaxed once they knew each other.

Feng Yunxin thought and said, “Then, next, let’s take turns performing a talent!”

Replacing Truth or Dare with a talent show was a decent backup, right? It allowed them to showcase themselves and easily fill half an episode’s worth of footage.

The guests didn’t see it that way. The moment the director mentioned “talent,” everyone went: “??”

What did I just hear? Talent show? Is it New Year’s Day? Are guests coming over to pay respects? Are you my dad? Why is there such a terrifying segment!

Luo Jingyi wanted to glare again, but Feng Yunxin looked back, saying with her eyes: Everyone take a step back! You can’t let your big temper dictate all my decisions!

Luo Jingyi: Want to die?

Feng Yunxin: … (immediately putting on a mourning face). Please, I really can’t think of any other game to liven things up! You don’t want to be awkward from morning to night, do you? We need content!

Luo Jingyi sighed in frustration and let it be. Although it would visibly be more awkward, at least she didn’t have to touch strangers. Let’s just get this unlucky variety show over with.

The talent show wasn’t voluntary. To be efficient, Feng Yunxin prepared slips of paper numbered one to eight for the guests to draw. No one could hide.

Chen Ge drew seven; Luo Jingyi drew eight.

Song Ruyu, who drew the first slot, was quite generous in showing off the theme song dance she had learned during the survival show. After a round of singing and dancing, she was out of breath and could barely speak. Looking at this display, the “talent” was non-existent and the “art” was nowhere to be found. She was off-key and her voice cracked repeatedly, making it very clear why she was eliminated in the second round—it seemed the show wasn’t entirely rigged after all.

The second was Qian Yu. As a male idol, he likely saw the painful expressions of everyone trying to hold back laughter during Song Ruyu’s performance and realized that if he did the same, he’d be mocked too. After thinking for a long time, he said, “I don’t really have a talent. I really don’t. If all else fails, I’ll imitate a dog barking for everyone.”

Song Ruyu: “What?”

Director: “You call that a talent?”

Qian Yu was defiant: “My imitation is very realistic!” He then began to bark—woof, woof, woof—with great cadence. He could do normal barks, fighting growls, and the whining sound a dog makes when begging for food. It was actually quite novel. Just as he was about to imitate the sound of a dog “in love,” Feng Yunxin called a halt.

“Even if you dare to imitate it, I wouldn’t dare broadcast it… Stop it. Next.”

There was someone doing Tai Chi, someone doing a handstand, someone doing the “eight-frame meow” pose, and someone who wanted to perform calligraphy but lacked the tools.

When it was Chen Ge’s turn, Luo Jingyi was terrified she would perform a dramatic movie scene—that would be too scary for this setting. Chen Ge didn’t do a “death performance”; instead, she stretched her limbs and said, “I’ll perform push-ups for everyone.”

Song Ruyu was delighted: “Push-ups are a talent? I can do those too!”

Chen Ge didn’t say a word. She put her hands on the ground. After one, two, three push-ups, she suddenly lifted her left hand. With her left hand pressed against her lower back, she continued with one-handed push-ups. Even the men present might not have been as steady as her; the room exploded.

“Whoa—impressive!”

“As expected of the woman who ranked first in grip strength!”

Chen Ge: “…” (The grip strength thing is still a mystery, okay!)

Luo Jingyi was also dazed. This girl looked so gentle and cute; she hadn’t expected such a hidden skill.

Luo Jingyi: “Can you let go of your right hand too?”

Everyone: “??”

Chen Ge face-planted into the carpet…

“That was amazing. Fine, fine, Xiao Chen’s is very good.” Feng Yunxin immediately found Chen Ge’s persona: The Girl with Herculean Strength. It was actually quite a likable persona; combined with her cool beauty, the “contrast charm” was very eye-catching.

Finally, only Luo Jingyi was left. The moment had to come. She didn’t hesitate; she asked Feng Yunxin for a pair of gloves and a deck of cards, then addressed the group:

“I’ll perform a magic trick.”

“Oh! Magic is great!” Qian Yu was the first to support her. “Sister Luo actually knows close-up magic? I couldn’t tell!”

“I love magic so much!” Ren Yan, the web celebrity, also chimed in.

Luo Jingyi set a chair down directly opposite Chen Ge. This chair was the one Feng Yunxin had specifically ordered someone to sanitize earlier, fearing Luo Jingyi’s back would hurt from standing. With the seven others on the sofa, Luo Jingyi sat alone across the coffee table from them, looking like a performer facing an audience.

When she performed a one-handed shuffle, it triggered a wave of screams. She looked around calmly, her gaze landing on Chen Ge’s face. Chen Ge was also marvelling at the skill. How long and flexible must those fingers be to control a thick deck of cards with one hand?

Caught off guard by Luo Jingyi’s sudden look, Chen Ge instantly grew nervous.

“You,” Luo Jingyi said to Chen Ge. “Blow a breath on the cards.”

Luo Jingyi moved the cards toward her, and Chen Ge gave a soft “Hoo.”

So obedient, Luo Jingyi thought.

After shuffling, Luo Jingyi placed the neat stack on the table and said, “Pick any card. I’ll know which one you chose.”

Qian Yu: “Here it is! The classic magic line!”

Sun Ruibin: “No way. Is there a trick to these cards? Can I see them?”

Luo Jingyi: “Be my guest.”

Sun Ruibin found nothing unusual; the order was randomized—it was just a normal shuffled deck. Everyone, including the director’s team, was eager to see how Luo Jingyi would pull it off.

“Finished checking?” Sun Ruibin scratched his head and nodded.

Luo Jingyi said, “Then Chen Ge, you draw a card.”

Qian Yu had been ready to draw for his partner, but Luo Jingyi hadn’t called him—she’d called Chen Ge. Chen Ge’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t refuse. “Then I’ll draw.”

Just as her hand was about to touch the cards, Song Ruyu shouted: “Wait!” Everyone looked at her, waiting for her to reveal a flaw. Faced with the group’s gaze, Song Ruyu suddenly acted coquettish: “I want to draw a card too…”

Everyone: “…”

Luo Jingyi coldly refused: “Chen Ge blew the breath, so she must be the one to draw, or it won’t be accurate.”

Luo Jingyi’s logic held up. Song Ruyu secretly glared at Chen Ge, unwilling to let her have this highlight moment.

“Go ahead,” Luo Jingyi reminded Chen Ge. “Draw any card. Don’t show me, and don’t show anyone else. Only you look at it.”

Chen Ge complied. She drew a card, took a secret peek, and then pressed it against her leg, covering it with her hand to prevent anyone from seeing.

Luo Jingyi sat elegantly on the blue plastic stool, legs crossed. She closed her eyes and pretended to think for a few seconds before saying:

“The card you drew is the Seven of Clubs. Correct?”

Everyone stared at Chen Ge, urging her with their eyes to reveal the card. Under their gaze, Chen Ge flipped the card over onto the coffee table.

The Seven of Clubs. It was exactly as Luo Jingyi had said.

A burst of astonished cheers followed—not acting, but genuine, heartfelt screams.

“How! She actually got it!”

“I have goosebumps!”

“Sister Luo is so cool!”

“Why? How?!” Song Ruyu tugged at Chen Ge’s arm, demanding an answer. “How did she know! You must know, right?!”

Chen Ge felt dizzy from the shaking and looked toward Luo Jingyi. Luo Jingyi’s red lips curved slightly as she stared only at Chen Ge:

“That is a secret between Chen Ge and me.”