After Transmigrating into the Role of the Villain Forced to Pamper the Heroine of an Angsty Novel - Chapter 39

However, Ren Nanyi’s attitude was good. It was clear he was working hard to fill the gaps; he just hadn’t found the right direction. For such a student, Gu Ruolan preferred encouragement over the cold severity she showed Xie Zixuan.

Because the topic came from Lin Mengjia, Gu Ruolan took it especially seriously. In her heart, Lin Mengjia was a guiding light on her path; she frequently studied Lin’s past works in private.

“Teacher Lin has already pointed out your main issues, so I won’t repeat them.” Gu Ruolan sat back, adjusted her mic, and offered Ren Nanyi a light smile—both a comfort and an encouragement. “As for the ‘softness’ in performance I mentioned last time, it doesn’t refer to physical softness. It means you need to slow down, immerse yourself in the character, and completely integrate your emotions with the role. You can’t separate them so stiffly.”

Ren Nanyi hesitated with his microphone but chose to be honest: “Teacher Gu, I actually felt like I was immersed. My understanding of the character is that he’s very lonely and pitiful after running away; he feels his family doesn’t want him, so he has a fragile side.”

Gu Ruolan smiled. “Thinking about your character is a good thing, but you must look at the other characters as well. A story inevitably has other people besides the protagonist; only together do they form a complete story.” She selectively recited a passage of dialogue, then added, “See? The reactions of the others indicate the protagonist is not a weak person by nature. Even if there is sadness in his heart, it wouldn’t be expressed in the form you just used.”

She had seemingly picked a random section of dialogue, but it precisely highlighted the other characters’ attitudes toward the protagonist, proving she was familiar with the entire script.

As Gu Ruolan finished, Ren Nanyi had a moment of realization and nodded. “I think I understand now.”

Lin Mengjia chimed in: “Then try acting it again with your new understanding.”

Ren Nanyi adjusted his emotions and performed the climax again. It was much better than the previous jarring “femininity,” but still a bit stiff. He couldn’t quite sink into the role. It was clear he was trying his best, but this was the limit of his current skill level.

Lin Mengjia leaned over again, looking toward Gu Ruolan. “How about you give him a demonstration, Ruolan?”

Gu Ruolan couldn’t easily refuse Lin Mengjia’s suggestion in public, but performing this scene alone would lack impact. Xu Zhiying, who played opposite Ren Nanyi, was also a newcomer; there was no way she could keep up with a Movie Queen.

Before Gu Ruolan even stood up, Xu Zhiying was already nervously licking her lips. Her heavy breathing could be heard through the mic she hadn’t moved away yet, drawing a round of light laughter from the audience.

Meng Qiuran, who had originally just wanted to hear the critiques, felt that rushing here today was the right choice. Yuan Yi had already craned her neck to see every detail. Meng Qiuran wasn’t as exaggerated, but the anticipation in her eyes was obvious. She was curious: could Gu Ruolan pull off the image of a short-haired teenage boy?

Gu Ruolan asked the staff for a hair tie. She deftly tied her long hair back and rolled it into a bun. Her movements suggested she was used to doing this at home; she didn’t need the makeup artist’s help at all. But this hairstyle was so ordinary and casual that if her features weren’t top-tier, it would look plain. This was a show with close-ups that went right to the face.

One had to admit, Gu Ruolan had zero “idol baggage” and plenty of confidence. Though she didn’t have a buzz cut, the change in hair changed her overall vibe—it was much sharper and cleaner than before.

Lin Mengjia stood up with a smile. “I can’t let Ruolan work hard alone. I’ll play the opposite role for you.”

Once she said this, not only did Gu Ruolan’s expression change, but everyone else was shocked. Lin Mengjia was going to act as a foil for Gu Ruolan—and she had volunteered. This was a “bomb” of a topic. Xiang Jing signaled the cameramen to pay attention to the angles and capture the details of their interaction. This was an opportunity money couldn’t buy.

The host asked if they needed a teleprompter. Gu Ruolan shook her head; she had it memorized. Lin Mengjia also indicated she didn’t need one. Before the acting even began, the two Movie Queens had already demonstrated their rock-solid fundamentals.

It was the same scene: a stubborn boy having a row with his family and slamming the door.

Gu Ruolan didn’t burst into tears or show fragile heartache like Ren Nanyi. She carried a habitual stubbornness and defiance, recalling the scene of the argument. As the emotion built, a sense of powerlessness accompanied by deep disappointment left her without the strength to even look back. So she didn’t pause or turn; she kept walking, wanting to be as far from that home as possible.

Without any exaggerated movements, her back, her walking pace, and even the rise and fall of her shoulders conveyed such complex emotions. The audience could feel her mood from her back alone: sadness, pain, anger, and disappointment—but no turning back. The boy’s stubbornness was laid bare.

The camera cut—two years later. The runaway boy had gradually adapted to living alone. Lin Mengjia played the grocery store owner—a bit of a femme fatale, but weary. The boy often came to buy cigarettes, but the lady basically refused to sell them to him and would “lecture” him. Over time, the boy would swing by every day; buying cigarettes was the excuse, but chatting for a few minutes was the goal.

Lin Mengjia played the allure, the weariness, and the numbness of life perfectly, while Gu Ruolan’s eyes showed a mix of curiosity and infatuation. A subtle, flickering chemistry began to seep through between them.

“Help! She’s actually suited for this too!” Yuan Yi covered her face. She hadn’t expected the usually cold Gu Ruolan to be so charming in a scene of adolescent romance. Although a woman, Gu Ruolan portrayed the “boyishness” vividly. No one present felt that two women playing a romance was jarring. The emotions were there, the audience was immersed, and no one cared about outward appearances.

Though only a short demonstration, the superb acting and chemistry between the two were breathtaking. It wasn’t just guidance; it was a visual feast. When they finished, someone started the applause, which quickly grew into a roar.

Gu Ruolan bowed to Lin Mengjia first: “Thank you for the cooperation, Teacher Lin.” Then she turned to the audience and bowed seriously: “Thank you, everyone.”

The students were dazed. Not just Ren Nanyi on stage, but Yu Yimeng backstage watched without blinking, trying to memorize every detail.

Yuan Yi’s sighs brought Meng Qiuran back to her senses. She rubbed her face to wake herself up. Yuan Yi looked at her: “Sister Qiu, did you feel the ‘spark’ just now?”

“Hmm?”

Yuan Yi was excited, her face flushed. “I was superficial before to say she wasn’t suited for romance. Every look in her eyes is so seductive.” She clearly wanted more. “When the show airs, I’m going to clip this part separately.”

Meng Qiuran, however, was thinking: Should I invest in a romance film next? She didn’t respond to Yuan Yi, but she deeply agreed. Gu Ruolan really could be seductive; if she wanted to, her doing romance dramas would be a “dimensional strike” against the competition.

But the original book said Gu Ruolan had never been in a relationship. How did she play romance so well? Fearing she had misremembered the plot, she checked with Yuan Yi: “Does she have a lot of relationship experience?”

This gave Yuan Yi a fright; her face turned pale. “She’s suspected to be a ‘virgin from birth.’ Don’t say things like that!”

Meng Qiuran felt this aligned with the book, but she was still unsure: “Really?”

“How would I know the specifics? But since her debut, she’s never had a romantic scandal, nor has she ever ‘shipped’ (CP) with a co-star. Except…” Yuan Yi paused.

“Except what?”

“In her first two years, there were always black materials saying she was ‘close’ with Jiang Sinian, but nothing substantial was ever photographed. I absolutely don’t believe it.”

Jiang Sinian. The book said he looked after her. This involved another mission: the Movie Queen’s romantic life must be happy. Meng Qiuran pinched her nose. If it really was Jiang Sinian, that would be fine—solve the movie, solve the romance, and she could be free.

“No one knows where Jiang Sinian has gone these last few years, so it was all groundless rumors,” Yuan Yi added, defending her idol.

During the break, a crowd surrounded Lin Mengjia, praising her performance. Gu Ruolan listened quietly but was frequently mentioned by Lin Mengjia. When she caught a break and looked around, she saw Meng Qiuran’s seat was empty. Unsure if she had left or just gone to rest, Gu Ruolan instinctively scanned the area.

She saw her in a corner of the stage. However, Meng Qiuran was currently “chatting up” someone—it looked like she was trying her hardest to find topics to talk to the person, but the other woman didn’t seem familiar with her.

The person was someone Gu Ruolan was also meeting for the first time today: Lin Mengjia’s exclusive manager, Lu Youyou. Because she was young, the industry seniors called her “Xiao Lu,” but she was incredibly capable. Many artists had tried to poach her during Lin Mengjia’s semi-retirement.

What is Meng Qiuran doing with Lu Youyou?

Gu Ruolan wouldn’t normally be curious about such things, but since the idea of Meng Qiuran investing in movies was burned into her mind, her first thought was that they were talking business. Does she want to work with Lin Mengjia? It seemed possible. Since she hadn’t picked a script yet, no investor would wait forever.

She felt a faint sense of loss, but it was brief. She adjusted her thoughts for the second half of the recording.

Just then, Xiang Jing came over. “Ruolan, want to grab dinner after the recording today?”

Gu Ruolan raised an eyebrow. “Won’t everyone be tired after the show?”

Xiang Jing smiled. “Not many people. Mainly station leadership, Lin Mengjia, Xu Feng, and…” she glanced at Gu Ruolan, “the people from Xinghe.”

It looked like a dinner to network for a new project. Gu Ruolan knew why Xiang Jing was asking. She wasn’t usually interested in such gatherings, but she wanted to see if there were any good new scripts to consider, so she agreed.

Meng Qiuran’s attempt to chat with Lu Youyou had failed; the woman was too busy and cautious with strangers. She had gotten close but hadn’t had a chance to say much.

Holding a business card she managed to snag, she sighed. This was her best friend. They had been work partners and childhood friends. The system told her to “wake her up” using the method of their first meeting—this was too difficult.

She and Lu Youyou had met in a dark alley; Lu was being bullied and beaten, and she had swung a club to chase off the thugs. Was she supposed to do that again? The problem was, who would dare hit Manager Lu nowadays?

But Meng Qiuran wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. She tucked the card into her wallet.

During the second half of the recording, the focus was mostly on the other mentors. Meng Qiuran turned her attention back to Lu Youyou, but her seat angle was bad. She had to lean forward to see clearly. Consequently, she was quite restless, shifting around in stark contrast to the steady Yuan Yi.

Gu Ruolan noticed this on stage. she guessed Meng Qiuran was looking at Lu Youyou. Seeing her approach her during the break, Gu Ruolan thought they were discussing investment, but the way she kept staring from a distance made it look like it was about more than just a movie.

After the recording, Meng Qiuran heard from staff that there was a dinner party tonight with Gu Ruolan, Lin Mengjia, and Xinghe Company. If they struck a deal at dinner, her own investment would fall through.

The sense of passivity struck again. Meng Qiuran went straight to find Xiang Jing. Upon hearing Miss Meng wanted to join, Xiang Jing was surprised.

“Tonight is just a casual gathering, it doesn’t involve advertising business,” she said politely.

But the young socialite wouldn’t have it. She had to go.

“Besides ads, I can invest in movies too. I have money.”