Crossover Actors - Chapter 21

Nightfall came, and each group was preparing for the night shoot.

 

The room was crowded with people—enough to make Qu Yanting uncomfortable, but not so much that there was no place to stand. He went up the stairs, climbing all the way to the fifth floor, where the noise from below became distant.

 

The voice-activated light was dim, like a flickering candle. Qu Yanting sat down on the stairs. When the light went out, he didn’t bother to turn it back on. He rested his elbows on his knees, holding his lowered forehead in his hands, enclosed by darkness.

 

Before long, someone came up from downstairs.

 

Qu Yanting had just warmed the cold steps with his body and was hesitating whether to go up to the sixth floor. Before he could decide, the other person was already climbing up the side stairs, taking three steps at a time.

 

A tongue click—light on.

 

The newcomer was Lu Wen, fully transformed into Ye Shan with makeup and hair done, holding the script, looking for a quiet place to memorize his lines. He sat down on the steps, not noticing Qu Yanting sitting on the stairs above the corner.

 

Qu Yanting didn’t make a sound, his breathing so faint it was barely audible.

 

Lu Wen opened the script and began reading in a low voice, carefully adjusting his pauses and emphasis. After finishing a round, he began a second one, his serious demeanor completely different from his usual self.

 

Tonight’s shoot included an important scene—a crying scene, part of an emotional outburst. The counterpart was still Tao Meifan, an experienced actor, making Lu Wen feel a lot of pressure.

 

Besides, Qu Yanting would be watching, monitoring his portrayal of Ye Shan.

 

After reading it twice, Lu Wen closed the script and recited the lines from memory.

 

Qu Yanting listened, knowing every word he had written, and Lu Wen recited them without missing a single word. Even after finishing, Lu Wen wasn’t satisfied and started a fourth round.

 

Qu Yanting couldn’t remain silent any longer and cleared his throat lightly.

 

“Shit!” Lu Wen jumped as he usually did—someone was actually here!

 

He rushed to the corner and finally noticed Qu Yanting sitting on the stairs. Given the order of arrival, it didn’t seem appropriate to ask, “What are you doing here?” so he just stood there awkwardly.

 

What Qu Yanting wanted to say was: “Don’t speak out loud, read silently.”

 

Lu Wen explained, “I didn’t know you were here. I wasn’t trying to disturb anyone.”

 

Qu Yanting replied, “I’m telling you to save your voice.”

 

Lu Wen returned to his seat, mimicking Qu Yanting’s posture by supporting his forehead with his hands and pressing his thumbs against his temples. After a moment of silence, he cautiously asked, “Can we discuss something?”

 

If it weren’t for Lu Wen’s overly gentle tone, Qu Yanting would have thought it was a director, producer, or investor speaking to him.

 

After a beat, he asked, “What is it?”

 

Lu Wen said, “If I mess up my performance, and there are a lot of people on set, could you criticize me in private?”

 

Qu Yanting’s hand slipped, and he clasped his fingers together, covering the lower half of his face, filtering his amused tone into a somewhat muffled voice: “There are too many people and too many eyes on set. We might as well go back to the hotel.”

 

Lu Wen seriously asked, “Should we go to your room or mine?”

 

Qu Yanting suspected Lu Wen might have Stockholm syndrome. Unfortunately, if an actor performs poorly, they’ll certainly get scolded. Even if they get through the scene, the audience will eventually criticize them, and that’s not something that can be prevented in advance.

 

Qu Yanting neither encouraged nor pressured him; he simply gave an objective reminder: “Don’t worry about how to act. Just get into Ye Shan’s mindset and follow your instincts.”

 

The set was ready, and the two returned to Room 302.

 

The monitor was moved into the room, and Qu Yanting sat down next to Ren Shu. The long night was hard to endure, so there was a large cup of strong tea on the table. He said, “Thank you for your hard work.”

 

“I’m used to it,” Ren Shu replied. “Let’s hope the shoot goes smoothly.”

 

Qu Yanting asked, “What do you think?”

 

Ren Shu answered, “I’m not sure. It’s Xiao Lu’s first crying scene, and it’s a big one. Let’s try a take and see.”

 

Qu Yanting pondered, “If it’s good, don’t praise him; he’s prone to getting cocky. If it’s bad, don’t yell at him; if he gets rattled, it’ll be even more troublesome. Whether it’s praise or criticism, wait until the scene is finished. Don’t affect his emotions.”

 

“Got it,” Ren Shu agreed with a smile. “You seem to know him pretty well.”

 

Qu Yanting put his phone on silent mode and began monitoring the scene.

 

It was Saturday, and Ye Xiao Wu had gone out to play with his friends and hadn’t come back yet, making the room feel empty.

 

Ye Shan’s mother brought in a large bundle of laundry from the balcony and carried it into the bedroom. The house was small, with Ye Shan and Ye Xiao Wu sleeping in bunk beds and sharing a single desk. After folding the clothes, their mother rolled up her sleeves and began tidying up the cluttered desk.

 

The brothers’ books were all piled on the desk, along with the comics and magazines Ye Xiao Wu had borrowed. Their mother sorted them one by one. She didn’t need to check the names on the test papers—high scores belonged to Ye Shan, and the failing ones to Ye Xiao Wu.

 

After sorting out a stack of comic books, their mother sighed and checked the drawer to see if there were more. As she opened it, she found it stuffed with last semester’s test papers. She took them out one by one and stacked them neatly, only to discover a notebook hidden at the bottom.

 

She took it out, not knowing if it was old or new, and it didn’t have a name on it.

 

The camera zoomed in for a close-up. As she opened the cover, the words “At Dawn” flashed by, written in Ye Shan’s neat and strong handwriting. Seeing the familiar handwriting, Qu Yanting recalled the time when Lu Wen had squatted outside the door to slip a note under it, looking silly.

 

Their mother flipped through the notebook, her cheek muscles tensing.

 

The sound of the front door unlocking came from the living room—Ye Shan had returned. He had left before dawn to stock up at the seafood market and had spent the entire day working at the fish stall.

 

He washed his hands in the bathroom and called out to the room, “Mom, business was good today.”

 

After washing his hands, Ye Shan headed to the bedroom, saying, “Mom, from now on, I’ll go on Sundays too so you can rest an extra day.”

 

His mother hadn’t responded at all. As Ye Shan entered the room, she turned around with a blank expression, her eyes filled with a dull, smoldering sadness.

 

Ye Shan saw the notebook in his mother’s hands, and his face changed. He rushed forward in a panic but hesitated when he reached the desk, too afraid to meet his mother’s gaze.

 

“Mom…”

 

“What is this?”

 

Ye Shan remained silent, not answering. His mother didn’t want to engage in a silent tug-of-war with him, so she asked again, “What is this? What did you write?”

 

Ye Shan stood frozen in place, the water droplets on his hands mingling with his sweat.

 

His mother lost patience and opened to the most recent page, reading aloud: “3:00 a.m. Mom scolded me. Ye Shan, did I scold you? What do you mean by this?”

 

Ye Shan shook his head in panic. “Mom, I was just scribbling, it doesn’t mean anything!”

 

His mother ignored him and flipped to the previous page: “The day before yesterday, 4:57 a.m., Mom slapped me.”

 

On the seventh, 2:00 a.m., I was locked outside, and Mom ignored me.

 

On the third, 4:30 a.m., Mom took Xiao Wu back to the old home alone. I couldn’t find them.

 

His mother flipped through the pages, reading each line aloud: “The 29th, 3:30 a.m., I dreamed about the day of the high school entrance exam…”

 

All of these were Ye Shan’s dreams. He couldn’t remember when it started, but his nightmares had become more frequent. Every time he woke up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep, he would get up and write down the contents of his dreams.

 

Ye Shan begged his mother to stop reading. He reached out to grab the notebook, but she forcefully pushed him away.

 

His mother’s breathing became slightly rapid. “You’ve been having nightmares?”

 

Ye Shan’s eyes were already red, and he denied it: “No…”

 

But his mother didn’t believe him, staring at him as she asked, “Ye Shan, do you wake up in the middle of the night because of these nightmares? And in every nightmare, you dream of me? You dream of your own mother?”

 

Tears began to fall from Ye Shan’s eyes, and his mother questioned him further: “You dream that I scold you, that I hit you, that I don’t let you come home? That I take Xiao Wu away and leave you behind, is that right?”

 

“Ye Shan, do you have del

 

“Ye Shan, do you have delusions? Are you mentally ill?!”

 

Ye Shan’s mother glanced at those words again, then raised her hand and forcefully threw the notebook at Ye Shan’s chest. Choking up, she said, “I’ve been working day and night, raising you and your brother. Great! In the end, I’ve become the villain in your dreams!”

 

Ye Shan took a step back, and the notebook fell to the ground by his feet.

 

“What’s on your mind during the day is what you dream of at night.” His mother raised her voice. “Today, let’s clear this up. How much dissatisfaction do you have with me? How much resentment have you been holding onto in your heart?”

 

Ye Shan bit his lip, trying to suppress his sobs, tears streaming down his face uncontrollably, unable to utter a single word.

 

A lock of hair fell from Ye Shan’s mother’s temple, making her look disheveled and exhausted. Pressing her hand to her chest, she said bitterly, “Fine, if you won’t say it, I’ll say it for you.”

 

Ye Shan, crying, pleaded, “Mom… I’m sorry…”

 

“Ye Shan, do you think I don’t treat you well, that I don’t care about you? You help out at the fish stall, you do this and that, but I pamper Xiao Wu more, which makes you unhappy, right?!”

 

“You’re most resentful about me forcing you to swap exam certificates with Xiao Wu, making you take his exams and preventing you from attending a top high school. Isn’t that right, Ye Shan?!”

 

Ye Shan desperately denied it, unable to suppress his sobs any longer. “No, no, it’s not true…”

 

“Then what is it?” Ye Shan’s mother asked tearfully. “I’m your mother. Did I make you have nightmares?”

 

“Mom…”

 

“Fine, if you’re so capable, then dream about your dad!”

 

Instantly, Ye Shan’s expression became dazed. His knees gave way, and he collapsed to his knees in front of his mother.

 

Ye Shan’s mother’s voice finally softened, as if recalling an old story, or like a sharp knife falling upon Ye Shan’s head. “If it weren’t for you insisting on going to the movies when you were eight, and your dad rushing back to pick you up… he wouldn’t have had the accident on the way.”

 

In the close-up shot, Lu Wen was stunned for three seconds.

 

Qu Yanting looked away from the screen, gazing at Lu Wen kneeling on the floor. His broad shoulders were tense, trembling with each breath, his back arched into a shallow curve, looking so helpless and humble.

 

He saw Lu Wen clutching at “mother’s” clothes, sobbing uncontrollably, saying, “Mom… I know you’re resentful of me.”

 

So, he put in all his effort, just to please her and seek the same closeness she had with his younger brother. Those frequent nightmares weren’t merely resentment but a deep-rooted fear born from years of guilt.

 

Ye Shan’s mother spoke softly, “Ye Shan, you are my son. I wouldn’t hold any resentment against you.”

 

But before she was a mother, she was a wife who deeply loved her husband. In the long and painful years, she experienced another kind of suffering.

 

“Every time I see you… I always think of your father.”

 

Tao Meifan pushed Lu Wen’s hand away.

 

Lu Wen’s eyelids were red, and he blinked slowly, collapsing onto the ground. He bowed his head, picked up the notebook, tears dripping onto the pages.

 

He tore off a page with a ripping sound.

 

Crying, sobbing, wailing.

 

Each page recording those early morning nightmares was destroyed.

 

Everything on set seemed to come to a halt, with only Lu Wen’s heart-wrenching cries. He clutched the shreds of paper in his hand, hoarsely whispering an “I’m sorry,” but his lips trembled, producing no sound.

 

Qu Yanting was momentarily disengaged, immersed in and detached from it all, unable to distinguish whether it was Lu Wen or Ye Shan, or someone else?

 

He was out of breath, quietly got up, and left the room.

 

As the door closed, the scene was frozen—the shoot was over.

 

The crew rushed in, and Ren Shu immediately stood up, walking briskly toward the actors, clapping as he went. The photographer stepped aside, saying, “I was about to cry.”

 

Tao Meifan wiped the corners of her eyes and asked, “Director Ren, how was it?”

 

Ren Shu nodded repeatedly. “Very satisfied, really, I’m very satisfied.”

 

Tao Meifan said, “The performance was indeed thrilling. Xiao Lu wasn’t shy at all.”

 

Lu Wen remained seated on the floor. Not as experienced as the older actors, he struggled to quickly detach from the role, his temples throbbing from the crying, with tears just stopped.

 

Ren Shu urged him, “Get up! Xiao Lu, I was worried you wouldn’t handle Tao’s scenes well, but it turned out so smooth. Your emotions and physical acting were on point, detailed, and performed very well.”

 

Lu Wen, with a tear-streaked face and red, swollen eyes, looked like a sorrowful bear.

 

Tao Meifan joked, “Let my son take a break and wash his face.”

 

Lu Wen, dazed, went to the bathroom to wash his face. The cold water revived him, completing the process of entering and exiting the role, leaving him with a lingering sense of emptiness.

 

With so many people in the room, he wanted to be alone.

 

Lu Wen went downstairs to a quieter place, thinking he was aimlessly wandering, but unknowingly carried Ye Shan’s emotions, and found himself at the grapevine.

 

In the script, there was also a grapevine in the northern hometown, planted by Ye Shan’s father before he passed. After moving to Chongqing, Ye Shan had planted this one.

 

Lu Wen approached and stopped when he saw someone under the grapevine.

 

Qu Yanting was sitting alone there. He was leaning on his arm, not caring about the dirt, resting on the edge of the table. The light from the bulb hit his protruding brow and nose, like moonlight on a mountain peak, with his eyes hidden in the darkness.

 

Lu Wen was unexpectedly stunned. He thought Qu Yanting had left, but he was still here, though Lu Wen didn’t know why.

 

Noticing Lu Wen, Qu Yanting straightened up. His eyes were calm but held a colder temperature than the midnight wind.

 

After a moment, Lu Wen spoke first: “I didn’t mess up my performance.”

 

Qu Yanting said hoarsely, “You did very well.”

 

This was the first time Qu Yanting had praised him since they had met.

 

Lu Wen wasn’t surprised or smug. The director praised him, and Tao Meifan also praised him. The director applauded excitedly, and Tao Meifan said it was satisfying.

 

He stared at Qu Yanting and asked quietly, “Then why are you unhappy?”