Chapter 50

By the time she returned to Beijing, the weather carried the first traces of early autumn.

Because she’d changed her schedule midway to film The World Is So Big, she’d turned down almost all of her domestic commercial performances. The Yu Mei Ren, spoiled by her stage presence, had been howling in the super topic every day, counting on their fingers how many days it had been since they’d last seen their idol dance.

Fortunately, as the year-end approached, award ceremonies, voting campaigns, and red-carpet galas were plentiful. The three top idols were always the first choice for live performers at these events—their stages were simply the best at igniting the atmosphere.

Zhao Yu had no plans for a concert this year, so commercial stages became the fans’ only solace—and tickets became nearly impossible to get.

Zhao Yu threw herself headfirst into work, too busy to dwell on anything else.

Nine Heavens was scheduled to air in February. Although the show hadn’t premiered yet, the scripts coming Zhao Yu’s way had already shifted from being purely idol dramas to occasionally including a serious drama or two.

Industry insiders had high hopes for Nine Heavens. Wang Duo’s track record of winning awards with every script was well-established, and with Ji Shucheng attached, it was bound to be a hit.

As long as Zhao Yu’s performance in the drama didn’t drag it down, she could use this show to shed her long-standing idol label and open up a broader, longer path in the acting world.

In late autumn, Zhao Yu received an invitation to a producers’ banquet. These events were attended mainly by top-tier investors and high-profile figures in the film and television industry. Resources changed hands at such banquets, and directors often scouted for their ideal leads. Many newcomers would do anything to get in.

Lin Zhinan showed her the guest list, highlighting several directors with major projects in the works and telling her to strike up conversations with them.

Zhao Yu agreed readily. But once she arrived at the banquet hall, she followed her usual pattern—greeting everyone with a glass of red wine and a smile, then grabbing a small slice of cake and retreating to a corner of the terrace.

It was nearing the end of the season, and ranking up in King of Glory had gotten easier. Sheng Qiao had been discharged and returned to China, and she’d promised to carry Zhao Yu to Glory before the season ended. Zhao Yu sent her a ranked match link.

Sheng Qiao was surprised: “Aren’t you at a banquet?”

Zhao Yu replied while nibbling her spoon: “Same old boring stuff. Are you done filming? Let’s play a couple rounds.”

Sheng Qiao said: “Still shooting night scenes. Get Ruiwen and Xia Yuan to take you.”

But both Hu Ruiwen and Xia Yuan were busy too. Zhao Yu sighed, finished her cake, took off her white blazer and draped it over her lap, found a comfortable position on the bench, logged into the game, and started a casual match.

A few minutes into the game, the terrace’s glass door slid open, and the mingled scents of red wine and perfume from the banquet hall wafted out. Zhao Yu was focused on pushing a tower and didn’t notice anyone approaching until a gentle laugh came from above.

“Hiding out here?”

Zhao Yu looked up in surprise. “Teacher Ji? You came out too?”

Ji Shucheng sat down beside her. “It was too stuffy inside—came out for some air.”

Zhao Yu adjusted her posture slightly.

Ji Shucheng didn’t seem to notice. His gaze fell on her phone screen, and he asked with interest, “So this is the game where you can play Zhang Fei?”

Zhao Yu quickly moved her character, who’d been standing idle in the river, back under a tower. “Yeah.”

Ji Shucheng watched her play for a while with evident curiosity. “Is this a game related to the Three Kingdoms?”

Zhao Yu answered the veteran’s question while clearing minions: “No, it’s a five-on-five competitive game. But it does have a lot of Three Kingdoms heroes—and also characters from Journey to the West.”

Ji Shucheng nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds interesting.” He looked at the little character on the screen. “Which one are you playing?”

Zhao Yu: “Qin Shi Huang.”

Ji Shucheng raised an eyebrow in surprise. “The First Emperor is in this too?”

Zhao Yu: “Yeah. And there’s even the Poet Sage. But Li Bai is too hard—I can’t play him.”

Just then, an enemy Li Bai showed up, took down the dragon, and came mid-lane to gank her. Zhao Yu ran while shouting, “Teacher Ji, look, look! This one attacking me is Li Bai! I—ow, he tower-dived me!”

She almost let a curse slip but bit it back.

The screen went dark. Ji Shucheng laughed. “Got killed by Li Bai?”

Zhao Yu sighed. “Yeah. Assassins counter mages way too easily.” She paused, then grinned. “Teacher Ji, you seem really interested—want to play together?”

Ji Shucheng shook his head with a smile. “I’ll just watch you play.”

Zhao Yu sighed dramatically. “That puts so much pressure on me. You’re seeing all my mistakes now.”

Ji Shucheng’s eyes were warm. “Don’t worry—I don’t really understand it anyway.”

Zhao Yu clenched her fist. “Time to show Teacher Ji my true skills!”

Ji Shucheng smiled. “I look forward to it.”

The feeling of being watched by a homeroom teacher made Zhao Yu play it safe, even in a casual match. Since Teacher Ji couldn’t really tell what was happening anyway, she figured that as long as she didn’t die, she wouldn’t lose face. So she adopted a passive, evasive playstyle, staying under the tower and clearing minions, giving the enemy no chance to kill her.

But by the mid-game, a teammate messaged her: “Qin Shi Huang, are you Buddhist? No killing?”

By not giving the enemy a chance to kill her, she also had no chance to kill them. Nearly twenty minutes in, Zhao Yu’s KDA was still 0-1-0.

She cursed the obnoxious teammate in her head but couldn’t snipe back in front of her homeroom teacher, so she pretended not to see it.

Ji Shucheng laughed. “Is he insulting you?”

Zhao Yu slapped her forehead. “Teacher Ji, you’re making me lose face by calling me out like that.”

He gave an apologetic raise of his eyebrow.

Despite her passive play, her teammates pulled through, and they won in the end. When the victory screen popped up, Zhao Yu breathed a long sigh of relief, feeling like she hadn’t embarrassed herself in front of her teacher after all.

Seeing her put away her phone, Ji Shucheng asked gently, “Done playing?”

Zhao Yu rested her chin on her hand and raised an eyebrow. “How could I keep playing while Teacher Ji sits here watching?” She picked up her wine glass and clinked it against his. “Cheers.”

With winter approaching, Nine Heavens would enter its promotional period, and she’d be working more with Ji Shucheng. They chatted for a while about upcoming schedules. Then Ji Shucheng mentioned something from the banquet hall: “Director Chen was asking about you earlier.”

Zhao Yu was surprised. “Director Chen Jingzhong?”

Ji Shucheng nodded. “He asked how you performed on set during Nine Heavens. Seems like he might want to work with you on his next project.”

Chen Jingzhong specialized in suspense dramas—he’d directed the top three suspense series in the country. He was a master of montage, using sound and visuals to evoke emotion and immerse the audience.

His suspense dramas were short—no more than fifteen episodes—but each one was densely packed with quality and highly acclaimed in the film industry.

However, Chen Jingzhong preferred working with seasoned actors. Suspense dramas demanded strong acting skills, and in his view, the more conventionally attractive an actor was, the less suitable they were for suspense—because whether as culprit or victim, overly striking looks could distract viewers from the plot.

A director like that, interested in her?

Zhao Yu was surprised for a moment, then thought of something. “Did Teacher Ji put in a good word for me?”

Ji Shucheng raised his glass. “I told the truth.”

Zhao Yu clinked glasses with him. “Thank you.”

Ji Shucheng smiled. “How do you know the truth was a good word?”

Zhao Yu took a sip of wine, grinning. “Since I was taught by Teacher Ji personally, if I don’t have confidence in myself, I should at least have confidence in you, right?”

Ji Shucheng shook his head with a chuckle.

Sure enough, a few days later, Director Chen Jianzhong contacted Zhao Yu, saying he had a project for next year and asking if she’d be interested in meeting to discuss it.

Zhao Yu was already planning her transition and had been browsing scripts. A suspense director of Chen’s caliber, whose work rivaled British and American dramas, was not someone to turn down. She made an appointment and happily went to meet him.

Director Chen didn’t come alone—he brought the producer, the screenwriter, and the original novel’s author.

After the usual pleasantries, Chen cut to the chase and asked if Zhao Yu had read the original novel, The Cage. She shook her head.

Chen motioned to the screenwriter. “Tell her about it.”

For the next hour, Zhao Yu listened to the screenwriter and author lay out the story. After hearing it, she understood why Chen, who usually preferred veteran actors, had chosen her.

It was the story of an enchantress and a vicious dog.

A beautiful, venomous enchantress who commands a vicious dog that worships her as a god. She uses her beauty to gain profit and evade punishment, walking the line between lust and desire, crime and love.

This enchantress was young—young and stunning, full of vitality, walking in the sunlight without a trace of darkness. She was breathtakingly beautiful, like the most dazzling flower blooming under the sun, but no one could see her rotting, stinking roots.

After the screenwriter finished, Chen spoke up. “I’ve watched your dance videos. What I want is exactly that confident, captivating feeling you have on stage—a radiant vitality that’s fully alive, and yet in the next moment when you turn, there’s a dangerous smile.”

The producer also chimed in, “And your appearance is a perfect match for the character. When I first read this script, you were the first person who came to mind.”

Zhao Yu held her teacup and smiled. “You flatter me.”

Chen was a straightforward man. “I talked with Shucheng a few days ago—he had nothing but praise for you. I trust his judgment. If you’re interested in this script, let’s lock it in as soon as possible.”

Zhao Yu was indeed interested. She’d never played a villain before, let alone a female villain lead. It was a huge challenge for her acting ability, but also a unique opportunity.

Seeing her expression, Chen already knew her answer. He extended his hand with a smile. “Pleasure working with you.”

Zhao Yu shook his hand with a smile. “Pleasure working with you.”

Within a couple of days, they finalized the contract, with filming set to begin in mid-March. As soon as the contract was signed, Zhao Yu started reading the script. This show demanded even more acting skill than Nine Heavens—suspense dramas had many close-up shots capturing subtle expressions, and she couldn’t afford to slack off. Starting early gave her peace of mind.

To that end, she turned down even more appearances, keeping only her Nine Heavens promotional commitments. The rest of her time was spent taking acting lessons from a professional teacher that Ji Shucheng had helped her find, intensively training her skills.

Naturally, with all that busyness, she barely had time to game. One evening, she suddenly received a WeChat message from Shen Junyi:

– Shen Junyi: You haven’t logged in for a month. Scared to 1v1 me?
– Zhao Yu: [Scared of a thunder god hammer · jpg]
– Shen Junyi: Log in. Let’s 1v1.
– Zhao Yu: You think I’m as free as you? I’m busy—no time.
– Shen Junyi: I know. You’re scared. It’s okay—using a booster isn’t shameful. [Pat pat · jpg]
– Zhao Yu: [Expletive] Bring it on! Loser gets on their knees and calls the winner dad!
– Shen Junyi: I see you as a little sister, and you want to be my daughter?

Words were useless. Zhao Yu ripped off her face mask, sat up cross-legged, and tossed him a game link.

Shen Junyi quickly joined the 1v1 room. Zhao Yu locked in Mi Yue, following the strategy she and Sheng Qiao had planned. But once the game started, she realized—he wasn’t playing Bian Que!

Dammit—miscalculated!!!

The little Lu Ban on the enemy side, skipping around with his backpack, looked supremely cocky.

Shen Junyi typed in chat: You didn’t pick Zhang Fei?

Zhao Yu now understood: You picked Lu Ban just to counter me?

Shen Junyi: Just trying to be your dad.

Zhao Yu: Just you wait.

……

Twenty minutes later, Mi Yue, draped in her phoenix robe, stood before the enemy crystal at half health, standing over the corpse of the little Lu Ban on the ground.

Call me dad.

Shen Junyi: QAQ. I was wrong.