Suddenly, a soft male voice interrupted, “Director Zheng, I’m so sorry. Brother Huo stayed up late studying the script, so after lunch, we thought it’d be best to let him nap in the rest area. He overslept a little…”
It didn’t matter whether the excuse was genuine; it sounded reasonable enough. Claiming exhaustion from studying the script made it hard for Zheng Kezhen to nitpick, so he just waved them off with a frown. “Fine, fine. Now that he’s here, let’s get to work. We need to finish these scenes before dark, so let’s all push through so we can wrap up early!”
Huo Lianshan, surrounded by costume designers, was draped in a gold-embroidered soft armor that shimmered under the sunlight. Of course, it wasn’t real gold, but it was designed to portray Li Jiancheng’s lavish lifestyle. Even his headpiece was a custom-made golden crown. Paired with his sharp, sinister eyes, the costume gave him an air of arrogance and disdain.
Zheng Kezhen was satisfied with the look. Once the costume was in place, his mood improved, and he went over to explain the details of the upcoming scene to Huo.
In this scene, Li Jiancheng, on horseback, would be led by the young Fu Zhu, and he would casually talk about his discord with Li Shimin. Fu Zhu would then offer advice, warning that Li Shimin was cunning and should be dealt with before he became a threat.
Li Jiancheng would ask Fu Zhu who he thought was superior between him and Li Shimin.
Fu Zhu, being more intelligent than emotionally astute, would bluntly say that while Li Jiancheng was better at strategy and winning people over, Li Shimin was the better warrior with more military experience.
This would infuriate Li Jiancheng, who would whip Fu Zhu in anger before galloping away, leaving Fu Zhu alone, crying in confusion, unaware of why his words had angered his master.
Luo Ding had laughed out loud when he first read this scene in the script. He had a quirky sense of humor and loved watching characters who unintentionally offended others without understanding why. Now that he was about to perform the scene, he was quite excited.
Huo Lianshan was helped onto the horse. Draped in armor, he no longer exuded the sharpness of a warrior in battle but still looked undeniably heroic.
Because the horse was large, standing beside it made Luo Ding appear small and delicate. Paired with his deliberately youthful appearance, he truly looked like an inexperienced, naive young man.
Once everything was set, Zheng Kezhen called out, “Ready! 3, 2, 1, action!”
Luo Ding straightened his posture, slightly bent over, and began leading the horse by its reins.
Again, Zheng Kezhen’s previously furrowed brow relaxed as he watched the monitor. Luo Ding’s every step was perfectly measured, a director’s dream. Working with such an actor was like a chef using a sharp knife — every cut was precise, making the process a joy.
Huo Lianshan’s voice came from the side. “That fool, imitating my methods but only capturing a fraction. Fu Zhu, in our father’s eyes, who do you think is better, my brother or me?”
Luo Ding’s voice responded, soft and tinged with the excitement of being noticed by someone he admired. His shy, blushing gaze perfectly matched the innocence of a young man in awe of his master. “Of course, you are the best, my lord. However, that prince, despite appearing to be in a difficult situation, seems quite determined. Lately, there’s been word going around that with you favored by His Majesty, it would be wise to prevent him from causing trouble.”
Huo Lianshan replied lazily, “I’m tired of hearing this. If none of my advisors can offer useful counsel, what’s the point of having them?”
It was meant to be a backhanded compliment, implying that he was so good that even his staff couldn’t find any faults in him. But in the scene, Luo Ding’s character suddenly looked flustered, genuinely believing he had offended his lord. A moment later, the young man’s eyes filled with fear, and he quickly replied, “My lord is right…”
Huo raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh?”
The boy, stammering, began analyzing the differences between Li Jiancheng and Li Shimin. His eyes darted nervously between the horse and the ground, clearly trying his best to impress, unaware that his words were only digging a deeper hole.
Li Jiancheng was furious. He had always known that Li Shimin was a better warrior, but hearing it said out loud was another matter entirely. Now it sounded like Fu Zhu was calling him a scheming coward who only knew how to manipulate people. How could this kid be so tactless?!
Li Jiancheng’s eyes turned dark with anger, and he raised his whip, lashing out in a fit of rage.
As soon as Luo Ding heard the whip’s swishing sound, he knew something was wrong. Reacting swiftly, he dodged forward, avoiding the blow. The whip followed its original trajectory, striking the horse’s neck with a sharp, cracking sound. The horse whinnied loudly, rearing up, and Huo Lianshan, who hadn’t held onto the reins properly, was thrown to the ground.
“Cut! Cut! Cut! Cut!” The set descended into chaos. As soon as the director called out, everyone rushed to the scene. Both Luo Ding, who was lying on the ground, and Huo Lianshan, who had been thrown, were carefully helped up. Huo’s first assistant’s shrill voice cut through the commotion: “What happened!? Is this some kind of stunt!? Who changes their moves on the fly? My Brother Huo could have been seriously hurt. Who’s responsible for this?!”
Huo Lianshan wasn’t well-liked, so the crowd surrounding Luo Ding wasn’t any smaller than the one around him. After standing up, Luo brushed the dirt off his clothes and squinted at the assistant. Then, smiling, he gestured for the crowd to step aside and walked over to the horse.
The horse was still snorting in pain. Luo Ding gently patted its back and neck, pulling out his phone from his costume and snapping a picture of the whip mark on its neck.
As the crowd followed him to the horse, they collectively gasped when they saw the deep, bloody welt on the horse’s neck. Everyone turned to look at Huo Lianshan in disbelief.
If the whip had left such a gash on the horse’s tough hide, what kind of injury would it have caused to a person? At the very least, it would leave a scar. Thank goodness Luo Ding had dodged in time; otherwise, he’d have been seriously injured.
Had Huo Lianshan lost his mind?
The assistant, initially unaware of the implications, followed the crowd over. Upon seeing the injury on the horse’s neck, his eyes widened in panic, and his demeanor softened considerably.
“What’s going on?!” Director Zheng Kezhen, having witnessed the chaos caused by Luo Ding’s sudden change of movement, knew there had to be a reason for it. When he saw the horse’s neck, his anger flared.
“Huo Lianshan! Who the hell were you aiming at?!” Zheng Kezhen, known for his high standards and disdain for unprofessional behavior, was livid. He hated when people disrupted his work or displayed personal malice. “Before we started, didn’t I tell you how to fake the whip? Why don’t you try that on your own leg next time?!”
Huo, who had suffered a painful fall, was furious that no one seemed to care about him. Everyone was fussing over Luo Ding. He snapped back, “I didn’t do it on purpose!”
He was frustrated. Luo Ding was just an internet celebrity turned actor, yet everyone was treating him like a star. Sure, he had been a little heavy-handed, but it wasn’t like he’d meant to hurt anyone. He had felt a bit out of control when he swung the whip, but it was just meant to be a small lesson. Didn’t he fall too? Why wasn’t anyone acknowledging that?
But Huo Lianshan didn’t realize how serious the injury was. Horsewhips had barbs on them, and when they hit, they tore through flesh, leaving deep, painful wounds. As his assistants helped him up, Huo limped over to see what the commotion was about. When he saw the gash on the horse’s neck, he froze.
Luo Ding stood among the crowd, his clear eyes devoid of the youthful naivety he had shown moments earlier. Now, they held a faint smile, his expression calm and measured as he spoke in a slow, steady voice. “Brother Huo, your whip skills are quite impressive. It’s a shame about the horse, though. I wonder how we’ll explain this to the owner when we return it.”
The mention of the horse brought Zheng Kezhen’s simmering anger back to the surface. To ensure the film’s quality, Zheng had rented the best horses, and this one, in particular, was a purebred with competition awards under its belt. It was worth over seven figures, and its daily care was meticulous. Now, seeing the whip mark on its pristine coat, Zheng was furious. Would the horse’s owner be willing to work with him again after this? Probably not.
Zheng quietly instructed someone to find some medicine for the horse, then gently stroked its back in an attempt to comfort it.
Feeling the accusatory stares from everyone around him, Huo’s anger flared again. His eyes practically burned with rage. “I really didn’t do it on purpose!”
“You know damn well what you were doing, Huo Lianshan,” Zheng retorted coldly. “I don’t care what kind of personal issues you have with Luo Ding, but if you keep this up, it’ll reflect badly on you, not him. This set isn’t your playground for personal vendettas. Either act professionally or request to terminate your contract. This crew has no place for an actor with no ethics.”
Huo Lianshan was shocked.
He had always been a big name, and even when he threw his weight around, Zheng had been accommodating. He was allowed to nap, change accommodations, and bring his own chef without any pushback from the production team. He had almost forgotten that Zheng Kezhen was known as one of the strictest directors in the industry.
Yet now, in front of so many people, big and small actors alike, Zheng was giving him a dressing down!
Huo’s legs began to tremble in anger. Since his rise to fame, no one had dared speak to him this way. But now, in front of everyone, he was being humiliated, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Was he supposed to walk off set? Li Jiancheng wasn’t a particularly difficult role to cast, and if he terminated his contract, the crew wouldn’t be responsible for any penalties. They could easily replace him. And if he tried to escalate the situation, what good would that do? Zheng had already made it clear where his loyalties lay, and stirring up trouble would only backfire on him. Luo Ding had even taken photos earlier, probably preparing to use them as evidence against him.
Huo looked over at Luo Ding, realizing for the first time that the young actor he had dismissed as inconsequential had, from the very beginning, subtly steered the situation in his favor. Without ever complaining or playing the victim, Luo had managed to turn the entire set against him. Luo had guided everyone to see the horse’s injury, then cleverly shifted the focus away from himself by framing the issue as a matter of responsibility for the expensive horse. This had stoked Zheng’s anger, ensuring that the entire crew now stood with Luo Ding.
Suddenly, Huo was reminded of the character he was playing, Li Jiancheng — a man who, beneath a façade of benevolence, was actually manipulative, cunning, and adept at controlling the people around him.
And in front of him now stood someone eerily similar.
Swallowing nervously, Huo felt a cold sweat trickle down his back. He waved off his assistants and muttered, “I really didn’t do it on purpose.”
Seeing that Huo had backed down, Luo Ding’s previously icy expression softened. “I believe you, Brother Huo. It’s just your first time using a whip, so it’s understandable.”
Zheng shot Luo a glance. Seeing Luo’s calm and unbothered demeanor, he knew the young man was holding back for the sake of the crew. Zheng’s respect for him only deepened.
Huo’s lips twitched. “Thank you for believing me. I’ll be more careful in the next scene.”
Luo Ding nodded sincerely and turned to reapply his makeup. For the first time, his smile faded, and his lips pressed together in an expression of quiet frustration. The makeup artist, already angry on his behalf, found it difficult to keep working. She bit her lip, her eyes welling up in sympathy.
“Hang in there,” she whispered. “Fighting him won’t do you any good. We’re all on your side.”
Luo Ding nodded slightly, smiling gratefully at her, which only strengthened her protective feelings.
Of course, Luo Ding had already thought things through.
With so much recent negative press, it wasn’t wise to stir up more trouble. Huo Lianshan was backed by Universal Entertainment, a company with significant public relations power. Even if it was just to protect Huo’s wife, Universal would likely do everything it could to prevent Huo from being disgraced. Any mudslinging from their side would inevitably land on Luo Ding.
Rather than let himself be dragged down, Luo Ding chose to take a step back. After all, he hadn’t been injured. Now, with the entire crew on his side, Huo Lianshan wouldn’t dare cause any more trouble for the remaining scenes.
But that didn’t mean Luo Ding was going to let it slide. He wasn’t the type to forgive and forget.
Evidence had to be kept. There was no way he’d let Huo get off scot-free after trying to screw him over.
R : Some names will be shortened, for example, Duan Xiubo = Duan, Gu Yaxing = Gu, and so on. It’s always understandable, so it’s fine.
P : For example Rain will become R haha
R : (┛❍ᴥ❍ )┛彡┻━┻
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