HEIFEIGU -Chapter 88

The bowl in his hands exuded a steady, warm aroma.

Surrounded by this fragrance, Xie Jixing’s low spirits began to lift slowly.

He absentmindedly scooped soup with a spoon, stubbornly replying to Qian Shuyun, “If Boss Qian teaches me, won’t it interfere with your rest?”

“It will.” Qian Shuyun put down the script and got a clean large towel.

Xie Jixing’s eyes widened in surprise—he hadn’t expected that answer.

He was about to complain when the towel-wielding man spoke again: “But I like being delayed by Teacher Xie.”

“I hope that from now on, whenever Teacher Xie has something to do, it’ll always be to delay me first.”

Xie Jixing’s ears tingled inexplicably. He lowered his head, searching the soup for ingredients, pulling out a piece of matsutake.

So fresh.

So fresh it made him lift the corners of his mouth.

The soft towel was draped over his wet hair, and a pair of strong, well-defined hands carefully handled it with gentle pressure.

Xie Jixing’s wet hair and damp mood were fluffed and softened.

After finishing the last sip of soup, Qian Shuyun cleared the dishes and sat across from him. “Still upset?”

Xie Jixing had been about to deny it stubbornly, but he really wanted an answer. “Was my acting really that bad?”

“That depends on who you’re comparing yourself to…” Qian teased lightly, “Compared to me now, yeah, it’s a bit lacking.”

Xie Jixing wanted to gnash his teeth.

“But compared to the first time you acted, you’ve improved tremendously,” Qian immediately softened, “When I filmed my first role, even performing smooth actions or speaking fully on camera was difficult.”

“Every day, the director scolded me until I wanted to cry.”

“When there was no other choice, I set up a camera in my room, filming 24 hours a day for a month, just to get used to the camera.”

“But you, Teacher Xie, are different.”

Qian Shuyun looked at Xie Jixing seriously, the playful tone gone, now utterly earnest. “I’ve seen your fight scenes—they’re beautiful.”

“Your swordplay posture is graceful and free, at a level many professional action choreographers can’t achieve.”

“Honestly, I’m glad you’re playing this role. I’m really looking forward to the upcoming battle scenes—our little General Xie cutting through the field will look amazing.”

Xie Jixing’s ears burned hotter and he muttered, “But the director said my dramatic acting is getting worse. Watching you all in scenes recently, I can feel I’m far behind…”

“Teacher Xie, just cut us some slack!” Qian Shuyun’s voice had a playful, pleading tone. “Stop trying to outshine everyone!”

“Jiang Yueli and I joined crews in our early teens, and Teacher Hu’s acting experience surpasses yours by decades. If you’re still not far behind, then all these years of effort would be wasted!”

“Pfft!” Xie Jixing had never seen such a ridiculous expression on Qian Shuyun’s face and couldn’t help laughing.

Finally laughing, Qian Shuyun exhaled in relief.

“And we don’t hunt ghosts, either. Everything has its own specialty,” he put on a serious mask again. “Teacher Xie already has two degrees—don’t be so hard on yourself.”

All the negative emotions he had been holding dissolved completely.

It was fine—start slow, then just run a little longer than others.

Besides, he had a free professional teacher. Why not use it?

“Teacher Qian, let’s start!” Xie Jixing transformed back into his energetic self.

Before transmigrating, he mostly trained in cultivation, dealing only with ghosts. With people, it was just his master and senior brothers.

So handling interpersonal relationships was his weakest point. On set, during acting duets, he often didn’t know how to react.

Qian Shuyun guided him from the beginning, sorting through the story’s background, character relationships, adding annotations to an already complicated script.

Under the soft desk lamp, Qian Shuyun’s ash-gray eyes shone warmly, making his features appear deep and gentle. Xie Jixing glanced at him and got distracted.

Sometimes, a teacher really shouldn’t be too handsome.

“For Li Chengxu…” Qian Shuyun noticed him staring. “Xingxing.”

“Huh? Huh?” Caught, Xie Jixing scratched his head, embarrassed. “I’m listening… Li Chengxu.”

“Sleepy?”

“Not really.”

“Then let’s finish this section.” Qian Shuyun stretched.

Although he’d been working the hardest recently, discussing acting with Xie Jixing seemed to dissolve his fatigue.

“For Li Chengxu, the closest person should be his elder brother, Crown Prince Li Chengye…” he continued, “They grew up together in the intricate environment of the palace. Li Chengxu’s sincere and free-spirited nature is inseparable from his brother’s protection. So even as an adult, his affection for his brother should be wholehearted.”

“I don’t quite agree with that.” Yin Wenshan, who had been floating around nearby attending the lesson, vaguely took on a semi-transparent form. “Royal brothers are supposed to have a relationship of closeness yet distance; there isn’t so much genuine trust between them.”

Xie Jixing’s head hurt—he’d forgotten there was a teacher here as well.

When it came to his own profession, Qian Shuyun had to defend it.

“I don’t accept your view either. Their relationship isn’t like that of ordinary princes. The age difference is big, and Li Chengxu never had any intention of seizing the throne, so naturally, they’re close.”

“People’s hearts are inscrutable. Li Chengye, as the crown prince, even checks every passing dog—how could he fully trust a younger brother skilled in martial arts? What you call care is merely manipulation.”

“Li Chengxu grew up right under his eyes. Of course there’s care and trust. After all, am I acting as Li Chengye or are you? Don’t I know the role I’m playing?”

“Your understanding is necessarily correct? Being an award-winning actor isn’t that impressive. In our time, there were no such empty titles. If there were, I’d have more than you!”

…

Wait, Xie Jixing looked around. Why were they arguing?

It was the first time he had seen a human and a ghost argue with such logic.

“Um…”

“Or…”

“Stop arguing! I’m sleepy!” Xie Jixing raised his voice helplessly to intervene.

“An award-winning actor, nothing special.” Yin Wenshan disappeared, fuming, and floated outside the room.

Xie Jixing looked at Qian Shuyun helplessly. “You…”

Following the direction where Yin Wenshan vanished, Qian Shuyun asked, “Is he still around?”

“He stormed off.”

“He’s quite tsundere.” Qian Shuyun put down the script. “I have an idea.”

“After this drama wraps, I want to make a movie using Teacher Yin as the prototype, telling his story…”

The ill reputation forced upon Yin Wenshan for so many years—now it was time to clear it.

Unexpectedly, after just one argument, Qian Shuyun’s mind was already thinking about this.

“Sounds great!”

“Just be careful—Teacher Yin might want to direct it himself and really torture you… ha~” Xie Jixing yawned, this time genuinely sleepy.

Seeing him on the verge of dozing off, Qian Shuyun put away the small bowls, ending the little meal. “Xie, remember how you feel tonight, rest early. Good night.”

Remember… what feeling?

Xie Jixing’s head was fuzzy; he decided to just sleep.

The next day, the makeup artist found Xie Jixing with extremely dark circles under his eyes.

“What happened?” the makeup artist asked, pinching her fingers in a delicate gesture. “Were you sneaking around last night?”

“You only needed a thin layer of foundation, now you’re even needing concealer.”

“Ha~” Xie Jixing let out a huge yawn.

Then the second dark circle formed.

“Have you seen a ghost today?” the makeup artist, confused with concealer in hand, looked at Qian Shuyun, who had just entered. “Did you two go thieving as a team last night?”

“None of you use your faces properly, really troublesome!”

While the makeup artist went to fix someone else’s hair, Qian Shuyun leaned over and asked softly, “What happened to you?”

“Don’t mention it. Last night, after I fell asleep, Yin Wenshan guided my dreams for half the night, constantly giving me lessons.” Xie Jixing’s eyes were watery with fatigue. “Ha~ how about you?”

Qian Shuyun had a strange expression. “When did he guide your dreams?”

“Early half of the night… I woke up once around 3 a.m.” Xie Jixing rubbed his eyes.

“Hmm, he spent the latter half of the night scolding me in my dreams,” Qian Shuyun yawned. “His vocabulary is so rich—now that I think about it, he didn’t repeat a single sentence.”

“By the time he left, it was already daylight.”

“Pfft!” Someone had it worse than him, Xie Jixing couldn’t help laughing.

Today’s scene: Li Chengxu, after being tested by his father, realizes he knows nothing and is told he must master everything within a month or he won’t be allowed to leave the palace.

Offended scholars aside, Li Chengxu had no choice but to go find his elder brother.

A few candlelights, a long table—the young prince muttered complaints. “Father knew I didn’t like this, yet tested me. Why not test me in spear dancing? I’d definitely come first.”

The older Li Chengye lightly tapped his index knuckle on the table. “Did you understand the chapter just now?”

“No…”

The candlelight reflected in Li Chengye’s slightly light-colored eyes.

Xie Jixing suddenly understood what Qian Shuyun meant last night when he said to remember this feeling before leaving.

He was being taught the scene.

Almost the same atmosphere, almost the same plot—last night’s instructor on acting and the current instructor on reading merged in his mind.

Naturally, Xie Jixing was drawn into the scene.

“This is so hard~” Li Chengxu tapped the bench with his heel, restless. “Or…”

He leaned forward, glancing at Li Chengye, eyes rolling as if scheming, “Brother, let’s fool Father together.”

Then he tugged slightly at Li Chengye’s sleeve. “Okay?”

Seeing his brother only look helplessly, Li Chengxu pouted and kicked the table leg. “Fine, then continue.”

Li Chengye’s deep voice rose again, reading with rhythm, but the young prince seemed not to listen, only staring at his brother’s profile in daze.

“Cut!” Director Yang’s voice broke the warm scene. “This scene is okay, passed.”

He touched his nose, murmuring, “How did Xie Jixing suddenly get it?”

This scene had been performed too well.