Life countdown begins, ice queen bursts into security room

Jiang Fan sat up in bed, and Song Siyi straightened up in his arms, the blanket slipping down halfway.

Several patches of skin with red marks were visible.

Jiang Fan got out of bed and picked up the shirt from the carpet.

I picked it up and took a look. There was a lipstick mark on the collar and another on the chest.

I can't wear them anymore.

Song Siyi put on a white nightgown and walked barefoot to the wardrobe.

There were several men's shirts hanging inside, with the tags still on.

She took off a white shirt, tore off the tag, and turned to walk up to Jiang Fan.

"Give me your hand."

Jiang Fan obediently opened his arms.

Song Siyi put the shirt on him from behind, then moved it around to the front and started buttoning it from the bottom button upwards.

Finally, I smoothed out the wrinkles at the collar and patted his chest twice with my palm.

"Alright."

Jiang Fan looked at her. This woman was increasingly taking on the air of a boss; even her act of helping people get dressed carried off with a sense of competence.

He took the watch and put it on.

"Let's go, take me to Times Media."

Song Siyi's car has been replaced with a black Mercedes S-Class.

During the morning rush hour in Shanghai, traffic moves in fits and starts.

Jiang Fan sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through messages on his phone.

Song Siyi gripped the steering wheel, looking at the red light ahead.

"Head of the animation department, I'll go back to the company and have HR poach you."

"Sure," Jiang Fan replied. "If you pay enough, the supply chain for related toys and figurines will follow suit once the animation is finished."

The car stopped in front of the Times Media Building. Jiang Fan unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door.

"I'm heading back to the office now, bye-bye."

Jiang Fan nodded, turned around and walked into the gate of Times Media.

-

A newly vacated audition room at Times Media.

One side of the wall is lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. This used to be a dance studio for trainees, and it's a very spacious area.

Behind the long table, Su Yuyan sat in a seat near the side.

A woman in her fifties was sitting in the middle.

He had short hair, wore reading glasses, and was dressed in a gray knit sweater. He was flipping through the script of "Journey to the West".

She is Yang Shuhua, a renowned director of period dramas in China.

Yang Shuhua closed the script and slammed it onto the long table.

She took off her reading glasses and turned to look at Su Yuyan.

"The script is really well written; it's a rare gem in recent years."

"But this casting list, Mr. Su, are you kidding me?"

Yang Shuhua pointed to the A4 paper list on the table.

"You're alright as the White Bone Demon, you have some experience. But why cast Tang Yingxue as Guanyin? And Xu Qingya as the Queen of the Women's Kingdom?"

"Have these two ever acted, besides singing?"

Su Yuyan leaned back in her chair.

"Director Yang, they have a large following."

"I, Yang Shuhua, never consider viewership ratings when filming!"

Yang Shuhua slammed her knuckles against the table, producing a dull thud.

"Let's forget about these two pretty faces. They don't have many scenes. I can just spend my time training them slowly."

"But what about Tang Sanzang? You're telling me the investors want to play the role themselves?"

Yang Shuhua threw down the pen in her hand; the pen bounced on the table and fell directly to the ground.

"Tang Sanzang is the soul of the whole play! Casting a boss who's never even studied acting is a waste of the script!"

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I strongly disagree."

Su Yuyan remained silent.

She picked up her teacup, took a sip, and decided to wait for Jiang Fan to handle it himself.

The doorknob turned, and the receptionist led Jiang Fan in through the door.

The audition room fell silent.

Yang Shuhua turned her head and looked the young man who walked in up and down.

White shirt, black trousers, tall and straight figure, clear and bright features.

His appearance was impeccable; he was clean and tidy, without the effeminate air of today's young heartthrobs.

But acting isn't just about looks.

"President Jiang." Su Yuyan stood up and pulled out the chair next to her.

Jiang Fan walked over and sat down, his gaze falling on Yang Shuhua.

"Director Yang, I've heard so much about you."

Yang Shuhua ignored the polite words and pushed the list on the table forward.

"President Jiang, you wrote the script, and I admire your talent." Yang Shuhua got straight to the point.

"But writing a script and acting are two different things. The character of Tang Sanzang has a lot of lines, and his emotions range from compassion to stubbornness. He also has to face the temptations and threats of various demons and monsters."

"Without several years of stage experience, you simply can't handle this play."

Jiang Fan leaned back in his chair and listened to her finish speaking.

"Director Yang," Jiang Fan began, "what do you think was the most difficult part of portraying Tang Sanzang?"

Yang Shuhua looked at him.

"Composure," Yang Shuhua answered crisply. "Faced with life and death, faced with women. He is an ordinary man, but he must demonstrate the composure of a Buddha. This composure is not a blank expression, but a restraint that comes from within."

Jiang Fan nodded.

"Well then, Director Yang, no matter how well I explain, it's useless. Let's just do a rehearsal."

Yang Shuhua pushed up her glasses.

"Oh? Which section should we try?"

"The part where Tang Sanzang drives Sun Wukong away after the Three Battles with the White Bone Demon."

Yang Shuhua opened the script and found that page.

"In this scene, Tang Sanzang's emotions are the most complex. There's anger, heartache, and resolve." Yang Shuhua looked at Jiang Fan. "Get ready. You have ten minutes to prepare."

"Need not."

Jiang Fan stood up and walked to the open space in the middle of the audition room.

Su Yuyan put down her teacup and sat down a little further forward.

She had been with Jiang Fan for so long, and she had never seen him act.

Jiang Fan closed his eyes.

Two seconds later, she opened her eyes.

Su Yuyan sat in the chair, stunned.

Jiang Fan's aura changed; the sharp, assertive investor from before was gone.

He stood there, his shoulders slumped, his back straight, exuding the weariness of a long journey.

His gaze softened, yet still held a hint of stubbornness.

Jiang Fan looked at the empty space in front of him.

He raised his hand, his fingers trembling, and pointed ahead.

"You mischievous monkey..."

The voice wasn't loud, but it conveyed extreme disappointment.

"I am a monk, and I am guided by compassion. Yet you have repeatedly taken lives."

Jiang Fan closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"You can leave now."

Su Yuyan's hand holding the teacup froze in mid-air.

These few lines, without any shouting or exaggerated actions, directly draw the viewer into the scene with their heartache and resolute determination.

Yang Shuhua couldn't help but clench the script tightly.

Jiang Fan did not stop.

He took another step forward, put his hands together, bowed his head, and chanted a Buddhist prayer.

When she looked up again, her eyes were red, but there was no sign of compromise in her gaze.

"You go back to your Flower Fruit Mountain, and I'll go get my scriptures. From now on, our master-disciple relationship is severed."

After saying that, he turned around.

That figure was lonely, stubborn, yet also showed the helplessness of an ordinary person.

The audition room was silent for a full half minute.

Jiang Fan composed himself, turned around, and walked back to the table to sit down.

He picked up the bottled water on the table, unscrewed it, and took a sip.

His expression was completely different from before. The compassionate Tang Sanzang had disappeared, and he had returned to being the calm and composed Jiang Fan.

Yang Shuhua stared at Jiang Fan for a long time.

She has been in this industry for forty years and has met countless actors.

But someone like Jiang Fan, who can get into character in a second and out of character in a second, with such precise micro-expressions and muscle control—

You can count them on one hand.

"President Jiang," Yang Shuhua's assertive tone softened.

Where did you study acting before?

"No, I just made it up on my own."

Yang Shuhua didn't ask any further questions. She picked up the script from the table and turned to the first page.

Next to the cast list, the section for Tang Sanzang is still empty.

Yang Shuhua picked up her pen and wrote two words heavily behind Tang Seng: Jiang Fan.

"I've decided on you, Tang Sanzang."

Su Yuyan breathed a sigh of relief.

Yang Shuhua stood up, walked up to Jiang Fan, crossed her arms, and looked him up and down again.

"One last question."

Yang Shuhua stretched out her hand and pointed to the top of Jiang Fan's head.

"Your hair, really shaved, can you accept that?"

Su Yuyan suddenly turned her head.

Really shave?

She subconsciously looked at Jiang Fan's hair, which was jet black and felt wonderful to the touch.

Yang Shuhua put her reading glasses back on her nose.

"Tang Sanzang is a monk. I never use a wig when I'm filming. A wig is immediately recognizable to the audience on camera. If you want to play the role, you have to shave your head."

"The entire filming period is at least four months. During those four months, you have to keep a shaved head."

Su Yuyan opened her mouth as if to say something, but she knew Yang Shuhua's rules.

Jiang Fan touched his hair.

He went bald in four months.

He wondered what Xu Qingya's expression would be when she saw his bald head, and then he wondered how Tang Yingxue would laugh at him.

And Shen Nian.

That girl always liked to grab his hair and not let go after they were done.

What is she pulling at after shaving her head?

"Okay. No problem."