Chapter 6 – Soft and Fragrant Red Bean Buns
With one second out of character, even the director struggled to maintain his composure and couldn’t help but wipe his face before waving for Chen Bai to come down quickly.
When Chen Bai came down, he asked, “Did I do well?”
The director replied that he had.
Now that he had succeeded, it was time to discuss the contract in detail.
What the director had mentioned about getting paid actually referred to the producer handling the payments. The actor had been chosen by him, and the pay was managed by the producer, so the contract had to be negotiated with them as well.
Professional matters were left to professionals. Chen Bai didn’t know much about the industry’s salary situation, so he remembered the agent he had almost forgotten about. He scrolled through his contacts and finally found the dusty number.
Contacts that have gathered dust shouldn’t be discarded; with a little dusting off, they could still be useful.
From what he recalled, his agent was quite capable, but he had just happened to run into a well-paid supporting actor, so they hadn’t sparked any significant collaboration.
To his surprise, he had a built-in agent. The director then asked, “Who’s your agent?”
Chen Bai took another look at the contact name and replied, “Gao Qian.”
The supporting actor had typically referred to her as Sister Qian.
The director raised his eyebrows, studying him for a moment as if finding it hard to believe. Then he seemed to realize something, and his raised brows slowly relaxed. “The God of Wealth might not explode gold coins, but your agent can certainly help the producer release more.”
Gao Qian was a well-known agent in the industry, adept at negotiating salaries. All the artists she managed had found success; she was said to have stopped taking on newcomers for the past two years. It was surprising that she had silently signed with Chen Bai and even brought him this opportunity.
Chen Bai sent a brief WeChat message to his money-exploding agent explaining the situation. Within two minutes, he received a call back.
It was gratifying to know that after so long, his agent still remembered him and seemed not to have given up on him. After asking about the specifics, she expressed her intention to reach out to the producer.
The director added that he hoped it would be quick. Chen Bai relayed the message, and the person on the other end agreed.
Once the call ended, Chen Bai received part of the script.
The director said, “These scenes are yours. Look them over while we negotiate the contract, and remember to read through at least twice.”
The complete script would only be provided once he officially joined the crew, so for now, he had to make do with this. The role had been changed, and previous footage would need to be reshot. They were already behind schedule from the beginning, and once he joined, the pace would surely quicken. It would be challenging to keep up without any impression of the script.
Filming wouldn’t strictly follow a sequence, as it would depend on the set arrangements and the other actors, which could be quite confusing. The director didn’t expect a newcomer to adapt quickly but at least hoped Chen Bai would have some familiarity with the scenes to avoid floundering on set.
Chen Bai looked down at the script in his hand, which was neither too thick nor too thin, and nodded in agreement.
Since the contract wasn’t finalized, he wasn’t officially part of the crew yet. Not wishing to linger, he exchanged greetings with the tall man and left the set.
On his way back, he took on another job to unlock a door for a hapless kid who had been locked out. After finishing that task, he checked the time and realized it was getting late. He quickly changed his initial plan of heading back to the store to sit for a while, dropped off his things, and went to the supermarket.
He had been craving dumplings for dinner.
After dinner, he would soon need to start his live stream, so he made the most of his time. While eating the dumplings, he spread out the script and browsed through it.
The role he had taken on today was actually much more complex than the director had summarized. The character was named A Huai, a neighbor living on the same street as the female lead. Unlike White Moonlight, he was suffering from a terminal illness. He had experienced despair and contemplated suicide; when he went out to buy something, he had cut his wrist with a metal piece in an alley, only to be fortuitously saved by the female lead.
After being saved, and after a series of events, he finally understood that this life belonged not only to himself but also to those who cared for him. He then changed his attitude towards life, facing it positively, with his daily goal becoming to strive to live a little longer.
The script included a note reminding the makeup team to draw a scar on the actor’s hand.
Chen Bai: “…”
He glanced at the scar already present on his wrist.
Perfect, he had a scar ready-made, so there was no need for the makeup team to do anything.
He continued flipping through the script and found the scene he would be auditioning for today.
This was actually a scene after A Huai had been saved, at which point his illness had worsened to the extent that he couldn’t make any sound. He could only greet the passing female lead by writing.
The actual content on that piece of paper was supposed to be “Good morning.”
Chen Bai looked at the dumplings he was holding with his chopsticks.
No wonder the expressions of those people had been so strange at that time.
At this point, the script was almost at the end.
After this scene, A Huai would die. His mother would faint and be sent to the hospital, and the female lead, who had lived nearby for nearly ten years, would be deeply moved and acutely aware of the fragility of life, ultimately deciding to return home.
The plot related to him ended here, and after this, it became irrelevant, with no further developments.
Although he didn’t know much about the industry, Chen Bai felt like he had picked a particularly challenging script from the beginning.
Finishing the last piece of dumplings, he temporarily closed the script and got up to check the kitchen.
There were six dumplings left in the pot. Two were for a late-night snack, two for breakfast tomorrow morning, and there were two extra.
That evening, Xu Sinian, who came to return the plate, arrived with a pair of chopsticks and the plate and left with both.
The only difference was that there were two extra dumplings in the plate.
The third day featured brown sugar steamed buns.
Next came soup dumplings, followed by red bean buns.
After staring at the red bean buns on the plate for a while, Xu Sinian finally took the initiative to ask, “Do you want to open a breakfast shop?”
Chen Bai, simply a good neighbor who enjoyed sharing and couldn’t finish the food he made by himself, waved his hand and said, “Opening a breakfast shop would require me to get up early, which conflicts with my schedule. There aren’t any vacant storefronts nearby, and rent isn’t cheap. I also don’t have the money to set up the equipment.”
Xu Sinian: “…”
It seemed this person had really considered it seriously before; based on his words, he had even done some research.
While chatting with him, Chen Bai noticed the time and realized it was getting late. He had to suppress his desire to continue talking and said goodbye before closing the door.
Once the door was shut, Xu Sinian stood in front of it and glanced down at the red bean buns on the plate in his hand.
When he tapped the buns with his chopsticks, they sank slightly before slowly bouncing back, soft and plump.
Chen Bai hurried back to start his live stream.
From today onward, he had extended his streaming time. After reviewing the script and confirming with the director, he had several outdoor scenes scheduled for different nights that couldn’t all be filmed at once. This meant there would be several nights when he wouldn’t have enough time to stream, so he had to start making up the time now.
As of now, he had moved his latest streaming time to 2 a.m., and it couldn’t be pushed back any further, only brought forward.
He put on his headphones and clicked to start streaming while loading the game.
Recently, his live streaming room had inexplicably turned into a strange large gambling venue.
When he first started streaming, the content was quite normal, with greetings. Now, the opening screen read:
[The gamblers are back!]
[Are you guys here for another no-prize guessing game?]
[Betting on losing two rounds today, if I lose, I won’t use my phone all weekend, just pure studying.]
[He didn’t lose a single round yesterday; I don’t believe it; I’m betting on losing one round today again.]
[I won all the bets I made with my roommate. Er Bai, I’m counting on you. If I lose, I’ll have to bring him meals for a week.]
Chen Bai glanced at the constantly jumping comments and gently tapped his fingers on the keyboard, smiling as he said, “So should I lose or should I win?”
The two sides, those who wanted him to win and those who wanted him to lose, began to compete.
The number of viewers in the streaming room continued to increase, but Chen Bai didn’t start the game as quickly as usual.
He couldn’t find anyone to play with. His usual gaming friends weren’t online, and the only one online had already entered a match.
With no one to play with, he had to go solo.
After a long time of playing solo again, he actively sought new teammates.
A team consists of five people; he recognized three of them, so they teamed up and just happened to pair with a solo player.
As a natural social butterfly, he greeted the new player right away and received a swift and enthusiastic response.
Their voice was quite pleasant.
This was the first time he received such an energetic response, which lifted Chen Bai’s spirits. His mouse unconsciously moved toward the “Add Friend” icon in the corner, and he said, “They’re so enthusiastic; I want to be friends with them.”
The comments didn’t provide any feedback on his declaration of friendship, quickly jumping along.
[Qing Zhou!]
[Both Qing Zhou and Er Bai are streaming; I deliberated for a long time and chose Er Bai, only to run into Qing Zhou here! [Dazed.jpg]]
[Hahaha, it’s normal for streamers to be enthusiastic!]
Chen Bai scanned the comments and said, “Qing Zhou?”
His tone carried seven parts curiosity and three parts confusion, and the viewers in the streaming room realized he was genuinely puzzled.
[Wow, Qing Zhou is the top streamer on the popularity list, Er Bai!]
[You’re all streamers in the same channel, Er Bai, you really don’t pay attention at all!]
[I’m not concerned about Qing Zhou, just about my bets. With both Qing Zhou and Er Bai here, I already know I’ll lose my bet! (shuts eyes)]
Knowing the temporary partner’s identity, Chen Bai moved his mouse away from the “Add Friend” icon and said, “Oh, okay.”
He was usually busy, so he indeed hadn’t paid much attention to these things. After streaming, he would just crash into bed and wouldn’t open the software until it was time. It was likely that his streaming time had just missed this person, and he hadn’t heard this name from the viewers in the stream.
If the other person was a streamer, considering the audience’s experience, he couldn’t play the usual bait games like he usually did.
[Er Bai visibly deflated, hahahaha]
[Hahaha, Er Bai, don’t let your attitude change too obviously; you just want a bait partner!]
[A big streamer? No, just a teammate who can’t be used as bait (shaking head)]
The trio quickly exited the game, and Chen Bai and his temporary partner chose a location to jump together.
This time, no one accompanied him to gank; he could only focus on chaotic kills. The collaboration with his temporary partner progressed swiftly, and he kept racking up kills.
The faster the pace, the more focus was required. He spoke less than usual, occasionally glancing at the comments and replying briefly.
[Oh wow, so this is what a serious Er Bai looks like]
[Hahahaha, being forced to talk less; it’s a pity, but he looks really cool x]
[Turns out this guy can snipe even without bait!!!]
[Er Bai’s joy has diminished, shifting to my face, hahahaha]
A shadow quickly flashed across his vision, and out of reflex, he whipped around and shot, hitting the target. Chen Bai let out a sigh of relief.
Indeed, the bait game was more fun.
