Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

A strange feeling welled up in Zhang Yu's heart. Memories of his past and present lives churned in his mind, finally settling into a clear thought—since he was in this circle, he might as well have fun. He wouldn't hurt anyone, but he also wouldn't waste any opportunities.

He can afford to play this game.

During the lunch break, Li Xiaoming arranged another tea party. This time, it wasn't at a restaurant, but at a very private teahouse in the ancient town. The teahouse was built by the river, and you could see the covered boats on the waterway and hear the sounds of oars and boatmen's shouts as you opened the window.

There were only a few participants, including Zhang Yu, Chen Chen, Li Xiaoming, and a few key female celebrities: Gao Yuanyuan, Jing Tian, ​​Liu Yan, and Liu Shishi.

Yang Mi also arrived. Today she wore a black knitted dress with a dark purple shawl, her long hair was slightly curled, her makeup was exquisite, and her temperament was cold and mysterious.

"Director Zhang, Miss Chen, please have a seat." Li Xiaoming greeted them warmly. "The Longjing tea in this teahouse is specially supplied; you can't get it anywhere else."

Everyone took their seats. The tea master began to perform the tea ceremony, his movements fluid and graceful, the aroma of tea wafting through the air. Outside the window, the winter sun shone on the river, creating shimmering waves, and small boats glided slowly by, as if stepping out of an ancient painting.

Zhang Yu sat by the window, his posture languid. He wore a dark blue sweater today, which made his skin appear even whiter, and the mole under his left eye was clearly visible in the sunlight. Chen Chen sat beside him, wearing a moon-white cheongsam with a light gray cashmere shawl draped over it, as elegant as an orchid in the misty rain of Jiangnan.

"Director Zhang," Li Xiaoming began, "the filming of 'Old Tales of Jiangnan' is going very smoothly. The footage I've seen these past few days is of very high quality. Once filming is finished, we must promote it well."

"Thank you, Mr. Li," Zhang Yu replied politely. "However, since this is a student's work, there might not be much of a budget for promotion."

“No need to worry about that.” Li Xiaoming readily agreed. “Rong Xinda can help. And… if Director Zhang takes on ‘The Scholarly Family,’ then ‘Old Tales of Jiangnan,’ as his previous work, will have even more buzz when it comes to promotion.”

As he spoke, his gaze swept over Gao Yuanyuan, the meaning clear—if you take the role, Gao Yuanyuan will be the female lead.

Zhang Yu smiled but didn't reply. Instead, he turned to Yang Mi and asked, "Miss Yang, what brings you to Xitang today?"

Yang Mi put down her teacup, her voice cool and clear: "I have an event in Shanghai, and I heard that Director Zhang is filming here, so I came to check it out. I really like period dramas set in the Republican era, and I'd like to learn from Director Zhang."

She spoke politely, but something flickered in her eyes. Zhang Yu could sense that this woman was no ordinary person—beautiful, intelligent, ambitious, and adept at using wisdom and charm as weapons.

"Miss Yang, you're too kind." Zhang Yu smiled. "I've seen your performance in 'The Noble Family of Red Powder,' and your acting is very solid. Especially the scene in the rain, your emotions were spot on."

Yang Mi was taken aback. She hadn't expected Zhang Yu to have actually seen her work and even be able to pinpoint which scene it was. In this industry, directors who take a newcomer's work so seriously are extremely rare.

"Thank you, Director Zhang." Her voice softened a bit. "That scene was filmed seven times, and the director was never satisfied, saying that my crying wasn't beautiful enough. Later I realized that what he wanted wasn't beauty, but authenticity."

“That’s right.” Zhang Yu’s eyes became serious. “The hardest thing about acting is authenticity. Because the audience is too smart, they can tell if you’re being fake even a little bit. So what actors need to do is not ‘act,’ but ‘become.’”

As he spoke, he looked at the women present: "You are all very good actresses, but you all need to break through in some areas. Miss Gao is too gentle and needs a touch of wildness; Jing Tian is too innocent and needs a touch of complexity; Miss Liu is too passionate and needs a touch of reserve; Miss Liu is too aloof and needs a touch of warmth; Miss Yang is too cold and elegant and needs a touch of softness..."

He offered his comments one by one, each assessment precise and insightful. The women listened attentively, their eyes filled with complex emotions—admiration, thoughtful consideration, and... attraction.

Such a man is handsome, talented, knowledgeable about acting, and also so good at appreciating and guiding... He's so rare.

Chen Chen watched all of this quietly. She could sense that Zhang Yu was intentionally or unintentionally displaying his charm and flirting with these women. But he did it so naturally and skillfully, making each woman feel specially treated and deeply understood.

And she, as his closest person, felt an increasingly strong sense of alienation.

In his past life at Star Gate, he would never have acted like this. He was always self-disciplined and kept his distance from everyone. In this life, he has changed, becoming someone she doesn't recognize, and making her...uneasy.

“Ms. Chen,” Yang Mi suddenly spoke up, “I heard you’re a freshman in the acting department at Beijing Film Academy? To act so well in your first film is really impressive.”

Chen Chen snapped out of his reverie and smiled politely, "Thank you, Ms. Yang. I was just doing my best."

“It’s not just about trying your best.” Yang Mi’s eyes were serious. “I’ve seen a few of your scenes, and you’re very talented. Especially your eyes, they’re very moving. Director Zhang has a really good eye for talent to choose you as the female lead.”

She spoke politely, but Chen Chen sensed the probing in her voice. She calmly replied, "It's thanks to Director Zhang's excellent guidance. Besides, this role suits me well, and it was easy for me to play."

"The most important thing is to find a role that suits you." Gao Yuanyuan said softly. "After so many years of acting, my deepest feeling is that you are not choosing roles, but roles are choosing you. Some roles, no matter how important they are, will be painful to play if they are not suitable for you."

“Sister Yuanyuan is right.” Jing Tian nodded. “When I filmed my first movie, the director said I was too inexperienced to play complex roles. Later, I gradually honed my skills, and now I’m doing a little better.”

The women began discussing the performance, and the atmosphere became relaxed. Zhang Yu leaned back in his chair, watching quietly, occasionally interjecting with a few words that always hit the nail on the head. His knowledge was astonishing, ranging from Stanislavski's acting system to Mei Lanfang's opera theory, from Hollywood's star system to the golden age of Hong Kong cinema... he knew almost everything, and always quoted it aptly.

Watching this scene, Li Xiaoming felt both satisfied and wary. He was satisfied because Zhang Yu was indeed talented and charismatic; if he could be won over, it would be a great help to Rong Xinda. He was wary because this man was too clever, too adept at manipulating people, and probably wouldn't be easy to control.

The tea party didn't end until 3 PM. Everyone dispersed, and Zhang Yu and Chen Chen walked side-by-side on the ancient town's cobblestone path. The winter sun was warm, its rays feeling lazy and comforting.

"Chen Chen," Zhang Yu suddenly spoke, "Do you think... I've changed?"

Chen Chen paused for a moment, then said softly, "People always change."

“But I’ve become unsettling to you, haven’t I?” Zhang Yu turned to look at her, his eyes deep.

Chen Chen was silent for a moment, then said honestly, "Yes. You've become...too good at attracting people, too good at controlling the situation. Before, you were talented, but you were purer. Now you...are more complicated."