Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

"You acted well." Zhang Yu patted her shoulder. "Remember the feeling from yesterday's rehearsal—Shen Qingqiu wasn't just anxious at this moment, but a mixture of self-blame, fear, and the last glimmer of hope. She blamed herself for not taking good care of her adopted daughter, feared losing her, but also held onto the hope that 'she would definitely find her.' This complex emotion needs to be expressed through details."

He paused, then lowered his voice: "Especially that hug after finding your adopted daughter—it can't be too tight, nor too loose. Too tight seems contrived, too loose seems distant. It needs that feeling of cherishing something 'lost and found,' understand?"

Li Xiaoran nodded: "I understand."

“There’s one more detail.” Zhang Yu leaned close to her ear and whispered, “After you find your adopted daughter, you have a line that says, ‘Mom will never leave you again.’ When you say this, your voice should tremble, but not in a sobbing tone. It should be the kind of trembling that comes from being overjoyed after surviving a disaster. You can try biting your lip to control your emotions, but you can’t control the feeling.”

His breath brushed against her ear, the warm air making Li Xiaoran's ears turn red. She instinctively tried to move away, but Zhang Yu reached out and supported her shoulder.

“Don’t move,” he said. “I’m teaching you to act, so pay attention.”

His hands were hot, the heat seeping through his soaked costume onto her skin. Li Xiaoran's heart raced; she could smell the faint scent of tobacco and aftershave on him.

"Director Zhang, someone's watching..." she whispered.

"Who's looking?" Zhang Yu glanced around. The staff immediately looked away, pretending to be busy.

He smiled and gently pressed his fingers on her shoulder: "Focus. Once this scene is filmed, I'll celebrate with you separately tonight."

The implication was too obvious. Li Xiaoran blushed even more, but a sweet feeling welled up inside her. Since that night, her relationship with Zhang Yu had entered a delicate, ambiguous state—on set, they were director and actor; in private, they were lovers. This dual relationship was both exciting and dangerous, but she was addicted to it and couldn't extricate herself.

Filming begins. In the artificial rain, Li Xiaoran runs through the night carrying a lantern. Rain soaks her hair and clothes, but she seems oblivious, anxiously calling out her adopted daughter's name.

"Xiaoyu! Xiaoyu, where are you?"

Her voice, initially anxious, gradually turned to despair, and finally choked with sobs. The camera zoomed in for a close-up of her face—rain mingled with tears, her eyes a mixture of despair and perseverance, a maternal glow that was deeply moving.

After running through more than a dozen streets, she finally found her adopted daughter (played by a ten-year-old actress) curled up under a roof. She rushed over, threw down the lantern, and hugged the child tightly.

"Xiaoyu... Mommy found you... Mommy will never leave you again..."

When she delivered that line, her voice trembled—a tremor born of near-death experience—more infectious than any loud sobbing. The young actor was also moved by her emotions and hugged her, crying as well.

"Okay! Stop!" Zhang Yu shouted.

There was a moment of silence, then erupted in enthusiastic applause. Li Xiaoran's performance in this scene was superb; everyone was deeply moved.

Zhang Yu personally took a towel and walked over to Li Xiaoran, handing it to her: "Wipe yourself off, don't catch a cold."

Li Xiaoran took the towel and wiped the rain and tears from her face, her eyes fixed on Zhang Yu. Her eyes held expectation, dependence, and a barely perceptible hint of possessiveness.

"He acted very well," Zhang Yu said. "Especially the final hug, the intensity of which was just right."

"It's because you taught me so well," Li Xiaoran said softly.

The two locked eyes, their gazes locked. The surrounding staff tactfully stepped back, giving them some space.

"Tonight..." Zhang Yu lowered his voice, "The usual place?"

Li Xiaoran blushed, but still nodded: "Mm."

"Go change your clothes first, don't catch a cold." Zhang Yu patted her back and turned to walk towards the monitor.

Li Xiaoran watched his retreating figure, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside her. She knew she was wrong—Zhang Yu had Chen Chen, and so many actresses surrounding him. But she couldn't control her heart. This man was poisonous; once you were hooked, you couldn't quit.

Nine o'clock in the evening, Zhang Yu's office.

Wang Ou knocked and entered right on time. Today, she was wearing a dark blue business suit, with the top button of her white shirt neatly fastened, her hair tied in a low ponytail, and her makeup refined but not overdone. She exuded an air of competence and professionalism.

"Director Zhang, this is the program for next Friday's public performance." She placed a document in front of Zhang Yu. "There are twelve programs in total, including solo singing, dancing, skits, and opera excerpts. Each program has undergone three rounds of review to ensure quality."

Zhang Yu took the document and quickly glanced through it. The program was well-organized, with segments showcasing basic skills, special talents, and teamwork. It was clear that Wang Ou had put a lot of thought into it.

"Good." Zhang Yu nodded. "Has the guest list been finalized?"

“It’s settled.” Wang Ou handed over another list. “Program directors from CCTV, Beijing TV, and Hunan TV have all confirmed their attendance, along with more than thirty media outlets. In addition, Wayi has also received an invitation, but hasn’t replied yet.”

“Wang Zhongjun won’t come,” Zhang Yu laughed. “He wouldn’t dare to come.”

Wang Ou laughed as well: "Indeed. But Director Zhang, I have a concern—this public performance is quite large-scale, and if a trainee makes a mistake on the spot, it will affect the reputation of the training camp."

“Mistakes are normal,” Zhang Yu said. “What we want to show is not perfection, but growth. The process of students going from zero experience to being able to perform on stage is the best advertisement in itself. Even if there are mistakes, as long as they are handled properly, they will make the performance more authentic.”

Wang Ou seemed to understand: "I see. What about the media..."

“To be honest,” Zhang Yu leaned back in his chair. “The training camp doesn’t pursue quick results; we cultivate real actors. The process is tough, and the results may be slow, but every trainee who leaves the camp will have solid fundamental skills. That’s the source of ‘Hua Yu’s’ confidence.”

His voice was calm, yet it carried an undeniable confidence. Wang Ou looked at him, a surge of admiration welling up within him. This man always managed to simplify complex matters and turn crises into opportunities.

“There’s one more thing,” Wang Ou said. “Gao Yuanyuan came in this afternoon to complete the formalities. She signed a three-year training contract with a penalty of one million yuan for breach of contract. Director Zhang, do you really think she can handle it?”

"Why not?" Zhang Yu retorted.

“She… is too beautiful.” Wang Ou hesitated for a moment. “Beautiful girls often can’t endure hardship. Besides, she’s already quite famous in the advertising industry. Suddenly having to start learning acting from scratch would be a huge psychological adjustment for her.”

“That’s why we have to sign a hefty penalty clause.” Zhang Yu laughed. “One million is enough to make her take it seriously. As for whether she can endure the hardship—” He paused, “Look at how much she cried today, and she still dared to come and sign the contract, which shows she has some backbone.”

Wang Ou recalled the scene when he saw Gao Yuanyuan in the office that afternoon—her eyes were swollen like peaches, but she still insisted on signing the contract, writing each stroke very carefully.