Chapter 235: So Quiet And Still Want Qiu Ya?
Yu Wei’s acting skills are impeccable.
Even the staff nearby thought he performed well, more vivid than Fei Hong, but the two were consistent in the big picture.
When acting a role, just act the role, don’t bring in irrelevant stuff. Interpretation is left to the audience after the movie airs, not something done during filming.
Qi Yunming saw that and had nothing more to say. The screenwriter has the deepest understanding of the role, and he can even perform it himself, so Yu Wei has the final say.
His habit of over-interpreting is actually a common problem among domestic directors. It occasionally has a miraculous effect in art films, but it’s really not suitable in comedy films.
“How did it feel?”
After the simple performance, Yu Wei wanted to hear Fei Hong’s thoughts. Rather than saying he acted particularly well, it’s that his direction was more accurate.
He was just afraid that Fei Hong would be led astray by Old Qi…
“I think I get it a bit.”
This time Fei Hong really understood. Yu Wei does have the goods. Chatting with the director and producer about the role is just for fun; to truly learn the essence, you have to look at the screenwriter.
“Sit down first and wait for the next one.”
There were still a few empty chairs in the audition room, prepared for the already confirmed actors. If there was a need for a scene partner, they would come to cooperate with the auditioning actor’s performance.
Fei Hong’s face overflowed with joy upon hearing this, meaning he had successfully secured the role!
“I will definitely work hard.”
He was truly here to prove himself, so he naturally cared extra about this opportunity. Success or failure hinged on this one shot.
The second participant in the open audition was Su Jian. As the only one with zero acting experience among the open audition participants, he looked obviously a bit tense.
“Isn’t this giao bro?”
Lu Zhou had just joined recently and really didn’t know who all Yu Wei had brought in for free. Now seeing this, none of these people were simple.
Hearing this nickname made Su Jian even more tense. Although he became popular through abstract content, this popularity had pros and cons. Now every time he went out, he had to be called this, which was quite embarrassing.
But for the role of Meng Te, abstract is a good thing. No fear of him not being abstract, just fear of him not being abstract enough…
Su Jian’s appearance actually fit the role quite well—clear and handsome features with a bit of shyness. It’d be a pity not to cross-dress.
“Director Qi, how do you understand this role?”
This time Yu Wei got smart and first asked Old Qi’s understanding. Normal analysis was fine, but if he started over-interpreting again, he’d have to step in himself.
Although Qi Yunming was too lazy to handle specific casting, he wouldn’t refuse to talk about ideas. After all, he was the director.
“Meng Te is not a simple sissy stereotypical role. He is essentially male-bodied with a female heart, identifying inwardly as a girl but trapped in a male body.”
Those who didn’t know would think Charlotte Troubles was some politically correct film, but Old Qi wasn’t wrong on this point—Meng Te indeed wasn’t an ordinary sissy.
The scene where he secretly tries on cross-dressing in the bathroom proved this. When Meng Te put on the floral skirt, applied lipstick, and gazed intoxicated in the mirror, he was real.
Su Jian nearby nodded, whether he truly understood or pretended to. Yu Wei had him try performing a segment.
He chose the scene at Qiu Ya’s wedding, where Meng Te had become Meng Te Jiao, performing with extra charm—it was one of the hardest parts of the role to act.
Su Jian was clearly a bit reserved, but his raised orchid finger looked remarkably lifelike. He seemed to have the knack for it.
“I don’t think so. Back in school, if I were a girl, who knows who the school belle would have been.”
His voice pitch rose with a hint of coquettishness. Yu Wei nodded, feeling it was good. He wanted to ask the three of them their thoughts, but turning around, he saw Qi Yunming and the others holding back laughter.
Wait, who holds back laughter during an open audition for a role? Shouldn’t they all have professional training?
Actually, the laughter was their recognition of Su Jian’s acting skills, because this was a comedy film after all.
Yu Wei had seen the original film and was immune, but for Qi Yunming and the others, it was their first time, so they naturally wanted to laugh. Watching a comedy film script versus real performance was completely different—they had underestimated Yu Wei’s movie.
“Cough cough.”
Yu Wei was still worried that Su Jian would be affected by the laughter and his performance would suffer, but instead he completely let loose. The tension of the audition instantly dissipated, replaced by coquettish confidence.
Su Jian made a sweeping gesture across the room, then cheekily rolled his eyes: “Yuan Hua is the only decent one. Apart from Yuan Hua, none of the boys in our class are presentable.”
His tone carried both teasing and a subtle jealousy, perfectly capturing Meng Te’s veiled fondness for Yuan Hua.
Earlier they had just been holding back laughter, but when Su Jian finished this scene, they couldn’t help bursting out laughing.
Yu Wei looked at the smiling Qi Yunming with some helplessness. Still laughing? Isn’t the one playing Yuan Hua your son?
By then, netizens shipping some abstract CP would shut them up.
Rather than saying Su Jian’s acting skills were great, it’s that he truly had talent. Thinking carefully, when shooting the giao short video back then, he was the same—awkward at first, then gradually enjoying it.
It was similar just now: everyone laughed, and he got even more into it. Could this be a massive outburst of M attribute?
“Not bad, sit down and wait.”
Yu Wei planned to select all four male roles in one go, then audition a few female roles in the afternoon.
If nothing unexpected, Fei Hong and Su Jian should be locked in for their roles. It’d be hard to find anyone more suitable in the short term.
Zhang Lingye entered right after, his gaze secretly darting to Qi Yunming’s face. He was clearly really worried about being targeted.
If they really targeted him, that’d be great. Old Qi’s taste was off—those he didn’t fancy seemed to take off.
“Uncle… oh no, Director Qi, hello.”
Zhang Lingye bowed seriously, then began discussing his understanding of the role. Zhang Yang lived up to his name—flashy on the outside, playing at nonchalance.
He was someone deeply versed in human relationships, extremely scheming and slick. For example, in the class reunion scene, Zhang Yang stirred trouble to make Yuan Hua compose a poem to humiliate Xia Luo, while keeping a safe distance himself.
Zhang Lingye chose the scene at the movie’s end, where Zhang Yang becomes Xia Luo’s stepfather—one of the film’s biggest laugh points.
Acting such a scheming role isn’t actually easy. His performance could only be described as mediocre.
“Luo’er, I’ve thought it through. From now on, we’ll each mind our own. You call me bro, I’ll call you dad!”
Not fully immersed, but this abstract line still made Lu Zhou and Peng Chao burst into laughter. Yu Wei’s movie was packed with laughs—even having read the script, the performance still felt fun.
Not quite a masterpiece, but it had strong potential to become a cinematic classic. For that goal, they needed to step up.
“Not bad, stay and we’ll see.”
Zhang Lingye’s acting wasn’t as good as Fei Hong’s, his talent not as great as Su Jian’s—just barely passing. They decided to keep him for now and observe.
After all, they were all freebies from Yu Wei; not everyone could fit the role perfectly. Old Zhang’s level still needed practice.
The last to enter was Qi Yuan. Yuan Hua, as the male lead’s rival, had a lot of scenes—a highly challenging role.
Qi Yuan didn’t hold back and dove right in, smoothly chatting about Yuan Hua as he saw him.
Yuan Hua wasn’t just a simple villain or romantic rival. In one sentence: outwardly self-righteously aloof, inwardly fragile and uneasy.
He was the district chief’s son, the good student in teachers’ eyes, but all that halo was built on his father’s power.
Qi Yuan deeply related to this. Born in such a family, it was impossible that his background had no impact on his star career—he accepted it candidly.
Before his massive unfollows, fans loved using his background to dominate arguments…
Qi Yunming’s expression was terrifyingly calm, as if the one before him wasn’t his son, but just a young artist auditioning.
“Try the phone booth scene.”
Old Qi casually picked the famous scene. Yu Wei watched impassively—if he could nail this, he’d be Yuan Hua incarnate.
Qi Yuan walked to the corner of the audition area, where a simple chair stood for the phone booth. He turned his back to the judges, shoulders slightly shrugging, as if in a snowy night.
“Qiu Ya.” His voice carried cautious expectation. “Have you… decided which university to apply to?”
Qi Yuan’s basic skills were indeed solid, with excellent line delivery. No wonder he was taught by a veteran artist.
Suddenly, his voice rose an octave, trembling with disbelief: “You’re with Xia Luo…?”
This line hit like a heavy hammer, crumbling his last defense.
“No.”
Qi Yuan slowly slid to his knees, fist weakly pounding the imaginary phone booth glass.
Lacking flavor.
Other parts were pretty good, but that final hysterical cry clearly lacked tension. This scene needed to be more exaggerated.
So softly and he wants Qiu Ya?
“Let me demonstrate for you.”
Qi Yuan and the just-seated Zhang Lingye never expected him to step in. What, the head screenwriter warming up?
But the directors and Fei Hong weren’t surprised, even faintly expecting Yu Wei’s next performance. This kid might actually deliver.
This scene was too classic. Yu Wei entered the state almost immediately—fingers slightly trembling, but he deliberately straightened his back, imitating Yuan Hua’s habitual official tone posture.
He forced a casual smile into the microphone: “Qiu Ya, which university are you applying to? I want… I want to go with you.”
Before the words finished, he suddenly choked, as if hearing her cold response, then silently knelt in the snow.
Yu Wei abruptly looked up, roaring at the sky: “No—! Qiu Ya—!”
His sudden hysteria startled everyone. The front was performed well, but this skyward howl—was it too exaggerated?
Qi Yuan’s earlier handling felt like normal human expression. Teacher Yu’s… wasn’t it too theatrical?
Was it exaggerated for comedic effect? Even then, it fell a bit short.
Everyone exchanged glances, unsure of his intent. Without his earlier brilliant acting, they’d almost think Yu Wei had flopped.
“You try it once.”
Yu Wei stood and looked at Qi Yuan, having him imitate and perform it again. No need to be identical, but the direction was this.
Qi Yuan hesitated upon hearing this. Could this work? It felt like blind directing…
He naturally trusted Yu Wei, but this performance was indeed exaggerated, leaving Qi Yuan unsure how to grasp it.
Dad, Old Qi, say something?
Qi Yunming ignored him. What was there to say? He could tell Yu Wei had deep intent in doing this.
“Try again, I’ll add a BGM for you.”
For today’s open audition, Yu Wei had specially recorded a simple song yesterday. Without background music, this scene did seem a bit over-the-top alone.
But with the execution tune, it was completely different.
