Chapter 37: Either Don’t Act, or Completely Overhaul Historical Dramas (Please Keep Reading)

One day in the crew equaled a year in the outside world.

Two months of filming passed by in a whirlwind. During this time, Su Mu earned the recognition of the entire crew through his dedicated, almost obsessive, use of his mysterious abilities.

With the endorsement of many seasoned actors, everyone gradually accepted Su Mu’s identity as an actor deeply immersed in his role—someone who couldn’t easily extricate himself from the character’s inner world. In most people’s eyes, this wasn’t something just anyone could achieve.

And when you encountered such an actor, he deserved the utmost respect.

So, for these two months, Su Mu thrived in the crew. Now, everyone who met him greeted him as “Brother Qiang.”

In the blink of an eye, July arrived. It was the final sprint of filming; the schedule became increasingly tight. With the wrap drawing near, naturally, everyone hoped for a good ending.

During this period, Qian Jida came back once. However, he only stayed a night, gave a few instructions, and left again. He didn’t say much about future arrangements, but Su Mu could guess things probably weren’t going smoothly.

Given his current popularity and exposure, taking on some commercial performances or appearing in a few moderately successful variety shows wouldn’t be a problem—so long as he wasn’t picky. No matter the pay, no matter the content or reputation of the show, there would be plenty of offers.

But Qian Jida would never arrange such things for Su Mu. Even if the company’s resources were limited, he would rather have nothing than settle for mediocrity. They weren’t at the point yet where they’d take whatever came their way.

...

[Male Artist Proficiency Panel]

Strength: 1.1
Speed: 1.1
Endurance: 6.1
Mental Computation: 11.1
Skill Points: 40.23

[Speech Proficiency Lv2: 30/50 (Entering the Hall)]
[Script Proficiency Lv3: 88/5000 (Master Craftsman)]
[Emotional Control Proficiency Lv3: 103/5000 (Master Craftsman)]
[Facial Expression Control Proficiency Lv4: 99/10000 (Grandmaster)]
[Dialogue Proficiency Lv3: 561/5000 (Master Craftsman)]
[Behavioral Imitation Proficiency Lv3: 102/5000 (Master Craftsman)]
[Fish-Slaying Proficiency Lv2: 2/50 (Entering the Hall)]
[Kissing Proficiency Lv1: 2/30 (Novice)]
[High Note Proficiency Lv2: 25/50 (Entry)... Hidden, proficiency cannot be improved yet]

Mission Blind Boxes: 0
Work Blind Boxes: 0 / “Soaring” Theme Song: “No Place to Hide”
Talent Blind Boxes: 0
Skill Blind Boxes: 0
Item Blind Boxes: 0 (Kissing Chewing Gum *0, used up)
Attribute Blind Boxes: 0

(Hint: With three proficiency options above Lv3, you can add an attribute point and a new basic attribute.)
(Hint: Only eight proficiencies can be active at a time; hidden options do not increase proficiency.)

Su Mu lay on the hotel’s sofa bed, gazing at his proficiency panel. With only a few days left until the wrap, his scenes were fewer, giving him some leisure to sort out his stats.

Now, nearly all his proficiencies related to acting had reached Lv3 Master Craftsman, except for Kissing Proficiency, which lagged behind since it was unlocked late—and there weren’t many kissing scenes in “Soaring.” Su Mu tried to rack up experience, but even after a dozen takes, he only barely passed.

To be honest, kiss scenes were nothing special—no real feeling to them. But credit where it’s due, those two Xuanmai chewing gums helped a lot. The last few retakes weren’t his fault at all; his partner was so affected by the gum’s effect she nearly ascended on the spot.

Had he not heeded Qian Jida’s warnings, he might have maxed out his Endurance stat to 100 that very night just to see how deep the rabbit hole went.

But all that was in the past. Of his remaining skill points, after boosting his attributes and opening plenty of empty blind boxes with no luck, he still had 40.23 left.

Perhaps his previous luck had been too good, as he now found that the chances of getting something from the blind boxes decreased the more he opened. This highlighted the importance of accumulating skill points—after all, you could only add 0.01 at a time.

Most of his current proficiencies were acting-related. If he didn’t take on new roles, opportunities to earn more skill points would be much fewer. So, he needed to unlock more proficiencies in other areas as soon as possible.

...

A few days later—

Qian Jida finally returned, travel-worn and haggard. It was rare to see him without his trademark neatly groomed mustache, but now it had grown out a bit.

Holding his tablet, Qian Jida began summarizing the past two months’ achievements. “There are five variety shows to choose from, but after consideration, I think we should pick two out of three.

Mango TV’s ‘Days of Dreams,’
Zhelan TV’s ‘Star vs. Star,’
and a guest mentor spot for an episode of ‘Idol Creation’ on Penguin Video.

There are a few others, but considering the appearance fee and overall popularity, these three are the most suitable for you right now. As for film offers, the company has no resources for you, but I’ve contacted a few directors from web series—though it’s hard to get those on major satellite channels.

Director Wu Yang is starting a new project at the end of the year, a modern web drama, but the investment is too low. Then there’s a web drama produced by Youku, ‘One Stick Travels the World,’ which is a decent adaptation of an online novel with some audience base.

There are also two costume idol dramas, but the scripts are rather shallow, as you know. Still, the trend from this year to next is clearly in costume idol dramas, so people are rushing to cash in on them.

Overall, Youku’s project might pay the most. I haven’t given any responses yet—I wanted to discuss it with you and see what you’d like to choose.”

Su Mu listened to Qian Jida’s analysis, then thought for a moment.

“Mr. Qian, of the variety shows, which one offers the lowest appearance fee?”

Qian Jida replied, “‘Star vs. Star’ probably pays the least.”

“Then let’s go with the other two,” Su Mu decided.

“Alright, one is scheduled for early August, the other for late August.”

“As for new dramas, there’s no rush. I know costume idol dramas are popular now, but if I do take one on in the future, I want it to be something of quality.”

Su Mu believed that if he acted, he wanted to truly change the mindless trends plaguing costume idol dramas. But good shows require good stories and scripts—that’s the crucial step from zero to one.

Qian Jida sighed, “I’m not trying to discourage you, Su Mu, but costume dramas with good stories simply don’t exist in the current market. If the cast is decent and the storyline is even somewhat nuanced, it’s already a rarity. If you insist on being picky, by the time you’ve made your choice, you’ll have missed the boat entirely.”

Su Mu chuckled, “Maybe, but you never know—perhaps things will take a turn for the better in a few days.”

Qian Jida smirked, “Well, you’re certainly confident.”

Su Mu shrugged. He truly wasn’t worried.

Just then, his phone buzzed with a WeChat notification. Glancing at the screen, Su Mu shook his phone and said, “Director Zhang just messaged, asking me to drop by the production office later. Maybe this is the chance for things to turn around.”

Qian Jida stared, bewildered, “???”