Chapter 4: This Script Is Really a Bit Wild!

Su Mu didn’t see Qian Jida until nightfall.

It was obvious from the brooding look in Qian Jida’s eyes that his mood was far from pleasant.

“Didn’t you say you’d go to the company this morning? Why are you only here now?”

Qian Jida rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it all for you? I pulled some strings to get Director Zhang’s script for you.”

He selectively skipped over the details of the daytime meeting at the company.

Qian Jida had no intention of telling Su Mu about those matters, lest they disturb his state of mind.

For idol stars, what truly captivates people on camera, besides looks, is their spirit and energy. This is determined by their mindset and aura. Once their “spirit” is affected, it’s easy to falter in front of the lens. No matter how much the makeup artist or the performer tries to conceal, adjust, or act, that inner vitality is unmistakably different. It can even impact their future prospects.

As a seasoned, gold-medal agent, Qian Jida was adept at managing these subtleties.

So, at this critical juncture for Su Mu, he knew exactly what to reveal and what to hold back.

Besides, with things as they were, telling Su Mu would only mean the two of them fretting together. Better to keep quiet, let Su Mu stay light-hearted, and face the final challenge in his best state—at least that would ease some of the burden.

As for what ultimately happens, he could only do his best and leave the rest to fate.

He’d worked in the industry for nearly twenty years, witnessing countless meteoric rises and falls. Those who endure, who go the distance, are always those who aren’t desperate for quick success and have a good attitude.

But in today’s market, with capital offering massive rewards, few can resist the urge for instant gains.

As these thoughts passed through his mind,

Qian Jida strode into the room and, in his usual flamboyant manner, pulled out his Chanel handkerchief and covered his nose.

“What’s with the smell of fried chicken?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Su Mu replied seriously. “You know me—I never eat that sort of thing.”

Qian Jida narrowed his eyes and looked at Assistant Xiao Ju, who had just returned from taking out the trash.

“Fan Xiao Ju, did you eat fried chicken?”

Fan Xiao Ju looked nervous, shaking her cute little head like a rattle. “N-no, I didn’t eat fried chicken. At lunch we had… uh, fried chicken-flavored steak!”

Su Mu: “……”

Sometimes Su Mu truly admired Fan Xiao Ju’s logic. Even saying chicken breast would have been better than “fried chicken-flavored steak.”

At this moment,

Qian Jida saw through everything, glared at Su Mu, and said nothing further.

He plopped down on the sofa and pulled a thick file-bound script out of his bag.

Qian Jida: “I managed to get Director Zhang’s early draft. There’ll be auditions in a couple of days. You’d better make an impression, or we’ll be left with neither money nor fame.”

Su Mu sobered up; work was no joking matter.

He took the file and drew out the script, a plain white cover.

Directors often keep scripts and filming details confidential while preparing new projects. Before filming is confirmed, some directors don’t mark the title or revisions on the script.

Su Mu had actually been curious about this script since yesterday.

Recently, rumors were swirling everywhere; trending topics kept popping up. Industry insiders spread word that if this script was filmed, it would be a guaranteed hit.

But few had actually seen it.

Without hesitation, Su Mu opened the script and began to read.

Genre: Urban Period Drama

Era: 2000

Characters: An Xin, Gao Qiang, Gao Sheng...

Synopsis: The spirited detective An Xin meets Gao Qiang, a fishmonger who’s often bullied. As Gao Qiang gradually strays from the path, he’s swept into the undercurrents of the criminal world...

This… feels oddly familiar.

Good heavens, isn’t this the plot of “The Surge” from his previous life?

So this is what Director Zhang plans to shoot?

Though the title wasn’t finalized, Su Mu was now certain: this story was exactly that police-and-criminal drama, “The Surge,” which had once set the world ablaze in his previous life!

It had to be said—this was indeed a top-tier project.

Of course, what makes a series explode isn’t just rich content; many factors play a part.

Half the reason “The Surge” succeeded was because every actor in the show delivered outstanding performances. Their acting soared.

Especially the villains—each was vivid and distinctive, so much so that they became internet sensations, widely imitated by bloggers.

Many lines were unforgettable.

“Tell Lao Mo, I want to eat fish.”

“Talking nonsense won’t help. Let others mourn too.”

“Smash the TV for me. What kind of junk is this? Same as mine!”

Most supporting actors became popular thanks to this show.

It was a legendary drama of that year.

Su Mu flipped further, from characters to settings to plotlines. Not exactly the same, but largely similar.

Understandable—scripts are often revised during filming, and the final product depends on editing.

[Script Comprehension (Novice): Proficiency Lv0: 1/10]

[Skill Points +0.01]

A new proficiency?

Su Mu stared at the suddenly appearing proficiency bar.

Comprehending a script seemed easier than public speaking, since speeches required an audience, but script reading could be done alone.

If every read counted as a point, he could probably level up in a day.

And skill points could accumulate more.

As for “The Surge,” Su Mu’s impression was limited to watching that single series in his past life.

He had no deep understanding of the characters’ details or psychology.

So if he wanted to land a role at Director Zhang’s audition,

He’d have to read carefully and find a character that suited him and that he could understand deeply.

The room was silent.

Qian Jida and Fan Xiao Ju watched Su Mu read the script intently, both surprised.

Normally, Su Mu would have tossed the script aside and sprawled out within minutes.

After all, those brainless idol dramas he used to shoot required no script study—just look handsome on camera, no expressions or lines needed.

This was the first time he’d ever seen Su Mu study a script so seriously.

Qian Jida couldn’t help but ask,

“How does it feel? Can you chew through this script? I asked around, and apparently the characters are very complex—especially the two leads and several key supporting roles. Their mental states change over time and are vividly expressed. Portraying them is said to be quite difficult.”

“It’s a bit tough, but reading it a few more times should do,” Su Mu replied as he read, nodding noncommittally.

He knew well that the roles in “The Surge” required deep acting skills.

Especially “Gao Qiang”—from struggling to survive, to gradually being forced by circumstances onto a path of no return. That psychological journey was extremely complex and layered.

It was intertwined with difficult emotions, beyond the grasp of those without life experience—let alone acting it.

Of course, Su Mu wasn’t arrogant enough to aim for the lead roles.

Even with a proficiency panel, he couldn’t just charge ahead blindly.

Besides, his current life was so comfortable, it was hard to empathize with such painful stories.

So his only option was to quickly raise his script comprehension to a higher level.

Qian Jida worried, “You can’t just read it a few times to grasp the characters. That takes experience. How about I pull some strings and get a few masters from the Beijing Film Academy to tutor you?”

Su Mu shook his head. “No need, besides there’s not enough time. Let me try first. If it doesn’t work, we’ll figure something out.”

Qian Jida saw Su Mu was serious.

He didn’t doubt Su Mu’s ability, but last-minute cramming rarely worked.

Yet there was nothing else to do now.

All he could do was hope Su Mu would pull off a stellar performance when the time came.

(Please add to your reading list!)