Chapter 6: The Sewing Machine Band

The next morning, as soon as Zhou Le stepped out, he noticed a piece of paper stuck to the door.

“Wishing Lele smooth sailing and great success in the future.”

Carefully peeling it off, Zhou Le saw that the writing was on the back side; the front was an unfinished resume belonging to Tan Siyun.

“Sigh, she couldn’t even bear to use a fresh sheet,” Zhou Le murmured, neatly folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket.

This message confirmed that Tan Siyun had already returned to her hometown.

In truth, this was the fate of most people who had come to Beijing chasing their dreams.

But Zhou Le had finally made some headway.

Without the system or this opportunity, he likely would have packed up and left long ago.

Still, Zhou Le had not been without success in this industry.

The biggest break came when filming “I Am a Witness,” where Yang Mi noticed him and invited him to join Jiaxing. The assistant director overheard and offered him a daily wage exceeding a thousand yuan.

He worked for three days then.

However, Zhou Le declined the offer due to harsh conditions and, with the system in place, he didn’t want to make money feeling so constrained.

That had been the closest he’d ever felt to real success.

After filming and collecting his pay, he left.

With Tan Siyun’s blessing in his heart, Zhou Le once again boarded the subway to Jiuxian Apartments.

Unfortunately, today there was no pervert on the subway to encounter.

He drew his metaphorical sword and looked around in bewilderment.

For some reason, Zhou Le had a strange fondness for running into shady businessmen, con artists, or slanderers—versions of them that allowed him to truly demonstrate his mettle.

Though regretting the missed opportunity, after several transfers, Zhou Le finally arrived once more at Jiuxian Apartments.

This time, he came as a principal actor reporting to the crew.

It was also the first time in his life he attended a script meeting.

Whether as an extra or a background actor before, he had never needed to attend this step.

Only the assistant director coordinated with them.

The assistant director dictated how they acted; even when performing, their movements mostly involved rushing forward to die or standing still to be blown up.

In any case, death was inevitable.

From a distance, Zhou Le heard voices inside the conference room.

Upon entering, Da Peng immediately spotted him.

“Well, well, our drummer has finally arrived!”

“Teacher Zhou, you’re a rare gem I managed to find among the sea of faces. Come on, everyone, let’s get acquainted.”

Zhou Le smiled shyly.

Soon others came forward to greet him.

“Hello, Teacher Zhou, I’m Qiao Shan, playing Hu Liang in the movie.”

Qiao Shan was the second male lead, with many scenes opposite Da Peng.

But Zhou Le’s impression of Qiao Shan was limited to him washing feet.

Although Zhou Le knew that before “Loser’s Gentleman,” Qiao Shan and Xiu Rui had performed skits together, the memory of the seasoned bathhouse member in “Loser’s Gentleman” was more vivid.

“Hello, Teacher Qiao. Just call me Xiao Zhou or Le’er. Let’s wash feet together sometime.”

Next came Han Tongsheng.

Having read the script, Zhou Le knew he was a veteran actor and the senior guitarist in the film.

Then a little girl stepped forward.

“Hello, Teacher Zhou, I’m Xixi, playing the keyboardist.”

Since they were getting acquainted, Zhou Le had looked up Xixi the night before.

Though young, she had appeared on “I Want to Go to the Spring Festival Gala” in 2013, reaching the annual finals.

The following year, she performed in “Brilliant Chinese,” a show co-produced with “The Voice of China.”

Her musical foundation was impressive.

She was one of those child stars who debuted alongside actors like Zhang Yishan and Yang Zi.

“Hey, Xixi, you’re really adorable, but just call me brother. I study civil engineering, so if I were your teacher, you’d be working on construction sites. But if you ever need help with homework, you can bring it over. One lesson only costs 300 yuan.”

Zhou Le offered his sincerest blessings.

Lastly, Gulinazha came forward.

Zhou Le’s eyes lit up when he saw her in person—she was even more beautiful than on television.

He had once followed the drama “Xuanyuan Sword,” mainly for the actresses Liu Shishi, Tang Yan, and Gulinazha herself—all uniquely beautiful and captivating, a feast for the eyes.

As for the male actors like Hu Ge, Jiang Jinfu, Ma Tianyu, and Lin Gengxin, well, they were just men.

Among the actresses, Gulinazha stood out with her exotic charm and delicate features, ranking among the top tier in the entertainment world.

“Hello, Teacher Zhou, I’m Gulinazha,” she greeted.

Da Peng chuckled beside them, asking, “So, what do you think? Isn’t Gulinazha even prettier in person than on TV?”

Zhou Le nodded sincerely. “Indeed. Actually, I’m a fan of Teacher Gu. I’ve watched your dramas since I was young. The reason I became an actor was because of your earlier works, especially ‘Xuanyuan Sword.’ Some people’s inspiration might be ‘The Shawshank Redemption,’ ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,’ or ‘A Beautiful Mind,’ but believe it or not, mine was truly ‘Xuanyuan Sword’...”

Zhou Le spoke earnestly from the heart.

Da Peng was momentarily stunned, feeling he’d heard something familiar before.

Gulinazha smiled softly.

She had often been labeled a pretty face with little acting skill.

No actor wished to hear such words; though flawless in appearance, acting was the true measure.

Besides, who didn’t like compliments?

And Zhou Le’s eyes were full of genuine sincerity.

“So you really are my fan?”

“Of course.”

“Have you followed me on Weibo?”

Hearing this, Zhou Le’s expression faltered.

He hadn’t followed her.

What he said earlier was mere politeness.

Currently, the only female star he followed on Weibo was Liu Yifei.

But Zhou Le was not stumped by the question.

“Teacher Gu, honestly, I’m not a hardcore fan. I just haven’t followed you yet, but every time I open Weibo, your posts always appear, so that counts as being a true fan.”

Nearby, Da Peng suddenly recalled something.

This Zhou Le was shamelessly taking credit for someone else’s praise!

Yesterday he’d said “Loser’s Gentleman” was his inspiration, and today it was “Xuanyuan Sword”?

“Teacher Zhou, about that comment just now... are you...?”

Da Peng was about to interrogate him when Gulinazha interjected, “Oh, Da Peng, don’t be so hard on Le. I think he’s telling the truth.”

Da Peng was baffled.

“Wait, we met first, yet I’m still Da Peng and he’s now Xiao Le?”

Da Peng felt a pang of jealousy.

Gulinazha looked at Zhou Le with curiosity.

Meanwhile, Zhou Le’s gaze was fixed on Gulinazha’s alluring backless dress.

“So fair, so straight, so smooth, so beautiful... ah, such beauty wasted without cupping therapy.”