Chapter 142: Leng Daji Is Crying

Chu Luoxi always felt that Director Xiao was quite idle. After resting at home for a few days, she ended up losing those days as part of her contract time. Eventually, she even received a tearful complaint from Manager Leng, who said that the director hadn’t worked for days and that someone was going to die because of it.

Only then did Chu Luoxi realize that Xiao Jingxuan was simply giving himself an extended holiday. Yet, knowing how exhausting it was when artists were busy, she calmly told Manager Leng that she would be joining the crew the next day. Immediately, she heard a loud thud on the other end of the phone.

The next day, Xiao Jingxuan personally accompanied Chu Luoxi to the designated location, despite having a driver assigned to him.

“Should I pick you up tonight?” Xiao Jingxuan’s tone was unusually tentative.

“No need. I’ve decided to stay with the crew. Besides, is this really okay? Manager Leng was practically crying to me about you last night,” Chu Luoxi replied, still a bit embarrassed. What did it even mean that the director was confiding such things to her? This kind of entanglement was inappropriate!

Xiao Jingxuan’s aura darkened as he fell silent for a moment. From afar, Manager Leng sneezed violently. “Fine, once I get back, I’ll have Ding Ju come over,” he said, his dark eyes fixed on Chu Luoxi as if silently demanding she not refuse.

“All right, let her prepare. She might be joining the crew as well,” Chu Luoxi nodded, this time not declining. Although she wanted to say that Ding Ju should just follow her and be paid as a contractor—after all, she wasn’t part of Fengjing Entertainment, and asking for a salary seemed shameless—seeing the director’s expression, she held back, deciding to discuss it later.

After watching Xiao Jingxuan’s car drive away, Chu Luoxi turned to inspect the military academy where much of the filming was to take place.

The academy was impressively formal. Even the gate exuded a powerful austerity and a solemnity tinged with bloodshed, as though it had endured genuine warfare and countless trials, stirring a passionate pride for the motherland in anyone who saw it.

Though it was summer break and the academy was mostly empty, a few students wandered about, lending the campus a serene and peaceful atmosphere.

When Fan Li saw Chu Luoxi had arrived alone, he was somewhat surprised. “Hey, where’s Lan Lun? Isn’t it usual for the artist and agent to come together on the first day? Isn’t this a bit irresponsible?”

“He’s tied up with something. He’ll be here soon,” Chu Luoxi forced a smile. How could she say that her agent was from a completely different place, and that she had been sent over directly, so they hadn’t met?

Fan Li was speechless. Lan Lun seemed to value Chu Luoxi greatly, yet he hadn’t even provided her with an assistant. Did that mean Chu Luoxi had to handle all the trivial matters herself?

Not wanting to pry into a sore spot, Fan Li simply chatted, “Today, just get familiar with the environment. The crew isn’t all here yet. According to the schedule, filming should start tomorrow. I’ve seen your previous work—it’s excellent. I’m truly glad you were chosen.”

To better understand the lead actress, Fan Li had indeed watched Chu Luoxi’s limited past performances. Directors had a different eye; they could perceive nuances others missed. He was surprised that such a newcomer could be so formidable and seemingly seasoned, as if anyone who cast her would be met with delightful surprises.

Especially her role as Consort Rou in “Rivers and Mountains,” which was Chu Luoxi’s most prominent appearance. Her performance was deeply moving, leaving a lasting impression.

Now, Fan Li felt he could demand higher standards and have more perfect expectations of Chu Luoxi.

“Thank you for your compliment, Director Fan. I still have much to learn!” Chu Luoxi said humbly, her expression a blend of the nervousness and excitement typical of a newcomer receiving praise.

“Alright, Zhang Hong, take Chu Luoxi to settle into her place,” Fan Li called over a crew member and instructed him to escort her away. He had little time to talk now, needing to arrange tomorrow’s opening ceremony and filming details.

Zhang Hong was the chief production assistant on the “Blood Phoenix” set, responsible for managing everyone’s food, accommodation, and daily needs. Chu Luoxi’s first instinct was not to offend him, so she smiled brightly and said, “Thank you for your trouble.”

Though Zhang Hong shared Fan Li’s curiosity about why Chu Luoxi had come alone, he didn’t ask. “No problem, that’s my job. Follow me.”

Zhang Hong hadn’t attended the audition day because he was busy preparing for the opening ceremony, so he hadn’t witnessed Chu Luoxi’s dazzling performance firsthand. But having later heard many people excitedly discussing the event, he became curious about this lead actress.

Zhang Hong’s initial impression of Chu Luoxi was positive, but he couldn’t yet see what made her so extraordinary that she could ignite such passion among the crew. It seemed almost unbelievable.

The production staff, accustomed to the chaos behind the scenes, were usually indifferent to the beauty on screen. Being veterans, it was rare for them to be genuinely intrigued or excited.

Anything related to the military evoked a first impression of cleanliness, orderliness, even meticulousness. As Chu Luoxi walked through, she noticed not a speck of trash. Standing outside the dormitory, the building’s exterior gleamed as if freshly polished, reflecting sunlight so brightly it was almost blinding.

They arrived at a room on the innermost part of the third floor. Zhang Hong stepped aside to let Chu Luoxi enter first. “This is your dormitory on set. The room upstairs is your private bedroom. Take a look and let me know if you need anything special prepared.”

Glancing around the spacious four-person dorm, which was standard but rather luxurious by university standards, Chu Luoxi nodded without surprise. The room was clean and inviting.

“Is the upstairs room the same? Will I be living alone?” she asked.

“Yes. It’s more convenient for you to have your own space. The school has lent many places to the crew. This dorm was vacated by graduates, and new students won’t be arriving for a while, so it’s free to use,” Zhang Hong explained. There were plenty of rooms, and it was normal for a lead actor to have one to themselves.

“However, the layout is a built-in bunk bed with a desk below and bed above. It can’t be changed, so there’s no big soft bed,” he added in advance. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to provide a better bed; it was just not feasible.

He anticipated that Chu Luoxi might be dissatisfied with the accommodations. Having seen many stars, he was no stranger to their peculiar demands and had long since become unfazed, even amazed.

Reading Zhang Hong’s thoughts, Chu Luoxi smiled and said, “No need. This is perfect. I have an assistant who will arrive soon. She can stay with me—after all, there are four beds in one room.”

In truth, the accommodations were quite good. Filming out in the wilderness was far more grueling. She was content and felt that if she wanted luxury, she’d be better off staying home.