Chapter 83: How Far Have You Gone?

Students are, after all, still students. The things they come into contact with remain limited; even though Chu Luoxi had already begun acting and had interacted with quite a few people, it was still not the same. Engaging with society and truly entering it are two entirely different concepts. That’s why the internship in the final year is considered the true first step into the real world.

Chu Luoxi had always considered herself something of an outsider. Regarding the filming of "Rivers and Mountains," she saw it as a finished chapter once shooting wrapped and rarely gave it much thought. Besides, her scenes were mostly at the beginning of the series, and with "Rivers and Mountains" expected to premiere around the New Year at the earliest, she felt no urgency at all.

When the semester began, Chu Luoxi arrived in the capital two days early. She didn’t return to the dormitory but went straight to the villa rented by Zhu Xueshuang and Liu Yujia. They had chosen this house for its proximity to their filming location, so after each day’s shoot, Zhu Xueshuang and Liu Yujia would come back here to rest.

"Crystal Love" was a youthful campus idol drama, so most of the filming took place on campus, with plenty in the streets or indoors—locations that were close and easy to find. In that sense, it was similar to Chu Luoxi’s "Rivers and Mountains." At least the settings didn’t require too much effort.

Modern idol dramas are much simpler than period pieces. The daily makeup and costumes hardly required any suffering; the wardrobe changed with the weather, and there was nothing to worry about. In contrast, period dramas were grueling—wearing padded coats in the sweltering summer was pure torment.

Chu Luoxi remembered spending over a month filming, but in the series, Consort Rou aged several years. Sometimes there were scenes set in winter—even if there was no snow, they needed winter’s atmosphere, and the imperial concubines had to be dressed accordingly. After a few days of shooting, nearly everyone broke out in heat rashes.

Of course, this was all arranged to fit her schedule. Nearly all the winter scenes that involved Consort Rou were shot in advance. The director was neither unkind nor disorganized; since the drama would keep filming into the latter half of the year, most other winter scenes would wait until the weather turned cold.

Generally, unless there was truly no other way, directors would not deliberately make things hard for their actors. This was one advantage of good relationships—Chu Luoxi got along well with everyone and, as a newcomer with considerable talent, people were willing to accommodate her and finish her limited scenes early. Otherwise, if she had to return to the crew when winter came, not only would she need time to adjust, but as a student, she’d also have to juggle classes. Qiu Xian had taken all this into consideration and made special arrangements.

So, Chu Luoxi managed to finish filming in just over a month, thanks to everyone’s support. Otherwise, she might really have had to slog through winter shoots, which would have been miserable.

For a newcomer to receive such treatment, relationships played a vital role. Of course, the director’s appreciation and the rumor that she had a powerful background were also key factors. In these times, having connections truly went a long way.

If things had been ordinary, Chu Luoxi would have been stuck in the crew every day, eating boxed lunches and wasting time, with no extra pay. Actors’ fees are calculated by the number of episodes, not days…

“Luoxi, you’re here!” Knowing Chu Luoxi was back, Liu Yujia called out from the doorway. Fortunately, they had wrapped early today, so it wasn’t dark yet when they got home.

Chu Luoxi peeked in and saw Zhu Xueshuang and Liu Yujia changing their shoes as they entered. “Why are you home so early today?”

Filming is unpredictable—sometimes you finish early, sometimes you shoot all night. There’s no set schedule, which is why some actors neglect their health and end up ruining their stomachs.

Of course, if you reach a certain level, you can insist on a regular nine-to-five, eight-hour workday, but so few people have that luxury.

“We finished up today’s scenes. Director Li said there’s a part of the script that needs to be discussed with the editor, so we got to leave early. That hardly ever happens…” Liu Yujia plopped down on the sofa, hugging a pillow and pretending to be dead. Filming is exhausting, after all.

“Seems my timing is perfect.” Chu Luoxi raised her eyebrows with a smile.

“You didn’t go back to the dorm, did you?” Zhu Xueshuang asked directly after glancing at her.

“Why would I, when you have a spare room here? No reason to squeeze back into that tiny dorm. I’ll stay a couple days until after registration,” Chu Luoxi replied with a grin, carrying her luggage straight into the room she’d stayed in last time.

It was freshman registration period, so the film academy would be in chaos—going back meant noise and commotion.

“That’s great—I was worried you’d go back to the dorm and not get any rest. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like! Pick any room. We’re hardly ever here except to sleep,” Zhu Xueshuang said with relief, warmly welcoming her.

Chu Luoxi sensed an undertone and couldn’t help but ask, “Did something happen?” She was sure Zhu Xueshuang wasn’t just talking about the freshmen.

“What else? Xueshuang’s just afraid you’ll get stuck in the dorm with a certain human leech. You’d be driven mad! So just stay here—it’s farther from the film academy, but the classes aren’t intense, so you can relax,” Liu Yujia said, as direct as ever, unchanged by her time on set.

Human leech? Chu Luoxi paused before realizing who they meant. Two months had passed, and it seemed the Zhu and Liu families had been busy. “You mean Wang Yanan? How is she now?”

“What do you think?” Zhu Xueshuang replied disdainfully. “Just like you said, her sugar daddy was a nouveau riche with no real business acumen. He used to make money by throwing money around, but when that stopped working, there was nothing more to say.”

Chu Luoxi wanted to laugh at Zhu Xueshuang’s convoluted way of putting it. In plain terms, it was just a failed investment, right?

When you have money, as long as nothing unusual happens, it’s hard to lose money in today’s business world. But if someone interferes, it’s a different story. The nouveau riche relied on money to open doors, but when faced with real business competition, he was out of his depth.

Besides, the Zhu and Liu families had the advantage of experience over ignorance. That man named Tang probably wouldn’t even realize why he’d gone bankrupt after his downfall.

In the end, this was the difference in class.

Chu Luoxi wasn’t worried that the Zhu and Liu families’ behind-the-scenes efforts would fail; she was just curious about the outcome—how far had things gone?