Cheng Ping’s assistant escorted him back to the hotel. Seeing him silent and tense throughout the journey, the assistant cautiously suggested, “Brother Cheng, how about we go for a walk?”

Cheng Ping: “No need.”

Assistant: “Then… maybe play some games in your room? It’s fine to drink a little from the minibar, but please don’t go out to buy cigarettes.” This was something the manager had instructed them to watch for.

Cheng Ping didn’t get angry. “You can go back.”

After returning to his room, Cheng Ping neither played games nor drank to get drunk.

He directly called Actor Lu: “Teacher, are you free tonight? I’d like to treat you to dinner and ask for some advice.”

Actor Lu: “I have plans already, but it’s okay. What’s your question?”

So Cheng Ping bluntly asked: “I want to improve my acting skills in a short period. Is there any crash course for that?”

Actor Lu: “…”

Actor Lu: “No.”

Cheng Ping: “…makes sense.” If there were shortcuts in acting, there wouldn’t be so many decorative actors around.

Actor Lu chuckled: “Why the sudden urgency? With your talent, you’ll improve over time.”

Cheng Ping: “I understand, but there’s just…”

It wasn’t the first time he had acted in front of Li Baixi, nor the first time he had embarrassed himself in front of Li Baixi.

But this time, he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of insignificance and powerlessness.

He claimed to focus on his career and not be distracted, but the other was already at the pinnacle of their industry, while he was still struggling between being seen as decorative or not. Did he even have the right to be distracted?

He was anxious. He was progressing too slowly. He wanted to change everything, preferably by tomorrow.

Actor Lu heard the unmistakable frustration and urgency in his voice and sighed: “You really remind me of my son.”

Cheng Ping: “?”

Actor Lu sighed again: “There is a crash course method, but it’s a bit of a shortcut, more like cramming.”

The method Actor Lu suggested was simple: first, find some classic movie scripts and read them. When you come across interesting scenes, act them out in front of a mirror and preferably record them.

Then, find the corresponding movies, observe how others interpret the scenes, and compare them with your recordings.

Finally, learn and replicate the noteworthy details.

Actor Lu: “The best part of this training is its targeted approach. For example, you have a scene tomorrow where you reveal your background to the police, right? Many classic films have similar scenes. Your team can start searching now.”

The next morning, Actor Lu found a video on his phone at four in the morning, sent by Cheng Ping.

It was a recording of the scene he would be performing today.

After finishing a monologue, Cheng Ping, with dark circles under his eyes, excitedly said: “I think I got it. Did I get it?”

Actor Lu: “…”

The makeup artist was annoyed with Cheng Ping.

Makeup Artist: “Did you have a hangover?”

Cheng Ping walked unsteadily to the makeup mirror and sat down, muttering, “No.”

The makeup artist couldn’t help but scold him: “Your eyes are bloodshot. How are you supposed to look on camera? Your skin is going to look patchy with makeup… Ah, Teacher Li.”

Cheng Ping suddenly looked up.

Li Baixi had somehow appeared behind him: “I’ll handle this. You go help Brother Liu.”

Sending away the other artist, Li Baixi pulled out a bottle of eye drops from his kit and shook it at Cheng Ping: “An experienced makeup artist is prepared for any client condition. Look up.”

He held Cheng Ping’s chin, tilting his head back.

Cheng Ping couldn’t say a word.

The eye drops stung and cooled, causing his tired eyes to ache slightly.

Li Baixi: “Keep your head up and close your eyes for a moment.”

After saying this, Cheng Ping couldn’t feel Li Baixi’s presence anymore.

Did he leave? Cheng Ping opened a slit in his right eye but saw no one. The overflowing eye drops slid down from the corner of his eye, leaving a fine trail that quickly evaporated, leaving a slight itch.

Moments later, footsteps approached, and something warm covered his eyes.

“A steam eye mask. Your eyelids are swollen and need to be reduced.” Li Baixi adjusted the mask and wiped away the tear tracks with his fingertips.

Without sight, Cheng Ping’s skin tingled where it was touched. He clenched his teeth, his expression heavy.

Li Baixi rummaged for more skincare products, lining them up: “Didn’t sleep well?”

Cheng Ping: “Mm.”

Li Baixi: “Played games?”

Cheng Ping pursed his lips, saying nothing.

Li Baixi assumed he agreed: “Hey, don’t stress too much. You’re already doing well. At least you’re improving, unlike many who stay at the same level their entire lives…”

He continued comforting him: “…Xiao Cheng?”

Cheng Ping had fallen asleep with the eye mask on.

Ma Koukou, standing by, watched as Li Baixi gently removed the mask, then poured lotion into his hands, about to apply it to Cheng Ping’s face.

Ma Koukou was ready to make a snarky comment but saw Li Baixi pause, staring at the sleeping Cheng Ping for a few seconds. Lost in thought, he suddenly said: “Ma Koukou, you’ve learned facial massage for reducing puffiness, right?”

Ma Koukou: “?”

Li Baixi: “You do it.”

Avoiding suspicion? Ma Koukou was puzzled but approached Cheng Ping, ready to start.

Li Baixi: “Wait.”

He squinted at Ma Koukou, then turned to Assistant Yang: “Better if you do it.”

Ma Koukou: “???” I’m not interested in your man!

The young actor looked at Cheng Ping’s face, stunned.

This guy looked even better than yesterday.

In the makeup room, he had seemed like he had come straight from a bar with a hangover, falling asleep while getting makeup. The young actor had looked down on him immensely.

But on set, he suddenly looked radiant. What kind of miraculous nap did he take?

The young actor considered himself good-looking, but next to Cheng Ping, his features seemed less refined.

However, he wasn’t worried. To him, only flowery stars without real skills cared about makeup and styling. Good actors looked better in motion, while decorative actors did not.

Director: “Action.”

Today’s scene was a nighttime confrontation between the police officer and the writer. After a period of mutual probing, the officer finally realized his script murder roommate might not be a suspect, but couldn’t explain his familiarity with the script, so he decided to bait him.

The young actor, lighting a cigarette, raised his eyes with a hidden scrutiny: “You seemed to have a nightmare, talking in your sleep.”

Cheng Ping, sitting on the bed, slowly drew his legs up in a defensive posture. He looked sickly, with half-closed eyes: “What did I say?”

The officer fished: “Something like ‘don’t catch me.’ Did you draw the murderer role?”

Cheng Ping’s eyes flashed coldly, arrogantly: “Who the murderer is, they know themselves.”

The young actor: “…”

Was this acting real or an illusion?

Cheng Ping had studied classic scenes all night, but when it came to his own part, he wasn’t just imitating industry veterans.

He also mimicked the look in his eyes as drawn by Li Baixi, those stubborn eyes.

He had always felt the temperament was right, but how to present it was only a vague intuition. After last night’s cramming, he seemed to grasp something.

Watching from the monitor, Li Baixi felt a moment of confusion.

That assistant director said no one could bring his drawing to life, but it might have been premature.

In that shot, Cheng Ping made the drawing come alive.

After the scene, everyone, including the director, was pleasantly surprised.

But no one was more shocked than the young actor.

His face turned pale, and as soon as the director finished his comments, he immediately got ready for another take.

“Wait.” Li Baixi spoke up, “Brother Liu’s foundation has rubbed off a bit.” He personally went to touch it up.

The young actor didn’t care about the styling department or know who Li Baixi was, impatiently saying: “No need.”

Li Baixi: “It’s necessary. It will affect your close-ups.”

The young actor, eager to redeem himself, glared at him: “Annoying.”

Li Baixi: “…Young man, wake up. Do you think I care about you? I care about the final image.”

Naturally, Li Baixi couldn’t be bothered to argue, smiling awkwardly and stepping away.

Cheng Ping’s mouth tightened.

During the second take, Cheng Ping clearly outperformed the young actor—proving it wasn’t just a fluke.

Perhaps yesterday’s suppression was an illusion.

The young actor couldn’t remember the word for the situation. He struggled to find it.

In the afternoon, Actor Lu joined the scene.

Actor Lu immediately sensed Cheng Ping’s improved performance, feeling gratified: “Well done, Xiao Cheng.”

The method he suggested was a shortcut, but how many newcomers were too lazy to even take this shortcut? Moreover, Cheng Ping couldn’t have succeeded with just effort alone.

Actor Lu smiled: “Having intuition is great.”

The young actor: “…”

So, this guy dropped out to play games, dismissed formal training, returned mid-career, acted while hungover, but still managed to act with spirit and style.

The young actor finally remembered the word: face slap.

At the end of the day, when the director announced the wrap, Cheng Ping instinctively looked towards the monitor.

Li Baixi was still there, smiling at him.

Cheng Ping hesitated and walked over: “Wanna grab dinner together?”

Li Baixi: “Still thinking about eating out? Go back and catch up on sleep. What time did you sleep last night?”

Cheng Ping: “…around four. I wasn’t gaming…”

Li Baixi: “I know.”

Li Baixi, having observed the whole day, had figured it out: “Good work.”

That night, Cheng Ping updated his Weibo with a selfie in costume, captioned with four characters: “Heaven rewards diligence.”

Actor Lu liked the post.

The director also liked it.

The young actor saw their likes, typed a “?” and then deleted it.

Li Baixi, however, commented: “Awake from your nap?”

Li Baixi’s comment sparked discussions among Cheng Ping’s fans: “Oh no, our brother is so tired he needs naps?” “Please take good care of our son, Teacher Li!”

Cheng Ping held his phone for a long time, deleting and rewriting his reply, finally sending just one word to Li Baixi: “Yes.”