Chapter 85: What Were They All Thinking

Zhu Xuanshuang and Liu Yujia were delighted at the arrival of Chu Luoxi, while Director Li Shuangmu was somewhat surprised and taken aback, though he nonetheless expressed great enthusiasm and a warm welcome.

“I heard you went to film for Qiu Xian? That’s promising!” Li Shuangmu said with a cheerful laugh, his tone both friendly and familiar.

Chu Luoxi pressed her lips into a smile, a charm she could hardly conceal. “Oh, it was just a supporting role. I was the first to wrap up in the entire crew. It’s still good to see you well, Director Li!” Her allure drew glances from passing actors and staff, prompting whispered speculation: Who was this woman, able to converse so easily with the perfectionist Li Shuangmu? Was she someone with a powerful background, or a famous star? Perhaps a newcomer?

Li Shuangmu’s words were a subtle trap—if Chu Luoxi responded with humility, saying there was no future in it, wouldn’t that be a slight against Qiu Xian? Thankfully, she was seasoned enough to spot the pitfall instantly and responded with a light touch.

Of course, Li Shuangmu hadn’t meant it that way. Even if Chu Luoxi had fallen for the trap, he wouldn’t have minded. But with so many people coming and going, and walls having ears, one had to be careful with words. Having suffered from such situations in her previous life, Chu Luoxi was instinctively cautious; certain taboos were now second nature.

She couldn’t help it—in her past life at the company, even her assistants and agents were not truly trustworthy. Sometimes, for the sake of hype, fame, or avoiding long absences from the public eye, even the smallest matters could be blown out of proportion and turned into scandalous topics.

Though she understood it, she had always detested such things. At times, the endless gossip would leave her irritable, but she had no power to interfere with the company’s decisions. So, truly, the freedom of being on one’s own was far more satisfying. As long as fairness prevailed and there were no malicious troublemakers, the world of entertainment could be much sunnier.

“That’s the kind of treatment reserved for leading roles and famous personalities. What more could you want?” Li Shuangmu teased, clearly confident that Qiu Xian, a fellow director, would never overlook Chu Luoxi’s talent.

To be honest, though he and Qiu Xian were both directors, they didn’t meet often. They weren’t classmates, but they had risen through the ranks at the same time, so there was a sense of camaraderie between them. Even without much discussion, they could more or less guess each other’s thoughts and actions.

Chu Luoxi laughed behind her hand, delighted. “Director, you do love to joke! I had so few scenes, you know. I probably don’t even last ten episodes before I’m killed off…”

Li Shuangmu, when not in his nitpicking filming mode, was actually quite fun and humorous. To outsiders or those unfamiliar with him, a director’s “transformations” might seem terrifying, but as long as you understood the situation, most directors were easy enough to get along with. Of course, the self-important, half-baked ones who strutted around all day didn’t count.

“Well, you brought that on yourself. You turned down the lead in my show to play a supporting role elsewhere—is there really that big a difference?” Li Shuangmu’s words cut deep, shooting her a sidelong glance that seemed to bury her in the ground.

“Director Li, you’re joking again.” Chu Luoxi felt exasperated, though she knew he was only teasing. Still, it was a tricky subject—there was no right answer, so she could only dodge the question.

“Who’s joking? If you turn me down again for the next show, I’ll take it personally!” Li Shuangmu suddenly put on an air of mock arrogance, making everyone shiver, though his underlying seriousness was unmistakable.

Chu Luoxi could easily tell which words were in jest and which were genuine, so she immediately grew earnest. “Director Li, you don’t film that often, do you? ‘Crystal’ isn’t even halfway done and you’re already thinking about the next one? Remember to take care of your health!”

“Don’t try to wriggle out of it. Are you agreeing or not?” Li Shuangmu’s eyes widened, nearly shifting into his “transformation” mode. For newcomers like Chu Luoxi, few directors could resist her charm, so he was staking his claim early, lest she slip through his fingers later.

For some reason, he felt that if he never truly collaborated with Chu Luoxi, he would always regret it. The small pond of television might not hold her for long.

Chu Luoxi, however, was unafraid, knowing his glare was just for show. She didn’t yield immediately but grinned. “Trying to make things hard for a newcomer, aren’t you, Director Li? Not only have you not shown me the script, you won’t even share any details. How am I supposed to say yes?”

Li Shuangmu was still a little surprised by her answer. She always called herself a newcomer, but her actions were nothing like those of a rookie. Any other newcomer would have been over the moon to be offered a lead and would have rushed to accept. But just as when he first offered her the lead in “Crystal,” she remained eerily calm. Her first thought was neither to accept nor refuse, but to ask for the script. “Honestly, what’s going through your mind?” Li Shuangmu found this kind of newcomer inscrutable.

“Nothing much—just that I want to play roles I actually want to play.” Chu Luoxi didn’t shy away from the topic. She wanted people to know that she did things her own way. If the script or character didn’t suit her, it was better not to ask.

Some might call her arrogant or overly picky, but in this life she had the right to speak her mind and didn’t care what others thought. Once you reached a certain level, people were hesitant to criticize you, even if they wanted to.

It was the answer he had expected, but Li Shuangmu was still surprised, a little regretful and disappointed, yet also admiring. In a world where many sought to trade their bodies for a chance at fame, it was rare to find someone with such principles and independence. Of course, some would call her foolish for it.

“Hey, Director Li, where did you find this stunning beauty? Are there any new roles being added?” A clear, melodious voice suddenly interrupted, carrying a deep, magnetic undertone and a hint of deliberate seduction—it was a truly pleasant sound.

Chu Luoxi arched an eyebrow, thinking that voice would be perfect for a singer. Otherwise, she felt nothing at all, especially toward that feigned note of allure. She wasn’t immediately put off—she’d seen such things countless times before. Some stars developed that persona as a trained response; perhaps it was not even intentional, but had become second nature.

To put it kindly, it was a company-mandated image or trademark. Less charitably, it meant being trapped within a single mold—you might rise quickly with a clear goal, but once you hit the ceiling, breaking through was nearly impossible.

“Yuchi Hao, is looking at pretty women all you ever do? If you’d focus on your acting, the whole crew’s progress would speed up,” Li Shuangmu replied without even turning around, his tone unceremoniously chiding.