After Defying the System, I Became a Genius Director

While Shao Yichen was calculating all this, Li Xingyu also had his own thoughts.

After these days of filming, he naturally recognized that this film was likely something Shao Yichen was making for practice, with a strong experimental quality. But through these days of intensive filming, despite Shao Yichen’s minimal direction, he felt he had gained new insights into acting.

Therefore, he had decided that regardless of whether this film could be screened, he would strive to perform at his highest level—after all, as a newcomer, he didn’t know how far in the future his next male lead role would be, so he naturally wanted to learn as much as possible from this opportunity.

When he first read the script, he had noticed that the most important scene in this script was undoubtedly when the male protagonist discovers the truth. In this silent minute, he needed to rely solely on expressions and body language to convey the protagonist’s psychological transformation.

—But what should the male lead’s psychological state be at this moment?

Li Xingyu was stumped by this seemingly simple question.

Undoubtedly, Wu Pu would be shocked at the moment he learned the truth. But after the shock, more complex emotions would surge within him… and among these emotions, which one would predominate?

Would he be sad about the fact that he was already dead? Would he be frightened about becoming a ghost? Would he be confused about why he had become a ghost?

It seemed any of these emotions would be understandable, yet each one also seemed to be missing something.

Usually, when in doubt about character emotions, consulting the director would be the best approach. But when he asked Shao Yichen about this during spare time, her behavior seemed somewhat unusual.

She hemmed and hawed, unwilling to give a direct answer, first telling him to “intuit it,” and then after he “intuited” but hadn’t reached a final conclusion, she told him “look at the script more and you’ll understand what I mean.”

Li Xingyu didn’t understand her meaning and could only go back to that script, which was as abbreviated as could be.

What he didn’t know was that the reason Shao Yichen had him “intuit” on his own was because she herself didn’t know what emotion the male lead should have at this moment; as for her suggestion to look at the script more, her true meaning was—look at the script more and you’ll understand this terrible film doesn’t require delving into character emotions! Give up!

Unfortunately, Li Xingyu didn’t receive this hint.

After reviewing the script’s overall approach once more, he closed it and shut his eyes to think.

Since this shot was the most crucial in the entire film, the male lead’s emotions at this moment should naturally relate to the film’s central theme.

What was the core of this film? Horror? Ghosts?

After reading the script, Li Xingyu felt it was neither.

The core of this film was clearly—love!

The male protagonist Wu Pu sacrificed himself to protect his girlfriend in the accident a year ago because of love, and also unconsciously returned to the human world on his girlfriend’s birthday a year later, wanting to celebrate her birthday; similarly because of love, before discovering the truth, he was willing to live and interact with his girlfriend whom he believed to be a ghost, hoping to fulfill her wishes to resolve her regrets, rather than seeking someone to exorcise her; although the female lead wasn’t described much, she clearly also held on to the male lead out of love, still not moving out of their rental apartment a year after his death, and not even changing their shared daily necessities.

Considering this theme, who should the male lead think of first when discovering the truth?

His girlfriend, of course!

Realizing this, Li Xingyu suddenly understood.

His previous analysis of those emotions wasn’t wrong, but they all failed to consider the male lead’s feelings for his girlfriend, naturally making them seem off. After taking his girlfriend into account, when the male lead discovers the truth, he should naturally think of her first.

He would be sad that he was now a ghost, eternally separated from his girlfriend; he would be touched by his girlfriend’s unwillingness to forget him; but most importantly—his determination to leave his girlfriend, to let her life return to normal!

Li Xingyu exhaled deeply, feeling he had found how to perform this scene.

At the same time, he realized that the reason Senior Sister Shao Yichen hadn’t directly pointed this out but instead let him understand on his own must have been to deepen his understanding. If she had explained this when he first raised the question, he wouldn’t have repeatedly read the script to understand this part, and his comprehension of the script probably wouldn’t be as thorough as it was now.

Thinking this way, his gaze toward Shao Yichen seemed to contain additional respect.

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Shao Yichen naturally had no idea that her perfunctory words had taken on such profound meaning in Li Xingyu’s imagination; she only felt that this Junior Brother’s way of looking at her had become even stranger.

Sometimes it was like looking at a pyramid scheme leader, sometimes like looking at a walking life coach.

Regardless, after the film flopped, she would certainly have no further interaction with this Junior Brother, so she wasn’t concerned about how he looked at her. She maintained her composure, checked the camera positioning one last time, then clapped her hands and called out: “Three, two, one, begin!”

This long take, which would later be extracted and repeatedly studied by many film critics and considered the beginning of Shao Yichen and Li Xingyu’s legendary collaboration, thus began in a casual and perfunctory atmosphere.

The shot first started from the doorknob of the female lead’s room—accompanied by a “click,” the sound of a key entering the lock, the previously closed doorknob suddenly turned, then the door opened a crack, allowing a view through the gap of the male lead carefully looking left and right, then slipping into the room with a hunched posture, gently closing the door behind him. After entering the room, he first surveyed the female lead’s room layout, then tiptoed toward the computer desk in the depths of the room.

Shao Yichen carried the camera following Li Xingyu’s figure, while trying to ensure through the camera that her own shadow wasn’t cast into the frame—if a shot was deemed to have errors, the system would require a reshoot! This system review also prevented Shao Yichen from completely destroying the film, otherwise if it couldn’t pass the system review, it would require reshooting, and her personal assets would be confiscated again, which would be counterproductive.

While Shao Yichen was thinking about these odds and ends, Li Xingyu had already reached the computer desk. He tried to pull the drawer, but it wouldn’t budge. He looked around and noticed several flowerpots on the windowsill, his expression relaxing. He reached behind a flowerpot—perhaps subconsciously disliking sunlight, the male lead first tried the pot not exposed to sunlight—after several attempts, he indeed found the drawer key under one of the flowerpots. Wu Pu’s face showed a hint of joyous success, not forgetting to look back at the door to confirm no one was there, before quickly turning back to open the drawer with the key.

At this point, the camera zoomed in on Li Xingyu’s hands. It was evident that the drawer contained quite a few items. The male lead quickly searched through them, not finding what he wanted, so he simply dumped everything onto the desk. The camera then shifted from the male lead’s hands to the items from the drawer—there were photos of the male and female leads together (the male lead’s finger lingered on the female lead’s face for a moment, as if caressing it, before gently placing the photos back in the drawer), love letters the male lead had sent to the female lead during university (seeming embarrassed, the male lead quickly folded the letters and put them back in the drawer), several movie ticket stubs and tourist attraction ticket stubs (the male lead recognized them as movies he had watched with the female lead and places they had visited together), finally stopping at an abrupt-looking document.

The male lead picked up the document, and after a few seconds his hands began to tremble. At this point, viewers could also see through the camera the contents of this document—it was the male lead’s death certificate!

The camera pulled back, with the male lead lowering his head, his eyes and slightly long bangs obscuring his expression.

Meanwhile, the door creaked open, with the female lead standing in the doorway—but this part was only written in the script; the actual shot wouldn’t show the direction of the door, instead continuously focusing on the male lead.

The post-production would only add a “creeeeak—” door sound, and if the sound effects weren’t done well, most viewers might not even understand what was happening.

This was also a crucial reason Shao Yichen was certain this segment would fail.

As Shao Yichen silently counted in her mind, feeling the time was about right and the female lead should appear at the door, she secretly gestured to Li Xingyu, indicating he could continue.

But after Shao Yichen made the gesture behind the camera, Li Xingyu didn’t immediately act. Just as Shao Yichen was wondering through the camera lens if he hadn’t seen her signal, he suddenly seemed to hear something—presumably the door sound that would be added in post-production—his shoulders instinctively tensed, and then he whirled around.

It was at this moment that his expression after discovering the truth was first revealed to the audience, and likewise, first revealed to Shao Yichen.

And when Shao Yichen’s gaze met Li Xingyu’s through the camera lens, she was stunned.

The Li Xingyu in the frame—no, at this moment he wasn’t “Li Xingyu,” he was “Wu Pu.” Wu Pu in the frame was holding the document that pronounced his own death, looking toward the door. His eyes were slightly red, with something flickering in them, his expression seemingly bewildered and helpless, but his gaze toward his “girlfriend” on the other side of the camera also contained guilt and sorrow. After a silent gaze, his lips moved slightly, silently mouthing a name.

Shao Yichen knew it was the name of Wu Pu’s “girlfriend.”

—It was only at this moment that Shao Yichen belatedly realized that Li Xingyu’s acting skills seemed to be at a level she had never imagined.

Author’s Note: Shao Yichen: Now I regret it, really regret it.jpg

Fixed a typo~