Ch 177: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

When Mu Xing entered the crew of Seeking Immortality, he quickly discovered that everyone there treated him with unusual friendliness.

His assistant had been reassigned by the company—young, capable, soft-spoken, and able to arrange everything just right.

Even though Mu Xing had already told the company through Zhong Ling that he planned to terminate his contract after finishing this drama, the company still sent their most versatile assistant to take care of him without complaint.

This drama was also the original body’s obsession. It was in this production that, because he cared too much about Jiang Shengyu and wanted to prove himself, he overexerted and failed.

The junior disciple he played had been completely overshadowed by the protagonist played by Jiang Shengyu.

Mu Xing decided that finishing this drama properly and clearing away the original body’s obsession would be repaying the karmic debt of using his body.

Whenever he was reminded that he carried some responsibility, he was not as carefree as usual.

Even though he didn’t like repeatedly performing as someone else in front of the camera, Mu Xing still decided to act seriously and finish this xianxia drama.

As soon as he joined the crew, he earnestly sought out Director Zhou Huai and told him that he had never acted before, so if he did poorly, he hoped the director wouldn’t hesitate to scold him strictly.

Zhou Huai was surprised by the little master standing before him.

Who in the industry didn’t know about the recent explosive scandal?

He knew he had a “big Buddha” in his crew, and rather than being excited to cling to him, he felt troubled: such a person would be hard to manage. If the performance was poor, it would be hard to criticize.

These past days, he had been consoling himself that fortunately, Mu Xing was only playing the protagonist’s junior disciple, a fourth- or fifth-ranked supporting male. Even if his performance was bad, it wouldn’t ruin the whole drama.

But unexpectedly, Mu Xing approached him first, with such humility.

Seeing the seriousness on his face, Zhou Huai knew he genuinely wanted to act well.

He felt relieved, and smiled: “Then be prepared. If you perform poorly, I will scold you.”

Mu Xing frowned bitterly: “Okay, I’ll try to get scolded less.”

Zhou Huai found this young man interesting, with a good temper—completely different from what he had imagined.

When Jiang Shengyu entered the set, the first thing he saw was Mu Xing chatting with the director, Zhou Huai, who actually had a smile on his face.

He sneered inwardly at such sycophancy, but outwardly he smiled and went over to greet them: “Director Zhou, Mu Xing.”

Zhou Huai glanced at him, his smile unchanged, and nodded.

He was fairly satisfied with Jiang Shengyu as the lead actor.

But Mu Xing’s humble expression from a moment ago instantly turned cold.

Jiang Shengyu pretended not to notice Mu Xing’s indifference and said apologetically: “I still owe you an apology, Mu Xing.”

Mu Xing said with great disdain: “No need. To me, this matter is already in the past.”

Jiang Shengyu looked at him expectantly: “So you’ve forgiven me? I do have some acting experience—if you have any questions, you can always come ask me.”

Mu Xing stepped back: “No. Just because it’s in the past doesn’t mean it never happened. You and Qin Song—I don’t want to deal with either of you again.”

When Jiang Shengyu tried to speak further, Mu Xing glared fiercely: “The only reason I’m not bothering with you is because I have a good temper. That doesn’t mean what you did is forgivable.”

He threatened: “If you keep getting in my way, watch out. I really might blacklist you like those domineering CEOs on TV!”

Jiang Shengyu: “…”

He paused, unable to tell if Mu Xing was joking or serious, and didn’t dare go closer.

Zhou Huai, seeing that the key cast members had arrived, called them to change clothes, get styled, and shoot the costume photos.

Mu Xing’s outfit was a pale-blue disciple robe with a white base—the uniform of Qingyue Sect, the sect the male lead belonged to in Seeking Immortality.

Jiang Shengyu also had this outfit, but his photoshoot involved not just this costume, but two others as well.

Costumes weren’t new to Mu Xing. In fact, because he had once practiced cultivation, when he put on this sect disciple outfit, his posture and demeanor instinctively carried an understanding of what it meant to be a cultivator.

After the stylist finished dressing him up and looked at Mu Xing standing there, she clutched her chest and gasped, face flushed, and quietly asked if she could take a photo with him.

Mu Xing agreed, took the picture, then stepped out—just as Jiang Shengyu came out of the opposite dressing room.

Jiang Shengyu was wearing the exact same disciple outfit.

At a glance, his pupils shrank.

He stared at Mu Xing for a long moment, before barely forcing out a smile: “Mu Xing, you look good in that.”

Mu Xing agreed wholeheartedly: “Thanks, I think so too.”

Jiang Shengyu said nothing more, turning toward the set with slightly hurried steps.

Mu Xing followed, the two arriving one after another at the photoshoot site.

Several other leads were also wearing disciple robes. But as they saw the pair approach, they couldn’t help but glance over, their expressions complicated.

Everyone knew something of the online scandal involving Qin Song, Jiang Shengyu, and Mu Xing.

Some said Qin Song had treated Mu Xing as a substitute for Jiang Shengyu, since the two looked somewhat alike.

In modern clothes, the resemblance wasn’t so obvious. But now in ancient costumes, wearing identical disciple robes, that faint similarity became far more noticeable.

They really did look a bit alike.

A slight resemblance wasn’t what Jiang Shengyu minded. What he minded was that, at the very first glance of Mu Xing just now, the first thought that flashed in his heart was—stunning.

He was the male lead.

But in costume, he was outshone by Mu Xing.

Not just in looks, but in aura and bearing.

His role, the male lead Xiao Chengyu, had plenty of scenes together with Mu Xing’s role, the junior disciple Yuan Zhen. When the time came, how would the audience see him?

Zhou Huai had clearly noticed the two of them as well.

He frowned as he sized them up for a while, then suddenly called out loudly: “Mu Xing, come over here.”

Mu Xing walked over unhurriedly, his whole person like a clear breeze and bright moon. The onlookers even felt a strange illusion—that the person before them wasn’t the Mu Xing they knew, but a true cultivator.

Zhou Huai realized it too.

He looked at Mu Xing and said: “You really suit this costume. You look very much like a cultivator.”

Mu Xing smiled, brimming with spirit: “Thank you, Director, for the praise.”

Zhou Huai rubbed his temples: “That wasn’t a compliment. Do you think you look like an average-talent junior disciple who only cares about food, drink, and fun?”

Mu Xing thought about it. He could do food, drink, and fun—but average talent… what exactly did that look like?

He looked at the director, a little lost.

Zhou Huai glanced at Jiang Shengyu in the distance and shook his head: “And besides, in the same costume, you’re more eye-catching than the male lead. That doesn’t work. It doesn’t match your character.”

Jiang Shengyu: “…”

He felt all the eyes around him land on him, and it was humiliating.

Zhou Huai actually meant nothing else. He was always blunt, never very good with words. In his early years he had offended people, and had been obscure for years before clawing his way back with pure skill and reputation.

He studied Mu Xing for a long moment before saying: “I’ll give you two suggestions.”

“First, I’ll have the stylist make you look plainer. You’ll also need to learn to hold back, restrain your aura.”

“Second, for example with Yuan Zhen, I have another role that would suit you better.”

He hesitated, then admitted his bias: “I personally think the second suggestion is better.”

Mu Xing was curious: “What role?”

In fact, the very first moment Zhou Huai saw Mu Xing in costume, he thought of that character.

The Sword Tomb Guardian of Qingyue Sect, the former sect leader’s last disciple, the male lead’s junior uncle—Zhuo Qingbi. A character who appeared late, with few scenes, but a role like a white moonlight.

Mu Xing knew this figure. In a story where the male lead and female lead loved but could not be together, and with the second female lead he bore the tragic fate of destined ill-fated lovers—though named Seeking Immortality, most of the plot revolved around the male lead’s revenge and tangled romances—Zhuo Qingbi was a different kind of flower altogether.

The former sect leader’s last disciple, born with a sword bone, an extraordinary talent, living alone in the Sword Tomb since childhood, cut off from the world, wholly devoted to pursuing immortality.

In the end, to protect the Sword Tomb, he sacrificed himself, becoming the great formation, his body turning to dust.

He had no secret lineage, no emotional entanglements. From his first appearance, he was a high-realm cultivator, a True Lord of Divine Transformation, immersed in cultivation, who ultimately fell for his conviction.

Zhou Huai hesitated only on one point: “This is the role. It has fewer scenes than Yuan Zhen. But I can guarantee, if you can capture that feeling, the impact will be far greater than Yuan Zhen’s.”

Yuan Zhen in the script was basically the male lead’s “follower,” with nothing remarkable in the character design.

But Zhuo Qingbi was different. With this role, as long as it was played well, it would definitely be the white moonlight.

Mu Xing reviewed the script in his mind and nodded: “Alright, I’ll play this one.”

His straightforwardness left Zhou Huai’s prepared persuasion caught in his throat.

He asked: “So quick to decide?”

Mu Xing said: “I just want to play a role to prove myself. Between Zhuo Qingbi and Yuan Zhen, I think the former is better.”

Zhou Huai was overjoyed: “Then it’s settled!”

He told the stylist to redo Mu Xing’s look, while calling the assistant director to find another actor for Yuan Zhen.

The onlookers had listened to the entire exchange.

They watched Mu Xing, without hesitation or even discussing with his agent, casually give up a fairly significant fourth male lead role for a minor background character with less than ten minutes of total screen time.

They could only call it the willfulness of a young master.

Jiang Shengyu let out a breath of relief: the male lead and junior uncle had only two scenes together, and almost no overlap in the frame. His worries were gone.

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