Capítulo 1469: Chapter 1460: The Heart of the Drama (Part 6)
Xia Siyu is soone who can’t hold back her laughter—making her cry is harder than giving her a beating. When she laughs, any accumulated depression, anger, or displeasure all dissipate in her expression. As Bo Yan approaches her now, she doesn’t turn her head to pretend to ignore him anymore. He says, “Shall we go back and continue?”
Although Xia Siyu’s smile remains, she doesn’t forget to sniffle and let out a proud “humph.” Then she gently pushes him away: “I still need to touch up my makeup.”
She looks into the mirror and sees the laugh lines below her eyes, and her expression crumbles instantly: “Damn! My dry lines are showing again! Where’s Wei Jingjing? Wei Jingjing, call the makeup artist for !!!”
Your head could break, your blood could flow, but your hairstyle can’t be ssed up, nor can lines appear. She’s a beauty-loving actress, and unless it’s required for the role, every second she’s on cara has to be beautiful.
…
After a chaotic mont, filming resus. Xia Siyu tries to restrain her movents and tone while acting. Of course, such adjustnts aren’t achieved overnight. Even though she notices her shortcomings, so fine-tuning is needed. She’s not a deity; she can’t get it right in one take.
After one or two tries, she still hasn’t found the right state. Besides Bo Yan and herself, others are sowhat at a loss, even fearing Xia Siyu might get angry again like before and argue with Bo Yan.
But Xia Siyu does not shout or argue. During the break, she doesn’t look at the script but calls for the makeup artist to touch up her makeup and stares at herself in the mirror for a long, long ti. Only when the makeup artist says “Done,” does she nod and get up.
Filming this scene since nine in the morning until now, three hours have passed. When Xia Siyu returns to the set, she even hears staff discussing issues about arranging work als. Li Yiru, waiting outside, also stands up to check the situation.
Failing to pass a scene, making other roles wait is quite tedious. And for so small transparent ones, it’s rather humiliating. They’ve received notice to perform, waking up as early as four in the morning to go to the set, do their makeup, and wait. But the big stars not only arrive late but also don’t do their makeup, haven’t morized their lines, and can’t pass multiple takes. The small ones can only wait on the side, continuously waiting until their shoot concludes, sotis waiting for an entire day.
When Li Yiru first debuted, she suffered such humiliation, so she later tried every possible way to latch onto a sponsor to climb up. But now, as she’s waiting, she’s not angry; instead, she finds it amusing.
It’s rare to see celebrity couples arguing and few stars dare to challenge the director like this.
Xia Siyu lounges on the sofa, an arm draped over it, like a lazy cat. The faint aroma of food seems to linger, with many people coming and going outside—working, lingering, conversing. Her mind is blank, absent of herself and her role, as if everything is blurred. Only when Bo Yan calls out “Begin” does she slightly raise her arm.
The motion is minimal, soft as if having just taken a bath, her voice as still as her tone, serene like a lake yet holding unknown hidden whirlpools beneath: “The most terrifying thing after marriage is not poverty, not jealousy, not fighting, but mundane dullness, boredom, annoyance. Two people see each other as a burden, too lazy to quarrel or fight, only wishing for the day the sky falls, waiting for death.”
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