Chapter 32: Easy to Get into Character, Hard to Get Out of It

After Chen Kun left, Cao Yang turned to Tian Zhuangzhuang and asked, "What do you think of those two?"

Li Xiaoran, sitting nearby, immediately pricked up her ears.

"I know Fu Dalong. I was talking about him with Feng Xiaoning just recently. He’s an actor with great plasticity; his acting skills shouldn't be an issue."

Glancing at his audition notes, Tian continued, "His appearance is a bit too rugged. You could tell from that last scene—he’d be perfect as a tough guy, a general, or a plainsman, but that’s not the type of lead we need for this film."

Cao Yang nodded, flipping through his files. Fu Dalong had starred in Feng Xiaoning’s *Purple Sunset*, which was already scheduled for release in April. Feng Xiaoning was also a graduate of the Beijing Film Academy, a member of the famous Class of '78, though he had studied in the Fine Arts department. Tian was right; Fu Dalong’s image was indeed too "hard" for a more delicate or androgynous role.

The three actors Cao Yang was auditioning represented three different types—or perhaps two, depending on how you categorized them: the "masculine" and the "softer" archetypes.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Li Mingyi looked at Cao Yang, and at his nod, called out for them to enter.

As soon as Liu Ye walked in, before he could even offer a greeting, Tian Zhuangzhuang let out an "Oh?" of surprise.

Startled, Liu Ye quickly said, "Hello, teachers. My name is Liu Ye."

Cao Yang scrutinized him. At this time, Liu Ye hadn't yet put on any weight; he was very thin and refined. But that wasn't the point. What had surprised Tian wasn't his looks, but his temperament.

In university, aside from being a bit quiet when he first started, Liu Ye was actually a sunny person—he loved basketball, enjoyed joking with friends, and was quite lighthearted. But the Liu Ye standing before them now showed no trace of that brightness. He stood there with a certain "stillness," appearing somewhat melancholic and androgynous.

"I see in your file that you starred in *Lan Yu*. Has the film wrapped?" Cao Yang asked, checking the documents.

"It wrapped a month ago."

Cao Yang and Tian exchanged a look. Great, another actor who hadn't yet emerged from his role.

As industry insiders, they knew the male-male romance film *Lan Yu* had garnered significant attention. It was rumored that to help them get into character, the director had forced them to live together for over a month to build chemistry and intimacy, even sharing his own experiences with them. The director, Stanley Kwan, was a man. After the shoot, Hu Jun, having seen it all, had easily snapped back to reality.

But Liu Ye was different. He had just graduated when he took on *Lan Yu*. With little experience, he had truly immersed himself in the role, and deeply so. After filming, knowing that young actors often struggle to detach, the director had warned Liu Ye to avoid seeing Hu Jun for a while and to stay out of the same frame as him whenever possible.

Li Xiaoran, perhaps out of sympathy, coached Liu Ye with great diligence. Liu Ye’s dance wasn't as graceful as Chen Kun’s—his movements were a bit stiff—but his gaunt face paired with those large, expressive eyes, combined with that melancholic air, created an effect that was hauntingly strange.

This spoke to Liu Ye’s acting prowess; he was clearly more skilled than Chen Kun, understanding how to coordinate his gaze and expressions to cultivate that specific atmosphere. His softness was distinctly different from Chen Kun’s. There was a charm and a melancholy to it—from his eyes to the curve of his lips and his overall demeanor, he felt ambiguous, yet not effeminate. That delicate appearance and tender gaze, usually reserved for describing women, now appeared on Liu Ye.

After the audition, Cao Yang gave him the same promise: he would have an answer within two days. Once he left, Tian remarked, "Interesting."

Cao Yang asked, "Who do you think is more suitable?"

Tian immediately ruled out Fu Dalong. It wasn't that his acting was poor; it was simply that his image didn't fit the role. With Chen Kun and Liu Ye, it was hard to choose, as both had their merits.

Tian was a stubborn man—he was the type to frame his government-issued ban on directing and hang it on his wall—but he wasn't ignorant of social dynamics. He knew that since both were comparable, personal connections now came into play.

"Let’s go with Chen Kun. He fits the character's positioning quite well."

See? Tian only spoke of the character's positioning, never mentioning acting skills, because Chen Kun’s acting was indeed inferior to Liu Ye’s. But Chen Kun was "one of their own"—a Beijing Film Academy graduate and a close friend of Li Xiaoran. When both candidates fit the part, one naturally chooses the person they are closer to.

Li Xiaoran smiled but said nothing. She knew clearly that even though her relationship with Cao Yang was special, she couldn't interfere with casting. She sympathized with Liu Ye, but Chen Kun was her best friend, and he had helped her before; naturally, she hoped he would be chosen.

Cao Yang didn't rush to a decision, falling into deep thought. In the film, the male lead acted as a guardian for the female protagonist. He always stood from her perspective, doing the things she did—washing clothes, cooking, cleaning—constantly protecting her and standing up for her.

The film could be interpreted as the male lead being the manifestation of the female lead’s fantasies brought to life. He could be soft, but he could not be gloomy. In this regard, the current state of Liu Ye was more suitable. In terms of acting, Liu Ye was also the better choice. Physically, the younger, pre-weight-gain Liu Ye had more spirit and didn't look like your typical "pretty boy."

The only doubt was Liu Ye’s current state of immersion; he seemed trapped in *Lan Yu*. Yet, that was exactly what Cao Yang found valuable. Being immersed in a role certainly caused emotional turbulence, but it wasn't as if Liu Ye was on the verge of a breakdown like Li Xiaoran.

Cao Yang wanted to draw a comparison: Yu Feihong without any extra emotional labor, and Liu Ye with his high emotional turbulence—if he added the experience of immersion to both, what would the final result be? Then, comparing them to Li Xiaoran, these three distinct benchmarks should reveal a pattern.

"Let’s go with Liu Ye. Also, ask Chen Kun if he’d like to make a cameo; there’s a pair of open-minded spouses in the film with a small role."

Cao Yang thought for a moment. Since he’d already auditioned them, he shouldn't show favoritism. "And for Fu Dalong, there’s a boxer role. If he’s willing, we can offer it to him."

Liu Shan took notes and nodded. "Understood."

Then, Liu Shan added, "We’ve heard back from Hong Kong. Nick Cheung’s agent said he just signed for a film called *Perfect Lover* and doesn't have the availability."

Liu Shan’s expression then turned strange. "Eddie Ng’s agent asked about our filming schedule. He explained that Eddie signed a film contract and has to join the set in July, so his availability is only before then."

If he was free before July, that was fine.

Liu Shan coughed. "Eddie Ng’s agent said the movie he’s joining in July is called *Perfect Lover*."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"So, the movie *Perfect Lover* stars Nick Cheung and Eddie Ng?" Tian couldn't help but ask.

"It would appear so."

"Well, that’s a hell of a coincidence!"