Yanjing, on the outskirts of the city.
Finding an unharvested rice field at this time of year proved difficult.
After much searching, they finally discovered a hidden gem—a breathtaking rice field tucked away in the Capital City.
Under the sunlight, it shimmered like a sea of golden autumn bounty.
Zhou Xun stood on the embankment, her white dress swaying gently with the undulating waves of golden rice stalks, creating a picture-perfect scene.
Shen Lang couldn't help but compare her to Gao Yuanyuan.
Their appearances were distinctly different. Zhou Xun embodied the "pale, youthful, and delicate" ideal.
A disgraced celebrity once remarked that Zhou Xun had "the face of a bride-to-be"—exquisite, girlish, pure, and innocent, with eyes that sparkled like jewels.
Yet Wang Jin had claimed, "Zhou Xun isn't a peerless beauty; her looks only deserve a 70 out of 100." Perhaps their tastes diverged—Wang Jin favored flamboyant, curvaceous women, while Zhou Xun's charm lay elsewhere. But that didn't diminish her appeal.
In Shen Lang's eyes, Zhou Xun possessed a stunning face but an average figure.
Standing at 185cm, he towered over her, creating an adorable height difference.
If only she were ten centimeters taller, she would be perfect.
"Shen Lang, has President Chen contacted you recently?"
The voice was restrained, almost ascetic.
Yet when she played Gu Xiaomeng, Li Mi, or Xiao Wei, her voice had a certain edge, a captivating quality that suited those weathered characters.
Perhaps it was because those roles carried a sense of world-weariness.
"President Chen is a busy man," Shen Lang joked. "He probably doesn't have time for me."
But it was true. Ever since Chen Yaochuan had bought the rights to release his album, he had vanished without a trace.
Shen Lang was eager to know the sales figures for Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, and other parts of Asia.
So far, there was no data available.
"He's probably busy promoting your album," she said. "He'll likely show up when my single is released in a few days."
"We should all grab a meal together then."
As they spoke, the director called out, "Mr. Shen, we're ready here. We can start filming."
The director Zhou Xun had recommended was none other than Ning Hao, a pioneer of Chinese noir cinema and a trailblazer of absurdist comedy. In the future, he would direct classics like the Crazy Series, No Man's Land, and Dying to Survive.
But at this point in time, he was still relatively unknown.
It wasn't until the following year, after his graduation project, Thursday, Wednesday, won the Best Director Award at the Yanjing University Student Film Festival, that Ning Hao's talent began to shine.
Ning Hao had loved art since childhood. After graduating from junior high school, he enrolled in a vocational school to study fine arts, later switching to photography. In 1996, upon graduating from vocational school, he was assigned to the Taiyuan Drama Troupe as a stage design assistant. Dissatisfied with how far this was from his dream, he applied to the Department of Arts at Yanjing Normal University to study directing.
The cost of living in Yanjing was much higher than in Taiyuan. To make ends meet and gain practical experience, he took on occasional music video directing jobs.
Earlier, due to Shen Lang's sudden rise to fame, the release of Zhou Xun's single, Drifting, had been postponed. The music video shoot was also put on hold for a while.
When production resumed, the original director had already taken on other projects, so Zhou Xun's team hired Ning Hao instead.
Although music videos are only a few minutes long, they're far from easy to make. They require both musicality and a compelling narrative. Among all the elements—scenery, shot composition, and post-production—the actors' performances are the most crucial.
Typically, the singer takes on the majority of the screen time in a music video, and the quality of their performance directly impacts the audience's ability to connect with the story.
In this MV, Shen Lang played the first-person "I" of the song, specifically the role of the son.
"Shen Lang, your acting..."
"Xun Jie, is my performance not good enough?"
Zhou Xun pondered for a moment before finding the right word. "It's a bit... raw."
Shen Lang looked puzzled. "Raw?"
Ning Hao, seeing his confusion, chimed in, "I think Madam Zhou means 'unpolished.'"
Ning Hao always maintained a humble demeanor when dealing with his clients. He would shoot exactly as Shen Lang instructed, never getting upset when Shen Lang wanted to revise his MV script. He was purely in it to make money, with no naive dreams of using this as a stepping stone to fame. In short, his philosophy was simple: "The client is always right."
Shen Lang was thoroughly satisfied with Ning Hao's professional attitude. There was a reason why Ning Hao would eventually become successful.
While Shen Lang might not understand the intricacies of directing, no one understood the song "Father's Prose Poem" better than he did.
To capture the emotions conveyed in the lyrics on film, the director needed to fully understand them.
That's why it was best to have a director like Ning Hao, who had a clear vision and wouldn't argue endlessly about interfering with the filming process.
With everyone working together, they could finish shooting quickly and wrap up early.
"Ning Hao's right," Zhou Xun said. "It's definitely a wild card approach."
Zhou Xun was about to celebrate her tenth anniversary as a debut artist, having collaborated with countless actors.
Take Chen Kun and Lu Yi, for example, who had just finished filming Like Fog, Like Rain, Like Wind with her. Their acting style was textbook-perfect, based on established methods. In their early performances, they often gave the impression of mechanically following formulas, like painting by numbers.
Shen Lang, on the other hand, had no formal training and had never acted before.
Yet the moment he stood before the camera, he seemed to radiate raw talent.
Shen Lang understood what "wild card" meant. He could interpret the soul of a character through his own understanding of the role.
In a television interview, Zhang Yimou once discussed the different types of actors in the industry. According to him, there were two main categories:
First, the experienced actors, blessed by the gods of the craft. With their solid skills, they'd never go hungry.
The second type is the naturally gifted actor, blessed with innate talent that makes them universally popular.
In the entertainment industry, there are countless classically trained actors with refined skills, belonging to the first category. With diligent effort and meticulous study, they are bound to achieve success, like Zhang Ziyi, Zhang Yi, and Duan Yihong.
Indeed, the vast majority of outstanding actors have formal training.
However, this doesn't mean that self-taught actors are inferior.
Take Zhou Xun, for example. Despite her lack of formal training, she became a Triple Crown Best Actress.
By the time Shen Lang transmigrated, the Chinese-language film industry had produced only three Triple Crown Best Actresses. Zhou Xun was the sole self-taught one among them, while the other two were Zhang Ziyi, a graduate of the Central Academy of Drama, and Zhou Dongyu, a graduate of the Beijing Film Academy.
There are also numerous self-taught Best Actors, such as Huang Bo, Fan Wei, and Ge You, whose acting skills were honed through countless performances.
Therefore, Shen Lang doesn't view the term "self-taught" as derogatory.
"In short, you could become an actor," Zhou Xun said with a faint smile.
"I think it's a good idea," Ning Hao chimed in.
"Stop joking. The sun's about to set. Let's hurry up and finish the remaining shots," Shen Lang urged.
Outside Yanjing, a dilapidated old house stood several hundred meters from the rice fields.
Shen Lang had rented the place for five days as the primary location for his music video shoot.
Today was the final day.
Off-camera, Zhou Xun leaned back in a rattan chair beneath an old tree, gently swaying to the rhythm of the guitar music.
The mother character had passed away in the second verse of the song, and her scenes had long been completed.
Zhou Xun remained purely to watch Shen Lang.
Under the camera's gaze, Shen Lang sat outside in a simple jacket and shirt, cradling his guitar as he played.
The scene was utterly captivating.
Zhou Xun couldn't help but lick her lips.
"Your guitar playing is so much better than Pu Su's," she exclaimed immediately after the take.
Last year, she had starred in the music video for Pu Su's song "September."
Even then, she had found men who could play guitar and sing incredibly charming.
Now, Shen Lang surpassed all expectations. Handsome, talented, and skilled with a guitar, he was utterly irresistible.
"Just passable," Shen Lang replied with a modest smile. "I can't compare to senior artists."
As a music teacher, he possessed not only exceptional professional skills but also proficiency in six or seven instruments.
Since deciding to pursue a career in the entertainment industry, he had been diligently honing his musical abilities and studying songwriting, composition, and music arrangement.
Countless tales from time-traveling predecessors had taught him that even if he could plagiarize songs, he couldn't rely solely on that. He needed to continuously expand his own skills and knowledge.
First, he wouldn't show any weakness.
Second, having multiple skills wouldn't hurt. Even if he couldn't copy songs anymore, he'd still have a fallback.
"This take looks good to me. We can move on," Ning Hao's voice called out.
"Alright, let's wrap it up." After several takes, Shen Lang felt they were all pretty similar. There was no point in shooting more.
"Oh, is it already done?" Zhou Xun said with a hint of reluctance.
"We spent six full days filming a five-minute music video. If we didn't finish now, it would practically be a short film," Shen Lang sighed.
"That's a great idea! Why don't we ask the boss to add some money and turn it into a movie?" Zhou Xun suggested playfully.
To be fair, Qian Guosheng might actually agree.
They could adapt it into a film centered around fatherly love.
The only problem was, it might not make money.
That evening, Shen Lang treated the entire crew to a farewell dinner.
Zhou Xun, her cheeks flushed from a bit of wine, refused Shen Lang's red envelope, joking that she was too expensive—worth at least one song.
Shen Lang understood her meaning perfectly. He generously promised to craft a song tailored specifically for her.
During the dinner, he and Ning Hao exchanged contact information.
The director had a great personality and undeniable talent. Shen Lang looked forward to future collaborations.
With the music video filming complete, post-production would take about five days. Once finished, they would deliver it to Qian Guosheng, and the project would be done.