Chapter 205: Filming in Progress
He was merely jealous of his friend.
His friend possessed everything he lacked—good relationships, extensive knowledge, and an elegant demeanor. No matter where his friend went, praise followed.
Even more frustratingly… despite having everything, his friend still treated everyone with genuine kindness and warmth.
It was thanks to his friend’s generosity that Ma Yanwen was able to secure a stable job and enjoy the peaceful life he had now.
Yet, instead of feeling grateful, he harbored endless darkness within him.
Jealousy grew unchecked in Ma Yanwen’s heart, expanding until it consumed him entirely. He not only resented his friend but also developed a deep, intrinsic desire to destroy him.
In his own recollections, he painted himself as a person like his “friend”—while at the same time, he did everything he could to slander him.
Had his actions not been discovered, he would never have confessed to them.
For Lu Xu, portraying Ma Yanwen was a performance in two parts. In the first half, Ma Yanwen was utterly unremarkable, so ordinary that he would disappear in a crowd. But in the second half… the depths of human evil were laid bare in him.
His friend had not died by his hand, but when his friend reached out for help, Ma Yanwen chose to stand by and do nothing. And when his friend’s death was confirmed, he even felt a sense of glee.
It was as if the shadow looming over him had finally vanished, and his friend’s death brought him an unexpected sense of joy.
When Mu Lang told him that this role suited him, Lu Xu was genuinely puzzled. He even began to wonder if he had done something wrong for the director to see him in such a way.
Nevertheless, he was deeply intrigued by the role—it was a type of character he had never attempted before.
When Lu Xu read the first half of the script, he found it rather plain. He suspected there was some hidden twist behind Ma Yanwen’s imprisonment—perhaps Ma Yanwen was actually a mastermind like Luo Ying, or maybe he possessed extraordinary skills and managed to escape through sheer effort.
But what Lu Xu never expected was that Ma Yanwen would embody the highest degree of “evil” that an ordinary person could reach.
The deeper the kindness his friend showed him, the more jealousy and hatred it provoked. It was the very definition of the saying: a favor as small as a grain of rice is repaid with a grudge as heavy as a sack of rice.
The latter half of the script sent a chill down Lu Xu’s spine.
At that moment, he understood why Mu Lang was so determined to make this film.
As a well-established director in the industry, Mu Lang was never short of scripts to choose from. The reason he picked this one had to be the sheer allure of the story itself.
Lu Xu accepted the role for the same reason—Ma Yanwen presented a true acting challenge.
So far, he had only filmed Observing the Stars at Night and Code A77, both of which featured relatively straightforward character archetypes. Taking on a more complex role now seemed like the perfect change of pace.
Even though the production team was small and Lu Xu barely had any scenes with the other actors, the heart of the script revolved around Ma Yanwen.
After struggling through several takes that didn’t feel quite right, Lu Xu carefully reevaluated the role. He ended up rewriting Ma Yanwen’s character backstory, expanding on his motivations.
To Lu Xu, the script contained a major reversal in Ma Yanwen’s characterization. Since even he had been caught off guard by the reveal, his performance had to ensure that the audience would feel the same shock.
He meticulously analyzed the script from beginning to end, filling his notes with dense scribbles. Truth be told, Lu Xu was an experienced actor—he could have relied on instinct alone. But with a script like this, he knew that even the slightest flaw in his performance could alter how the audience perceived both the story and Ma Yanwen as a character.
On this point, Lu Xu had his own firm beliefs.
Director Mu Lang was upfront with him as well—he had invited Lu Xu for this role precisely because of his personality.
…
From the perspective of an average audience member, the second half of the film, where Ma Yanwen’s true nature was revealed, seemed like the more challenging part to act. However, for Lu Xu, the real difficulty lay in the first half.
Once the “ordinary and unremarkable” Ma Yanwen phase was over and the story transitioned into the malicious, twisted version of the character, Lu Xu actually felt at ease. He had played so many villains before—portraying Ma Yanwen was just a transition from one villainous role to another, with no significant technical challenge.
However, the Ma Yanwen of the first half was a villain in disguise, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. This type of personality was far better at concealing itself than any overtly sinister character, making it much harder for Lu Xu to grasp the right balance in his performance.
During this part of filming, Lu Xu had several NG takes—something that had rarely happened since he won the Contention Award.
Ma Yanwen was indeed a tricky character to control.
But as filming progressed, Lu Xu gradually got a firm hold on him.
In fact, because of the role’s complexity, Lu Xu found himself experiencing a thrill in the challenge.
Especially in scenes where Ma Yanwen’s lies were full of inconsistencies, yet he still desperately tried to cover up his own despicable nature—contrasting that with his friend’s situation only made Ma Yanwen appear even more detestable.
His friend and Ma Yanwen originally lived in two separate worlds, two people who should never have crossed paths. The friend, out of pure kindness, extended a helping hand and pulled Ma Yanwen into his world.
The longer Lu Xu spent portraying Ma Yanwen, the more he found himself thinking, ‘What right does Ma Yanwen have?’
But that was a private emotion he had to suppress. If his personal feelings became too strong, they could interfere with his performance.
“He helped me. No—I helped him. The students’ complaints nearly broke him. He confided in me. Even though I was busy with finals that year, I still took the time to talk to the department head for him…”
Ma Yanwen had repeated these lines several times. Despite how full of holes his words were, the glimmer in his eyes made it clear—he truly believed them.
A lie, when repeated a hundred times, slowly becomes the truth.
At the very least, Ma Yanwen was br*inwashing himself into believing it.
During this scene, Lu Xu’s delivery was clumsy, but his expression brimmed with excitement. Mu Lang watched him closely for a long time before finally nodding, signaling that the take was good.
Ma Yanwen wasn’t just trying to deceive others—he had already deceived himself.
Just by looking at his face, just by listening to his immersive storytelling, no one would doubt his words.
“That was spot on,” Mu Lang murmured after a long silence.
It had been some time since their collaboration on Reverse City, yet once again, Lu Xu managed to surprise him. Though he had struggled with a few scenes in the first half of the film, Mu Lang keenly noticed one thing—Lu Xu had improved.
Not just among the younger generation of actors, but even among those Mu Lang had worked with throughout his career, Lu Xu’s talent stood out. And despite having talent in spades, he still pursued acting with relentless dedication.
Mu Lang was known for being a strict director—every actor who had worked with him could attest to that.
But that never stopped him from appreciating Lu Xu. In fact, the longer they collaborated, the more admiration he felt.
During the filming of Reverse City, Lu Xu had already saved Mu Lang a great deal of time and effort. And now, in this new production, Mu Lang had allotted him ample time, expecting him to reach 100% of what was required.
Instead, Lu Xu delivered 120%.
His portrayal of Ma Yanwen exceeded Mu Lang’s expectations.
Mu Lang couldn’t help but speculate—during the filming of Reverse City, Lu Xu had not yet reached his current state. It was likely the subsequent films he worked on that had transformed him.
…
After finishing the scenes where Ma Yanwen was portrayed as a rambling and insufferable character, Lu Xu fully immersed himself in the moments that showcased Ma Yanwen’s malice.
Ma Yanwen was not a typical villainous mastermind—he didn’t lead a criminal syndicate, nor did he plot to destroy the world. But that was precisely what made his evil even more terrifying—it was the kind of malice that could exist in an ordinary person.
His friend had done nothing wrong. In fact, he had wholeheartedly tried to help him. From a moral standpoint, the friend was completely blameless. And yet, goodness itself often invited overwhelming hostility.
Lu Xu was nothing like Ma Yanwen—he couldn’t even begin to understand him. But it was precisely because Ma Yanwen’s existence was so terrifying that Lu Xu felt the need to fully showcase the character’s menace. He wanted the audience to recognize that people like Ma Yanwen existed—people who would harbor resentment and hatred even when no one had wronged them.
The less he understood, the more meticulously Lu Xu studied and explored the nuances of Ma Yanwen’s character. He dedicated an extraordinary amount of effort to perfecting the role.
Beyond that, since the entire script was essentially built around a single character, if Lu Xu’s performance came across as too bland, the film would end up feeling dull to the audience.
Around the world, there had been films centered entirely on a single actor’s performance. These types of films typically had low budgets, relying solely on one or two actors to carry the entire production and leave a lasting impression on viewers.
Since My Baby Prince, this was the first time in Lu Xu’s career that he had taken on a role like Ma Yanwen—and the first time he had carried an entire film on his shoulders.
Although most of the films he had acted in featured him as the lead, even Feather of Youth—which focused on the protagonist Yin Pei’s journey—had multiple narrative threads.
In this film, there were only two versions of Ma Yanwen—the one who faced the sunlight and the one who remained in the shadows.
“Shooting this is exhausting,” Lu Xu let out a heavy sigh. “It feels like every single day is just my scenes.”
During the filming of his previous movie, Code A77, he had at least managed to take a break for the Lunar New Year to promote Celestial Observations. Back then, the crew had other actors’ scenes to shoot. But this time, throughout the filming of this new project, Lu Xu felt like the moment he opened his eyes, it was his scenes on the schedule. As long as the crew wasn’t on break, he was guaranteed to be on set.
Lu Xu summed it up as: shooting the most scenes for the least pay.
He wasn’t complaining about the production. It was a low-budget film, and as the lead, his pay wasn’t exactly high. Besides, Director Mu Lang was an old acquaintance—Lu Xu would’ve felt bad if he had demanded a sky-high fee for the role.
On top of that, the character itself was difficult to play. Even though Mu Lang wasn’t as harsh as before, Lu Xu still felt the pressure.
It was worth mentioning that while he was filming this new project, Reverse City was still in circulation, and Zhao Yifan—who had worked with both him and Mu Lang—unexpectedly made an appearance, subtly throwing shade at Mu Lang for favoring Lu Xu. He complained that whenever Mu Lang had a good script, he only thought of Lu Xu and never considered other actors.
Lu Xu: “….”
Lu Xu had been holding back for a long time. But now, he finally couldn’t resist saying: If you’ve got a mental illness, you should get it treated. If you let it fester too long, you’ll end up like Zhao Yifan—beyond saving.
What kind of twisted logic made Zhao Yifan think that Mu Lang would ever want to work with him again?
Absolutely not happening.
Had he not suffered enough from Reverse City?
Zhao Yifan was Headache No. 1, but during the filming of this new movie, Headache No. 2 also made a grand entrance during the Lunar New Year release—Family and Nation had officially premiered.
