156: Chapter 156 We've struck gold! The whole team is Oscar-worthy!

Ten minutes passed quickly.

Shen Feng changed into an ill-fitting suit and stood in the center of the stage.

The suit was a size too big; he rolled up the sleeves and stretched his neck a couple of times.

The shadow of the down-and-out troupe leader from just a moment ago had completely vanished, replaced by a comical air of being cowardly yet sleazy, insisting on maintaining a facade.

There were no lights, no sets.

Shen Feng held a disposable paper cup as if it were a wine glass, walking forward with an arrogant, swaggering gait.

"Qiu Ya is our school's famous campus belle, and I'm even more famous; I'm the school's famous joke."

As soon as the line was delivered, Director Ning Yuan's eyebrows shot up.

That tone, a mix of decadence and self-deprecation, was captured perfectly. Any more would be exaggerated; any less wouldn't have the same effect.

Shen Feng walked that tightrope with perfect steadiness.

There was nothing in the paper cup, yet he raised it and downed it in one gulp, smacking his lips as if he had really just downed two taels of white liquor.

It was time for the toast.

Xia Luo was pretending to be a big spender at the wedding, offering a toast to his teacher.

That tall, thin guy came up from the side, hunched over, and pushed up the non-existent glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"You are, that, who was it again?"

Shen Feng leaned in, wearing a fawning smile: "Teacher, it's me, Xia Luo. Back then, you even told me to get out."

The tall, thin guy slapped his thigh: "Oh, that idiot."

The two of them worked together seamlessly.

The tall, thin guy's timing was impeccable, and the expression on Shen Feng's face when he was called an idiot—

Wanting to laugh but unable to, wanting to snap but not daring to, it was all written on his face.

Director Ning Yuan had originally been leaning back in his chair, but now he sat up straight.

Jiang Fan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye but didn't say anything.

The best part was yet to come.

Sister Yue rushed onto the stage clutching a plastic kitchen knife, pointing it at Shen Feng's nose as she started cursing.

"Xia Luo! You heartless thing! I go out doing cupping therapy during the day and peddle a tricycle at night to support your music, yet you—you run off here to give a wedding gift!"

As soon as the Northeastern accent came out, the whole scene came alive.

That shrewishness, grievance, and frustration of a woman from the lower classes—it was all in that one shout.

Sister Yue wasn't tall, but she commanded the stage with a strong presence.

Shen Feng shrank back in fear, cowering, and muttered—

"Dongmei, don't make a scene, save me some face..."

"Face? Do you still have any face?"

The few people on stage had no props, relying entirely on pantomime to carry the scene.

The corners of Director Ning Yuan's mouth twitched. But he held it back; he didn't laugh.

Jiang Fan saw his fingers tapping on the armrest twice.

Shen Feng, feigning drunkenness, grabbed a chair to use as a toilet and leaned over it, retching violently.

After retching, he didn't forget to look up, muttering with bleary eyes:

"Ma Dongmei... where did you... drive my Ferrari to..."

Director Ning Yuan couldn't hold it back this time.

He burst out laughing.

He was an extremely picky director; performances that could make him laugh could be counted on one hand.

The performance ended.

Shen Feng stood on stage, breathing heavily, a large patch on the back of his suit soaked with sweat.

He looked nervously at the two people off-stage.

Sister Yue tossed the plastic kitchen knife aside, her chest heaving, her attention also focused here.

It was quiet for three seconds.

Jiang Fan stood up and clapped twice.

"Li Cheng."

Li Cheng hurried forward. "Brother Fan."

"Contact the legal department and draft an acquisition contract. Take everyone and the venue, buy it all. Deposit the advance payment into their account this afternoon, and first, pay off the outstanding rent and wages."

Shen Feng's legs went weak, and he sat down directly on the stage.

Lun Zi let out a howl and rushed over from backstage, hugging Shen Feng, crying and laughing at the same time: "Brother Feng! We've made it!"

Sister Yue turned around and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

The movement was quick; by the time she turned back, her face had returned to normal.

Director Ning Yuan watched the group on stage huddled together, then turned to look at Jiang Fan.

"You've had your eye on them for a while, haven't you?"

"It's all fate." Jiang Fan casually brushed it off.

"So, this male lead is set?" Director Ning Yuan pointed at Shen Feng.

"What do you think?"

Director Ning Yuan rubbed the stubble on his chin.

"He's sleazy enough, and he's ugly enough too. Fine, he's the one."

His hand pointed to Sister Yue again.

"That one who played Ma Dongmei, she has good explosive power and a natural comedic sense of rhythm. She's set as the female lead."

Shen Feng, hearing this on stage, had a very interesting expression on his face.

He was happy, sure—

It was the male lead, the male lead of a 40 million production; a pie had fallen from the sky and hit him right on the forehead.

But what did he mean, "ugly"?

He was, at the very least, a former heartthrob from the PLA Academy of Arts.

Lun Zi added insult to injury from the side: "Brother Feng, don't be unconvinced; your face really does have a comedic quality."

Shen Feng slapped the back of his head: "Shut up, you're uglier than me."

Director Ning Yuan stood up, pushed the chair back, and walked to the edge of the stage.

The few people on stage immediately stopped their playful antics and looked at him in unison.

"You've performed stage plays before," Director Ning Yuan began, "but stage plays and movies are two different things. On stage, you have to exaggerate your expressions so the audience in the last row can see them. But the camera amplifies everything tenfold; if you use even a little too much effort in your eyebrows, it comes out as overacting."

Shen Feng nodded, listening intently.

"There's a two-week preparation period before filming starts, and you'll be training with the crew. I'll be going over the scenes with you one by one."

Director Ning Yuan looked at Sister Yue again.

"Your Northeastern accent is fine, but be careful not to rely on shouting to convey all your emotions. Ma Dongmei isn't just shrewish; that layer of her caring for Xia Luo needs to be hidden—the audience will be able to see it for themselves."

Sister Yue nodded vigorously.

Director Ning Yuan scanned the others: "And the rest of you, don't think that just because the leads are set, it has nothing to do with you. This is an ensemble piece; every supporting character needs to stand on their own."

Lun Zi and A Zheng responded in unison: "Understood."

Shen Feng walked over to Jiang Fan in two or three strides.

He opened his mouth, deliberating for a long time—

"General Manager Jiang, that..."

"Just call me Jiang Fan."

"Jiang Fan." Shen Feng rubbed his hands. "My theater troupe, we owe three months of rent, and the wages for six people haven't been paid. It adds up to about 120,000. Will you really pay it off?"

"Didn't you hear what I said just now?"

"I heard, I heard." Shen Feng nodded quickly. "It just feels... a bit unreal."

Li Cheng chimed in from the side: "Old Shen, don't worry, Brother Fan's word is bond. The contract will arrive this afternoon; organize your account number and the details of the debts and send them to me."

Shen Feng nodded heavily.

He turned back to look at his troupe members.

Sister Yue, Lun Zi, A Zheng, and those few extras backstage.

These people had followed him for three years, never receiving a proper salary for more than a few days, relying entirely on sheer willpower to keep going.

Today, that willpower finally paid off.

Jiang Fan patted him on the shoulder: "Prepare well. If this film is made well, your theater troupe won't have to worry about having nothing to eat in the future."

Shen Feng grinned, revealing a set of neat teeth.

"Fine. My life, Shen Feng's life, is yours from now on."

——

After leaving the theater, Director Ning Yuan lit a cigarette, walked next to Jiang Fan, and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"You have a sharp eye. Where do these people usually hang out? How come I've never heard of them in the industry?"

Jiang Fan smiled: "There are hidden talents among the people. Capital only looks at traffic, not strength. We at Xinghuo Media specialize in picking up the ones everyone else missed."