226: Chapter 226 Boss Jiang decides to sacrifice his hair

Jiang Fan sat up from the bed, and Song Siyi followed suit, rising in his arms as the quilt slid halfway down.

It revealed patches of skin marked with red traces.

Jiang Fan got out of bed and picked up the shirt from the carpet.

He held it up to take a look; there was a lipstick stain at the collar and another one on the chest.

It couldn't be worn anymore.

Song Siyi slipped on a white nightgown and walked barefoot to the wardrobe.

Inside hung several men's shirts, their tags still attached.

She took down a white one, tore off the tag, and turned to walk toward Jiang Fan.

"Reach out your arms."

Jiang Fan cooperatively spread his arms.

Song Siyi put the shirt on him from behind, walked around to the front, and began buttoning it up starting from the bottom button.

Finally, she smoothed out the wrinkles at the collar and patted his chest twice with her palm.

"There you go."

Jiang Fan looked at her. This woman was increasingly carrying herself like a boss; even when helping someone dress, she possessed an air of efficiency.

He grabbed his watch and put it on.

"Let's go, take me to Times Media."

Song Siyi's car had been changed to a black Mercedes S-Class.

During the morning rush hour in the city, the traffic was stop-and-go.

Jiang Fan sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through messages on his phone.

Song Siyi gripped the steering wheel, watching the red light ahead.

"I'll have the HR department scout for a head of the animation department as soon as I get back to the office."

"That works," Jiang Fan replied. "Offer enough money. Once the animation is produced, ensure the supply chain for peripheral toys and figures follows suit simultaneously."

The car stopped at the entrance of the Times Media building. Jiang Fan unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed open the car door.

"I'm heading back to the company now. Bye."

Jiang Fan nodded, turned, and walked into the entrance of Times Media.

— —

Inside a newly cleared audition room at Times Media.

One side of the wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors; this had originally been a dance studio for trainees, so the space was quite large.

Behind a long table, Su Yuyan sat in a seat near the edge.

In the middle sat a woman in her fifties.

With short hair, wearing reading glasses and a gray knit sweater, she was flipping through the script for "journey to the west".

She was Director Yang Shuhua, the signature director for domestic period dramas.

Director Yang Shuhua closed the script and threw it onto the long table with a "thwack."

She took off her reading glasses and turned to look at Su Yuyan.

"The script is truly well-written; it can be counted as a rare gem in recent years."

"But this casting list, President Su, are you joking with me?"

Director Yang Shuhua tapped her finger on the A4 list on the table.

"You playing the White Bone Demon is fine; you have some foundation. But casting Tang Yingxue as the Bodhisattva? Casting Xu Qingya as the Queen of the Daughter Kingdom?"

"Aside from singing, have these two ever acted a single day in their lives?"

Su Yuyan leaned back against her chair.

"Director Yang, they have popularity."

"I, Director Yang Shuhua, never look at popularity when filming!"

Director Yang Shuhua knocked her knuckles heavily against the table, producing a dull thud.

"I'll let those two vases slide; their screen time isn't much. At worst, I'll spend time training them slowly."

"But what about the Tang Monk? You're telling me the investor wants to play the role himself?"

Director Yang Shuhua tossed the signature pen in her hand; it bounced off the table and fell straight to the floor.

"The Tang Monk is the soul of the entire show! To find an amateur boss who hasn't studied acting for a single day to play him? This is ruining the script!"

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

"I absolutely do not agree."

Su Yuyan didn't speak.

She picked up her teacup and took a sip, intending to wait for Jiang Fan to handle it himself.

The doorknob turned, and the receptionist led Jiang Fan in through the door.

The audition room went quiet.

Director Yang Shuhua turned her head, looking the young man up and down as he entered.

A white shirt, black dress pants, a tall and straight figure, and clear, refined features.

His physical appearance was impeccable—clean and crisp, lacking the powdery, effeminate air of the current crop of young idols.

But acting isn't just about looking at a face.

"President Jiang." Su Yuyan stood up and pulled out the chair next to her.

Jiang Fan walked over and sat down, his gaze landing on Director Yang Shuhua.

"Director Yang, I have long admired your work."

Director Yang Shuhua didn't acknowledge the pleasantry; she pushed the list on the table forward.

"President Jiang, you wrote the script, and I admire your talent." Director Yang Shuhua went straight to the point.

"But writing a script and acting are two different things. The role of the Tang Monk has a large volume of lines, and the emotional range spans from compassion to stubbornness, all while facing the temptations and intimidation of various demons and monsters."

"Without years of stage experience, one simply cannot carry this role."

Jiang Fan leaned back in his chair, listening to her finish.

"Director Yang," Jiang Fan began, "where do you think the most difficult part of playing the Tang Monk lies?"

Director Yang Shuhua looked at him.

"Steadfastness," Director Yang Shuhua answered crisply. "Facing life and death, facing the temptations of women. He is a mortal, but he must manifest the steadfastness of a Buddha. This kind of steadfastness isn't a deadpan expression or a lack of emotion, but that restraint from within."

Jiang Fan nodded.

"How about this, Director Yang, no matter how well I speak, it's useless. Let's just audition a scene directly."

Director Yang Shuhua adjusted her glasses.

"Oh? Which scene?"

"The scene after the thrice-beating of the White Bone Demon, where the Tang Monk drives The Monkey King away."

Director Yang Shuhua flipped open the script and found the page.

"In this scene, the Tang Monk's emotions are the most complex. There is anger, heartbreak, and determination." Director Yang Shuhua looked at Jiang Fan. "Prepare yourself; I'll give you ten minutes."

"No need."

Jiang Fan stood up and walked to the open space in the middle of the audition room.

Su Yuyan put down her teacup and leaned forward.

She had been with Jiang Fan for so long, yet she had never seen him act.

Jiang Fan closed his eyes.

Two seconds later, he opened them.

Su Yuyan sat in her chair, stunned.

The aura around Jiang Fan had changed; the sharp, aggressive investor from a moment ago was gone.

He stood there, shoulders slumped, back straight, exuding a sense of exhaustion from a long journey.

His eyes softened, yet they were tinged with a stubbornness.

Jiang Fan looked at the empty space in front of him.

He raised his hand, his fingers trembling as he pointed forward.

"You unruly monkey..."

The voice wasn't loud, yet it was filled with extreme disappointment.

"I am a man of the cloth, guided by compassion. Yet you, again and again, have taken lives."

Jiang Fan closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"Go."

Su Yuyan's hand holding the teacup froze in mid-air.

These few lines, without any screaming or exaggerated movements, carried such heartbreak and determination that they pulled everyone directly into the scene.

Director Yang Shuhua couldn't help but grip the script tightly.

Jiang Fan didn't stop.

He took another step forward, pressed his palms together, bowed his head, and chanted a Buddhist prayer.

When he lifted his head again, his eyes were red, but there was no compromise in his gaze.

"You return to your Flower-Fruit Mountain, and I shall seek my true scriptures. From this day forward, our bond as master and disciple is severed forever."

After saying this, he turned around.

That back view was lonely, stubborn, and filled with the helplessness of a mortal.

The audition room was silent for a full half-minute.

Jiang Fan dropped the posture, turned around, and walked back to sit at the table.

He picked up the bottled water on the table, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.

His expression was like that of a different person; the compassionate Tang Monk had vanished, and he had changed back into the Jiang Fan who was unhurried in everything he did.

Director Yang Shuhua stared at Jiang Fan for a long time.

She had been in this industry for forty years and had seen countless actors.

But to find someone like Jiang Fan—who could enter a role in a second, exit it in a second, and whose micro-expressions and muscle control were this precise—you could count them on one hand.

"President Jiang." The aggressive edge in Director Yang Shuhua's tone softened.

"Where did you study acting before?"

"I didn't. I just figured it out on my own."

Director Yang Shuhua didn't press further; she took the script from the table and flipped to the first page.

Next to the cast list, the column for Tang Monk was still empty.

Director Yang Shuhua picked up a pen and wrote two words heavily after Tang Monk: Jiang Fan.

"It's settled, you are the Tang Monk."

Su Yuyan, on the side, also breathed a sigh of relief.

Director Yang Shuhua stood up, walked over to Jiang Fan, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked him up and down once more.

"One last question."

Director Yang Shuhua reached out and pointed to the top of Jiang Fan's head.

"The hair—shaving it for real—can you accept that?"

Su Yuyan turned her head sharply.

Shave it for real?

She instinctively looked at Jiang Fan's hair; that head of jet-black hair felt incredibly good to the touch.

Director Yang Shuhua set her reading glasses back on the bridge of her nose.

"The Tang Monk is a monk. When I film, I never use wigs. Audiences can spot a wig on camera in an instant. If you want to play the role, you have to shave it all off."

"The entire filming cycle is at least four months. For these four months, you will have to sport a bald head."

Su Yuyan opened her mouth to say something, but she knew Director Yang Shuhua's rules.

Jiang Fan touched his hair.

Four months of being bald.

He thought about what expression Xu Qingya would have upon seeing him bald, and then thought about how Tang Yingxue would mock him.

And Shen Nian.

That girl loved to grab his hair and not let go every time they finished.

What would she grab if he shaved it bald?

"Alright. No problem."