Chapter 24: A Gift Worth More Than Tens of Millions

The assistant director stroked his chin. “That girl Bai Lu always had talent. She’s the type who seems to have been chased by the gods themselves, bowl in hand, begging her to eat. Her acting’s always been impeccable, but… there’s something I can’t quite put my finger on. Since she came back from the hospital, it’s as if her meridians have all been opened; she went from a top master to a grandmaster overnight.”

Director Zhang let out a low laugh. “Before, when she acted, it was still just acting. But after the hospital, there’s not a single trace of performance left—she simply is Liu Wenwen, and Liu Wenwen is her. Just as you said, from a top master to a grandmaster.”

The assistant director shook his head in wonder. “It’s strange, really. How does a fall turn someone into a grandmaster? You call ‘cut’ and she instantly sheds the role; you call ‘action’ and she’s right back in. Of all the actors I’ve worked with, only Lu Yiting managed that, and he’s been acting for decades—already a legend! Bai Lu is only eighteen, and she’s already reached that level?”

Director Zhang narrowed his eyes at Bai Lu in the distance and smiled. “Didn’t you just say she’s a natural? Once you comprehend, everything falls into place—it’s not that strange. Did you notice, those three NGs were all because her scene partners couldn’t keep up with her.”

The assistant director blinked. “I honestly didn’t notice that.”

Director Zhang was certain. “It was all because her partners couldn’t match her performance; three takes went wrong, and only on the fourth, when Bai Lu deliberately held back a little, did it pass. That girl, she’s truly self-taught—a prodigy.”

The assistant director looked at his old friend and grinned. “So, what, you’re tempted now? Suddenly you don’t mind if she’s a willful genius or a beauty running wild; you want her for that script you’ve been keeping in your bottom drawer?”

Director Zhang nodded lightly. “I really am tempted. I haven’t filmed that script all these years because I couldn’t find the right actor. But looking at Bai Lu now—Bai Lu!”

He suddenly shouted, startling the assistant director. “Zhang, damn you, what are you yelling for!”

Director Zhang was already striding over. “Bai Lu! Spit it out! Who the hell gave you that chicken drumstick!”

Bai Lu had pleaded and pouted half the day to get that drumstick, hadn’t even tasted it yet before Director Zhang snatched it away. “If you eat any more, I’ll sew your mouth shut!”

Bai Lu protested, aggrieved, “I’m not eating it, just licking it for the taste. Isn’t that allowed?”

Director Zhang held the drumstick to her lips. “Lick!”

Bai Lu was speechless.

Wasn’t she supposed to be the nation’s sweetheart? Did no one care about her dignity?

Fuming, she turned away and buried herself in the makeup artist’s arms. “I’m Bai Lu, not a white dog. We’re not even the same breed…”

Director Zhang, who was always stern and unsmiling on set, nearly burst out laughing at her muttering.

The whole crew roared with laughter.

“Alright, alright, you can have it,” Director Zhang waved her over. “Go on, give her a new drumstick.”

But the girl was still indignant. “I don’t want it! I have principles!”

Director Zhang took a bite of the drumstick he’d seized from her. “Delicious!”

Bai Lu’s eyes widened, and she dove back into the makeup artist’s arms. “I quit! Call the media, I want to expose him for bullying a minor!”

The makeup artist and crew were doubled over with laughter.

Little Bai Lu—she really was too adorable.

From that day on, everyone in the crew felt it—Bai Lu had changed noticeably since before her hospital stay.

The change was dramatic. Before, she’d barely interact with anyone. After filming, she’d hide away in her dressing room—aloof, nose in the air, looking down on everyone. But since her return, she’d become the crew’s source of joy. Wherever laughter broke out, Bai Lu was in the midst of it, popping into rooms, acting cute, all for a taste of snacks.

People joked that Director Zhang had managed to force an introverted child into performing tricks for treats.

But everyone knew in their hearts that a person’s personality doesn’t change so drastically overnight.

It wasn’t Bai Lu who changed—it was the absence of Wu Liping from the crew.

This circle isn’t so big. Bai Lu’s background was common knowledge; most things didn’t need much thought—answers were obvious.

Within just a week, Bai Lu became the darling of the set. Everyone who saw her would wave, sneaking her treats behind Director Zhang’s back.

Perhaps because Wu Liping was gone, Shen Xinlu was especially well-behaved, causing no trouble.

But Bai Lu knew Shen Xinlu too well. The quieter she was, the more she was plotting something big.

Not that Bai Lu had time to worry—her scenes were all that remained for the shoot. She was working more than fifteen hours a day. The weight she’d gained in the hospital was all gone.

Even the crew’s secret snacks didn’t help, and Director Zhang, feeling sorry for her, lifted her diet restrictions.

Hard work always pays off.

Amazingly, the filming schedule was now days ahead of plan.

“Cut!”

With the director’s call, Bai Lu wrapped her final scene.

Her wrap meant the entire drama was finished.

“Congratulations, Bai Lu!”

“Congratulations!”

In an instant, the crew clustered around her, everyone bringing gifts. Someone even wheeled in a cart with a gigantic two-tier cake.

Her arms were soon overflowing with presents. The assistant director, grinning, produced a woven sack to help her collect them—obviously prepared in advance.

Overwhelmed with gratitude and emotion, tears welled up in Bai Lu’s eyes.

She’d once thought she didn’t crave affection or love, believing these affections were as fake as the Shen family’s so-called bonds.

Today they could love her; tomorrow, someone else. She’d been wrong. This love was real. And she missed it terribly.

Director Zhang had made many actresses cry in his career, but when Bai Lu’s tears fell, he panicked immediately. “Hey now, don’t cry! What are you crying for? Hua Hua, come comfort Bai Lu!”

Hua Hua was the makeup artist—Bai Lu’s favorite for cuddles.

Bai Lu sniffled and held out her little hand.

Director Zhang hesitated, then gave her a high five.

She held out her hand again.

He stared, puzzled. “What does that mean?”

“Gift,” she said. Then she snatched the sack from the assistant director, pointing to the opening. “Hurry! Put it in here!”

“You little miser!” Director Zhang scolded with a laugh. “I don’t have any gifts for you.”

“But everyone else gave me something. You’re the director—if you don’t, people will call you stingy!” She whipped out her phone, displaying a payment code. “Just transfer money. I’ll buy my own.”

He threatened to kick her; she ducked back into the makeup artist’s embrace, pouting, “Did anyone get that on camera? The director’s assaulting his actress! Expose him! Let the whole country condemn him!”

Everyone burst out laughing.

Bai Lu blinked. “Really no gift?”

Director Zhang’s smile faded. “Not one you can buy.”

She hefted the sack onto her shoulder. “Farewell then—see you in the world!”

“Get back here,” Director Zhang grabbed the bag, smiling. “The gift I have for you can’t be bought, not for millions.”

Bai Lu grinned. “Director Zhang is the best~~~”

The crew laughed again.

This little Bai Lu—so clever and quick-witted.

“You should pursue acting. With the right agency, you’ll be unstoppable. Talent matters, but so do resources and connections.”

He handed her a business card. “Emperor Lu Yiting started an agency. You know he doesn’t sign just anyone—his standards are sky-high. I’ve already spoken on your behalf. He’s willing to meet you. Whether you get signed depends on you.”