Chapter 13
Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW
“The Central Academy of Drama is definitely legit. It’s not the same as the training program he attended back then. Yes, it’s true he got into the Central Academy and met a lot of celebrities—Zhang Ziyi, Zhao Wei, Hu Jing, and the like. But strictly speaking, they’re not really stars yet; they’ll only become stars in the future.
As for Chen Baoguo, he’s already truly famous now.
Just think about it—he graduated in ’78, and only four years later, he won the Golden Eagle Award for Best Actor for Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet. He rose to fame shortly after entering the field. Since then, he has delivered consistently excellent work, with his acting skills improving over time. This led to major roles in “The Grand Mansion Gate”, “The Emperor of Han Wu”, “The Ming Dynasty 1566”, and “All Quiet in Peking”, to name a few.
Although “Doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine” was a bit of a failure, and some question if he’s becoming formulaic, similar to Chen Daoming…
But one ‘however’ is enough.
Lin Hao trembled slightly. Acting opposite this level of actor? He was probably even more nervous than the students, knowing that Chen Baoguo only gets better with time and is a genuine performing artist.
Could he hold his own?
You’re overestimating me here. I understand this is to humble me, pairing me with Teacher Chen. But this isn’t just a little humbling—this is like the Five Fingers Mountain crashing down. I’m not the Monkey King underneath, you know!
At best, I’m just a macaque… or maybe a macaque in a hotel…
Flattened completely.
Sorry to disturb you, good night!
…
Ahem, joking aside, Lin Hao wasn’t actually that cowardly.
They wouldn’t really crush him like that; even if there’s an intent to test him, it would be gradual. He should appreciate this rare opportunity to act with such a distinguished partner. After all, acting with truly skilled performers in the past had been a completely different experience.
And who knows—he might make a lasting impression. There could be future opportunities. In this era, connections and background still matter in the entertainment industry.
Despite his wandering thoughts, Lin Hao’s reaction was interpreted as typical for someone meeting Chen Baoguo. Chang Li nodded with satisfaction, confident this encounter had given the young man a lesson in humility, curbing his arrogance.
After a couple of nervous months, when he received his certification, he would truly focus on his studies, instead of relaxing, thinking he was already the best in this cohort.
If this outcome held, it would be worth inviting Baoguo—after all, Chen Baoguo was Chang Li’s student, but bringing him here wasn’t something one could do casually.
As for Chen Baoguo himself, he had a personal interest in this matter and had come prepared. Seeing Lin Hao silent, he said, “No need to be so tense. Just act naturally… let’s use this script.”
He thought for a moment, then decided to lower the difficulty a bit for his junior. Asking him to act without any preparation might be too nerve-wracking. Whether the other candidates would feel this was unfair…
Perhaps, but that wasn’t his concern.
…
He was given the script and had only three minutes to review it. Fortunately, it was a short segment.
The scene involved a meeting between two leaders. One was a young, up-and-coming figure, the other an old veteran of the underworld. This was their second encounter; the first had merely been a brief introduction.
Naturally, Lin Hao played the young one, while Chen Baoguo portrayed the older character.
Confidence surged in Lin Hao! He had experience with roles like this; as a third- or fourth-tier actor, playing villains was common for him. He read through it and nodded, then prepared at the table to begin.
Lin Hao sat, and Chen Baoguo entered, casually carrying a cup and accompanied by two people. He placed the cup on the table—not too hard, not too soft—sat down, and, with a look of mild nostalgia, said:
“The weather is getting colder.”
His tone was unhurried, like two old friends meeting to chat about the weather.
“Yes, it’s quite cold. Soon, it will be New Year’s,” Lin Hao replied, shifting in his seat and then sitting upright, not showing anything more.
Chen Baoguo’s character, an old fox adept at calculating others, saw Lin Hao’s composure as mere bravado. He glanced off into the distance, reminiscing, and said, “This snow… reminds me of a winter many years ago, when it snowed heavily too.”
“Yes, it was heavy,” Lin Hao turned his head to glance at the distance, then turned back, saying, “That was also the year Uncle Xu made his mark.”
“Haha!”
Chen Baoguo slightly leaned forward, his strong aura adding to the pressure. “Oh, just a small matter, but it was memorable among old friends.” He referred to the bloody event twenty years ago, where Xu Shengyuan earned his reputation.
Lin Hao looked at him, his face serious, but then a hint of a sneer appeared. “Yes, I remember.”
…
“Well done!”
This subtle change in Lin Hao’s expression surprised the judges, as it perfectly conveyed the mix of ruthlessness, cunning, and arrogance. His timing and tone were spot on.
The performance showcased intelligence—a commendable use of acting skills.
“Sigh!”
Chen Baoguo looked briefly surprised, pulling back and becoming the image of an old man reminiscing. “Yes, growing old… just left with memories.”
Lin Hao silently poured tea for them both. His gesture showed respect, but his message was clear: the new generation was taking over, and he only respected Chen as an elder.
Chen Baoguo understood, his lips curling slightly with a sneer. “So, young man, where do you eat nowadays?”
“This street, Changming Road, is where the brothers gather to make a living.”
“Food, you say? On this most bustling street? Well then,” he replied, “how about joining us at Biyuetang tonight?”
“Thank you, but the tea here on Changming Road is good enough.”
“What if I decide to come and have some tea myself?”
“We’d welcome Uncle Xu, but as for anyone else, let’s skip it.” They kept up the polite but tense exchange.
…
The two sat in silence for a moment, each holding their ground. Lin Hao maintained his calm, unwilling to yield an inch.
Eventually, Chen Baoguo rose to leave, but turned back, his expression shifting to a chillingly cold one. In a raspy voice, he said, “This snow… reminds me of a winter long ago, when it snowed heavily…”
…
The hairs on Lin Hao’s neck rose. The repeated line, initially sounding like a nostalgic remark, now dripped with threat.
Was Uncle Xu truly old? Maybe not.
The snowy night from years ago was still fresh in memory.
Lin Hao’s pupils contracted, a shiver running down his spine. Years of Chen Baoguo’s acting came through in that line, carrying an underlying bloodlust that struck Lin Hao to the core.
The judges watched as Lin Hao faltered slightly. He was clearly intimidated, but that was expected; he’d already exceeded their expectations with his earlier performance.
…
Lin Hao stood still, recalling an encounter with Liu Ye. Despite being less skilled than him, Liu Ye had disrupted Lin’s rhythm with unexpected moves.
‘Hit hard, young blood,’ he thought, and with this, he pressed on.
“Yes…” Lin Hao finally replied, lifting his head, gazing directly at Chen Baoguo. “But this snow… it’s no longer the same as twenty years ago.”
His voice was low but brimming with malice, the look of a lone wolf ready to bite at any moment, even if it meant risking injury.
Chen Baoguo remained unphased, calm against Lin Hao’s barely restrained aggression.
Suddenly, Chen Baoguo laughed, “Interesting, interesting!” he said, turning to leave with his men.
Without looking back, he walked away, leaving Lin Hao astounded.
The judges were equally stunned. Lin Hao not only held his ground but finished with a flourish, matching the tension set by a seasoned actor like Chen Baoguo.
Even Lin Hao was amazed at himself. The pressure had pushed him to deliver a performance beyond his usual.
What a rush.