15 Supporting Male Role in the Entertainment Industry

The weary crowd all instinctively lifted their eyes to look at Zhou Zhiyu.

The assistant hesitated, unsure whether this was a new tactic from the novice and whether she should remind her again.

Shen Ancheng studied her face closely—skin smooth as if flawless, delicate and picturesque features, an air of scholarly refinement about her, strikingly similar to the Xie Qingyun he had in mind.

Naturally, Zhou Zhiyu was the best candidate to portray Xie Qingyun, personally endorsed by the original owner in the previous life.

Everyone knew the director wanted a naturally unadorned "college student," embodying the simplicity of students from that era and the character’s early innocence. Zhou Zhiyu came to the audition looking good and without makeup, immediately earning their favor.

But Shen Ancheng grew curious and asked, "Why no makeup? Do you always come to auditions bare-faced?"

Zhou Zhiyu didn’t answer right away, perhaps organizing her thoughts or hesitating, but soon she spoke candidly: "Because I heard this is a Republic of China-era drama, and the director wants newcomers who are still studying or just graduated for the lead role. So I thought it best not to dress up, to let the teachers see my true self and decide."

Shen Ancheng smiled faintly. The original owner never asked such a question; naturally, it was of little concern—whether someone chose to wear makeup or not was irrelevant, only the result mattered.

Yet, watching the various performers each display their talents, Shen Ancheng felt Zhou Zhiyu could not be indifferent or casual about this audition.

Indeed, she had put in considerable effort and boldly wagered on her own judgment.

She offered herself as a blank canvas for Shen Ancheng to scrutinize, rather than presenting a preconceived image tailored to his expectations.

This girl was confident and intelligent.

"Perform a scene," he said, pointing to the box of prompts.

...

As Zhou Zhiyu stepped outside, the breath she had been holding finally escaped freely, her heart pounding wildly despite her efforts to stay calm.

She pressed her palms together, feeling clammy.

Another auditionee passed by her just then, and Zhou Zhiyu’s assistant quickly came up.

"Xiaoyu, how was it?"

Zhou Zhiyu’s shoulders relaxed completely as she leaned on her assistant’s shoulder. "I was so nervous! Help me up, my legs feel weak."

The assistant nodded earnestly, supporting her as they left, too concerned to ask about the result.

Inside, Shen Ancheng continued interviews one after another, circling the names of those he favored. During the break, he already had rough plans and ideas for the selected candidates.

The male lead choice was the same as in the previous life—a tall young man freshly graduated. Shi Jing, standing 185 cm tall, looked upright and serious when not smiling, but with a smile, he was a sunny, cheerful boy.

He arrived fresh and neat but had clearly prepared his look. Yet before he could settle, he was asked to remove his makeup. Shi Jing was momentarily stunned but quickly complied, striding to the side and cheerfully calling out, "Thirty seconds, start now!"

The screenwriter beside Shen Ancheng chuckled.

This guy removed his makeup like washing a battle-worn face, slapping several makeup wipes across his handsome face with gusto, then asked the staff nearby, "Bro, am I clean now?"

His manner was far from the refined aura of an actor—he was like a boy fresh off the basketball court or a rough-and-tumble soldier.

The staff nodded emphatically: "Clean, clean." Her face was red from vigorous wiping, almost raw.

Shen Ancheng bowed his head to suppress a smile, sensing the boy had a touch of Han Dingyan about him.

By the time the last few candidates came in, everyone was exhausted, and the desired actors were basically set. Though tired, Shen Ancheng was still sharp, sitting upright in the center and tapping the table: "Next."

A young woman stepped in, and the entire room was instantly invigorated.

Bright eyes, radiant smile—she was stunningly beautiful.

She walked to the center, bowed respectfully, and when she straightened, offered a gentle smile.

A routine gesture, but on this girl, her shimmering eyes curved like a bright moon.

Her beauty was extraordinary.

Shen Ancheng ran through all the characters in his mind but couldn’t place anyone with such striking looks.

“Hello, teachers, my name is Shen Ai.”

Shen Ai?

The screenwriter beside him circled the name on paper, whispering, "The Ai from ambiguous?"

Shen Ancheng recalled that their crew required actors to submit one or two initial audition videos, and most submitted two to showcase themselves. But Shen Ai had submitted five, each distinctly different—pure and innocent, glamorous, positive roles, villains—all included.

Her acting wasn’t particularly dazzling but sincere, and Shen Ancheng saw her effort and eagerness, relaxing his stance enough to let her into the second round.

When finalizing the list, the assistant had even mistakenly typed her name as Shen Nuan, thinking Ai was Nuan.

Thinking this, Shen Ancheng glanced at the woman now removing her makeup. From this angle, he caught her slightly bowed head and careful, restrained face-wiping.

The more he looked, the more familiar she seemed.

After removing her makeup, Shen Ai lost some of her earlier brightness, gaining a delicate elegance. She clasped her hands before her, standing straight at center stage, awaiting the next step.

The assistant director asked her to draw a prompt...

Shen Ai performed two scenes, exactly as in her initial videos—a positive and a villainous role. Her acting was still raw, especially as a villain, where her cruelty felt superficial.

When she finished, everyone waited for Shen Ancheng to speak.

He instead asked an unrelated question: "Were you in the crew of 'Republic Shadows' before?"

Shen Ai was startled and flustered: "I..."

Shen Ancheng recalled the girl he had met then—her makeup ruined by tears, looking disheveled and unrecognizable. If beneath the smeared colors was such a face, the contrast was striking. Her effort to suppress sorrow and quickly compose herself had left a deep impression.

Seeing her hesitate, he said, "I was there that day. Were you the dancer?"

Shen Ai turned pale; it was obvious she was extremely nervous, even frightened.

Shen Ancheng repeated, "Was it you?"

Being a prominent director, he naturally had acquaintances in the crew. Shen Ai quickly realized she couldn’t hide it, her expression darkening as she bowed her head and nodded: "Yes... it was me."

She lost all hope for this long-anticipated audition.

Having been seen by the director stumbling repeatedly and ultimately dismissed, she surely bore the label of lacking talent. Why would Shen Ancheng still want her?

Shen Ai couldn’t raise her head anymore, wishing to flee this suffocating, humiliating place at once.

Shen Ancheng pondered the girl’s stark contrast, a thought forming in his mind. When he looked up, everyone’s eyes were fixed on him with curiosity—or rather, a gossip-like anticipation. The subject of their intrigue stood there, head bowed low, just like that day on set, almost hiding her exquisite face.

Clearing his throat, Shen Ancheng said to Shen Ai, "It’s not your fault. Why do you keep your head down? Stand tall, chest out, head up."

Shen Ai straightened immediately, eyes wide as she looked at him.

"Exactly. You’re so beautiful—why keep your head down?" Shen Ancheng waved his hand. "You’re done here. Go back and wait for the notice."

Shen Ai left in a daze, unable to fathom what Shen meant. Why say it wasn’t her fault? Had he seen what happened?

But soon, she lost hope. Even if they had seen it, what would it matter? They wouldn’t think it a big deal but blame her lack of skill or accuse her of inviting trouble.

Back inside, Shen Ancheng met the gossiping gazes and simply recounted the situation, sharing his thoughts.

“This Shen Ai—I think she could play Qingyun’s sister-in-law.”

Yuan Yuan, the producer in her thirties, felt outraged and sympathetic after hearing Shen Ai’s experience but disagreed with Shen Ancheng’s idea. "Sister-in-law Zhou Wenjing is a revolutionary, a strong woman who endured enemy torture without a word. Shen Ai is so glamorous—even covered in mud she’d look good. That doesn’t fit the role. We can’t shoot some ethereal beauty in a bloody, brutal battlefield."

She even eyed Shen Ancheng suspiciously, suspecting he was smitten, playing the hero-rescues-beauty fantasy.

Shen Ancheng met her doubtful gaze, not knowing her thoughts but recalling Shen Ai’s tear-streaked face and resolutely said, "No, she looks far from beautiful with dirty makeup. Imagine the contrast between Zhou Wenjing’s battered, bruised appearance and her beauty after recovery—that conflict is even stronger."

He looked toward the head of makeup: "Who looks good with a face full of wounds and blood? It’s just that makeup didn’t do it realistically."

As for Shen Ai, Shen Ancheng felt she possessed an indomitable spirit, similar to Zhou Wenjing’s character. But it needed to be unearthed; what she showed now was restraint, caution, and seeming fragility.

Few questioned Shen Ancheng’s decisions, and his makeup demands convinced the team. Indeed, they wouldn’t do idol drama-style makeup; authenticity was paramount.

No matter how beautiful, no one looks good smeared in blood and gore.

Casting ended smoothly around 7 p.m. The next day, the team held a full-day meeting to finalize lead and supporting roles.

Notification of selections was handled by the relevant departments, and Shen Ancheng began gathering the camera crew, art department, directing team, and production staff for script readings, establishing the filming tone and finalizing details.

Filmmaking was a massive project involving many departments, complex relationships, investments, and management. As the chief director, Shen Ancheng was the primary decision-maker, with a producer who had worked with him long and generally followed his lead. The entire crew was, in essence, his domain.

Actors gradually joined the crew, and Shen Ancheng arranged role-specific training, including acting classes.

The training lasted one and a half months, with some actors coming and going. As the period neared its end, the cast stabilized, and they began script readings.

This was the first time these actors received a more complete script.

Zhou Zhiyu was steady—though inexperienced, she grasped things quickly and worked diligently. As the lead, she had the most ideas during readings, speaking thoughtfully and clearly, showing evident research and analysis behind her.

Male lead Shi Jing was sunny and boisterous, his laughter carrying far, yet surprisingly reliable and earnest. During training, he was the most enthusiastic and energetic.

The second male lead, Pan Wu, was a veteran actor. The newcomers barely measured up to him, but he was professional, and his presence kept them all in check.

The atmosphere during pre-production was excellent, with new and experienced actors seemingly back in school, rehearsing together, full of positive energy, diligently studying and refining their craft.

Training was nearly over, and filming was about to begin. The first location was a university campus. The crew booked a local hotel and signed a lease agreement with the university, which was on summer break.

Before filming began, a longtime industry contact invited Shen Ancheng to a dinner, intending to introduce someone—a head of an entertainment company.

The invitation was for Shen Ancheng alone, but he deliberately brought the producer along. They guessed the dinner’s purpose was to recruit a few newcomers to join the crew as extras or minor roles.

Minor roles were harmless, and Shen Ancheng was always approachable, even willing to tailor roles or allow space for others to shine, fostering goodwill.

In the entertainment world, connections were vital.

At the dinner, the usual toasts and chatter ensued. Director Deng brought along a man and a woman, mentioning his niece, an actress named Deng Ranfei, who was currently in Shen Ancheng’s crew.