Chapter Ninety-Eight: Wishing to Debut in the Center Position!

In the memories inherited from the old man, stage plays occupied a significant place for Li Shixin. However, this was his first attempt at writing a script.

Classics like "Thunderstorm" or "Teahouse," as long as the actors performed well, could be staged seventeen or eighteen times without losing the audience’s interest. The spiritual core embedded in these plays has been proven by time to be enduring masterpieces.

But to get a small theater up and running and to earn as much applause as possible, relying on such well-known scripts that any actor can perform simply won’t do.

There must be something original.

After bidding farewell to a group of longtime fans, Li Shixin locked himself in his room at home.

The disappearance of the elderly Zhang Mingrong was a perfect entry point. But just that alone wasn’t enough to form a script.

It needed a complete story arc, with a clear beginning, development, twist, and conclusion.

Writing a script is different from writing a novel. Novels focus on background, characters, development, and ending. They rely on prose to guide readers’ emotional fluctuations and to convey the core theme of the work.

A script, on the other hand, offers far fewer opportunities for literary expression. It eschews flowery language and instead focuses on dialogue and stage directions that can be directly translated into theatrical images.

It demands the most concise and profound language to present the scenes and plot through dialogue.

After an entire afternoon of meticulous pondering in his bedroom, Li Shixin finally completed the first draft of "Only You Are the Longing I Can Never Forget in This Life."

To make it easier for himself to perform, he adapted the story of Zhang Mingrong’s disappearance somewhat.

The play mainly tells the story of a father and daughter across decades: the father’s care for his daughter during his prime years; the daughter’s emotional neglect of her father after starting her own family; the upheaval in their lives after the father suffers from Alzheimer’s, which causes the daughter’s resentment; the father’s sudden disappearance; the daughter’s desperate search; and their eventual heartfelt reunion at a kindergarten.

Though the timeline spans decades, the script itself consists of only four acts: first, the walk home after school on his back; second, “He will accompany you for the rest of his life, and I will love you with mine”; third, “I no longer recognize the person in the mirror”; and finally the climax—“It turns out she graduated thirty years ago.”

The story is straightforward, with few characters, and the total performance time would be just over an hour, less than two hours.

Compared to sprawling stage plays like "Teahouse," which often require over a dozen performances to complete, this script is compact yet complete and sharply plotted, perfectly suited for a single theatrical presentation.

After reading through the draft, Li Shixin frowned and shook his head.

Sigh.

How did this script turn out so well?

Li Shixin, oh Li Shixin, it’s one thing that you look so spirited.

But why are you also so talented?

He felt as though fate had played a cruel joke on him, wishing he could debut center stage.

Gritting his teeth, he looked at his wrinkled hands.

Come on!

I have to give it my all, earn a hefty sum of applause points—time to get moving!

Twisting his face, Li Shixin’s resolve grew ever firmer.

...

“Teacher Li, we’re here!”

Around six o’clock, just as Li Shixin was revising the script of "Only You" again, tweaking a few plot points and streamlining the dialogue, he heard the door burst open with giggles and saw An Xiaoxiao’s voice calling as she came into the room.

Removing his reading glasses and rubbing his tired eyes, Li Shixin got up and stepped out.

The night before, the crew had shot a late scene and didn’t return until after midnight, so the three of them had stayed at a nearby hotel.

He saw An Xiaoxiao wrapped in a military coat alongside the Zhang siblings, Zhang Ying and Zhang Shuo, and smiled softly.

“How did filming go today?”

Before he could finish, An Xiaoxiao’s cheerful expression suddenly dropped.

“Director Jiao told me to lose weight.”

“Well, I think you should control it a bit too!” Li Shixin chuckled, watching An Xiaoxiao shed her coat. She had gained quite a bit of weight since he first met her.

Previously, during her time at the Beijing Dance Academy, rigorous training and strict diet kept her weight under eighty pounds.

For her height of 1.62 meters, that was rather thin.

Film cameras, especially the now-standard 16:9 aspect ratio screens, tend to make actors appear heavier than they actually are. To ensure good visuals, Director Jiao had specifically chosen An Xiaoxiao for her figure.

But this silly girl, ever since arriving in Rongdian, had latched onto Li Shixin, rarely staying at the crew’s hotel and instead freeloading food and drinks at his place almost daily.

She’d stopped practicing dance, lost control of her diet, and worse, was carefree and unconcerned, steadily gaining weight.

In just over a month, she’d ballooned from thirty-eight kilograms to forty-five.

Off camera, the extra flesh made her face even fairer and more charming, and her once bony chest and thighs became plump and rounded, giving her a curvier silhouette.

But on camera, it was a different story.

How would that work?

“Teacher Li, what should I do?”

Li Shixin’s face darkened. “What else can you do? Keep that greedy mouth of yours under control!”

“─━_─━?”

“Ha, do you think that’s practical?”

Thinking of this silly girl’s antics, Li Shixin rubbed his temples.

Indeed, not practical.

What kind of performer is this?

A few days ago, they’d filmed late scenes consecutively. Since it was cold, Li Shixin had set up a portable stove to warm up during breaks and to dry his shoe insoles.

Yet this girl had cleverly bought two pounds of potatoes during the day and would secretly roast a few on the stove at night as a midnight snack.

She didn’t even mind the smell for food’s sake!

Dieting?

Probably not.

Holding a pen tightly, Li Shixin glanced again at the increasingly charming An Xiaoxiao.

Now that the script was ready, it was time to sort out the actors.

“Xiaoxiao.”

“Hmm!”

“How is filming progressing?”

“Ugh, that new actor who’s past his prime isn’t very skilled but acts all high and mighty! Since he arrived, the filming schedule has slowed way down. These days, we only shoot half a day, the rest is just waiting around.”

Hearing this, Li Shixin nodded.

He had an idea.

“Alright, Xiaoxiao.”

“Hmm!”

“I’ll ask you—do you want to lose weight?”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“Do you want to go on a diet?”

“No!”

“Do you think it’s possible to lose weight without dieting?”

“Ugh... Teacher, it’s so hard for me!”

“Don’t cry, Xiaoxiao. What I’m telling you is—it’s possible!”

“Huh? Teacher, do you have a way?”

“Of course.”

“What way?”

“Starting tomorrow, after you finish your work with the crew, come perform in my stage play. No dieting needed. Just more activity. The more you move, the more you’ll naturally slim down.”

“Alright!” An Xiaoxiao’s eyes lit up at Li Shixin’s clever plan. “Perfect! Teacher, you really are smart!”

(๑╹؎╹)

“So, are we having ribs or sweet and sour pork tonight?”

Seeing An Xiaoxiao so cluelessly caught up as Li Shixin put her to work, Zhang Shuo couldn’t hold back.

“Godfather, why do you always bully the silly girl like this?”

Li Shixin glanced at his godson.

Ah, how could he forget his silly kid.

...