Chapter 27

The casting dilemma hung like a thick fog over the crew. Although Zhou Ping'an's rapidly increasing wealth had led to more offers, Lin Na and Chen Feng only felt more disappointed after trying out a few.

These actors are more or less calculating or deliberate in their "motives", which is incompatible with Liu Yifan's natural "nothingness" and "indifference", and may even destroy the powerful aura she has established.

Late one night, Lin Na sat alone in front of a monitor, repeatedly watching clips of Liu Yifan's solo performance from the day before. In the footage, Liu Yifan walked toward the empty throne, her fingers flicking lightly across it, her eyes revealing a deep disdain for the symbols of power, yet a clear understanding of their coexistence. Without an opponent, her performance was imbued with the tension of a dialogue with the void.

An almost crazy thought, like lightning in the darkness, struck Lin Na.

She stood up suddenly and paced back and forth in the empty editing room, her eyes growing brighter. The next morning, she called a meeting with Chen Feng and the core creative team. Without any greetings, she directly put forward her plan:

"We might have stumbled into a misunderstanding." Lin Na's voice was hoarse from staying up late, but she was remarkably firm. "Why do we need a physical King You of Zhou?"

Chen Feng was stunned: "Director Lin, what do you mean?"

"The tragedy of Baosi, her resistance, lies at its core in her 'counter-gaze,' in her 'non-cooperation' with all the symbols of power imposed upon her."

Lin Na walked to the whiteboard and quickly wrote down a few key words. "So, why does this 'subject' that exerts power have to be concrete? Why can't it be sound? Light and shadow? The system? An invisible 'aggregate of power' constructed by the fearful, awe-inspiring, and fawning reactions of everyone around it?"

She grew increasingly excited as she spoke: "We can use voice actors, using carefully designed, unseen voices, to represent the omnipresent yet abstract royal power! We can use the reactions of other actors (courtiers, maids, princes) to the 'vacant throne' to reflect the pressure of power! We can use the shifts in light and shadow to hint at the approach of fate! What we want to film is a woman fighting against a 'system', not a simple love affair between a man and a woman!"

The conference room was filled with silence, as everyone was stunned by this bold idea, which completely overturned the traditional narrative model.

Chen Feng was the first to react, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Right! This is actually more advanced! It's more in line with the core of our 'anti-gaze'! King You of Zhou has become a symbol, a background sound, while Bao Si's 'not laughing' and resistance have taken on a more universal meaning! This... this is too cruel!"

"But," the production manager couldn't help but interrupt, looking troubled. "Director Lin, if this happens, then Teacher Liu... all the pressure, all the key scenes, will fall 100% on her alone. She'll practically be facing the air, performing all the most crucial, intense scenes! The difficulty of this performance... is hellish."

Lin Na cast her gaze out the window, toward the palace hall, her tone heavy and resolute. "I know. This is an unprecedented challenge for her. But it's also the only way to match her current 'state' and push this project to true artistic heights. What we need to do isn't to find an opponent who can take over her role, but to create a 'field' that allows her to completely unleash and ignite."

The plan was quickly presented to Liu Yifan. Lin Na held nothing back, clearly explaining the concept, the difficulty, and the artistic pursuit behind it.

Liu Yifan listened quietly, her face expressionless. After a long moment, she raised her eyes and looked at Lin Na, her gaze clear and penetrating. "So, from now on, the person acting opposite me might be a microphone, a beam of light, or... simply the shadow in my imagination?"

"That's right," Lin Na nodded. "We need you to mobilize all your imagination, conviction, and expressiveness to 'see' that nonexistent person, to 'hear' that voice from the void, and to respond in the most authentic and accurate way possible. Every glance, every pause in your breath, will be infinitely magnified."

Liu Yifan slowly stood up and walked to the window, gazing at the silent palace in the sunlight. A crushing pressure loomed over her like a physical presence, leaving her feeling a suffocating tension. But at the same time, a near-self-destructive, artistic excitement began to course through her veins.

This is no longer a performance, it is a practice, a sacrifice.

She turned around, an almost sacred calm and determination appearing on her face: "I understand. Then... give it a try."

The news was also conveyed to Zhou Pingan in the simplest terms. The report, without dwelling on the artistic concept, simply stated, "In pursuit of the ultimate artistic effect, the director team and the lead actor have jointly decided to employ an innovative, non-physical opponent actor scheme, which may increase the filming schedule and the performance pressure on the lead actor."

Zhou Ping'an's reply was still quick and direct: "Sure. If you need any support, just ask."

There were no questions, no doubts, only complete trust and absolute assurance of resources. He didn't seem to care about the specifics of how the film was shot, only whether he could ultimately achieve the "ultimate" result he desired.

A new challenge began, and Liu Yifan's performance entered a deeper purgatory.

In the empty hall, she would focus on a marker, imagine King You of Zhou, and listen to the pre-recorded lines from the voice actor, which ranged from majestic to playful to furious, and then react accordingly. Sometimes, Lin Na would ask her to act completely silently, using only her eyes and subtle body language to convey the subtle changes in the face of invisible pressure.

This required her to possess an extremely strong inner vision and sense of conviction. At first, she often felt disoriented and overwhelmed, and the loneliness of facing the "void" was even greater than before.

But gradually, under this intense focus and pressure, she began to find a new rhythm. No longer needing to adapt to the rhythm and aura of a specific actor, she instead gained absolute freedom, able to fully immerse herself in Bao Si's inner world. Her performance became more restrained and sharper, with every subtle expression brimming with implicit meaning.

Lin Na often held her breath watching from behind the monitor. She saw that Liu Yifan's performance was breaking through a critical point, reaching a depth and purity that she had never seen in any other Chinese actress.

"She's not acting," Lin Na whispered to Chen Feng, her voice trembling slightly. "She's 'becoming' the soul struggling in the void. Not having a male lead... is the right thing to do. Only this kind of absolute loneliness can bring out this ultimate beauty."

The atmosphere on the set also changed. Everyone realized they were participating in an unprecedented creation. Every department had to be extremely focused, using the most precise lighting, composition, sound, and supporting performances to support and enhance Liu Yifan's performance as he faced the void alone.

The invisible "King You of Zhou" becomes the crew's strongest cohesive force and the most severe challenge. Meanwhile, Liu Yifan, on this lonely altar tailor-made for her, waged a thrilling, one-man war.

The red light of the camera lights up and the clapperboard clicks. In the huge palace, there is often only her and the voice coming from Lin Na through the headphones, which is sometimes just a simple situation prompt, or the voice pre-recorded by the voice actor, which comes from "King You of Zhou", sometimes far away, sometimes majestic, sometimes frivolous.

She needed to salute the empty throne, raise her glass to the air, and in the silence, she needed to "hear" the imagined neighing of horses' hooves and the panic of the princes after the beacon tower was lit.

However, she was getting better at it.

That smoothness didn't stem from mastery of technique, but rather from a near-instinct "immersion." She suddenly realized that for the past six months, she had long since grown accustomed to living under an invisible, immense "gaze." Although Zhou Ping'an rarely appeared, his will, his expectations, his vast, silent plan, were like the air in this palace, omnipresent and pervasive.

Every move she made, every emotional outburst, even every breath she took in exhaustion, seemed to be judged subconsciously by an absolute standard. That standard was Zhou Ping'an.

Now, when she needed to imagine a "King You of Zhou" who exerted power and brought oppression, she hardly had to construct it. That image naturally and clearly overlapped with Zhou Ping'an.

It was not the Zhou Ping'an in Rongcheng who wore an old jacket and cared whether she was tired or not, but the Zhou Ping'an who constructed the world with rationality, used capital to fight against time, and calmly asked her to "freeze her youth", who was like destiny itself.

Acting opposite this "imaginary Zhou Ping'an" was, in fact, easier and more natural than facing any real actor. Because everything about him—his focus, his obsession, his devoid of lust but all-consuming "admiration," his occasional, almost clumsy expressions of concern—was so familiar to her. So familiar that she didn't need to act, only "respond."

In one scene, Bao Si is asked to dance. The camera focuses on a close-up of Liu Yifan. There's no music, only her slowly rising. Her eyes aren't directed in any particular direction, but rather lowered slightly. When she raises them again, there's a look of utter submission, yet beneath that submission lies a cold emptiness.

She began to dance, her movements graceful yet lifeless, like a delicate puppet pulled by strings. There was even a faint curve at the corner of her mouth, but it wasn't a smile, but a silent mockery of this absurd ritual. She was using her "obedience" to complete the most thoroughgoing act of resistance.

Lin Na clenched her hands tightly behind the monitor and whispered to Chen Feng, "Did you see that? She's not trying to please anyone, she's acting for the 'rules'. In her eyes, King You of Zhou isn't a human being at all..."

In another scene, late at night, Bao Si is alone in the palace. The script suggests she feels some invisible pressure. Liu Yifan simply walks to the window and gazes out at the dark night sky, his back stiff.

She had no lines, no big movements, but the camera captured her slightly tense shoulders and an extremely slight, almost imperceptible deep breath. It felt like a person suddenly aware of a pair of silent eyes watching from behind in the middle of the night. Although they didn't turn around, every cell in their body was on alert.

Chen Feng looked at the screen and murmured, "This... this source of pressure is concrete. She really 'felt' the person staring at her."

Liu Yifan's performance has reached a state where the actor and the role are indistinguishable.

She no longer needed to "play" Bao Si; she was the soul trapped in the magnificent cage. And in her perception, the builder of that cage gradually merged with the man who built this real royal city for her.

This situation naturally caught the attention of Zhou Ping'an, who occasionally came to "inspect the progress".

He still came quietly, mostly standing in the shadows behind the monitor to avoid interrupting the filming. He watched Liu Yifan's exquisite yet chilling performances on camera, his face still calm and composed.

However, once, after filming an inner drama of a fierce confrontation between Bao Si and the "Invisible King", which was actually just the change in Liu Yifan's eyes facing the empty throne, Liu Yifan, due to excessive emotional exhaustion, leaned weakly against the cold adobe wall, breathing slightly.

Zhou Pingan watched from a distance and suddenly said to Lin Na beside him: "She seems to have become thinner recently."

Lin Na was stunned for a moment, not expecting him to notice this detail. She carefully replied, "The role is demanding and mentally taxing, so I'll have to lose some weight than usual. We've arranged for a nutritionist to follow me."

Zhou Pingan hummed, saying nothing more. But his gaze lingered on Liu Yifan for a few seconds. He didn't go forward to interrupt him, but quietly left the set while Liu Yifan adjusted himself and prepared for the next scene.

Filming continued with an almost paranoid precision. Liu Yifan burned with astonishing brilliance in his self-sacrifice, and the entire crew, centered around this single core, worked at full capacity, all of them vaguely sensing that what they were creating might be more than just a movie.