Chapter 642 The Imperial Examination Era "Hahahahahahaha..."
Ji Juntao's earth-shaking laughter, mixed with a long string of gibberish in Russian, echoed endlessly in the office.
Shang Yechu took off her headphones, turned off the Russian learning software, and slapped the coffee table in front of her: "Have you laughed enough?"
"You always manage to come up with something new to laugh at me every day." Ji Juntao wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes. "It's all my fault. I've been busy with the Fengbiao video and short drama lately and neglected you. But why don't you go online and look up some etiquette taboos yourself?"
"I checked," Shang Yechu said sullenly. "You can't send an even number of flowers, you have to take off your coat when you go indoors, and there are certain hand gestures you can't make..."
Shang Yechu returned triumphantly from the first script reading and recounted the events to General Manager Ji. Ji Juntao started laughing halfway through, and by the time he finished the whole thing, he was laughing so hard he was practically falling over.
After Ji Juntao's explanation, Shang Yechu learned that Westerners have strong body odor and are accustomed to wearing perfume, often in very strong scents. Covering one's nose in front of them is considered quite offensive, essentially a body language message saying, "You're bothering me." Shang Yechu was already secretly covering her nose, but to be caught red-handed was truly a series of major blunders on their very first meeting.
Fortunately, only Sergei saw it, and he seemed to be a quiet type who wouldn't make a fuss. If the rest of the group had seen it, the already tense first script reading would probably have become even more lively.
As the saying goes, armchair strategist is no good. Shang Yechu learned a whole bunch of random etiquette and taboos online, and even took lessons from his Russian language teacher, resulting in a haphazard collection of knowledge. But after meeting in person, not a single one of them was useful. They did, however, argue a lot. All etiquette and taboos are meaningless in the face of a struggle for interests.
"It's all your fault." Shang Yechu started complaining about Ji Juntao again. "You usually wear such heavy perfume, I tell you every day, why didn't you remind me back then?"
For the past two years, Ji Juntao has developed a fondness for a perfume that's been described as something like "burning incense" or "offering incense," though Shang Yechu has been too lazy to tell the difference. In short, the scent is incredibly invigorating, and apart from Ji Juntao, no one can understand this peculiar taste. Sometimes, when Shang Yechu sits close to her, she'll sneeze and then dramatically fan her nose. Neither of them takes this joke seriously.
"Is this my fault? I'm the one who caused the sky to fall." Ji Juntao sat down on the coffee table and started fiddling with Shang Yechu's tablet. "You've become more motivated again? You're studying even harder than before."
"There's nothing I can do. When I was learning, I always thought I was doing extremely well, but when I actually talked to real foreigners, I realized there was still a big gap." Shang Yechu leaned back on the sofa and rubbed her temples.
Ji Juntao nodded reasonably: "Learning a language still requires a language environment. You learn a lot in class, but then you forget it after class and continue speaking Chinese as usual. Of course, you will progress slowly if you only learn without practicing. You still need to find a few Russians to practice with."
Shang Yechu leaned back on the sofa, sprawled out: "A stage actor, huh..."
"Excuse me for reminding you, but this word has been repeated six times since you came into this room." Ji Juntao kicked Shang Yechu. "Is it really that much of a blow? It's just a small theater."
After the script reading ended unhappily, the first thing Shang Yechu did was to search for the name of the Vronchi Theater. There are several theaters with that name in Russia, but none of them are national or state/municipal theaters in major cities. This made Shang Yechu feel that she had won a small victory.
“It’s not about the size of the theater, it’s about him—” Shang Yechu stretched out her hand, gesturing like a demanding client who didn’t know what she wanted, “He’s that kind of person, you understand? Fifty is too young to be a Jinshi, thirty is too old to be a Mingjing. When movie actors go to act in plays, we call it gilding… In the old days, I might have to bow to him. Although my acting skills can’t be worse than his, he would definitely think he’s better than me; even if I don’t bow, he would think it’s his humility that’s giving way to me, not that he should bow to me…”
"You're really obsessed." Ji Juntao was completely bewildered. "Attending a reading session has taken us back to the old society. They've even brought up the imperial examination system. You two might as well just kowtow to each other."
“The problem isn’t whether or not to bow!” Shang Yechu said in frustration. “The problem is that I’m clearly better than him, but he definitely thinks he’s better than me.”
"Stop, stop, stop," Ji Juntao caught the blind spot, "You two haven't even started acting yet, how do you know you're better than him?"
Before Shang Yechu went berserk, Ji Juntao narrowly added, "I'm not questioning your acting skills. What I mean is that practice is the sole criterion for testing truth."
Shang Yechu said angrily, "Does this even need to be put into practice?"
Just a moment ago it was "I'm no worse than him," now it's "I'm better than him," and by tomorrow it will probably have evolved into "He's only fit to carry my shoes."
Ji Juntao pondered for a moment, then smiled knowingly: "I understand. You think stage actors have class and are likely to be better at acting than you, who has never acted in a stage play. But the other person is about your age, unlike Qi Ming who has seniority, experience, and representative works, and can overpower you in every way. So you are not convinced and start to brainwash yourself into thinking you are better than him."
There's an interesting theory. The gist is that when two chickens of similar size meet, they both think they're bigger than the other; when an average chicken meets a very large turkey, it thinks it's about the same size as the turkey; only when a chicken meets a giant ostrich will it admit that the ostrich is bigger than itself.
Clearly, Sergei is the "chicken of about the same size," while Qi Ming is, of course, the giant ostrich.
In a fit of anger, Shang Yechu threw the decorative dolls on the sofa at Ji Juntao as a response to his question.
Ji Juntao picked up the doll and tossed it aside, laughing, "If you're really so eager for the play, why don't you go and perform in a few shows? Anyway, there's still a lot of work to be done with the script."
Shang Yechu was taken aback, and subconsciously frowned: "No, thank you. I'm too busy right now. I'd rather wait until I finish filming these movies, next year or the year after, to take some time to reflect, and then I can focus on filming stage plays."
Although the theater had a smaller audience, it held no less importance in Shang Yechu's heart than film. She didn't want to use the theater as a tool to enhance her resume or defeat Sergei. That blue-eyed, mustachioed man wasn't worthy.
"Then you can just watch with envy," Ji Juntao said irritably. "Even a dog would find this appearance repulsive."
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