Jiang Yue closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, it was as if he had swapped into an entirely different shell.
He lifted his foot and took a step forward, his gait incredibly unsteady.
His left foot tripped over his right, and his body suddenly lunged forward.
The next second, he braced himself against an imaginary low table in front of him, squeezing a drunken chuckle from his throat.
“Brother... Brother Xiao...”
Jiang Yue's tongue seemed tied in knots. His voice was slurred, and the stench of alcohol practically wafted from his words.
“This wine... smells so good.”
“The Prime Minister is biased.”
“Bestowing it only upon you and not me?”
As he spoke, half his body practically hung in midair.
He reached out with his right hand, making a rough, grasping motion.
He looked exactly like a profligate young master who wanted to snatch wine even after drinking too much.
Behind the long table, Xu Pingqiu's gaze shifted.
The first thing he looked at was Jiang Yue's face.
It was incredibly red.
Not just his face—even the veins on his neck were faintly bulging due to the rush of blood.
Xu Pingqiu's finger lightly tapped the tabletop.
He hadn't drunk anything.
He was absolutely certain that Jiang Yue had been perfectly clean and sober when he walked in, with not a trace of alcohol on him.
Then where did this drunken state come from?
Was it breath control? Muscle tension? Or some kind of extreme physiological manipulation?
Before Xu Pingqiu could figure it out, Jiang Yue moved in the center of the room.
He picked up the imaginary wine cup, tilted his head back, and made a motion as if to down it in one gulp.
But at the exact moment he tilted his head back...
His heel slipped violently on the flat floor. Losing his balance, he fell straight toward the ground.
Jiang Yue ended up splayed out on the floor.
“What a waste...”
“Such good wine...”
He muttered and rolled over, sprawling on the ground like a heap of mush.
Half of his face was pressed against the cold floor.
His eyes were half-open, his gaze vacant and unfocused.
Sitting next to Xu Pingqiu, Zhao Gang's brow slowly furrowed.
Was that it?
His portrayal of a drunkard was indeed realistic.
Incredibly so.
One could even say it was absurdly realistic.
But the core of this scene wasn't just Chu Yan getting drunk.
It was Chu Yan using his drunkenness to save someone—the calculation hidden beneath an absurd facade.
With Jiang Yue acting like this, where was the depth? Where was the calculation?
Wasn't he just a pure, useless fool?
Just as Zhao Gang was about to call a halt, Xu Pingqiu suddenly grabbed his wrist.
Zhao Gang froze.
Xu Pingqiu didn't look at him.
His eyes were glued to Jiang Yue's right hand, which was pressed against the floor.
Most of Jiang Yue's body was slumped limply. His breathing was heavy, and he even let out a brief, drunken hiccup.
No matter how one looked at him, he was a completely wasted, incompetent fool.
Yet, in the blind spot blocked by his body—a spot that only the camera directly in front could capture...
His index finger was lightly tracing something on the floor.
A horizontal stroke.
A vertical stroke.
The movement was very slow, so slow that there was barely any force behind it.
But Xu Pingqiu saw it with absolute clarity.
He was writing.
He was writing the word “Endure.”
At that moment, goosebumps broke out all over Xu Pingqiu's back.
Chu Yan had used the guise of a drunkard to deceive everyone in the Prime Minister's residence.
All his struggles, all his sobriety and resentment, could only be hidden in a corner where no one could see.
He used a single finger to gently carve it into the floor.
He couldn't shout, he couldn't rage, and he couldn't even let anyone know he was still conscious.
This was the real Chu Yan—a madman who lived out cowardice and absurdity as his very life, a man who had hidden his blade in the dust for ten years.
Zhao Gang couldn't see that detail.
So he only felt that Jiang Yue's performance was too shallow.
But Xu Pingqiu had seen it, and because of that, only two words remained in his mind.
Incredible. Absolutely incredible.
In the center of the room, Jiang Yue finished the final stroke. His finger relaxed, and as if his strings had been completely cut, he closed his eyes.
Three seconds later.
He pushed himself up with his hands and slowly stood up.
Closing his eyes and opening them again, the abnormal flush on his face rapidly faded.
His heart rate slowed, and his breathing stabilized once more.
His previously dilated pupils also slowly refocused.
Jiang Yue had already unequipped the trait, returning to the clean and neat state he had been in when he first entered.
The conference room fell into dead silence.
Xu Pingqiu didn't speak right away.
He looked at Jiang Yue, his eyes filled with an incredibly complex mix of emotions.
Zhao Gang hadn't caught the detail with the finger, so he still felt the performance just now had been somewhat superficial.
He couldn't help but speak up. “Teacher Jiang, your acting was very realistic. But the character of Chu Yan has a deep, complex inner world.”
“Was your approach just now a bit too flat? You focused so much on playing drunk that you didn't show his hidden depth.”
Jiang Yue looked at Zhao Gang, his tone very calm.
“The Prime Minister's residence is full of eyes.”
“If, at that moment, he allowed anyone to see through his disguise, he wouldn't have survived ten years.”
Zhao Gang froze.
Jiang Yue continued,
“The person I want to play isn't a hostage prince who constantly reminds everyone, ‘Actually, I'm very clever.’”
“The person I want to play is a useless fool whom everyone, including himself, firmly believes in.”
He paused here for a moment.
“Only then does he have the right to occasionally and ‘accidentally’ knock over a piece on that chessboard that shouldn't have fallen.”
As soon as those words left his mouth,
Xu Pingqiu suddenly slammed his hand on the table.
Thwack!
The sound was extremely loud.
Zhao Gang's shoulders flinched in response.
“Brilliant!”
Xu Pingqiu stared at Jiang Yue with burning eyes.
“Li Cheng wasn't exaggerating.”
“Not only can you act, but you truly understand the craft.”
Zhao Gang's expression shifted slightly.
Only now did he realize.
It wasn't that Jiang Yue's acting was shallow; it was that he himself hadn't understood it.
This made things rather awkward.
Without giving anyone time to process, Xu Pingqiu spoke rapidly, making the final decision on the spot.
“The fourth male lead of 《The Grand Game》, Chu Yan.”
“This role is yours.”
Zhao Gang quickly leaned in and lowered his voice.
“Director Xu, although this is the fourth male lead, the role is very heavy, easily on par with the third male lead.”
“Xinghui Entertainment... has been trying to secure a similarly important role for Zhang Yu. If we just lock it in like this, it might be hard to explain to the investors.”
“I make the decisions here.”
Xu Pingqiu interrupted coldly, leaving absolutely no room for discussion.
Zhao Gang shut his mouth instantly.
There was absolutely no need to keep trying to persuade him.
If he pushed any further, it wouldn't be a professional suggestion anymore.
It would be asking for a scolding.
Xu Pingqiu looked back at Jiang Yue.
“Your pay will be calculated at the highest tier for newcomers.”
Jiang Yue's expression didn't change at all; he simply nodded slightly.
“Thank you, Director Xu.”
Seeing how calm and grounded he was, Xu Pingqiu grew even more pleased.
It wasn't rare for young people to have talent. What was truly rare was having talent and being able to keep one's head on straight.
He crossed his hands, resting his chin on them, and suddenly threw out a question outside of the script.
“Jiang Yue.”
“In the script, Chu Yan raises an army to rebel ten years later, fighting his way all the way back to the capital.”
“In the end, why do you think he goes to seize the world? What is it actually for?”
Jiang Yue stood in place.
In his mind, the remnants of that brief yet incredibly realistic experience still lingered.
Being trapped, being looked down upon, being forced to wear the mask of a useless fool, and living on the edge of a blade for ten years.
That suffocating feeling wasn't something that could be explained in just a few lines of dialogue.
Meeting Xu Pingqiu's gaze, he didn't answer immediately, but instead stated a simple fact first.
“Ten years as a hostage prince.”
“His life, his sense of right and wrong, even whether or not he could drink a cup of wine—all of it was decided by others.”
His words were very calm.
Yet, everyone in the conference room could hear the deep-seated suppression in Chu Yan's bones.
Only then did Jiang Yue give his answer.
“He seizes the world not for the south, nor is it for revenge.”
“He wants the rules of this world to be set by him.”
The conference room fell silent once more.
Xu Pingqiu stared at the young man before him.
The sheer astonishment in his eyes could no longer be suppressed.
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