OSM Chapter 7: Two straws in one drink

Compared to those high-quality productions, the works shot in-house at the company inevitably fall short.

The casting alone speaks volumes—at best, they could only afford an 18th-tier star with just a few hundred thousand followers on social media, half of whom are probably bots.

As for costumes, makeup, and props, the production practically oozes a sense of thrift. The costumes have been worn by generations of productions, with one yellow imperial robe even sporting a few clumsy patches. The vintage aura was undeniable.

“This costume has probably been in more films than I have,” someone quipped.

Upon arriving at the set, after a brief half-day break, the team began filming their first scene.

The male lead, dressed in the patched imperial robe and holding his script, took a sniff of it and promptly turned away to sneeze.

Zhou Shan was touching up He Zhiqiu’s makeup and jokingly complained about the dust. The comment made He Zhiqiu chuckle.

Truth be told, he was nervous.

Although this was just a low-budget web drama, it was He Zhiqiu’s first time acting in front of the camera in a proper role.

In his previous work, he had been nothing more than a background extra, playing roles like a crouching beggar or a lifeless corpse. Blending into the crowd of extras, he often wondered if the camera would even catch a glimpse of him, let alone give him a speaking part.

As Xu Sui had said, his lack of filming experience meant that even if he landed a decent role, he might not perform well.

Sure enough, the first take was cut after just a few seconds, followed by two more unsuccessful attempts.

The director rolled up the script and lightly tapped He Zhiqiu on the head before calling him over.

“You did fine in the audition. Why are you stiff as a board now?”

The director, surnamed Lin, was about the same age as Xu Sui. His salt-and-pepper beard seemed deliberately dyed, and he wore an army-green vest while sipping herbal tea from a thermos.

“Sorry,” He Zhiqiu apologized, his voice tinged with guilt.

“Didn’t you understand the character?” the director asked.

He Zhiqiu shook his head. “It’s not that.”

The role was simple enough to grasp—a tragic second male lead in a period drama about time travel. Handsome, cultured, and deeply in love with the female lead, who, unfortunately, didn’t return his feelings. Instead, she was head over heels for the male lead.

The second lead’s story was a classic tale of unrequited love. He was noble and self-sacrificing, even laying down his life in a fire to ensure the leads’ happy ending.

In short, a tragic prop character designed solely to highlight the romance between the leads.

To prepare, He Zhiqiu had read the original novel multiple times. But no matter how ready he thought he was, the moment he faced the camera, all his emotions seemed to vanish.

Director Lin had seen his share of nervous newcomers and wasn’t angry. He told He Zhiqiu to take a break and try to get into character while the female lead, freshly made up, took her turn in front of the camera.

Tang Song, sitting under a canopy nearby, called out, “Qiuqiu! Over here!”

He Zhiqiu responded, grabbed a small stool, and joined Tang Song under the canopy.

“What’s wrong? You were great during the audition. Why are you freezing up now? Nervous?” Tang Song hadn’t yet gotten into costume, as his scenes weren’t scheduled until later.

“Yeah,” He Zhiqiu admitted, flipping through his script in frustration.

But the more he stared at the script, the more blank his mind became. A quick glance at the dark camera only made his palms sweat.

Tang Song wanted to help but realized he was just as inexperienced. He ended up staring at the script alongside He Zhiqiu.

After a long pause, He Zhiqiu put down the script and stood up.

He spoke briefly with the director and then returned to Tang Song. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“Sure,” Tang Song agreed readily.

The two left the set and wandered into a nearby street outside the film lot.

It was a bustling area with bars and restaurants catering to actors and crew. Spotting a few celebrities was no big deal.

He Zhiqiu led Tang Song to a small convenience store, where he bought two bottles of soda and asked for two straws. He handed one bottle to Tang Song and kept the other for himself.

Having asked for some time off, He Zhiqiu wasn’t in a rush to return. He wanted to settle his emotions before diving back into work.

They sat on the steps outside the store, sipping their drinks. Tang Song turned to him, unable to hold back his curiosity. “Why do you need two straws for one drink?”

He Zhiqiu, knees pressed together, rested the bottle on his legs and bit one of the straws. “To calm my nerves.”

Tang Song was intrigued. “How does that work?”

He Zhiqiu thought for a moment. “I’m not sure there’s any real logic to it.”

“Seriously? Do you just see a straw and magically calm down? That’s some strange quirk,” Tang Song teased.

“It’s not the straw itself,” He Zhiqiu explained.

“Then what is it?”

“I had a friend once who used this trick to help me relax,” He Zhiqiu said.

“A friend?”

“Yeah.”

“With straws? Two straws?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You drank from the same bottle?”

“Mm-hmm…”

“Oh!” Tang Song grinned mischievously. “A girlfriend, huh?”

“No.” He Zhiqiu shook his head. “He was a guy.”

“A guy?” Tang Song was stunned. “What kind of guy would drink from the same bottle with you?”

He Zhiqiu nodded lightly, looking at the two straws in his bottle. He seemed genuinely more at ease. “It was a long time ago. My first screen test. I was so nervous, and he bought a bottle of soda, grabbed two straws, and told me to drink with him.”

“And?”

“We sat together, heads almost touching, and finished the drink. Just like that, my nerves vanished.” His voice softened as if recounting the memory to himself rather than Tang Song.

“And then?”

“Then I passed the test.” He smiled. “He said sharing the drink was a distraction, that he was absorbing all my nervous energy, which is why I did so well.”

“…What happened after that?”

“I treated him to dinner to say thanks.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Cost me a week’s worth of living expenses.”

“Damn! What a scam!” Tang Song exclaimed. “He took advantage of you, spun some nonsense about absorbing your nerves, and made you buy him dinner!”

He stood up to toss his empty bottle in the trash, missing the faint smile and quiet words from He Zhiqiu. “I knew.”