Chapter 16: *Meteor* Wraps Production

In fact, the young wealthy lady’s looks were quite striking—she had that kind of serene, harmonious beauty often described as “peaceful and prosperous.” However, by contemporary standards, her beauty didn’t stand out enough. Moreover, her natural temperament clashed with certain roles; for instance, she definitely couldn’t play the female lead in Chen Mo’s current drama.

This time, Chen Mo didn’t try to persuade her to give up on starring in that sci-fi rescue film. Mainly because the investment in that project wasn’t too large, and if she wanted to have fun, she was free to do so. It wouldn’t be like “Warring States,” which was mocked as a foolishly funded venture.

Back to the main story: initially, Ning Hao, along with the rest of the crew and actors—including Zhao Xiaodao—were all skeptical of Chen Mo. After all, Chen Mo had only been an actor before, and no one had heard of any directorial skills from him.

But once filming began, they realized Chen Mo was as adept as a seasoned veteran in the directing circle. However, working with Ning Hao revealed some drawbacks. As a film director, Ning Hao demanded high acting standards from his actors. Although he knew this was an idol drama and didn’t require intense acting, his professional instincts often kicked in.

“Is this really enough?” he would say after a take, feeling awkward about the lack of precision. Yet Chen Mo seemed quite satisfied with those takes, which Ning Hao found hard to accept.

“Brother Ning, Director Ning, this is an idol drama, not a movie. This is really enough,” Chen Mo said with a wry smile.

Idol dramas don’t mean acting isn’t necessary—in fact, they do require skill. Sometimes those trained for film don’t quite fit the style of idol dramas, which often demand a more exaggerated rather than subtle performance.

Over time, Ning Hao gradually appreciated the ease of shooting idol dramas. When he previously directed films, he wanted to force his ideas into actors’ minds. But idol dramas didn’t need that. Sometimes, when actors couldn’t deliver, Chen Mo would personally demonstrate the expressions—yes, the kind of surface-level acting.

Surprisingly, the results were quite good, focusing mainly on handsome men and beautiful women. Couldn’t cry? No problem—Chen Mo didn’t ask actors to emotionally immerse themselves; he simply used props like eye drops.

Ning Hao thought this was sloppy, but the shots, thanks to Chen Mo’s consistent standards, achieved a remarkable unity, avoiding any jarring feeling.

In film, if actors couldn’t meet the director’s expectations, there would be many retakes, causing delays. But Chen Mo insisted this never happened in idol dramas. Chen Mo had experience in web dramas from his previous life, so he was no stranger to this approach.

Meanwhile, Chen Mo’s aesthetic taste in costumes and makeup astonished Ning Hao and the crew. Even the stylists were won over by him. This wasn’t because Chen Mo was extraordinarily talented, but because his sense of style came from the future. Frankly, the current popular aesthetics often made him cringe, prompting him to intervene and suggest changes.

As a result, this drama, in terms of beauty, handsomeness, and fashion, was far ahead of other idol dramas, according to the stylists.

At first, Chen Mo didn’t get involved much in styling, but he couldn’t stand that “shamate” style still popular these days—a look that utterly baffled him as a man from the future. He couldn’t imagine his idol drama featuring such an embarrassing, gaudy “four-bedroom, three-living-room” shamate style.

What Chen Mo didn’t realize was that shamate fashion had actually been quite trendy in recent years. For example, at the costume press conference for “Meteor Shower,” he saw the F4 styling—less exaggerated than the original but still displaying shamate elements. Take Murong Yunhai’s hairstyle, which practically defied gravity; Chen Mo truly couldn’t appreciate it.

During the filming of “Meteor Shower,” Chen Mo learned a lot from Ning Hao, the future acclaimed director. As the shoot progressed, Chen Mo kept an eye on Yu Youde’s “Meteor Shower.” Unlike Chen Mo’s secretive and low-key approach, Yu Youde’s team frequently released updates and behind-the-scenes footage for promotion. Yet despite starting earlier, Yu Youde’s production lagged behind Chen Mo’s.

After more than two months, “Meteor Shower” finally wrapped filming. Its biggest weakness was the lack of big-name stars, though some future stars were involved. At present, it couldn’t compare to Yu Youde’s version. However, in terms of looks, it was definitely on par or better.

To meet the schedule, the entire crew worked nonstop, but thankfully, they finished smoothly. Of course, at the wrap party, Chen Mo suffered. During filming, he was not only the investor, director, and screenwriter—effectively the boss—he also maintained a stern demeanor, which kept everyone in line despite their displeasure. But now that filming was over, no one held back.

“Director Chen, thank you for your guidance these past days. I’ll toast to you!” Naturally, the first to challenge Chen Mo was the female lead, Zhao Xiaodao. Her gaze was as sharp as a blade, and when she said “guidance,” it was through gritted teeth.

What could Chen Mo do? Though it was all for work, he had seen this girl as the future Golden Eagle Goddess rather than a simple country girl, so he had been rather strict with her temperament during filming.

He knew well that Zhao Xiaodao’s transformation from a rustic girl to an elegant beauty was a long process, aided by environment, career, and star aura. Still, he couldn’t help but want to “train” her.

This led to Zhao Xiaodao enduring all sorts of sarcastic remarks, subtle jabs, and provocations from Chen Mo. She was stubborn and persevered. Though not yet the ultimate Golden Eagle Goddess, her change was like a complete rebirth compared to when she first arrived.

Chen Mo gave a helpless smile and downed his drink. Zhao Xiaodao followed suit, but her eyes grew complicated. Even she found the changes in herself hard to believe. Though she resented Chen Mo, she also knew he had helped her immensely. Looking at his handsome face, she suddenly felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Everyone else simply assumed she was just lightheaded from the wine.

With Zhao Xiaodao breaking the ice, several male actors began pouring drinks as well, all with mischievous intent. They had similar experiences with Chen Mo.

Especially Zhang Ruoyun, Zhu Yulong, and Li Xian—the four male leads—had endured countless scoldings from Chen Mo. The reason was the same as with Zhao Xiaodao: they were still immature compared to their ultimate versions, so their performances seemed naïve and unsophisticated in Chen Mo’s eyes.

Hence, he held back with Zhao Xiaodao since she was a girl, but showed no mercy to the others. Still, their improvements were visible to the naked eye.

Though they grumbled at Chen Mo’s scoldings, they truly benefited and saw great potential for their careers. Now with Zhao Xiaodao having started, they certainly wouldn’t miss this golden opportunity for payback.

“Director Chen, a toast to you, drinking first out of respect!”

“Me too! Cheers!”

“And me…”

What could Chen Mo do but accept their challenge? Moreover, he had indeed been harsh on them all this time, so now that filming was over, this could be considered compensation.

Though he had decent tolerance for alcohol, he couldn’t withstand such a relentless drinking circle.

The result was predictable: that night, he blacked out.