"Director Pan isn't a bad person," Sister Li said. "His family has some connections in Hong Kong, which is how he can bring in Hong Kong actors. It'll be useful later if we stay on good terms with him—don't worry, I'll handle it."
Right now, actors from Hong Kong and Taiwan still held higher status than mainland actors. In the same production, for roles of similar importance, Hong Kong/Taiwan actors stayed in five-star hotels while mainland actors stayed somewhere ordinary. Investors also tended to trust Hong Kong/Taiwan stars more.
If Director Pan could bring in Hong Kong/Taiwan talent, it made him more valuable as a casting director—and easier for him to find work.
Zhao Shumin was completely absorbed in the gossip, nodding repeatedly. The anger she'd been feeling gradually eased.
Not long after, Liu Mingcheng arrived as well.
He was considered too young for the imperial physician role, but there wasn't only one physician in the scene—several physicians would be scolded by the emperor. Only one had lines.
Liu Mingcheng accepted a no-lines role as a physician's apprentice. The pay was lower, but it was still work.
They ate a meal together. Over the next few days, the couple rotated between filming their scenes.
And soon, it was time for Zhao Jun's turn to appear.
On the official day of filming, Zhao Jun was brought to set for the first time—by her mother.
Zhao Shumin greeted the crew familiarly. She'd already shot several scenes, and over the past few days, she'd gotten to know the staff.
According to the lead actress's schedule—hair, makeup, costume, and props—Zhao Shumin's "mother of the consort" role amounted to three scenes:
One during the female lead's childhood
One after the female lead gave birth, when the mother came to visit
One when the female lead was promoted to Noble Consort and summoned her mother into the palace for a reunion
This particular scene required the lead to spend a long time in styling. She also had interactions with most of the palace concubines and noblewomen supporting cast. Even though the mother role was essentially a cameo, she still needed to remain present throughout the sequence—so it took several days to complete.
The childhood flashback scene—where the female lead remembered moments with her mother—needed Zhao Shumin and another child actor. Even though it happened earlier in the timeline, it was scheduled for later, timed around the Qingming holiday when the child actor had a longer break.
Zhao Jun only appeared in the second scene.
While her mother did makeup, Zhao Jun waited in the stroller, ready to be wrapped in the proper swaddling cloth.
The stroller sat right beside Zhao Shumin. Zhao Jun watched with fascination as the hairstylist fitted her mother with a wig.
"Teacher Zhao, your baby is so well-behaved," the stylist said. She was a woman with tattoos on her arm and neat ear-length hair. She didn't seem cold at all—wearing only a long-sleeved sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up.
"If you like babies, you can have one too," Zhao Shumin joked, clearly friendly with her. "Find a handsome guy. It's nicer to look at, and the kid will be prettier."
"Ha!" The stylist laughed as she fixed a hairpin into the wig bun. "Easier said than done."
"Then have the baby and dump the man," Zhao Shumin said. She wasn't truly pressuring her—pregnancy had been miserable, and she would never do it a second time, nor would she persuade anyone who didn't want kids. "But if you want a child, you have to think it through. Pregnancy affects work, and once the baby's born you still have to raise them."
"Exactly. Honestly, I think finding a man is worse than just going abroad and having one yourself," the stylist whispered, leaning in to share gossip. "Sis Min, do you know that person? She found out her husband has someone outside—and an illegitimate child! Their studios are tied together so she can't divorce easily, so she just endures it…"
"Who? I feel like I've seen her…" Zhao Shumin leaned in.
Zhao Jun yawned.
The gossip sounded interesting, but she didn't know the people involved, so she couldn't get invested.
So boring.
And historical styling took forever!
By the time her mother's makeup was nearly done and she began changing into costume, the wardrobe assistant brought over a small red quilt embroidered with auspicious patterns and wrapped Zhao Jun snugly inside.
Zhao Shumin was an experienced actor. She knew most of the costume pieces in productions weren't exactly clean. Today she had worn a white inner layer that matched the period costume, so at least the clothing touching her skin was her own.
Zhao Jun also wore a plain white baby outfit underneath—no patterns—so it wouldn't look out of place if anything shifted on camera.
After changing, they waited another half hour.
Finally, it was Zhao Shumin's turn.
The set was inside a palace hall, dressed in exquisite detail—the consort's private living quarters.
Zhao Jun was placed on a couch-bed. Two girls dressed as palace maids stood beside her, listening to the assistant director explain the scene.
"When we shoot the foreground," the assistant director said, "you two stay here and entertain the baby. Use the rattle drum and the jade ruyi—just make the motions. Don't actually make her cry."
He wore a windbreaker and a thick gold chain. The windbreaker looked like the production's issued uniform—many people wore the same one. In winter, it was practical: durable, warm, and easy to keep clean.
"Then when Her Highness brings Madam in at the end, you two put down the toys and salute."
He beckoned to someone. "Wet nurse, come over and pick up the baby. Show them the path—remember your walking marks."
The actresses nodded seriously.
These palace maids and the wet nurse were named-role actors, a tier above special contract performers. Their characters had names and more screen time.
"All departments ready. Scene 11-7, Set 1, Take 1—Action!"
The slate clapped in front of the camera. The script supervisor crouched down and slipped out of frame.
Zhao Shumin and the actress playing the consort began the scene according to the script. Zhao Jun lay in the background out of sight and could only hear voices.
"Mu—" A slightly unfamiliar voice, with imperfect Mandarin.
"Cut!" The director stopped them. "Teacher Yu, let's adjust the camera angle. When you hold her later, face this way—it'll capture the close-up better."
"My face looks better from this side," the consort actress argued.
"The composition becomes unbalanced. Madam's hair ornaments block the shot…"
The director, lead actress, agent, and assistant director held a quick discussion.
The solution: a makeup artist was called over at a jog and swapped all the hairpins on Zhao Shumin's head from left to right, moving the largest pin to the side the close-up camera wouldn't capture.
Luckily, Zhao Shumin's hairstyle was symmetrical, so the switch didn't look strange.
"Scene 11-7, Set 1, Take 2—Action!"
This time the blocking flowed smoothly. The director shot one more take—insurance—just in case something subtle later proved unusable in editing.
"Scene 11-7, Set 2, Take 1…"
Zhao Jun slowly realized something.
Filming was far more boring than watching a drama.
A ten-second clip could be split into multiple segments, shot separately.
She lay on the couch-bed the entire time, only able to touch the tassels on the brocade quilt beneath her.
The cushion quality wasn't great. The tassel was just ordinary red thread tied into a Chinese knot—like the decorations under red lanterns during the holidays.
With a slight tug, the red thread stretched into longer and longer strands.
Longer.
Longer.
Zhao Jun grabbed the whole tassel and pulled it right off the cushion.
Then she flashed a toothless grin at the two palace maids.
The palace-maid actress reacted instantly, snatching the tassel from Zhao Jun's hands and tucking the torn part under the cushion, pretending it was still intact.
"Don't cry, baby. Let's play with this~" The maid gently shook the rattle drum, carefully keeping it silent.
"Mm-oh~" Zhao Jun made a tiny sound in response. Her hands chased the little drum hammers on both sides, cooperating with the maid in a silly little game.
The crew moved quickly, pushing the camera deeper into the room to shoot the second segment.
"Scene 11-7, Set 2, Take 1!"
After the slate, the actors began their marks. The consort led her mother over to Zhao Jun, speaking her line:
"Mother, come look at the little princess…"
The cameraman stepped closer. The lens pointed directly at Zhao Jun's face.
Zhao Jun squeezed out an innocent smile and reached toward the camera as if pawing at the air—overall, extremely cute.
The camera lingered for only a few seconds before pulling away, refocusing on the lead actress.
"The little princess is bright and adorable, just like Your Highness when you were young…"
"Good—cut! One take!" The director sounded genuinely excited.
[Perfectly portrayed the role. Received an S-grade evaluation from the director. +500 Industry Reputation]
Child actors were the biggest risk in filming. Adults could be directed and controlled; children couldn't.
The director praised, "The child actor's very cooperative. Use doubles—let's patch in a few shots of soothing the baby."
Once the director gave the instruction, everyone moved at once.
The assistant director waved into the crowd. Several actresses of similar build stepped forward. Their costumes were different styles and looked a bit more elaborate—likely the consort's wardrobe from various periods.
The first double only wore a sleeve. The sleeve matched the consort's current outfit. She stood beside Zhao Shumin at the couch-bed, extending one hand into frame to "stroke" Zhao Jun's cheek.
Only the hand appeared on camera.
Three cameramen filmed the sequence from multiple angles, repeating it twice. Zhao Jun cooperated, trying to grab the sleeve, reacting differently in each take.
Next, the wardrobe team brought a pile of swaddling cloths. They quickly rewrapped Zhao Jun, and then a line of different doubles each held her for short shots.
The camera framed only from the actresses' necks down, with close-ups focused on Zhao Jun—ensuring no double's face was captured.
Zhao Jun understood the later part. Complex costumes took time to change, so shooting all the double footage in one go was normal.
But that earlier close-up of the hand?
The lead actress didn't even need to appear. As long as a corner of her costume entered the frame, it would work.
And yet they still used a double for that?
Zhao Jun's suspicion deepened:
Her very first TV drama might be a low-quality production.
But there was nothing she could do.
She couldn't even speak yet.
Having any role at all was already a win.