Translator: Ink Hub
Editor: Yoog

When the script reached the halfway point of filming, the character Wen Yiwan began her gradual white-to-black transformation.

Sun Zhounan paid particularly close attention to Li Weiran’s state, worrying she might not grasp the character’s nuances. In reality, Li Weiran’s performance remained consistently solid. She was capable of taking the director’s words to heart. Even a suggestion mentioned only once by the director would be firmly etched into her memory.

Sometimes, when it was Lin Ji’s turn to explain the character to her, she listened with equal focus.

Lin Ji enjoyed dealing with such actors. In his view, actors served the character, and a successful character would in turn provide positive feedback to the actor. The more an actor cherished their role, the more opportunities they would have to succeed.

Lin Ji could not understand those actors who squandered their roles. It was easy to waste an opportunity, but difficult to go far in this industry.

“Screenwriter Lin, morning.”

“Good morning, Screenwriter Lin.”

After realizing that Lin Ji’s level of danger was not that high, the actors gradually became familiar with him. They discovered that Lin Ji was the type of person whose mind held nothing but the script. He simply did not care about anything else. In his daily life, he even seemed a bit dull; his ferocity was not even a fifth of Sun Zhounan’s.

Lin Ji drank a bag of milk and greeted Sun Zhounan.

Sun Zhounan had filmed period dramas for years, and this series fell within his area of expertise. However, in the past, the scheming in his dramas only went as far as scratching the surface. Lin Ji’s new drama was a battle from beginning to end, with a high-stakes climax exploding every one or two episodes. In Qian Yuzhu’s words, she had nearly finished delivering a lifetime’s worth of slaps.

Sun Zhounan was unsure how the audience would react after the drama aired, but as a director, he could guarantee that this show would at least not make anyone feel drowsy.

Beyond the plot, the entire crew put a great deal of effort into the styling and coordination of the actors.

When filming first began, although Qinglan TV had made ample preparations, Sun Zhounan discovered after a couple of episodes that they had underestimated the sheer number of outfits required. Their preparation for the costumes was insufficient. In the end, Lin Ji had to invite the stylists from the Records of the Bai’s Return crew to help out.

Whether a drama could become a classic could be determined just by looking at the script. In Sun Zhounan’s eyes, what he was filming was a drama with a very high probability of becoming a classic, and no director would fail to cherish such an opportunity.

* * *

As filming progressed steadily, the title of the new drama was finally finalized: The Harem.

Before production began, the crew had set a temporary title. However, the producers and Lin Ji put their heads together and decided the title should be simpler. They mulled it over for a long time, considering titles like Records of Rising in the Harem or The Harem Beauty’s Scheme… After thinking back and forth, they decided The Harem was the most concise.

“Will it lack attraction?” Fan Yongfang asked.

“As long as the drama is good, it’s fine.” Sun Zhounan looked calm. “We’ll know once it airs.”

The crew filmed for nearly half a year. Although Qinglan TV kept a tight lid on things, as leaked set photos and behind-the-scenes clips were gradually exposed, the industry and drama fans slowly began to understand what kind of show The Harem would be.

“Isn’t it just a palace drama? They just had to change the name to a palace intrigue drama. I thought Lin Ji would have some kind of innovation.”

“The jump in genre is so large. Can Lin Ji write it well?”

The filming of The Harem basically never changed locations. In the leaked photos, the outdoor scenes almost exclusively featured actresses dressed as concubines walking back and forth in similar-looking gardens. Other period dramas could at least film actors galloping on horses or portraying a soul-stirring, epic romance. The Harem clearly did not meet that standard—there were too few men.

“What exactly is the crew filming? Beauties taking a stroll?”

“It’s said this drama’s investment is over 100 million. It’s the most expensive among Lin Ji’s scripts. If it’s just these scenes, where did the crew’s money actually go?”

“Let’s wait a bit longer. Maybe there will be grand scenes later? Wasn’t Records of the Bai’s Return like that? There weren’t many grand scenes, but they were definitely filmed.”

But as the fans waited and waited, the leaked photos of The Harem remained the same old things. Although the filming duration itself wasn’t short, it truly made people wonder what the crew was actually producing.

“Maybe Screenwriter Lin is playing with a new kind of period art.”

“Lin Ji’s Code 11 and Records of the Bai’s Return were of good quality, but there’s no need to be overly superstitious about him, right? What ‘palace intrigue’ drama? I think he’s just creating a gimmick. Qinglan TV has always been good at hype. Since he’s hooked up with Qinglan TV, isn’t it normal for him to follow along with the hype?”

On the screenwriter forum, some writers were already secretly mocking Lin Ji.

The screenwriting circle also had its own hierarchy. Screenwriters who could cooperate with top-tier satellite stations like Dajiang TV and Qinglan TV held the highest status, followed by those with fixed partnerships with B-tier stations, and finally the screenwriters for online platforms.

Lin Ji had written two dramas with ratings surpassing the legendary television viewership milestone at such a young age, and his new drama was a collaboration with Qinglan TV. Naturally, this made other screenwriters very jealous.

Since they couldn’t mock Code 11 or Records of the Bai’s Return, the screenwriters could only try to find a sense of presence by targeting his new drama, The Harem.

However, most screenwriters had learned to be smart now. They chose to diss Lin Ji on the forum. The forum had fewer people and was filled with peers. Lin Ji wouldn’t necessarily know who was cursing him.

The screenwriters really wanted to vent on Weibo, but unfortunately, Lin Ji was not the type to just take insults silently. He understood nothing of humility. If someone cursed him once, he could reply a hundred times.

Consequently, only two or three screenwriters spoke out obscurely, hinting that a certain someone was speaking boastfully about filming a new genre. However, the moment someone in the comments asked if they were talking about Lin Ji, they immediately denied it, “How could it be Screenwriter Lin? Screenwriter Lin is such an excellent person.”

This reply was usually followed by two sarcastic emojis, which was enough for people to understand their true thoughts.

These few screenwriters were quite happy with their passive-aggressiveness. Unexpectedly, upon waking up, the view count on their comment sections suddenly spiked.

The top pinned comment came from a familiar person.

Lin Ji: [I’m glad you also recognize my excellence.]

The screenwriters: “…”

“Wait, is Little Lin on the internet with an extreme work schedule 24 hours a day?”

“Little Lin: Discovering who is cursing me anytime, anywhere.”

“LOL, our Little Lin is indeed excellent. Who disagrees? (Points a gun at the dissenters.)”

“Hahahaha, ‘I’m glad you also recognize my excellence.’ My life absolutely cannot lack Lin Ji.”

“I deeply suspect Screenwriter Lin is searching for himself in real-time laughter.”

Before Code 11 and Records of the Bai’s Return aired, no one would back Lin Ji up when he dissed people. After these two dramas exploded, the platforms and actors who had collaborated with Lin Ji would all repost his Weibo.

Lin Ji’s comment was first reposted by Qike: “No one understands Screenwriter Lin’s excellence better than I do, just as no one understands Gu Lenian’s works better than I do.”

Gu Lenian, who was currently recuperating overseas: “?”

How many years has it been??

After the failure of Code Falcon, Gu Lenian had completely lost his market. To be precise, he never had much of a market to begin with. Qike Video’s locust-like campaign of “Gu Lenian Work” had accelerated this process.

He just hadn’t expected that Qike Video—whether because they had collaborated with Lin Ji too much or for some other reason—would still be clinging to him after all this time since Siege Operation.

Gu Lenian had become much more low profile now. He knew he had lost the market and the audience. He only wanted to live out his days peacefully and didn’t want his reputation to get any worse.

In short, it was all Lin Ji’s fault.

Gu Lenian found the thread on the screenwriter forum mocking Lin Ji and replied several times, specifically to diss Lin Ji. Although Lin Ji might not see it, he felt much better in his heart.

He simply didn’t believe Lin Ji could make something special out of a so-called “palace intrigue” drama. Every screenwriter had their own creative comfort zone, and Lin Ji’s comfort zone was clearly not historical themes.

* * *

Lin Ji’s personal response indirectly increased public attention for The Harem. The crew took the opportunity to set up a Weibo account, occasionally sharing behind-the-scenes clips.

Nie Ou was also curious about what the final product of The Harem would look like. Cheng Cheng did not participate in this drama, reportedly because there were no suitable roles for her.

Nie Ou had followed the casting for a while. Almost every notable female actor in the circle had gone, including several of Cheng Cheng’s rivals. But as far as Nie Ou knew, those actors had not been selected by the The Harem crew. At the time, marketing accounts were all guessing what the casting standards for The Harem were.

In fact, anyone with sharp eyes could see it came down to one word: beautiful.

A careful observation revealed that female actors who took the “girl-next-door” route were basically not selected. Those who usually marketed their “aura” or “high-fashion face” were also not chosen. Although their press releases claimed they had “politely declined,” Nie Ou read a lot of gossip; whatever a celebrity’s statement said, it was usually more accurate to believe the opposite.

The marketing accounts simply didn’t want to be too blunt.

Regardless, Nie Ou still wanted to see a drama filled with great beauties. Just like the first few dramas Cheng Cheng had acted in after her debut, the concentration of beauties was high enough that Nie Ou would revisit them from time to time.

She prayed The Harem would be the type she expected.

* * *

The entire production of The Harem lasted for a full eight months, spanning three seasons. During these eight months, except for the period spent writing the script, Lin Ji was with the crew almost the entire time. He witnessed the Wen Yiwan portrayed by Li Weiran go from naive to mature and ruthless, and then slowly become cold and detached.

The role of Wen Yiwan was not easy to master, but she performed it very well. The character’s love and hatred, her tears and roars, were all perfectly displayed under her one hundred percent focus.

The actors also went from adapting to their roles to mastering them with ease. By the time they reached the final wrap-up scene, more than half of the actors in the crew had already “go offline.”

As filming reached the later stages and the actors received the full script, the first thing they said when they met in the morning was to ask each other: “When are you going offline?”

Peng Fangfang and Qian Yuzhu did not greet each other in the crew; they were in a state where they only focused on filming their scenes. However, both were very clear on when the other would be going offline. In the days leading up to their exits, the two of them were as if possessed by their characters’ souls. Their acting skills were constantly amplified, fully revealing the regret and unwillingness within their characters.

After the drama officially wrapped, Lin Ji, as the screenwriter, wasn’t needed much for the post-production stage. However, he still participated in a part of it, mainly providing suggestions for the editing, which was actually Director Sun Zhounan’s job.

At first, Sun Zhounan was not very decisive in his editing. He felt there was a lot of usable material. After Lin Ji arrived, Sun Zhounan began to cut with a heavy hand. This made the pacing of the key plots in the final product faster, but the overall rhythm of the piece had its ebbs and flows, ensuring the audience would not feel burdened.

A few months later, in the summer of the second year following the finale of Records of the Bai’s Return, Lin Ji, who had not had a work released for a year and a half, returned to the public eye once again as a screenwriter.

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