A day flew by in the blink of an eye, and finally, the official shoot day arrived.

This scene had no opening ceremony. Even the crew’s first meeting happened inside the studio. Everything was so stripped-down that Chunan was genuinely surprised.

If he hadn’t known Dawn Entertainment backed this project—and that Director Chen Peng was a seasoned veteran at the company—he might’ve thought this was just some slapped-together amateur troupe.

But after He Dong explained things before they arrived, it all made sense.

Chen Peng started with his own money. His first film was a big-budget project with a script he adored—total flop. His second? He poured in even more cash, hired a "master" writer—another flop. The pattern held: dazzling starts, bitter endings.

Eventually, even Chen Peng lost faith in himself.

Dawn Entertainment didn’t care. This rich kid mostly burned his own cash. Sure, he wasted company resources, but that paled next to the perks of having him onboard. Executives actually wanted him to keep filming. They’d panic only if he quit.

Still, Chen Peng couldn’t face repeating his old ways. His family had watched his failures pile up, urging him harder each time to inherit the business.

He just couldn’t let go.

Was he truly not talented enough?

After months of soul-searching, he decided: one last film. If it failed, he’d admit he wasn’t cut out for this and walk away.

For this make-or-break project, he wouldn’t chase flashy budgets anymore. Calmed down, he just wanted to make something good.

Thus, *Those Years with My Deskmate* was born—now renamed *My Deskmate*.

Past failures taught him patience. No need to waste time on fluff like opening ceremonies before seeing results.

If this succeeded, he’d repay every debt. If it failed? No words needed.

Knowing this, Chunan actually respected Chen Peng.

People who chase dreams deserve respect. Even if they fail, at least they tried.

The shoot took place in a studio near the company.

Nowadays, most films were shot entirely indoors unless special effects demanded otherwise. Holographic projections handled non-actor scenes on the spot, slashing post-production time. This world was far more convenient than his last.

Inside the studio, a classroom set buzzed with students—as if mid-lesson.

Only Chunan and Xiaohan knew fewer than five were real actors. The rest were lifelike holograms, cutting down on extras.

Filming here cost way less than back then…

The only headache was booking studios. Without connections, you’d wait forever.

Chunan mulled this over.

After Chen Peng’s team set up equipment, they began the first shot.

This wasn’t the script’s opening scene—just a simple one to ease Chunan and Xiaohan in. They had zero experience; Chen Peng needed them to find their rhythm slowly.

Starting simple was best.

This scene showed their feelings budding—the perfect moment to use yesterday’s watch.

"Just act like your audition," Chen Peng called from behind the cameras. "Recall that feeling. Don’t tense up. To play a role well, first step into it. Imagine you’re back in high school. Take it easy. Most importantly—relax."

Chunan and Xiaohan nodded.

Chen Peng signaled: "Scene one—"

They slipped into character like students.

Chunan nailed it. Propping his head, half-lidded eyes on the blackboard, he radiated careless charm—fitting his role: a genius student with a "cold" rich-boy edge and a nasty streak.

Xiaohan struggled. Her audition spark came from treating it like a game, with no hope of being picked. Now? Cameras and crew stared. How could anyone stay calm?

She wondered how real actors did it.

Worse—her character was "lively, energetic, pure, with zero guard around the male lead."

How could she embody that? It clashed completely with her real self.

She felt conflicted.

"Cut!" Chen Peng called after she froze. "Xiaohan, be more natural. Pretend we’re not here."

Xiaohan forced a smile. "...Okay. I’ll try."

Chunan kept his pose, shooting her a sideways glance with a soft snort. "Classmate Xiao, keep zoning out and you’ll be last again on the next exam."

Xiaohan: "..."

*Whoa. He’s really acting now?*

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax.

Seeing them settle in, Chen Peng restarted.

Signal dropped. Xiaohan slumped bored at her desk, eyes on the blackboard. She suddenly elbowed Chunan’s arm, whispering, "What time is it? When’s class over?"

Chunan glanced at her—ignored her.

Xiaohan stared, then elbowed him harder. "Hey! Talking to you! Deaf?!"

Chunan tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Want the time? Beg me."

Xiaohan held his gaze, then murmured softly, "...You’re so shameless."

Chunan: "..."

Xiaohan: "Sorry. Couldn’t help it."

*He really oozes shamelessness right now.*

"Cut!" Chen Peng nearly choked on his water. "Cough! Xiaohan... never mind. You’re in great form. Keep it up. One more take."

*Most people break character by laughing. Why’s this girl so weird?*