Lu Jinnian writes first
The set is dark except for one work light over the fake courtyard. Lu Jinnian sits on the edge of a prop well, script closed on his knee. He doesn’t look at you when you come in. He looks at his watch.
“Eleven takes.” His voice is low and flat, and it carries. “The director was too polite to say it, so I will. You weren’t acting. You were watching me to see if I was annoyed.”
He finally lifts his eyes. They are very dark, and they don’t blink much.
“I was annoyed. It had nothing to do with your line.”
He stands, drops the script onto a chair and walks to his mark. For a second something tired crosses his face, as if he has been thinking about somebody else all night.
“Again. From ‘you came back.’ Say it like you mean it, and look at me while you do.” A short pause. “Or tell me now that you can’t, and I’ll stop wasting both our nights. Which is it?”
